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Authors: F. W. Rustmann Jr.

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BOOK: Plausible Denial
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If
he noticed the pout on Noi’s face, he didn’t react to it at all.

They
finished eating, with Noi only picking at her food, and followed the general
down the tarmac to the aircraft. The general did a final inspection and removed
the chocks from the wheels and the tethers from the wings. Then they all began
to climb aboard the aircraft.

Sawat
said, “Noi, you and Ling Ling sit in the back with Mr. Ralph. Bob, you come up
front with me. It is a beautiful day for a tour of the mighty Mekong and the
Golden Triangle.”

Seeing
the expression of shock and discomfort on Noi’s face, Mac smiled and suggested
that he and “Ralph” sit in the back, with Noi and Ling Ling up front next to
the general.

Visibly
relieved at the new seating arrangements, she bowed deeply to Mac. The general
was oblivious to the whole act being played out before him.

 

 

Chapter Thirty-Two

 

 

O
nce
inside with the doors closed, it rapidly grew hot in the cabin. Rivulets of
sweat ran down Culler’s face and off his chin onto his Thai silk shirt. As the
propeller caught, the engine revved and the cooling system cut in; they finally
began to cool off.

The
general maneuvered the howling Cessna 172 out onto the taxiway and then to the
end of the runway, where he did a final check of his instruments and received
permission from the control tower to take off. They raced down the runway and
up into the air. 

Banking
right he took the plane due east toward the Mekong River. They climbed to an
altitude of fifteen hundred feet and leveled off over thick triple-canopy
jungle interspersed with villages and farms. Soon the meandering, wide, brown
swath of the mighty Mekong came into view. He banked left and they followed the
river north toward the Golden Triangle.

The
general kept up a steady stream of commentary on the landscape and history of
the land below them, shouting over his shoulder to be heard above the wailing
engine.

They
reached the Golden Triangle, and Culler and Mac could see plainly how the place
got its name. The Mekong flowed north to south, dividing Burma to the west and
Laos to the east. The Ruak River flowed from the west to the east separating
Burma from Thailand, its neighbor to the south, until it curved south and
joined the Mekong in a perfect triangle, joining Burma, Laos and Thailand.

The
general circled the Golden Triangle while continuing to enlighten them on the
jaded history of the area over the roar of the plane. He banked south beyond
Doi Mae Salong and headed back into the mountains of Northern Thailand until he
reached the village of Ban Hin Taek, securely nestled deep in a long finger
valley in the shadow of Doi Tung, the highest mountain in the region.

“There
it is,” the general shouted. “The notorious Ban Hin Taek—easy to get to by air,
but by land it is a very different story. See that road over there? It starts
at Bap Basang on route 110 between Chiang Rai and Mae Sai, winding up that
mountain to Doi Mae Salong. From there it continues as a dirt road heading
north toward the Burmese border to Ban Hin Taek. It’s the same road the Thai
Army took when they attacked Khun Sa. Many trucks loaded with men—armed with
assault rifles, grenade launchers, recoilless rifles and rocket launchers—drove
all night to surprise Khun Sa. And they succeeded. Khun Sa never thought they
would do it. Or if they did, he figured he would have plenty of warning from
his many paid informants. He never thought such a thing could happen with all
the money he spread around the area.”

“I’m
surprised no one warned him,” said Mac.

“Frankly,
I would have warned him if I could have, but the raid was such a closely
guarded secret that even the Thai Army and Border Patrol soldiers didn’t know
where they were going until after they got there.

“It
is not as small a village as you might think, either. Even during Khun Sa’s
days, it was thriving. Khun Sa first came to Ban Hin Taek in the mid-sixties.
He lived here for about a year and fell in love with the place. So, about ten
years later he returned with his wife and children. He made the village his
base of operations for his Shan United Army and for his associated drug trade.
At its peak the SUA had twenty thousand heavily armed soldiers totally devoted
to him, and seventy percent of the heroin consumed in the United States came
from his organization.”

The
general brought the Cessna lower and buzzed the village. “See that large villa
there at the base of that mountain? That was Khun Sa’s home and headquarters.
It was very modern, beautifully furnished with expensive furniture and artwork.
It had a television in every room, an elaborate stereo system, an Olympic sized
swimming pool and a tennis court that doubled as a helicopter landing pad.”

“Pretty
nice digs,” said Mac.

“Yes,
the officers and chemists in Khun Sa’s narcotics army also lived in spacious,
modern villas with manicured lawns. You can see some of them over there, lining
the base of the hill next to Khun Sa’s place.” 

Mac
leaned forward and shouted a question at the general. “If that’s the only road
leading to Ban Hin Taek, how did the Thai Army flush him out of there?”

“Yes,
good question. Ban Hin Taek was a heavily fortified mountain stronghold. Khun
Sa felt very secure there surrounded by two thousand soldiers. The actual
battle was like a shootout in one of your cowboy movies: street by street and
house by house. Vicious.

“The
battle for the village, back in 1982, lasted three long days. The Thai soldiers
and Border Patrol took up battle lines along the east side of the main street,
over there. Ten meters away, on the other side of the street, stood the
surprised drug traffickers, many of them rousted from their beds and still in
their underwear, but heavily armed with automatic weapons and not afraid to use
them.

“When
asked to surrender, the bedraggled line of scruffy soldiers, many of them high
on marijuana, just opened fire. The fighting was close quarters and bitter, but
the Thais had them outgunned and the element of surprise in their favor. The
Thai Army was supported by aircraft that strafed the dense surrounding jungle
and the SUA positions.

“In
the end, fifty-one of the SUA mercenaries, including Khun Sa’s natural son, lay
dead alongside of sixteen Thai soldiers. The rest of the opium mercenaries fled
with Khun Sa to safety over the border into Burma. Khun Sa never returned.
Thailand had finally had enough of him.”

“What
supports the village now?” asked MacMurphy. “The same old drug trade but with
Khun Ut in charge?”

“No,
although there are certainly similarities, the trade is much more disbursed
under Khun Ut. It certainly continues to bring a lot of revenue to the village,
but tourism actually brings in more.”

Mac
leaned forward and shouted over the engine. “Tourism? You’ve got to be joking.
People drive all the way up here on that little dirt road to tour the village?”

“Yes
sir. Khun Sa’s old town villa, the one I told you about, is now a museum for
the drug trade. People drive all the way up here to see how he lived. And we
also get our share of trekkers who walk all the way up here just to sample the
opium in one of the many native huts that will sell them a pipe or two.” 

The
general paused to clear his throat, which was becoming sore from shouting over
the engine. “But it’s not over. Far from it. The destruction of Khun Sa’s army
disrupted the heroin flow for awhile, but the opium war is far from over. The
syndicate is gaining momentum once again under the leadership of Khun Ut, who
is, as I am sure you know, Khun Sa’s adopted son.

“See
that mountain aerie about halfway up that hill over there?” He pointed to a
sprawling lodge nestled in the woods directly across the village from the
towering Doi Tung Mountain. “That villa was used by Khun Sa as a mountain
retreat back in the old days and is now the headquarters and home of Khun Ut. I
cannot take you too close to it, or they will shoot at us. It is very heavily
guarded. Just like the good old days, or maybe not so good old days. No one can
get close to Khun Ut’s house. It is a fortress.”

Mac
leaned forward and shouted into the general’s ear. “Take us over Ban Mae Chan,
will you? We would like to see Khun Ut’s warehouse.”

Startled,
the general asked over his shoulder. “Mae Chan. What do you know about Mae
Chan?”

“Why
don’t you tell me?”

Turning
in her seat, Noi regarded Mac and Culler in disbelief.

“Well,
you already know Khun Ut has a warehouse there. Actually, it’s his main storage
depot. But you can’t get close to it. He has got security tighter than a
virgin’s twat. That’s a good one, eh? I learned that expression in California.”

Noi
rolled her eyes and cuddled Ling Ling closer to her breast, as if to shield the
dog’s ears from the general’s crude words.

“That
warehouse is the last stop for the heroin before it is shipped out of Thailand.
Most of it goes to Hong Kong where it is put through the final refining process
by Chinese chemists. The mountain refineries in the hills around here are very
primitive and have to be moved around constantly to avoid detection. The heroin
bricks that are produced here cannot be used for very much the way they are.”

“Let’s
go see it,” said Santos.

Noi
gave the general a frightened look, but he seemed unconcerned. The general
banked the small plane to the left and headed in a southeasterly direction away
from Ban Hin Taek. “Okay, it’s off the normal tourist routes of the Golden
Triangle, Ban Hin Taek and the Mekong, but I will take you as close as I can
get without alerting Khun Ut’s security team. That is not something any of us
would want to do, and they know me and my plane very well.”

 

 

Chapter Thirty-Three

 

 

M
acMurphy
had traveled to Ban Mae Chan when he was stationed in Udorn. The town was located
on Route One at the end of a high plateau extending south into Thailand from
the Burmese border. It was in the heart of the opium growing region twenty-two
miles north of Chiang Rai, mid-way between Chiang Rai and Ban Mae Sai on the
Burmese border. Traditionally the town was a trading post for the Akha and Yao
hill tribes to sell their goods and purchase manufactured items. Now it was all
about tourism and opium.  

They
were flying at one thousand feet when they came upon the town from the north.
“There it is,” said the general, pointing ahead and to the right of the plane.
“It is not much to see. Just another little hill village turned into a tourist
trap. In front of us to the south, you will see where the plateau comes to a
point and falls into a deep jungle ravine. At the edge of that ravine in those
woods you will see…there it is—see that shiny tin roof there in the woods? That
is the warehouse.”

Both
Culler and Mac strained to see, as the general banked the plane first to the
right and then to the left for each of them to get a clear view of the terrain
below.

Sawat
said, “This is as close as we dare to get. We will have to fly around it and
continue south towards Chiang Rai. But at least you know where it is. You
certainly don’t want to go asking directions for it in the village.” The
general laughed heartily at his joke while Noi stared at him with wide,
disapproving eyes.

Culler
and Mac settled back into their seats in the rear of the plane thinking the
same thing. This was going to be a bitch! They had studied the casings Charly
had provided, but actually seeing the facility from the air gave them an
entirely new perspective.

They
needed to break into the facility, inject the ricin into as many of the heroin
bricks as possible, and get out without being detected, or—if they were
detected—make it look like they were attempting to rob the place. Stealing a
few kilos of heroin would be good cover for the operation as long as it allowed
them to get in and out and do their thing.

The
casings showed that the bales of marijuana were stacked around the perimeter of
the warehouse’s ground floor, with the pallets of heroin bricks near the
center. They could possibly get through a back door or a window, maybe even cut
a hole in the wall.

It
seemed unlikely they would be able to gain access to the interior any other
way. Not with all the security around, and not without having to kill the
guards they would inevitably encounter along the way.

Maybe
they could quietly take out a few of the guards on the warehouse’s rear—the
apparently less guarded side facing the ravine. That would be a possibility.
But it would mean a steep climb from the jungle floor to the ridge of the
plateau: a tough job, but not impossible.

 

Chapter Thirty-Four

 

 

W
hile
Santos and MacMurphy were flying over Ban Hin Taek and Ban Mae Chan, Khun Ut
and Ung Chea were meeting in Khun Ut’s mountain lodge in Ban Hin Taek.

Impeccably
dressed in a tan, starched safari suit, Khun Ut leaned back in his leather
executive chair. His feet were propped up on the corner of an oversized,
ornately carved antique teak desk that had once belonged to his father. He
watched as the smoke wafted from his cheroot.

“What
makes you think it was anything more than a mugging?” he asked. “After all,
Chiang Rai is a rough neighborhood, and he was robbed of everything of any
value he had on him.”

“Just
a feeling,” said the Cambodian. He had plopped himself down in a chair across
the desk from Khun Ut and was absentmindedly tracing the jagged scar on his cheek
with a thumb. “Things don’t match up, boss.  She drives all the way to
Chiang Rai, parks her car, walks straight to the Wangcome Hotel, through the
lobby to the elevators and disappears upstairs for over an hour. Surely she was
meeting someone in one of the rooms. A clandestine meeting of some sort, and I
do not think it was about sex. She would not come all that way for a quickie.”

“But
that is her job, right? She is a CIA officer. She was probably meeting one of
her agents.”

“Of
course she was. But why would she come to Chiang Rai for an agent meeting? She
almost never comes here. And then the mugging...”

“I
would understand it, Ung Chea, if she had counter-surveillance, but no CIA
counter-surveillance team would ever be so bold as to do that to a surveillant.
Not unless they thought her life was in danger.”

“Maybe
they did. I mean, our attack on their consulate…well, maybe they finally
decided to get revenge. It is possible, no? Considering what we just did to
them.”

BOOK: Plausible Denial
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