Tucked between lush trees and bushes, at the end of a long winding path up the side of the mountain, stood the sequence of stupas known as the Oudong Temple. The dirt bike maneuvered the trail with ease where it eventually ran dead at a small clearing in front of the ancient mystical complex.
“It’s spectacular,” Alex remarked as they dismounted under a shady tree. “The architecture is overwhelming.”
“I would agree, it’s fantastic, but all I see are millions of stairs to get to the top.” Sam said with his usual jest.
Alex giggled. “Five hundred and nine steps to be exact and guess what? We have to climb all of them to get to the highest stupa which is where the golden urn was stolen from.”
Sam didn’t answer. Instead, he fixed his gaze on the white set of stairs in disbelief.
“See this as your Rocky Balboa moment,” Alex teased.
“I’d say, Rocky Balboa amplified. As far as I recall those steps in Philadelphia were only seventy-two. These are seven times as many. But, if the reward delivers Stallone’s muscles and hopefully a few clues to finding the urn, let’s do it!”
The pair set off on the steep climb up the stairs stopping at the three dome-shaped stupas positioned in a row just below the fourth one, which was highest up the mountain. These stupas stood entirely separated from the one at the top making them accessible to tourists and open to the general public. There were groups of French students huddled with their sketchpads in front of the gold and ivory buildings. The fantastic ornate decorations of flowers and elephant heads on each stupa made for fascinating architectural inspiration. Each one was superbly distinguishable from the other and symbolized the three successions of Cambodian kings whose ashes were kept there.
A couple of tourists proudly posed for a photo in front of the enormous Buddha statue while a group of four devotees sat kneeled in prayer in front of a small shrine of burning incense.
“There’s this deep sense of spirituality up here, isn’t there Sam? Regardless of whether you’re a Buddhist or not, you feel such peace and sanctity.” Alex remarked as she took several photos of the shrine and ceremonial relics behind the glass windows.
“To think most of this is the surviving remains of the former royal capital city before it moved to Phnom Penh. The Khmer Rouge attacked and destroyed practically everything when they ruled between 1975 and 1979. It was devastating. Apparently, almost two million Cambodians died of starvation, execution, disease or being overworked. It was one of the biggest genocides in Eastern history. All because of social power.”
“And there she is. Alex Hunt, remarkable historian. How do you even know all this stuff? I’ve never even heard of the Khmer Rouge,” Sam said in awe of her knowledge.
“School was a very lonely place for me, Sam. I didn’t have any friends. I never really had the time to make any because we were always traveling. So all I did was find a quiet corner and read books. I could escape the rejection and hurt of not fitting in with a book. History has always been my favorite topic. I find it fascinating. Real life events that took place all over the world. Are you kidding me? It’s incredible. Besides, I guess, secretly I aimed to make sure I always went with my parents on their travels. If I knew more than they did, well then they’d find a reason to take me with them, and I wouldn’t have to stay behind.”
“Makes perfect sense. So who were these Khmer Rouge people?” Sam asked.
“It was a communist movement whose sole motive was to eliminate an entire social order in the country. Rouge is French for Red, which signified the bloodshed during their murderous onslaught. They were aggressive and vicious. But in early 1979 Vietnamese troops invaded Cambodia and captured Phnom Penh. They established a moderate Communist government, and the Khmer Rouge retreated back into the jungle. So they’re still out there with the motivation to strike at any time whenever a new insurgent swoops in. Most of the older generation who lived through the Rouge walk on eggshells. They live in daily fear of them returning.”
“That’s brutal,” Sam remarked. “Oh, that reminds me. The biker had a tattoo on the back of his neck. It was a black scorpion. Do you think that means anything?”
“A scorpion? It could mean something, I’m sure. I just wouldn’t know what. I do know that the Cambodians are very superstitious and they believe in magic tattoos in strategic places on their bodies. The tigers usually mean they’re fighters or in a fight club of some sorts but I’ve never heard of people getting scorpion tattoos.”
“It might mean nothing, but you never know. I only caught sight of the thug's neck because he was in front of us,” said Sam.
“Well, we’ll ask around just in case. If those guys were of the same gang as the one who burgled our rooms, then something’s up. I still don’t know why they’re after us.”
“Those three back there meant business, Alex. They’re after something, that’s certain. Perhaps they think we have found the urn already. Speaking of, let’s get up to the top stupa and see if something stands out in the shrine.”
Another multitude of steps further up the mountain brought them to the highest stupa that was taped off with bright orange police tape. As they approached the dome, two security guards flung their rifles over their shoulders and pointed it at them, stopping both Sam and Alex dead in their tracks.
“No tourist allow,” one of them said in broken English.
Sam’s hands went up in the air as Alex attempted to reach into her backpack to pull the commissioner’s authorization letter out. This spooked one of the guards and immediately sent him into an aggressive response thinking she was trying to pull out a gun. The guard raised his rifle and aimed it directly at her face while shouting several commands in Mandarin.
Immediately Alex dropped her backpack and threw her arms into the air.
“Non, Non, S'il Vous plaît! Nous avons la permission du commissaire!” she tried explaining in French hoping her lack of speaking mandarin wouldn’t aggravate the situation. The guard stood his ground and kept the rifle pointed at them. Sam found it hard to swallow the anxious dry spot that sat wedged in the back of his throat as he nervously looked at Alex. She repeated the phrase again in desperation to get through to the guards.
The more mature guard who seemed to be in charge answered back in french asking for the permission document she claimed she had. His hand gripped his rifle tighter while still pointing it at her face in anticipation of danger but allowed Alex to reach into her backpack. Alex cautiously retrieved the official letter stamped by Mr. San Yeng-Pho granting them permission to enter the stupa. The guard scanned it over and handed it back with a polite apology, permitting them to pass as if nothing had happened.
The commissioner’s high rank clearly did the trick.
“Now that was a close call,” a relieved Sam said as they pushed past the guards up the last flight of stairs. “Is it my imagination or did they seem super aggressive?”
“I think the entire country is on tenterhooks with the theft of the urn, Sam. The longer it takes to find it, the more on edge they all are,” Alex answered while taking her shoes off signaling for Sam to do the same. The large wooden, hand-carved door to the stupa was heavy and called for both of them needing to lean into it to push it open. The exquisite carvings in itself told an ancient story of a historical wonder; a city steeped in tradition and spirituality, but rife with political undercurrents, fear, and blood spill.
The sacred building was deathly quiet inside with not a soul in sight. A few lit candles burned at the foot of the shrine in the center of the double volume building. Orange police tape surrounded the glassed chamber and a perfect circular hole in the glass window on the other end proved evidence that a crime was recently committed.
Several garlands of fresh flowers decorated the floor all around the shrine and the smell of incense permeated the air. Smaller Buddha statues surrounded the square platform where the urn was once displayed.
“Apart from the urn, it doesn’t look like anything is out of the ordinary. Judging from the entry point, I’d say these were professional burglars,” Alex commented as she circled the shrine.
“I’d agree, Watson,” Sam mocked with a sideways glance.
“Watson! You mean Sherlock. What makes you think I’m your sidekick? Might I remind you that I saved your behind back there,” Alex joked back.
“Okay, okay, you win. Can’t argue with that one. You were saying?” Sam spurred Alex on.
“Well,” Alex continued, “as I was saying, my guess is, the burglars used a diamond cutter and suction pad. Extremely precise with no noise disturbance; which explains why the dogs were the only detectors. This theft wasn’t just a common burglary.”
Alex noticed as Sam stared at her in surprise. “And you know this how?” he asked.
“My Dad. He’s a huge James Bond fan,” Alex replied flippantly.
“Ahem, may I be of any assistance?” A soft male voice spoke behind them. The monk bowed in the customary prayerful greeting as they both turned around to face him, prompting them to bow in response.
“Choum Reap Sur, Bhante,” Alex greeted promptly in his native language as a sign of respect to the elder monk. “I am Alex Hunt, and this is Sam Quinn. We have been commissioned by your king to recover the stolen golden urn.”
The senior monk’s gaze lingered on their faces for a few seconds before he politely gestured for them to follow him through a small doorway on the other end of the large room. Sam, being over six feet tall, stooped over to get through the tiny space, which then opened up into a generous room with a vaulted roof. The ceilings were elaborately decorated with gold flowers. It was jaw dropping.
“Wow!” Sam sounded off.
“Shh, you can’t speak in here,” Alex whispered. “It’s the holiest most sacred place in the entire temple. This is where the monks gather for meditation and teaching,” she proceeded in a muted tone.
Again Sam shook his head in disbelief of her considerable knowledge of the culture. As far as he knew, she had never been inside a Buddhist temple before and yet she knew precisely how to greet them and what not to do.
Up ahead at the very far end of the hall, a small group of monks sat cross-legged on small purple mats on the floor. Their bright saffron robes along with dozens of lit candles around them illuminated the room to a radiant glow. Facing them sat a much older monk on a raised pedestal reading from an odd looking sheet.
The senior monk signaled for Alex and Sam to sit at the back of the group and placed his finger on his mouth instructing them to be silent. Alex was in awe while Sam shuffled several times in an uncomfortable attempt to cross his long legs. Civilians are never permitted to sit in on teachings so this was an exceptional honor to be a part of. Alex couldn’t understand a single word the monk uttered, but somehow, her mind became a dull space of extreme calm. She could feel herself gradually losing awareness of Sam who eventually settled on one leg stretched out in front of him and the other half tucked underneath. She closed her eyes and listened to the soothing murmured teaching. Apart from the Buddhist priest’s voice, one could hear a pin drop. She had no idea how long she sat in her tranced state, but it was only when the priest sounded a chiming bell, and the students got to their feet, that she opened her eyes again.
“Welcome back sleeping beauty,” Sam whispered close to her ear.
“Did I fall asleep?” an embarrassed Alex replied.
“Not sure, you were definitely off somewhere other than here. You might want to wipe the drool off your chin.”
Appalled Alex’s hand shot up to her face as she vigorously wiped her chin with her scarf that covered her head and shoulders.
Sam chuckled. “Relax Princess. I was just teasing. You’re as pretty as the flowers on this ceiling.”
“Ha-ha very funny Mr. Pretzel,” she bit back jumping to her feet while Sam unknotted his now numbed legs.“
Moments later the senior monk appeared next to them and ushered the pair in front of the priest. As they exchanged greetings, Alex caught sight of the unusual looking sheet he had been reading from on the table beside them. There were stacks of similar sheets next to it. The priest spoke to the senior monk in mandarin who promptly translated accordingly. “Miss Hunt, my honorable priest invites you to take a closer look.”
Alex practically jumped out of her skin with excitement. “Really? I would be honored,” she exclaimed dropping her head toward the priest again.
“What are they?”
“They are ancient writings of Buddha’s teachings, Miss Hunt. They were written more than a thousand years ago.”
“Phenomenal, what is this paper?” Alex asked in awe.
“It is a fusion of banana leaf and rice paper. The ink is liquid gold.”
“No way!” Sam exclaimed. “Real gold ink?”
“Precisely Dr. Quinn. It is ancient and was reserved for sacred texts only.”
The exquisite beauty of the sheets of banana leaf writings had Alex and Sam both mesmerized.
“What does it say?” she asked.
The monk picked up one of the sheets and started translating.
May I think of every living being
As more precious than a wish giving gem
For reaching the ultimate goal,
And so always hold them dear.
When I'm with another, wherever we are,
May I see myself as the lowest.
May I hold the other as the highest,
From the bottom of my heart.
As I go through the day may I watch my mind,
To see if a negative thought has come;
If it does May I stop it right there, with force,
Since it hurts others and myself.
“How unbelievably profound. And this is what today’s teaching was about? Humility and kindness?” an equally stunned Sam asked.
The senior monk nodded and then placed the sheet back on the rest of the stack. On top of the sheaf, he proceeded to position a similarly shaped piece of wood and fastened strips of cloth around the pile in a tight bow before wrapping it up in a cutting of fabric.
“It’s a book,” Alex says excitedly. “A magnificently bound book of banana leaf pages and wooden book covers all wrapped up in a neat parcel. Absolutely astonishing.”
Sam turned to the monks and bowed prayerfully in gratitude, “Thank you for this honor. This was truly the most remarkable artifact I have ever seen.”
A still gawking Alex followed suit, bending at the waist several times.
“I think he knows how appreciative you are, Alex. One bow usually does it,” Sam said surreptitiously behind his palms that were still held together in front of his chest.
“Oh yes-yes of course. Ahem,” Alex cleared her throat switching to a more business-like tone. “Venerable, thank you for this honor. We need your assistance if you don’t mind?”
The priest nodded.
“We have been tasked to recover the golden urn. Forgive me for asking, but there are rumors that the stolen urn was a counterfeit. Would you be able to dispel this by any chance?”
Alex felt her stomach somersault as she waited for the senior monk to translate her question; anticipating he would be highly offended at her cheeky question. There was a long silent pause before the priest responded with a reply that caught them both off guard. “A pure heart cannot derail the sanctity of his holiness. For an object remains cold and without a soul, but the heart of a believer conquers all.”
And with that, the priest bowed and slipped out through another small door behind him.
The senior monk waited patiently for them to respond but neither Sam nor Alex spoke immediately in the wake of his words.
“Oh don’t mind him, Sheila. The old bat always speaks in parables.”
“Ollie! Wh—what are YOU doing here?”
“G’day Mate,” ignoring Alex’s question with a firm pat on Sam’s back after which he turned to the senior monk and hugged him as if he were family.
“Nice to see you again, Marut,” the monk responded.
“Marut? Who on earth is Marut?” a still dumbstruck Alex uttered.
“Ah, Sheila, no need to look so surprised. Roshi and I go way back. We’re practically brothers. Now, what brings the two of you here, huh?”
There was no way on earth Alex was going to give him the satisfaction of a truthful answer. Quick on her feet, she replied with a simple, “Nothing, just taking in some tourist attractions, that’s all.”
Alex threw Sam a warning look who, on the other hand, could spill the beans to his new ‘friend’ very easily. Instead, he caught her stare and refrained from speaking. But it was evident Ollie didn’t believe a word she said when he quickly switched to converse with the monk in perfect mandarin. Moments later Ollie stood back with a grin so wide it looked as if the corners of his mouth were going to tear open.
“Well, why didn’t you just say so, Sheila? I told you two lovebirds I could help, and I know just the man to help us.”
“‘Us’? Oh no, Ollie or Marut or whatever you call yourself. There’s no ‘US’ in this equation, thank you. This is a Hunt team expedition. You are hardly an expert on this subject!”
“Shh, let’s not get upset in here, Sheila. This is a holy place. Let’s take it outside, before you lift the rafters.” Ollie pushed all her buttons with deliberate intent, and he relished in it.
It just about took all her self-control not to slap Ollie across the face. She cursed the man in her thoughts for letting him crawl under her skin.
“He’s right, Alex, let’s go. We don’t want to cause a commotion.” Sam placed a firm hand on her elbow and ushered her toward the door and outside the stupa.
“Let go of my arm, Sam! I’m not a child. What the heck is he doing here? I’m telling you, this guy is as slippery as those eels you buy at the night market. He’s not all he says he is, and why the heck are you siding with him?” Alex couldn’t decide if she was angry at Ollie or angry at Sam for supporting Ollie with his exaggerated patriotism toward him. She spun around toward the stairs, “I’m leaving. I don’t have time for this snake’s antics.”
“Alex, wait!” Sam shouted after her. “Let’s at least hear what the guy has to say. Maybe he can help. He certainly seems to know his way around. Let’s use him to our advantage to further our quest. It can’t hurt. Come on, five minutes, then we leave okay?”
Alex wasn’t sure why Ollie crept under her skin the way he did. All she knew was to trust her instincts. As she stood arms crossed outside the stupa listening to Sam trying to convince her, she recalled something her Dad once taught her.
Keep your friends close and your enemies closer
Sam is right. They were there to find out more about the urn and Ollie did speak mandarin, so it made sense to use him to their advantage. She kicked a pebble down the ivory stone staircase.
“Fine” she replied finally. “But I’m out of here if he calls me Sheila again, do you hear me, Sam Quinn?”
“Agreed.”
Ollie was still talking to the senior monk as they walked back into the temple room.
“Ah, so you decided you need my help after all.” Ollie said with a sheepish grin on his face.
“Oh don’t flatter yourself. We have a job to do, so get on with it. Who’s this guy that can help us?” Alex wasn’t about to let Ollie’s obnoxious ego derail her. She’d play ball but only for the sake of their quest.
“Ahem,” Sam cut in. “Ollie, what Alex meant to say is that we would appreciate any assistance in the matter? We’re trying to establish if indeed the stolen urn was authentic. If it wasn’t it means that the original relic is still out there somewhere.”
Ollie spotted Alex’s stern face. This was one female who wasn’t about to let him mess with her. This was his single chance if he were to find what he’s after. He looked her square in the eye, “I will offer you whatever assistance you might need. Just say the word, Alex.”
Alex wasn’t prepared for his comment at all. ‘Alex.’ The man hasn’t once referred to her as anything other than Sheila. Could it be that she has won this silent battle of authority against him? Perhaps standing next to Roshi in a sacred temple somehow penetrated his heart with compassion. No, he wasn’t to be trusted. Wolf in sheep’s clothing is what he was. She pushed her chin out and pulled back her shoulders. “Why don’t you start by taking us to whomever you were referring to earlier? Who do you know that could help us find the original urn?”
Ollie shifted and propped his one hand on his hip whilst whacking his hat against his thigh with the other. “Now, I never said he’d find you the original urn. Heck, we don’t even know if the stolen urn was a fake or not.”
Alex felt her hands ball into a fist. Something both Ollie and Sam noticed instantly, so Sam interjected calmly. “But this guy you speak of can somehow shed some light if indeed this was an authentic relic, correct?”
“Bloody oath, Mate. If anyone has the answer it will be my guy Charlie.” Ollie was filled with pride as if he just bragged about his best friend.
Roshi nodded in agreement, “Okay, we go?”
Sam clapped his hands together like a car salesman who just concluded a deal. “We go, yes. No time like the present.”
“I guess I don’t have a choice in the matter, do I?” Alex said still not convinced she should trust Ollie.