Chimera (19 page)

“That would be nice.”
 
Caldreaux was silent for a moment.
 
“So Ah guess you’re plannin’ on canceling our dinner arrangements?”

Hateley sighed.
 
“No, I’m not; I can’t see any reason to do that just because I came back empty-handed.
 
And besides, we’ve got a nice menu all planned out for you fellows; just have to change my own entrée selection to ‘fricassee of crow.’”

Caldreaux chuckled.
 
“Well, it’s been nice chattin’ with you, Michael, as always.
 
Good to hear you’re still maintain’ that marvelous sense of humor of yours; and Ah’m certainly looking forward to our little get-together.”

“Yes, Stuart,” Hateley said, staring at the empty spot on his trophy wall, “so am I.”

CHAPTER 21

At Rigley Charters - Bangkok International Airport

The bright-blue-lettered sign on the hanger door read ‘RIGLEY CHARTERS.’

As Ged Bulatt, Pete Younger and Achara Kulawnit opened the door and walked inside the office, a slender, clean-cut man in his mid-thirties looked up from a computer.
 
The tabs on his uniform shirt identified him as a pilot. A much larger man bearing Chinese character tattoos on his very muscular forearms and wearing a mechanics uniform sat at a far corner desk sorting through paperwork.

“May I help you?”

“I certainly hope so,” Younger said.
 
“My mates and I would like to charter one of your aircraft for a week; and maybe keep it a few more days if things work out right.”

The pilot stood up from his computer, walked up to the counter and extended his hand.
 
“Roger Rigley, owner and chief pilot, at your service.
 
What exactly did you gentlemen have in mind?”

“We’re looking for something fast and fancy, capable of landing on small runways, adaptable to a change in flight plans on short notice, refrigeration for transporting anything we happen to snag on a hook, a couple of crackerjack pilots, a competent steward with an amiable sense of humor, and seating for six with full meal service,” Younger replied.

“That would be full meal and beverage service,” Bulatt amended.

“Goes without saying,” Younger agreed.

The pilot picked up a clipboard from a nearby desk and began to make notes.
 
“You did say six?” He asked, looking up questioningly at the three men.

“We might be picking up a Sheila or two on the way,” Younger explained.

“Ah, yes, of course.”
 
The pilot nodded in understanding as he made a few more notes.
 
“I believe our G-Four would meet your requirements quite nicely, gentlemen.
 
She’s a bit on the pricey side, but if we’re talking a full week —”

“Price is not an object,” Younger said.
 
“My American friend here is picking up the tab.
 
I’m sure he wouldn’t want to offend us with anything but the finest.”

The pilot cocked his eyebrow at Bulatt who shrugged agreeably.
 
“They tend to be expensive friends, but still cheaper than another wife,” he said.
 
“What’s the availability of the plane?”

“Are we talking today?”

“That would be ideal.”

The pilot checked his watch.
 
“Actually, she’s due in from Singapore in another half-hour or so; dead-heading back in from a previous charter.
 
Fully cleaned and maintenance checked.
 
We’ll have to re-configure the cabin, gas-up and re-supply the larder, of course; but that won’t take long once you make your selections.”

“You just have the one; G-Four, I believe it was?” Bulatt asked.

“At the moment,” the pilot nodded.
 
“We’re hoping to pick up a G-Five next year if things continue to go well.”

“If you’ve only got the one, I hope the previous bloke didn’t fume the bloody place up,” Younger commented.

“I beg your pardon?”
 
The pilot looked puzzled.

“I believe my friend is expressing his concern that your previous charter might have smoked on the plane,” Bulatt translated.

“Puts the Sheilas right off their feed, every time,” Younger added helpfully.

“Well, I know for a fact that Mr. — ah, Smith, doesn’t smoke; or, at least, he never has on our plane,” the pilot said confidently.
 
“But, even if he did, I can assure you the cleaning service we employ is top-rate.
 
The carpets and holding tanks are steam-cleaned, and the main cabin, galley, and toilet facilities get a complete vacuuming and sterile wipe-down after every charter.
 
The only scent your, ah, lady-friends are apt to notice will be the warming
hors d’oeuvres
and the freshly-grilled lobster; or the prime rib, of course.
 
I’m assuming you’d prefer the deluxe service package?”

“Bloody right he does.” Younger smiled cheerfully.

“Sounds good to me,” Bulatt said as he pulled a wallet out of his jacket pocket.
 
“Let’s get the paperwork started.”

“Hold on just a minute,” Younger said, putting his hand on Bulatt’s arm. “Before I let my mate here spend a bloody fortune on our amusements, I’m thinking we ought to do a bit more reference checking; just to be on the safe side.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Bulatt said, turning to the pilot. “No offense intended, Mr. Rigley. The thing is, we’ve already inquired into your reputation as a charter operator and pilot, as well as the quality of your maintenance service; and both came back as first-rate.
 
No worries there.”

“That’s very nice to hear,” the pilot replied, smiling confidently as if he’d expected nothing less.

“But we never did get around to checking into your catering sources,” Younger added.
 
“Hate to go to all this effort and then have one of the little darlings chomp into the odd slice of shoe leather, if you know what I mean. I assume your, ah, Mr. Smith routinely orders the deluxe service package as well?”

“I think that would be a reasonable assumption,” the pilot acknowledged with an amused expression in his eyes.

“Excellent.
 
Then how about putting us into contact with the good fellow for a brief chat?
 
Help us reassure our friend here that his money’s being well spent.”

The pilot shook his head politely.
 
“I’m sorry, gentlemen, but our number one rule at Rigley Charters is that we don’t discuss our clients with each other.
 
We’re rather firm on that, for all of the obvious reasons.”

“Completely within your rights, and admirable as well,” Bulatt agreed.
 
“But perhaps you could put him into contact with us by cell phone?
 
Have his secretary reverse the charges, of course.
 
We’re not asking you to tell us who your client is; we’d just like to ask him a couple of general questions about his satisfaction with your catering service.
 
It is, after all, a considerable amount of money that I’m prepared to spend; now, and in future years,” he added pointedly.

“Yes, I understand completely,” the pilot said, his eyes and body language suggesting he wasn’t the least bit happy with the way the conversation was going, “but I hope you understand as well that I cannot —”

“Of course, we would expect to pay an additional service fee for all of your trouble,” Younger added, patting his jacket pocket suggestively.

Somehow, Roger Rigley managed to look offended, embarrassed, apologetic, and tempted all at the same time.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen,” he said firmly, “but what you’re asking is simply impossible.”

“Would it help if we told you that you‘d be assisting us with a matter of some international importance?” Younger added as he placed one of his Interpol business cards on the counter.

The pilot took one look at the card, glanced over at Younger and Bulatt — both of whom nodded somberly — and immediately shook his head, his face turning pale.
 
“Bloody hell, I should have guessed it was something like this.
 
I don’t suppose you men have proper identification?”

The two Interpol officers displayed their badges and credentials.

“All we’re looking for is a name, Mr. Rigley, nothing else,” Bulatt said reassuringly.
 
“We have no reason to ever reveal the source of that information.”

“But I — can’t.”

“Yes, actually, you can,” Younger suggested helpfully.
 
“It’s just a matter of being cooperative; as opposed to not.”

Roger Rigley took in a deep breath.
 
“I believe I know what it means to be cooperative with law enforcement,” he said, an angry glint appearing in his eyes.
 
“God knows I’ve paid more than my fair share to the local gendarmes to keep things flowing smoothly around here.”

Bulatt and Younger both winced, looked at each other, and shook their heads sadly.

“I’m truly sorry you chose to bring that topic into our discussion, Mr. Rigley,” Younger said, his deeply suntanned face shifting into an expression that seemed genuinely sympathetic.

“And you’re going to be even sorrier in a few moments,” Rigley went on heatedly, “because it just so happens that I know a few things about international law.
 
For example, I know that foreign Interpol officers have no actual law enforcement authority in Bangkok or anywhere else in Thailand.”
 
He turned to the mechanic who had already stood up from his desk and was now standing in from of Bulatt and Younger with a broad smile on his face, clenching his large grease-stained fists.

“John, throw their Interpol asses out of here, and don’t be gentle about it, while I call the —”

The big mechanic started for Bulatt, and then crumbled to the floor unconscious from the impact of a vicious Achara spin kick to the side of his head.
 
Ridley was still staring open-mouthed at Achara when the front door slammed open.

“While you call the police, perhaps?” an audibly furious voice inquired from the doorway.

Roger Rigley’s mouth dropped open and his eyes grew wide in shock.

“Uh, may I help you, officer,” he managed to croak out.

“Yes, you may,” Major Preithat acknowledged as he stepped into the office and made a point of removing a microphone from his ear.
 
“You may start by grounding all of your aircraft based at this facility, and all others now occupying Thai Air Space, which specifically includes your G-Four jet that is now in route from Singapore.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Preithat looked at his watch.
 
“I believe I spoke quite clearly.
 
You have precisely five minutes to obey my order.
 
If you fail to do so, I will direct the Thai Air Force to ground them for you, by whatever means they find necessary and appropriate.
 
Do you understand the meaning of the phrase ‘necessary and appropriate’?”

“But —”

Preithat looked at his watch again.
 
“Four minutes and fifty seconds.
 
And kindly be advised that you are now, officially, under arrest for suspicion of taking part in a conspiracy to murder six Thai Rangers, so please make no attempt to leave these facilities until I tell you to do so.
 
It would be inconvenient to have you shot before we have finished our discussion.”

As the now-ashen pilot-owner frantically grabbed for the radio-mike on the adjacent desk, Preithat turned to the new Interpol team.

“I’ve heard some very interesting things from Kuhn Prathun over the years about these verbal judo techniques, and the three of you did seem to be making excellent progress,” he said, his dark eyes remaining fixed on Rigley much like a cobra observing a tasty rat, “but I’ve always preferred the direct approach myself, especially when time is of the essence.”

*
   
*
   
*

An hour and fifteen minutes later, Bulatt and Younger stood outside the hanger beside Preithat’s official vehicle, holding cups of hot tea thoughtfully provided by a young police clerk.
 
The entire hanger complex was now surrounded by a dozen Royal Thai Police and Ranger vehicles, with several uniformed officers maintaining a watchful presence.
 
Four additional vehicles had taken positions out on the tarmac.

Younger looked around approvingly.
 
“Don’t you just love the Thai approach to hostile witness situations?” he commented.

“It does cut down on a lot of extraneous bullshit,” Bulatt acknowledged.

“I thought the ‘inconvenient to have you shot’ part was a nice finishing touch,” Younger went on.
 
“I’m actually rather envious; the New Zealand legal system tends to frown on that sort of interrogative approach.
 
And speaking of which, do you think the Major’s going to let our Mr. Rigley call his lawyer any time soon?”

“I don’t think any defense attorney in his right mind is going to want to be anywhere near Major Preithat and Mr. Rigley right about now,” Bulatt said seriously.

“All in all, an elegant approach to problem-solving.” Younger raised his tea cup in salute, presumably to Preithat and his aggressively responding Ranger force, and then sipped cautiously at the hot tea.

*
   
*
   
*

A few minutes later, Major Preithat stepped out of the hanger and called out to the two Interpol investigators. “Gentlemen, I believe Khun Achara has found something.”

The three men hurriedly entered the office area and found Achara typing furiously at a computer keyboard.

“Tell me you found bank records,” Bulatt said hopefully.

“No, better,” Achara responded. “Look at this.”

She turns the computer screen around so that they could all see it.