White Crocodile Read Online Free PDF Page B

Professor, we call him, because he’s so goddamn anal.’ He winked at Tess. ‘Which suits me just fine. Jakkleson, Tess has just left the British Army. She was a combat engineer – a troop commander – with a couple of tours in Afghanistan under her belt. This is her first foray into humanitarian clearing, though I doubt there is much we can teach her about mine clearing after five years with the Sappers. Except how to do it with no damn cash, mebbe.’
    Jakkleson stepped forward and held out a hand, briefly flashing a micro-thin gold wristwatch from the cuff of his white linen shirt.
    ‘Good to meet you,’ she said, taking his outstretched hand. It was like squeezing marble. His eyes were the palest shade of blue.
    ‘So, Tess, first let me apologise,’ MacSween said, when Jakkleson had returned to the window. ‘You had a proper shit-show of a day yesterday. Not the introduction to MCT, or this beautiful country we’re working in, I would have liked. How’re you feeling?’
    She managed a smile. ‘I’m fine.’
    MacSween watched her silently for a moment. ‘Come on, Tess.’
    ‘It wasn’t great, obviously. But you don’t need me to tell you that.’ She cast her gaze to the floor. ‘Have you seen him? Is he OK?’
    ‘Aye. I dropped by the Red Cross Hospital last night, soon as I heard. He’s in a mess, but Dr Khouy Ung, the surgeon who runs the place, says he’ll pull through. Johnny was lucky you were there. His Khmer clearers wouldn’t have gone in if you hadn’t, not after that. Not with the reputation that fucking field is getting. Though it also sounds as if we were lucky not to be carrying two people out on stretchers. Charging into a minefield without even a bloody detector in your hand isn’t the best idea, lass. Be careful, eh.’
    Lifting a hand, he massaged his eyes, scratched his fingers through the grey-brown stubble on his chin. ‘I’m going to be straight with you, Tess, and then I need you to tell us everything – everything – you can remember about yesterday. We had another accident six months ago. A fatality. Same minefield. Koh Kroneg it’s called, though I’m sure Johnny told you what the locals call it. A very good guy died. I was down in Phnom Penh, so I never got to see him.’ His voice faltered. ‘The second time in six months we have a serious accident and I start to get worried. It happens in other agencies – this isn’t a cosy job. But I still don’t like it. I spent the night interviewing the Khmer guys, Johnny’s teams, but I didn’t get much from them. They’re being rather . . . obstructive isn’t the right word, but they’re jittery as hell. I couldn’t seem to get a straight piece of information out of anyone.’ His eyes hung closed for a moment. ‘Start from when you first arrived at the minefield and don’t miss anything out .’
    Tess dug her bitten nails into her palms and forced herself to hold his gaze across the desk.
    A fatality. Luke.
    She glanced at Jakkleson, framed in a halo of sunlight by the window.
    She talked them through what had happened: that there was mist clinging in hollows but, apart from that, visibility was good, that Johnny’s teams were sweeping their clearance lanes, all focused, all calm, that it was still early, eight or so, and that no mines had yet been found.
    ‘What was Johnny doing?’ MacSween interrupted.
    ‘He was watching his teams.’
    ‘How was he feeling?’
    She shrugged. ‘Obviously I’d just met him, but he seemed fine, relaxed. He was joking with me.’
    ‘What about?’
    ‘The minefield.’
    MacSween raised his eyebrows.
    ‘The White Crocodile,’ she corrected. ‘The myth.’
    ‘What was he saying?’
    ‘He was talking about the sign, the one that looks like a cave drawing. He was joking about getting a can of paint and giving the crocodile one less leg and a crutch. He said he would have done it, but that you wouldn’t be happy. “He would kick my arse” were the exact words he