Chimera (12 page)

The two research scientists slowly walked back to the shed door.

As Draganov and Tsarovich exited the shed and carefully shut and locked the heavy doors, the emergency interior lights went out.
 
Immediately, ten pairs of bright emerald animal eyes flashed open inside the left-side cages.

In cage five, one of the two eye-pairs was clearly human.

CHAPTER 13

Surat Thani, Thailand

It was nearly ten P.M. by the time Bulatt, Kulawnit, Preithat and the bodyguards finally arrived at Yak’s palatial estate.
 
The rains had mercifully stopped, turning the exquisitely landscaped gardens into a steaming outdoor sauna festooned by dripping lengths of bright yellow scene perimeter tape that provided — among many other things — a safe pathway to the first body.

The scene commander waited patiently for Kulawnit, Preithat and Bulatt to negotiate the designated route, introduced himself, and nodded respectfully as Preithat made the introductions.

“The bodies were discovered by the resident chef’s son who came here looking for his father,” the scene commander — a Lieutenant of the Thai Police Central Investigation Bureau — began.
 
“He entered through the south garden gate, observed this man lying here, ran into the house, and ultimately found three more bodies.”

“Including his father?” Colonel Kulawnit asked softly.

“Yes.
 
He found his father’s body in the walk-in freezer; shot twice, like the others in the house.
 
At that point, he called the police.”

Kulawnit looked down at the body sprawled face-down at his feet, a semi-automatic pistol with an attached silencer lying near the man’s outstretched right hand.
 
There were five widely-scattered bullet holes in the back of the man’s shirt that was bunched together in places by the straps of a shoulder holster, and what looked like five matching holes in the back of a raincoat stretched out beside the body.

“This one was shot several times,” Kulawnit noted.
 
His eyes were focused on the silenced pistol.
 
“Who is he?”

“Boon-Nam, a criminal well known to us in Surat Thani,” the scene commander replied.
 
“He is suspected of killing at least thirty people — mostly drug dealers, couriers, body-guards, thieves, burglars and the like — which is to say, mostly the competitors of the people who employ him.”

“A killer for hire?” Preithat asked.
 
“An assassin?”

“Yes, he was exactly that.
 
We’ve arrested him several times, but he always — please, don’t touch anything!” the scene commander said quickly when Bulatt knelt down to examine the body and weapon more closely.

“No, I won’t; I’m just looking,” Bulatt promised, his eyes sweeping the wet grass around the body, and noting the fourteen bright yellow flags stuck in the grass around the steps leading up to a back door to the house.

“Special Agent Bulatt is an American covert operator for Interpol, and also an experienced homicide crime scene investigator, who will be assisting us with our investigation,” Preithat said firmly.
 
“He is aware of our rules and restrictions, and will honor them implicitly.”

“Excellent.
 
We are happy to have you here, Agent Bulatt,” the scene commander said unconvincingly.

“Thank you, lieutenant,” Bulatt replied, looking up.
 
“I apologize for the interruption, and I certainly will not interfere with your work; but could you tell me something?
 
Did one of your investigators remove this man’s raincoat, or was the scene like this when the officers arrived?”

“One of our crime scene technicians removed it a few minutes ago, at my direction.
 
We wanted a photograph clearly showing Boon-Nam was wearing the shoulder holster, and therefore came here with intent to kill.”

Bulatt nodded as if that was the answer he’d been expecting.
 
“Thank you.”

“I was told that one of our Captains is in the house?” Colonel Kulawnit said, finally turning his gaze away from the silenced pistol.

“Yes, of course.
 
Follow me,” the scene commander said.

As Kulawnit and the scene commander walked toward the door leading into Yak’s den, Preithat held Bulatt back and leaned his head forward.
 
“Did you see something of interest back there?” he whispered.

Bulatt nodded.
 
“Yes.
 
I think this scene’s been rigged.”

Preithat blinked.
 
“What do you mean?”

“I think I should explain when we’re alone.”
 
Bulatt gestured slightly with his head in the direction of the scene commander.

“Yes, I understand,” Preithat acknowledged, and then motioned for Bulatt to follow Kulawnit and the scene commander into the den.

“So this is how a corrupt Ranger Captain ends his career, soiled by his own piss and shit,” Kulawnit said, staring down at the familiar figure lying on his back, still bound tightly to the chair, with his wide-open mouth and eyes frozen in a horrified stare.
 
“He appears to have suffered appropriately.
 
Was he tortured?”

“Not that we can tell,” the scene commander replied.
 
“We’ll know more once we get them to the morgue, but there are no other obvious wounds or bruising; just the two bullet holes you see — heart and forehead.”

“And this man?”
 
Kulawnit nodded down at the second much-scrawnier body lying face up on the floor with a silenced semiautomatic pistol lying a few inches from his outstretched hand.”

“This is Yak, the owner of this estate,” the scene commander said.

“As well as one of my informants,” Preithat added.

“Was he also an assassin for hire?” Kulawnit asked, staring down at the pistol that looked identical to the one lying out in the garden.

“Yak, an assassin?”
 
The scene commander chuckled.
 
“No, I would not call him that.
 
A crook, con man, thief, drug dealer, child abuser, and consummate liar, yes; and I’m sure, as Major Preithat said, an informer many times over; but not an assassin.
 
Mr. Yak did not like to get his hands soiled, in any manner.
 
I have no doubt that he hired Boon-Nam many times to do his dirty work; but I would not be surprised if this was the first time he had ever fired that pistol — and, as you saw outside, did so poorly.
 
Fourteen or fifteen rounds fired, and only five hit the target — three barely.”

“Do you have a sense of what happened here?” Preithat asked the scene commander.

“Not a clear one yet,” the scene commander said, “but we believe Boon-Nam was the one who secured Captain Choonhavan to the chair — only because Yak was not physically capable of doing so — and probably executed him and the chef.
 
We’ll be able to confirm that when we conduct the ballistic examinations on the two pistols and the bullets from the bodies.”

“Do we have any idea why he would do this?” Preithat pressed.

“At this point, we’re assuming there was an argument which resulted in Boon-Nam shooting Yak in the stomach, perhaps accidentally, perhaps not.
 
He goes outside.
 
Yak gets to his gun, shoots back through the screen door — possibly hitting Boon-Nam, possibly not.
 
Boon-Nam runs out to the garden, Yak staggers outside, empties his weapon at Boon-Nam, hitting him a few times, but none of the wounds immediately fatal.
 
Then Boon-Nam fires his pistol one last time, striking Yak in the forehead and flinging him backwards into the den.”

The scene commander then stared at Bulatt thoughtfully for a long moment.
 
“There are some difficulties with this theory, as you undoubtedly realize, Agent Bulatt; the apparent lack of blood spattering around the doorway to the garden being one.
 
But, as you might imagine, the rain always makes such determinations difficult.”

“I don’t envy you your job here, commander,” Bulatt said honestly.

“Do you think it’s possible that —?” Preithat started to ask when the cell phone on his belt began to ring.

“Excuse me,” he said as he brought the phone up to his ear.
 
“Yes?” He listened for about twenty seconds.
 
“Where, exactly?”
 
He listened for a few more seconds.
 
“Thank you, we’ll be there as soon as possible,” he said, then closed the cell phone and looked at Colonel Kulawnit.
 
“The foreign guide’s fishing yacht — the
Avatar
.
 
It’s been located.”

“Where?” Kulawnit demanded.

“Anchored off Ko Tanga.
 
Our resident Ranger remembered seeing it earlier this afternoon when he received our alert.
 
There are at least two Caucasian males on board, both matching the descriptions we obtained from the Shining Wind hotel staff: in their mid-to-late thirties, tanned, muscular and fit.”

“What are they doing there?” Bulatt asked.

“Fishing and diving, acting like normal vacationers.”

“Why would they anchor themselves in Thai waters?” Kulawnit demanded, his eyes flashing.
 
“If they were involved in my son’s death, why wouldn’t they be trying to escape — presumably into Malaysia?”

“I think they’re going to see Kai, Khun Prathun,” Preithat said, smiling in pleasant anticipation.
 
“Perhaps now we will finally understand what happened, and why.”

CHAPTER 14

Tanga Island Cove, Malacca Strait, Thailand

“Can you see him?” Quince Lanyard whispered to his throat mike.

The three low-riding outboard motorboats had been moving in slowly for the past hour; each one in turn accelerating for a few seconds, and then coasting to a stop in the dark water off Tanga Island.
 
Lanyard and Gavin had been monitoring their progress with night-vision-scoped rifles from two separate positions — Lanyard from the Kevlar-and-titanium-armored bridge deck of the
Avatar
anchored two hundred yards off the Tanga Island Cove, along with four other similar yachts, and Gavin from a rock-lined promontory on Tanga Island overlooking the cove where the meet was supposed to take place.

“I count twelve unfriendlies — all armed with AKs and extra mags, but no armor — and maybe half of them equipped with one those old hand-held single-lens night-scopes.
 
Looks like two scopes for each boat, driver and team leader.
 
None of the twelve look like Kai.”
 
Gavin’s whispered reply was clearly audible in Lanyard’s tactical earphones.
 
“Maybe he decided to stay home, let his minions do all the dirty work.”

“And miss all the fun?
 
Not bloody likely,” Lanyard muttered.
 
“My guess is — wait.
 
There’s something moving out there — your two o’clock position, out past the second buoy.
 
Can’t make it out; too much fog down here.”

“Hold one.”
 
Gavin readjusted his position, centered the cross-hairs of his modern night-scope on the second buoy that was barely visible in the low-lying greenish fog, and then brought the cross-hairs up slightly.
 
As he did so, an indistinct and blurry dark-spot almost hidden by the fog slowly resolved into a recognizable shape.
 
“Got it.
 
Looks like a fast boat, mini-cig, heading your way from the east.
 
Coming in slow; two passengers, one of whom … is definitely Kai.
 
Got you, you sneaky bastard!”
 
Gavin chuckled.

“Okay, time to mess with their little pirate minds,” Lanyard said, “Turn on the first flasher.”

Moments later, a bright green light began flashing on and off at a point close to the rocky shoreline and almost a hundred feet below and to the left of Gavin’s barricaded position.

As Lanyard and Gavin watched through their night-scopes, confused activity erupted in the three low-lying surveillance boats as the men without the hand-held night-scopes began pointing frantically at the blinking light that the men with the hand-scopes were obviously having trouble seeing.

“Bright green on bright green.
 
Ah, Quince, me lad, you’re a devious bastard indeed.”
 
Gavin chuckled again as the most of the men with the hand-held scopes set them aside and began gesturing at the blinking light.
 
Finally, two of the boats began to move cautiously toward shore in the direction of the light flashes while the third turned sharply and began accelerating in the direction of the
Avatar
.

“Stand by, mate,” Gavin whispered into his throat mike, “it looks like you’re about to be boarded, bow and stern.”

*
   
*
   
*

Over the Malacca Strait, Thailand

The Blackhawk helicopter — on loan from the Thai Army, and carrying five heavily armed Forestry Division Rangers and a Ranger Sergeant Fire-Team Leader, in addition to Bulatt, Kulawnit, Preithat, the two bodyguards, and a pair of Army crew chiefs manning the two M60 machineguns mounted at the open cabin doors, all wearing camouflaged and inflatable life vests over their heavy armored vests — was flying low over the Malacca Strait, heading south, halfway to Tanga Island, the pilots eyeing the storm clouds that threatened to disgorge their liquid contents at any moment, when Major Preithat turned to Bulatt and motioned that they should put their helmets together.

The physical connection between the two helmets caused the output from their throat mikes to be picked up by both sets of embedded earphones.