Read Online The Brittle Limit, a Novel by Kae Bell - Free Book Online

in
Cambodia.
    “Most of the companies here are public,
listed on major exchanges on Hong Kong, Australia, the US. Sure,
there are a one or two private companies still remaining, but we’d
certainly expect them to go public in the next year, to take
advantage of the capital infusion. Mining is capital-intensive and
you need to have a solid long game to stick around for the big
payoff."
    All the companies Andrew had called that
afternoon were public companies. He kept reading the article:
    "What are those?"
    “KMM and Kingdom Gold. Both small firms,
mostly focused on exploration."
    “KMM?”
    “Kampuchea Mining and Minerals.”
    The interview went on to discuss more
esoteric issues in mining, like the depths of mines and types of
drilling for different rock formations.
    Andrew typed ‘Kingdom Gold’ into the search
field. The company website was a plain blue background with text in
the middle, explaining that the company was no longer in operation.
Looked like it had gone under.
    Andrew typed the next name, Kampuchea Mining
and Minerals, into the search field. This search yielded a more
elaborate website, a deep gold background with a temple silhouette,
black angular lettering listing the company’s address and phone
number, and a “Contact Us” button along the side, presumably for
interested investors. Understated but classy, Andrew thought.
    He copied down the address and phone number
and dialed the number to see if anyone was still in the office on
this late Monday afternoon. A receptionist answered the phone.
Andrew hung up, grabbed his gun and keys from the desk and hurried
upstairs. If he pushed it, he could get there in time to catch
someone for a chat.
    ******
    Andrew’s motodop pulled up in front of a
squat two-story office building across from the Caltek Bokor gas
station in Boeung Keng Kang, a neighborhood popular with expats,
about a mile from the Embassy. Andrew studied the scratched and
heavily fingerprinted brass plaque by the locked front door. It
listed several tenants, including a dentist, a physical therapist,
and a masseuse whose name was also written in Khmer script below
the English letters. On the fifth-line down, he saw the name
Kampuchea Mining and Minerals, listed as occupying the second
floor, Suite 213.
    Without warning, the front door swung open
and a Cambodian woman pushed her way past Andrew, barely glancing
at him. Andrew assumed this was the secretary who had answered the
phone when he’d called twenty minutes earlier. Andrew caught the
door as it drifted close and stepped into the dim hallway.
    While the outside of the building was run
down, the inside was done up in an expansive, professional style.
The wooden floors were shiny and new, the walls painted a deep red
and decorated with high-end, local art, etchings of elephants and
temples, black and white photographs of local tourist spots.
    Andrew made his way up the staircase to the
second floor, where he saw the sign for KMM at the far end of the
hallway. He pulled the door open and stepped inside. A fat
red-faced man sat sideways at a large L-shaped wooden desk,
watching his computer screen as he muttered a string of expletives,
in a thick Australian accent. He turned toward the door when Andrew
walk in.
    “What the blast are you doing in here? We’re
closed!” the man yelled, huffing like a steam train as he stood up
from the desk to reveal his massive stomach, which tested the
buttons of a wrinkled blue shirt. He’d been holding a lit cigar in
his right hand, which he’d dropped at Andrew’s unannounced
entrance. The cigar now lay on the floor, singeing the carpet. The
smell of smoke and burning polyester filled the room.
    “Sorry, I called but I got cut off, so
thought I’d just head over and pop in.”
    It was sort of true, he figured. “I’m Andrew
Shaw. I’m with the US Embassy.” He stepped forward and extended his
hand.
    The man ignored the greeting. “I don’t give a
blast who you’re with. This isn’t