The Feiquon Heist Read online

  However, the dry season was drawing near and the challenge of excess water was being replaced by the excessive dust that all the digging and grading produced. Over the last few weeks, work had started on the street in front of the bank. Some kid barely old enough to ride a moto had been enthusiastically running the huge backhoe that had gouged a deep trench along the side of the main street. The shop owners and residents had needed to go and buy planks of wood to construct makeshift gangways for the customers to balance their way across. Later a cement mixing truck had been used to pour the foundations in the trench, and yesterday a different machine had been used to drop in the large pre-cast concrete rings. A few workers had then started cementing up the gaps.

  The construction activity was all fascinating stuff for Kheng, as it provided some much appreciated activity to an otherwise uneventful job. He was a practical man interested in practical things. Besides, usually nothing of note took place that could distract him from counting the time until the head clerk arrived to relieve Kheng from his guarding within the padlocked compound. Inevitably, monitoring the construction of the drainage works had become something of an addictive pastime. This morning, however, things were different.

  5. The Dream

  Kheng stared out of the gate and into the street. His thoughts were not with the development of the town’s roads, as he would have liked them to be. Instead he was deliberating a vision that was engulfing his mind which he just couldn’t shake. The previous night Kheng had drifted to sleep with pleasant thoughts about Papa Han’s send-off. He had pondered with satisfaction the good turn out from the well-wishers, and how Papa Han would have been happy that so many friends had come to see him off and enjoy the spectacle. He had also thought about how he would use his own store of fireworks in the box under his house to a similar effect. Kheng had drifted off into a deep and content sleep. His gentle snoring through the darkness acted as a kindly grunt-like conversation for any passing bat or lizard that was looking for unobtrusive company. However, his usually peaceful slumber had been greatly disturbed and he had experienced a dream that had troubled him deeply. Normally he could never remember his dreams, and their imagery would dissipate into the air around him as he became more aware of being awake. However, this particular night time vision seemed to have stuck with him like an obstinate gecko on an insect-ridden ceiling. For much of the morning since he had woken, vivid and obscure images had swum through his head in a way he had never experienced before from a dream.

  It seemed important to Kheng that he try to remember the dream so that he could understand it. Gradually he drew the disparate fragments from his memory and pieced together the odyssey that his dream had taken him on. At the start of the vision there had been a full and bright moon. It had risen up from behind a large tree. The moon had shone brightly. At first it felt like it must be the dry-season moon, tinged orange, large and glowing as the light battled through the heat and the dust to make its presence felt. However, the Kheng in the dream had not been fooled by this facade, this deceitful ambience of pretence. The Kheng that occupied the dream world knew very well that the moon that he was looking at was made from a liquid gold, hot and tempting, but too lethal and too far away for him to grab and claim for himself. He watched the false liquid moon, captivated as its form seemed to pulse, expand and rise but never really change. Some of the gold from the liquid hot globe dripped down from the sky. It landed on him even though the metal moon was near to the horizon and not above him. The gold splashed on his skin. Kheng instinctively flinched, he knew that the gold was white hot, but it didn’t hurt, it just made him warm. Then from nowhere a large wild boar had appeared in front of the moon and faced Kheng with a gleam in its eye. It snorted a bit, and shook its head so that the tusks shone in the moonlight, brightly bathed in the golden glow and as sharp as bayonets. It cleared its throat and, following a grunt from its rumpled snout, the wild boar began to address Kheng in a very well-spoken but urgent voice: “The buffalo is a triangle. It’s a triangle I’m telling you!”

  The reiteration seemed to carry a rather frustrated tone. Frustration clearly aimed at Kheng. As quickly as it had appeared, the wild boar vanished from the sky. Almost immediately, Kheng’s Aunt Kaylin had appeared from behind the moon with a scowl across her lined and cruel face. Waving her bamboo stick, she leaned forward, her face close to his like a bully trying to intimidate and instil fear. She ordered him to run to the market to buy her whisky, and there’d be trouble if he came home without any, and no mistake. It was at that point that Kheng had woken up in a cold sweat, and an angry Aunt Kaylin was where the vision had to end.

  The dream had troubled Kheng greatly. As he never remembered dreams, to remember this rather disturbing series of events with such clarity was very concerning. His wife was a great believer in dreams. In the years before Kheng started his night shift job, which meant sleeping at the bank, his wife would often wake him in the middle of the night and talk him through the details of whatever visions had just visited her. That way she wouldn’t forget them. Luckily she had never called on Kheng to remember the details the next day. In his half-awake state when receiving the narrative Kheng usually fell back to sleep none the wiser. The following day his wife would then review the dream in great detail with their neighbour, Mama Tae, who sold rattan furniture from underneath her stilt house that was next door to theirs. More often than not, if they concluded that the visions in the dream were particularly significant they would assign numbers to different parts of the imagery and then go and buy a lottery ticket to match the dream. Sometimes that worked and they’d get a bit of cash out of it. Often it didn’t. When his wife and Mama Tae did produce some mild returns from the lottery, the dreamology was proven as irrefutable fact. When it failed to produce the cash then clearly they’d made a mistake in their interpretation. The failure to generate income was never the fault of the dream. Kheng rarely paid much attention to it all. The very fact that it kept his wife and Mama Tae entertained without disturbing him too much was sufficient reason to passively allow the study of dreams to be part of the household goings on.

  Kheng continued to deliberate about his dream. He wondered whether his relaxed approach to dream interpretation was because he’d never really had a dream worth interpreting before. Now that he’d had one, he was almost intrigued enough to ask his wife about it. Obviously he couldn’t mention it at work as it would be effectively admitting to sleeping on the job. He was wise enough by now to avoid that trap.

  6. Manager

  Across town at the Tamarind Hotel, Mr Hua Lin was finishing his breakfast. He was slowly pulling his noodles to his mouth with his chop sticks in a very deliberate fashion to avoid having any of the soupy liquid splatter down onto his new tie. He had brought both of his two new ties with him for his attendance at the formal lunch later that day. On the way down to Maklai he had been racked with indecision. A bad first impression would put him on the back foot, and the right tie for the right impression was all important. Fortunately, he had woken with more certainty and clarity than when he’d draped both of his ties over the back of the chair and studied them intently before he’d gone to bed. He had reached purposefully for the blue one immediately after brushing his teeth and donning a salmon pink shirt. He then put on his jacket and checked himself out in the small bathroom mirror. The deep and formal blue of the traditional silk said he meant business. It showed he was a fair man and an approachable person, one who was respectful of tradition and aware of his cultural heritage. However, it also seemed to convey his need for polite dialogue and sensible behaviour. Hua Lin was aware that he was asking quite a lot from his tie. However, it would be his first time to meet the staff from Maklai branch of the bank, as well as some of their more important clients, and first impressions were everything.

  Having addressed the tie dilemma, Hua Lin was able to turn his thoughts to the broader issues that surrounded his move to Maklai. He’d never been to the province before, or even travelled such a distan
ce from the capital where he was brought up. Until now he’d never really had any interest to venture so precariously from his comfort zone. Why would you want to drift out to the provinces when you already lived in the capital? Such a move was very much swimming against the tide. As a privileged capital dweller he already had the thing that those trapped in the provinces enviously craved. However, Mr Hua Lin was young and ambitious, and he was finding that opportunities to climb the ladder at the main bank in the Khoyleng head office were few and far between. Competition between his colleagues for the good jobs at the bank was always high. His family was not strongly connected in a world where cronyism dominated as the governing philosophy. Although he played to his charm and intelligence, so that he was liked and respected in his office, the superficial details would only get him so far. Without family connections he was unlikely to move beyond the level of clerk for at least another fifteen years. Meanwhile, offering to forgo the privileges of life in the capital, and venture as a fearless pioneer into the untamed provinces to represent the bank’s interests, meant that he was immediately considered for the management position. In general, the directors of the bank in the capital were very wary of any provincial staff that had been recruited locally. They lacked the drive and the superior education that Khoyleng people possessed. They were simply not in the same class, or able to think progressively in the same way. At best you could consider them as antiquated, but often archaic was a more appropriate label. From the perspective of the management at the main Khoyleng Bank, it was far better to have one of their own overseeing the provinces to make sure the system didn’t deviate from the requisite protocols and drift away from the bank’s modern thinking. Mr Hua Lin had put his name forward to his supervisors as someone who would be prepared to take his education and experience out to the provinces for the greater good of the institution. His supervisors had been impressed.

  Mr Hua Lin was not entirely sure he’d made the right decision about Maklai, now that he’d arrived. Maklai seemed very backward and old fashioned compared with Khoyleng. The Tamarind Hotel had been recommended as the best option for such a high-ranking visitor, but the furniture in the room was cheap and shabby. The aircon was the old-fashioned noisy type that disturbed his sleep. From what he’d seen of the town itself the previous day, it was very dusty and difficult to navigate. Large, incomplete drainage ditches seemed to cut across vital thoroughfares with little indication of alternative routes. For some reason almost every street had parts of deep trenches on either side with varying piles of dirt both in and at the side of the road, none of which appeared to provide any utility. There didn’t seem to be much evidence of pipes getting put in, or how they would ever connect to each other. Hua Lin couldn’t work out why they would do all the digging first and fail to put pipes in at the same time. If this was indicative of how people thought and worked in Maklai then he was going to have his work cut out managing the bank. There also seemed to be a lack of good clothes shops in Maklai. This absence of retailers was strongly reflected in what the local people were wearing, as they seemed to fail to keep up with or indeed care about modern trends. The staff at the hotel were uniformed in locally made suits and skirts which seemed very backward in their design compared with what people were wearing in Khoyleng these days. Admittedly he’d only arrived the previous afternoon; however, during his first evening and his brief overview of the town, albeit with limited access, he had failed to spot any new-looking bars, expensive restaurants, or indeed very much to do at all. He assumed that to retain his sanity, after a while he’d probably have to start taking a night bus each Friday afternoon and go back to the city for the weekends.

  Hua Lin looked up from his diminishing bowl of breakfast noodles and observed that his supervisor from the Khoyleng central bank was coming over to join him. His boss was also appropriately suited up and notably was sporting a demure crimson tie with a diagonal pattern. Hua Lin allowed himself an inward smile. He noted that his own choice of tie did not clash with that of his boss, and, more importantly, that his boss’s tie would not achieve the same degree of first-impression impact that his blue one would. The day was already going well.

  7. Opening

  “Good morning, Mr Tann.”

  The head clerk, Mr Tann, had arrived with his usual delayed precision and air of apathy at about ten past eight. He paused for a moment while he acknowledged Kheng’s presence on the other side of the large double gates. Kheng undid the padlock and swung the creaky gate inwards in order to let his supervisor through.

  “Nice day today, Mr Tann. Not too cold this morning.”

  Kheng, who was in an unusually alert mood as a result of his dream, had decided to keep the conversation ticking along in the absence of a response from his supervisor. His enthusiasm for interacting with a fellow staff member was also driven by his excitement for the staff outing that was planned for later that day.

  Mr Tann reached into his tattered leather satchel and produced the excessively fat bunch of keys that represented the non-personnel element of bank security. He rifled through the bunch to try and locate the one amongst the many that would release the bank from its current impenetrable state. While he did so he considered Kheng’s initial observation, and eventually replied.

  “Yes. I suppose it might be. A nice day.”

  Mr Tann decided to reference his comment, as it had been a while since Kheng’s second attempt at communication. His reply was thoughtful and yet a little distracted. He had never managed to accept that greetings were courteous, albeit benign, remarks. Instead of respectfully offering a benign response back to complete the formality he gave any observation directed at him his serious deliberation, and returned with a considered opinion. Today’s almost positive response from Mr Tann was quite uplifting compared with most days. It was unusual to get anything from him that wasn’t laced with a gloomy undertone. Seemingly, today wasn’t most days.

  Mr Tann continued to sift erratically through his heavy bunch of keys until he found the one he was looking for. Having applied it to the key hole and jiggled it around until it connected properly with the ancient workings, the key finally turned and the equally geriatric front door swung open, shuddering and creaking painfully as it did so.

  “Not as cold as last month in the early mornings. Still it could all change again,” persisted Kheng.

  “Indeed. Remind me to ask the administrator to organise oil for those hinges, Kheng.”

  Kheng nodded and smiled at Mr Tann in an agreeable fashion.

  “It was a nice send-off yesterday for Old Papa Han, wasn’t it, Mr Tann? Good fireworks. Some of those rockets cleared the road at the bottom of the hill. And the firecrackers were really loud. I imagine Old Papa Han would have been very pleased to see that all those people turned out to send him on his way.”

  Kheng continued in the absence of a response from the head clerk:

  “I’ll make my way home then, Mr Tann. I might try and get in a bit of sleep before the staff lunch with the visitors that have come down from head office.”

  Mr Tann shrugged. There had never been a staff luncheon for the bank employees before today, and he was rather unnerved by the general concept. He was particularly hesitant about the whole idea as the social event would involve key clients attending as well. It was what the man from head office had told him to organise, and so he had done it. Neither he nor his staff had received suitable training for that eventuality. They knew how to fill in the bank’s paperwork and record the transfer of money. Representing the bank’s interests at social occasions and exuding personality to entertain important customers had never been a skill they were expected to show. Worse still, a couple of men from Khoyleng’s management were expected to attend. It wasn’t something that he was particularly looking forward to. He wasn’t quite sure why everyone from the bank had to go, including Kheng. Of course Kheng was a good and loyal employee and well respected in his position as guard. However, at lunches with important people from a different layer o
f society, of education and wealth, then it was important to say the right thing, and that should necessitate the exclusion of those who only knew how to use common language and not the more formal and correct grammar. There was a high risk of embarrassment.

  Kheng considered that his routine engagement of Mr Tann in light conversation was completed. He carefully stepped along the slightly bendy wooden planks that had been laid over the drainage trench and uncovered pipe in front of the bank, and headed across the street. He valued his interactions with Mr Tann, and felt that today’s jovial banter had gone particularly well. This was partly because he rarely got to speak to anyone until the head clerk came and opened up the bank, but also because it was good practice to be on jovial terms with your employer. It would be morally and emotionally far more difficult for his employer to sack him later on if something did go wrong. For example, if his absence from guard duty around dinnertime each night should come to Mr Tann’s attention, there would be an obligation to let it slide if he promised to improve, rather than bring down the punishment set out in the bank’s code of conduct.

  ***

  Lunchtime arrived and Mr Tann dutifully herded his staff from behind their desks so that they all made their way to the Sou-Rehn Restaurant on the other side of town. The entire bank staff, twelve in all, including the part-time cleaner and Kheng, had been invited. The bank would of course have to be left unguarded in order for all of the staff to join in; however, this reduction in security was normally the case at lunchtimes anyway. The employees had tried to be cheerful and upbeat about their excursion. They had never been on a work outing before. However, it was difficult to get too celebratory knowing they would have to get back to work at one thirty and be sufficiently sober to avoid giving away too much of the bank’s money by accident. They had hoped for an evening meal at the restaurant. However, the suit from head office insisted on a lunchtime event so that he would be able to leave immediately afterward and be driven back to his home in Khoyleng by evening. With a number of Maklai’s more important businessmen attending the meal, the staff would need to be on their best behaviour. Failure to do so would mean several weeks of suffering the silent but targeted broodings of Mr Tann as he skulked around the bank. This was definitely not a social occasion, it was work.