The Spectator by Timothy Balding

Author:Timothy Balding
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: murder, social media, dictators, media, newspapers, dictatorship, world politics, london england, murder fiction
Publisher: Upper West Side Philosophers, Inc.
Published: 2023-11-11T00:00:00+00:00

Smashing children against trees

Marjorie has called Roger and asked for a meeting. She’s heard back from Cambodia and says that they’re maybe on to something.

“So, did we find his trace?” asks Roger, inviting her to sit down.

“Our ‘Sok Charya’ probably doesn’t exist. It’s a very common name and our man, the one we’ve hired, that is, didn’t even bother to try and track any of them down. He did much better, though. He figured that few Cambodians could get rich in business, as we told him he had, and remain out of public view. At the same time, something struck him about the timing of this Sok’s exile. His departure coincides pretty much with the creation of the war crimes tribunal in Cambodia. Quite a few prominent people appear to have ‘disappeared’ around about then …”

“It took thirty years after the genocide to set up a tribunal?” asks Roger.

“Yes, indeed. And even then, they only found five people to judge, three of whom died before they got round to it. They don’t seem very assiduous to bring their butchers in for the reckoning, to say the least.”

“And our Sok?”

“Our man in Phnom Penh, who is well connected with the foreign Embassies and thus has a way to get to the tribunal investigators – it’s all a mixed UN-Cambodia process – has procured a long list of the people who were wanted when they began their work all that time ago. Happily, it includes photos of most of them. He’s sent it over … and we’ve taken a picture of your neighbour.”

“How did you do that?”

“Bill was in the neighbourhood and hid in the woods behind your homes,” Marjorie smiled.

“You could have asked me first, you know.”

“You were otherwise engaged and we didn’t have time. Bill was due on another job. Anyhow, he didn’t have to wait long. Mister so-called Sok was gardening and he shot away.”

“And?”

“To cut a long story short, we ran a facial through the recognition software – or something like that, the photo boys have the details – and your chap resembles one of the wanted. A certain Khieu Sen. We’re far from certain, because there’s a difference of twenty years between the photos, at least, and the technology can be a bit dodgy. It’s not like DNA analysis.”

“And what’s this Khieu accused of exactly?”

“He was apparently a key figure in one of the death camps, the ‘killing fields’, as you will remember they were called. A senior officer in the special branch, which was in charge of internal security. He’s on the wanted list for so many crimes, that I can’t even remember them all. Genocide, crimes against humanity, war crimes, rape, murder, torture. He liked to get personally engaged, as it were. One of his specialities was smashing babies and children against trees to break their heads open.”

“Jesus,” is all Roger can think to say. “Jesus wept.”

They both stare at their shoes for a minute or two.

“Why wasn’t this beast picked up before?” asks Roger finally.

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