Crisis in Cambodia

By Malcolm Scott

Three travellers were kidnapped while touring Cambodia after the train they were journeying on was ambushed by a twenty strong Khmer Rouge raiding party. The young men were Australian national David Wilson (29) British national Mark Slater (28) and French national Jean-Michel Braquet (27).
The guerrilla group who hijacked the train was led by the Khmer Rouge’s most celebrated war hero Colonel Chhouk Rin. The backpackers were then marched for six days through rugged Cambodian terrain until they reached a mountain hideout and Khmer Rouge stronghold.
The hostages were held captive in Pol Pot’s undefeatable mountain fortress Phnom Vour (Vine Mountain) while negotiations took place. The jungle refuge had survived for sixteen years and withstood offensives from the American backed South Vietnamese Army, the Unified Vietnamese Army and the Royal Cambodian Army.
When news broke that an Australian National was part of the kidnapped trio the Australian government publicly cited the, ‘No Negotiation No Ransom Policy’. But David Wilson’s family were hopeful because Australia’s Foreign Minister (Gareth Evens) had influence with the Royal Cambodian Army and the Prime Minister of Cambodia and current ruler Hun Sen.
The Australian Prime Minister (Paul Keating) had hoped to build a presence in South-east Asia and he had recently exploited Cambodia’s internal conflict to become involved in the region. The Australian Foreign Minister and expert on Cambodia had also made himself internationally famous by arranging for peacekeeping forces to enter the country one year earlier.
The governments of Britain and France were aware of Australia’s commitment to Cambodia and unwilling to interfere with the machinations of America’s Central Intelligence Agency. The leaders of both countries, Prime Minister John Major and President François Mitterrand, passed responsibility for negotiations to the Australian politicians.
Despite the, ‘No Negotiation No Ransom’, policy most believed Australia’s Foreign Minister would utilize his contacts in the Royal Cambodian Army and his relationship with Cambodia’s Prime Minister to assist with the negotiations. He refused to become involved however and it created a public outcry and national media condemnation in his home country.
Then after a thirteen year Colonial Inquest the Australian government was cleared of any culpability in the David Wilson kidnap case in 2013. What no one realised at the time of the hostage crisis was the full complexity of the situation or that two powerful nations were pulling strings in the background.
Cambodia’s Prime Minister was a former Khmer Rouge Officer who was being backed by the newly unified country of Vietnam. And the American CIA was using the United Nations to shield Pol Pot from war crime investigations so they could use him to bring down the governments Vietnamese administrators.
Caught in the middle of the Australian politicians diplomatic grandstanding and Cambodia’s political turmoil were three young backpackers who were foolish enough to catch a train to a war zone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Malcolm Scott
• Release date: Oct 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781311107824

Malcolm Scott

Malcolm Scott has published three books about Bali Indonesia and one novel based on a kidnap in Cambodia and the fall of the Khmer Rouge. He has also written a number of screenplays across many genres from comedy to political drama to thriller. Malcolm is a published author, screenwriter, blogger and freelancer who has lived in South East Asia for the past sixteen years. He is currently living in Bali Indonesia where he recently completed his fifth book based on the murder of his friend in Thailand in 2011. Since Malcolm began writing about his experiences in Bali and then the tragedy in Thailand. He has preferred to keep his identity concealed and he has chosen to write his screenplays and his novels under noms de plume. Malcolm would prefer to use his real name but he also believes the people who read his books will understand the measures he is forced to undertake to keep friends and family safe by using a pseudonym. Malcolm has lived in Bali for ten years and Thailand for six and he has travelled Southeast Asia extensively. He also believes he is the luckiest person in the world to be able to earn a living doing what he was born to do in the places that he loves. Learn more about Malcolm Scott by viewing his profile: https://www.bali-islands.co/malcolm-scotts-profile/

Book preview

Chapter 1

Cambodia was slowly recovering from a recent civil war and the genocide of over twenty-five per cent of its population. The Vietnamese controlled the country, and Khmer Rouge resistance fighters continued to operate within its border regions. Despite the dark recent history and the current unstable environment, young backpackers flocked to Cambodia, lured by adventure, inexpensive travel and the abundance of cheap marijuana.

The battered red pickup raced down a potholed gravel road in rural Cambodia. Thick scrub and tall grass lined either side of the track. The foliage was the perfect ambush cover for the Khmer Rouge soldiers and bandits who hunted in the area. The vehicle hurried towards a distant range of hills known as the Elephant Mountains. The small, jungle-covered peaks formed a backdrop to the sugar palms that reached up from scorched and abandoned rice paddies into the darkening Cambodian sky.

A middle-aged Cambodian taxi driver was driving. He’d been paid extra because he knew the area’s reputation as a black spot for Khmer Rouge. The panicked driver was hot and sweaty; he continually wiped at his face with a dirty rag. The truck turned down a gravel side-road, and sped past a bullet-hole riddled road sign that read, ‘Kampot Province Ta Ney 2 Km’. The driver glanced at the sign nervously then changed down a gear and put his foot down on the accelerator. The truck fishtailed wildly and sprayed gravel in a wide arc as it picked up speed. The pickup’s engine bellowed in protest as it disappeared over a small hill in a cloud of red dust.

Thirty-year-old Englishman, Dominic Chappell, sat in the front seat across from the driver. The handsome young man had moved to Cambodia, two years earlier, with his Australian girlfriend, twenty-four-year-old, Kellie Anne Wilkinson. The couple were former photographic models who had met while working and partying in Hong Kong. They were planning to marry and had recently set up a restaurant in the Cambodian beach resort town of Sihanoukville. The expats were returning home, with an unexpected guest, after picking up supplies in the capital Phnom Penh.

Twenty-three-year-old Englishwoman, Tina Dominiy, sat in the back of the cab across from Kellie Anne. She was on her first trip to Cambodia and was nervous about being in the war-torn country alone. The young woman was travelling to Sihanoukville to witness the Cambodian New Year’s Eve Celebrations the following day. The pickup they were travelling in did not appear roadworthy, and Tina didn’t like how fast the driver was going on the unsealed road. She had only recently met Dominic and Kellie Anne, and she was shy, but she also felt that she needed to say something. Tina leaned between the seats and called out to Dominic over the noise of the screaming engine. What’s he doing? Why's he driving so fast? she asked.

Dominic braced himself on the dashboard then looked over his shoulder. We’re heading into Ta Ney; it's a war zone, he replied. There’s rumoured to be Khmer Rouge in the area, and they sometimes set up roadblocks, he explained.

Tina had arrived in Cambodia two days earlier and hadn’t had the chance to research the best way to travel to Sihanoukville. She had met the couple at her hostel the previous evening and when they had learned she was planning to travel to the coast they had offered her a lift. The three of them had then spent the night drinking cheap wine and smoking joints around Phnom Penh’s seedy bars.

When the couple had arrived at her room early the next morning, Tina had barely remembered agreeing to their offer. Dominic and Kellie Ann had seemed genuine, however. Over strong Cambodian coffee in the hostel’s kitchen, she’d agreed to chip in for fuel and take up their offer of the spare seat. The three had then spent the morning running errands and picking up supplies before they embarked on the four-hour journey to Sihanoukville. During the short time that they had spent together, Tina couldn’t remember either one of them mentioning war zones or the Khmer Rouge. Are you kidding me? she asked. The Khmer Rouge kill people, don’t they?

Dominic had been backpacking since he had left university and liked to think of himself as an experienced traveller. The more he got to know the young woman the more he realised she was new to the backpacking lifestyle. This is the fastest way to the coast, he said, just kick back and enjoy the scenery.

Tina looked through the pickup’s window and saw the world was rushing by in a haze of red dust. She trusted Dominic, and she liked Kellie Anne, but the lack of information and the condescending tone raised her hackles slightly. Just how dangerous are these Khmer Rouge? she turned back and asked. Are they the kidnap and kill you type, or are they, take a picture with me holding my big gun type?

Dominic picked up on the sarcasm and scoffed. He felt that most backpackers overstated the danger when they travelled to third world countries. You should not believe everything you hear in a hostel, he said and then turned away. We’ve taken this way dozens of times. Just try not to think about it, okay?

Tina was about to say something further when the truck smashed through a teeth-shattering rut in the road. She was thrown forward and forced to brace herself to prevent being slammed into the driver’s seat. Can’t you just ask him to slow down? she said, slightly annoyed, and then noticed that Kellie Anne was listening. It wouldn’t be so bad if the truck had working suspension.

Kellie Anne held onto the cab’s roof with one hand and grasped Dominic’s seat with the other. It’s just the way Cambodians drive, she replied. She gestured at the back of Dominic’s head. Ignore him; he’s stubborn, she mouthed and smiled. He is telling the truth, though; we’ve taken this road dozens of times. She finished loud enough for Dominic to hear. Dom uses it when he’s in a hurry to get back home to his Cambodian son.

Tina returned the smile. She was grateful for the support, but also didn’t want to appear too inexperienced or frightened. I got a good look at the traffic in Phnom Penh. It was madness; disorganised chaos.

Kellie Anne nodded. It was the first thing people noticed when they arrived in the city. You get used to it, she said and shrugged, but I do have to look left and right fifteen times before I’m willing to cross.

Tina laughed. She was starting to feel better when she remembered being told that the couple were engaged. You just said Dominic has a son?

Kellie Anne tried to answer, but the young women were forced to brace themselves when the suspension creaked loudly, and the truck swerved around a large pothole. Kellie Anne waited until the car hit a smooth patch and levelled out before she continued. The child’s father killed his mother with a hand grenade during a domestic dispute, she explained. Nub was injured in the blast and Dominic paid for his medical treatment. The boy adopted him after that.

Tina couldn’t believe what she had just heard. She shook her head in disbelief. He blew up his wife with a hand grenade? she asked.

Kellie Anne giggled when she realised her mistake. She reached over and placed a comforting hand on Tina’s knee. We should talk about the New Year’s Eve celebrations, she suggested.

Tina didn’t get a chance to answer. The truck slid around a sharp bend and almost slewed off the gravel track into a clump of trees. She watched helplessly as the driver spun the wheel one way and then the other as the truck somehow managed to round the bend. The vehicle then hit a flat section of track and lurched forward when the driver put his foot down. Tina turned away from the windscreen and let out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding. That was close, she said, are you sure we can’t slow down a little?

Kellie Anne giggled nervously. Maybe you’re right, she replied. She leaned against her seatbelt so she could speak to the driver, but she didn’t get the opportunity.

The truck crested a small hill, and the driver saw what was up ahead. He swore loudly and slammed his foot on the brake. The truck slid to a halt in a shower of gravel and sand.

Dominic had glimpsed what was up ahead, but he couldn’t be sure. He leaned forward to peer out the windscreen and hoped he’d been wrong. The area ahead was engulfed in a cloud of red dust but when it finally settled he saw two battered cars and a farmer’s truck. They were parked on the side of the road, and a large jack-knifed semi-trailer blocked them in. Armed soldiers dressed in a motley assortment of camouflage gear and black clothing surrounded the vehicles.

Dominic knew the area’s reputation, and he was concerned for their safety. He turned to the driver. Are they Khmer Rouge? he asked.

The driver shook his head, and then crunched the gear lever into reverse as he turned to look through the back window. Bandits, they’re just as dangerous! he said urgently. He jammed his foot down on the accelerator.

The gearbox howled under the strain, then the truck jerked back and slowly picked up speed. The driver had reacted quickly, but it was too late. Bandits flooded from the high grass and scrub behind the pickup and swarmed towards the vehicle. One of them positioned himself on the road behind the reversing truck, levelled his rifle and then fired three bursts from his AK-47. His bullets thwacked and pinged into the truck’s tailgate, and the tail-lights exploded. The passengers ducked and took cover as the back window shattered in a shower of glass.

The truck jerked to a halt, and a group of bandits raced to the truck with their rifles ready. They yanked open the driver’s door, pulled the driver out and threw him to the ground. The bandits kicked him savagely in the body with heavy combat boots and brutally mashed down at his head with their rifle butts. The driver curled into a foetal position, trying to protect his head, but it was useless. The bandits were relentless with their savagery and their boots and rifles slammed into his body and broke bone. Eventually, the driver went limp, but his attackers didn’t take any notice. They jostled to get closer and continued their assault until their leader pushed them aside and ordered them to stop.

Chapter 2

The leader of the bandits wore a bottle-green camouflage uniform and high laced combat boots. His weapon of choice was an AK-47, but he carried a large hunting knife tucked into a sheath on his belt. The middle-aged man was thickset, robust and rugged from years of fighting in the jungle. He’d once brandished a rifle for the Khmer Rouge, but he’d returned to his family lands when the Vietnamese Army had toppled the Pol Pot regime. He’d then abandoned farming because he had realised that banditry was far more profitable. The bandit was the leader of seventeen dangerous men who had survived one of history’s most brutal regimes. He understood they needed to be ruled and controlled, but he also realised that he protected his leadership with his cunning. He’d ordered his men to set up the roadblock between Sihanoukville and Phnom Penh to take advantage of the increased traffic for the New Year’s Eve celebrations.

The bandit was pleased to discover Westerners, but he was shrewd enough to realise their driver could not remain alive. He moved over to the unconscious man crumpled against the truck’s back wheel. He looked down at the driver and saw that his face was a pulped and bloodied mess of welts and bruises. He didn’t give him any hope of recovering from the beating he’d endured, but his condition also presented the bandit with an opportunity to prove himself. He drew his knife, crouched down and placed the wickedly sharpened blade against the unconscious man’s throat. The bandit raised an arm to protect himself from blood spray and then dispatched the dying man quickly.

The bandit wiped his blade on the dead man’s shirt. He rose, sheathed his knife and addressed his watching men. He needed to be sure about whom he was dealing with before he allowed them to take the situation further. Kidnapping for ransom was profitable, but abducting foreigners could also attract the attention of the Royal Cambodian Army. You have done well but now we need to discover why these Long Noses have come here, he said in Khmer. He watched the reaction of his men and noticed them glance at the blonde women sitting in the truck. We must be patient, he continued, but soon we will have some fun.

The backpackers had tried not to watch the driver’s brutal beating and murder, but it had unfolded in front of them. Tina and Kellie Anne had screamed, horrified, during the ordeal, and Dominic had pulled the driver’s door closed and done his best to keep them calm. The young women now huddled together in the back seat while Dominic watched nervously as the bandit strolled around to his side of the pickup. Keep the doors locked and stay in the truck, he said urgently. Just let me handle this.

Tina reached forward and checked the locks on both back doors. Be careful. Just give them whatever they want and don’t make them angry, she warned. She had only recently experienced Dominic’s smug attitude.

Kellie Anne reached for her boyfriend and took him by his hands. Promise me you’ll be careful, she said. Then she pulled back slightly and looked into his eyes. You have to get us out of this Dom.

Dominic knew that Cambodian men valued fair skin as beautiful and that they would find both women attractive. I’ll offer them money and the restaurant supplies, he said. They can take whatever they want if they let us go.

The lead bandit tapped on the window with the barrel of his gun, then he bent down and gestured through the glass at the three backpackers. Please open the door so I can talk to you, he called out as he pointed at the lock.

Kellie Anne shuffled over to Tina. Dominic’s going to take care of it, she said. We’re going to be okay.

Tina wanted to believe her, so she nodded, but she didn’t feel confident. She wrapped her arms around her new friend, and the young women huddled together in the corner of the cab trying not to notice the leering men outside.

Dominic turned away and then peered out the window at the bandit’s knife and AK-47. He knew that he had no choice but to comply, so he slowly reached for the lock and pulled it up. Look after each other, he murmured to the women. He then took hold of the handle and opened the door slightly. We’re British and Australian citizens, he said. We want nothing to do with any of this.

The bandit chuckled as he took hold of the doorframe and yanked it open further. He crouched down and lowered his eyes to Dominic’s. This is a dangerous area. Why are you here? he asked. He leaned into the cab and looked over the backpacker’s shoulder to peer at Kellie Anne and Tina. And why would you bring women here?

Dominic glanced back at the women protectively then turned to the bandit. We’re on our way to Sihanoukville for the New Year, he said. We have supplies; whisky. You’re welcome to it if you let us go on our way.

The bandit nodded and stood up, then he pulled open the door and stepped back slightly. You say you have whisky, he said pleasantly, why don’t you get out of the cab and get it for me?

Dominic returned the smile and stepped from the cab. You can take whatever you want, he said nervously as he moved towards the back of the pickup. We just want to be on our way.

The bandit stepped behind Dominic and grabbed him by the back of the shirt. He slammed Dominic against the side of the vehicle. I need to know if you have weapons! he bellowed as he began to frisk Dominic. Tell me now, are you with the CIA? he hissed as he worked.

The attack winded Dominic and caught him off guard. He leaned over the truck and sucked in a breath while the bandit’s hand travelled across his body. Of course not, he eventually stammered, I’m English, and we’re just backpackers.

The bandit spun Dominic around to face him. He slipped out his knife and placed it against the young man’s neck. I don’t believe you, he said. Tell me what you are doing in my country?

The sharp blade stung Dominic. He steadied his breathing and tried to remain calm. Please don’t hurt us, I told you the truth, he muttered. We’re on our way to Sihanoukville.

The bandit chuckled and then spoke to his men in Khmer over the roof of the pickup. They’re backpackers, he said and laughed. Take the women from the truck. Hold them but do not touch them yet.

The soldier he spoke to didn’t hesitate. He slammed his rifle butt into the truck’s window and smashed the glass. He peered inside at the cowering women. Climb outside! Get out of the car! he ordered. He flung open the door and motioned with the barrel of his AK-47. Get out now!

Tina reached for Kellie Anne’s hand, and they climbed out of the truck together. We’re coming out, promise not to hurt us, she begged.

The men leered at the young women. They jostled one another excitedly, spoke in Khmer and laughed and pointed.

The women didn’t understand what was being said, and they were afraid. They climbed from the pickup, then huddled together nervously and tried to comfort each other.

The lead bandit watched over the roof of the cab then turned his attention back to Dominic. I believe you, he said, as he put away his knife. He pulled Dominic back from the truck and shoved him forward towards the scrub on the side of the road. But I will need to question you and your women further.

Dominic stumbled a few steps trying to stop from falling. He turned back and confronted the bandit. Take what you want but tell your men to leave my friends alone, he said as his voice faltered slightly.

The bandit chuckled, took a step forward and punched Dominic in the stomach hard enough to send him to his knees. Anything you have is already mine Long Nose, he said. He gestured over towards Kellie Anne and Tina. And that includes your women and your whisky.

The bandit reached down and took Dominic by the hair. He dragged him to his feet. Come with me, we have much to discuss, he said, as he shoved Dominic forward. Bring the women and supplies to camp, he called over his shoulder. Tomorrow is the New Year and tonight we celebrate.

Chapter 3

The Cambodian sun rose over the horizon, its radiant light breaching the thick jungle canopy. Tropical birds called out and distant monkeys hooted as they greeted the breaking day. The hellish evening had faded into the light, but the dawn had brought little respite for the backpackers. Dominic, Kellie Anne and Tina had been taken to an abandoned sawmill in the middle of the jungle at the first sign of daylight. They’d been forced to their knees, then bound, tied and told to wait for their execution. They knew what was about to happen, but no longer sought to beg or to bargain for their freedom. Dominic, Tina and Kellie Anne accepted the end of the nightmare the way a dying animal might tolerate being put out of its misery. They had been violated and beaten throughout the long night, and they felt impotent and powerless.

Since the ancient days of Angkor, the practice of kidnap and ransom had been considered routine in Cambodia. The procedure was so common that it had its own set of rules. Captives were taken, families contacted and ransoms paid in a respectable and timely manner. The backpackers should have been no different, but the bandits had discovered the stores of alcohol in the pickup.

Dominic and Kellie Anne had travelled to Phnom Penh to stock up on restaurant supplies, and the truck contained enough alcohol for the bandits to celebrate the New Year in style. Bottles of spirits and cans of beer had been passed around, and eventually, events spiralled out of control. The leader had been the first to take the young women and then they’d been raped and brutally beaten by a succession of drunken men. Dominic had done his best to stop the violence, but he’d received a savage beating for his intrusion, and then he’d been fastened to a tree and forced to witness the women’s treatment.

Kellie Anne stared off into the distance and thought about home and how she would never see her family again. On her knees, beside her, Tina sobbed quietly. She couldn’t comprehend how she’d become caught up in such a horrifying situation. Dominic’s face was a bloodied mess of caked blood and purple bruises. He shivered violently and tried not to think about what was going to happen.

The lead bandit realised that the hostages could never be released or their governments would become involved, and he and his men would be hunted down. The captives had become a liability and like their driver, they needed to be dispatched and hidden deep in the jungle. He stood behind them with two of his men and when he gave the signal all of them raised their rifles. The retort of three gunshots exploded across the quiet jungle canopy, and one by one the backpackers flopped forward dead into the Cambodian dirt.

Chapter 4

(Two Months Later)

The capital of Cambodia, Phnom Penh, was built along the banks of the mighty Mekong River. The city’s buildings were burnt-out and abandoned relics; they were ruined reminders of the halcyon days of French rule and the hell on earth days of Pol Pot’s reign. But Phnom Penh was undergoing a rebuilding phase and the city was awash with activity. Labourers scurried and climbed across the bamboo scaffolds that clung precariously to almost every building. Motorcycles, cars and tuk-tuks whizzed down wide boulevards at breakneck speed. Pedestrians, on their way to new jobs, rushed by the street beggars who clutched, grasped and called out for spare change.

Twenty-nine-year-old Australian backpacker David Wilson was a Melbourne-based social worker who coached an underprivileged boys’ soccer team in his free time. He was broad, suntanned and handsomely scruffy; his long dark hair hung down to his shoulders. David was wearing shorts, flip-flops and a T-shirt with a picture of Kurt Cobain printed on the front. He strolled casually down the busy street towards Phnom Penh’s inner city market. He had travelled around Southeast Asia, for the last three months, and he was comfortable in the exotic surroundings.

The market was a jumbled mess of hastily built stalls and disused camouflage tents erected around a muddy car park. T-shirt shops and CD stores were lined up next to tents that peddled mysterious fruits painstakingly packed on benches. Some of the stalls sold the flyblown carcases of unidentifiable livestock, while others traded in frogs, turtles and eels that swam around in algae-coated aquariums. Cambodian shoppers hustled between the tents stood at stalls and bartered loudly in Khmer. Vendors carried in products that were for sale, and consumers carried out items that had been bought. The inner city market was a hectic hive of exotic activity. It was exactly the kind of place that backpackers like David had travelled to Southeast Asia to experience.

David noticed two old women standing on the side of the muddy street. He stopped to watch what they were doing. One of the women held a chicken by its feet, and the other was bartering with her aggressively over the price. The haggling women were interrupted when a tuk-tuk rattled and bumped its way down the potholed road. The driver tooted his horn, and they were forced to scurry apart to avoid being splashed with mud. The chicken screeched and flapped its wings, and the women cackled with laughter. The women came together when the tuk-tuk had passed. One of them held up three fingers. The other woman flashed a gap-toothed smile, and they suddenly agreed upon the price.

David entered the market. Three young urchin children immediately followed him. Two of them were slightly older and larger, and the smaller child was having trouble keeping up. The older children ignored their young friend, while they jostled each other, as they called out for money. Without stopping, David dug his hand into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out a handful of battered coins. He passed them to one of the larger children and gave him a playful pat on the head. The bigger boys shoved and pushed each other good-naturedly, took