Plausible Denial (28 page)

Paiboon
said, “She is very attached to her dog.”

The
Cambodian nodded, “Yeah, she suckles it at her breast like an infant.
Disgusting.”

“What
else?” asked Khun Ut.

“This
is the best part. The General and Noi met them at the airport last night and
drove them up to a small village on the Burmese border named Wan La-ba. They
dropped them off behind an old junkyard and they walked into the jungle
carrying their gear in duffle bags.”

“That
means they are up to something right now,” said the Cambodian. “What could they
be doing up there?”

Khun
Ut shook his head and blew out a long stream of smoke in exasperation. “I know
Wan La-ba. I had an aunt who used to live up there. It is in the middle of
nowhere. Not close to anything. What could they be doing way up there?”

Ung
Chea massaged his scar in thought. “Could they be hunting? You are right, there
is nothing up there.”

Khun
Ut’s eyes widened. “Oh yes there is. They are hunting all right. They are
hunting for one of our heroin shipments. They go right through that area on
their way down to Mae Chan.”

Chapter Eighty-Eight

P
hom sia jai, khrap
. What you doing?” said
bandana guy. He stood over Culler Santos, not ten feet away, with his assault
rifle at his hip, leveled.

Culler
looked up startled, straight into the muzzle of the AK-47. His own rifle was
out of reach at the edge of the packs. He had the knife in his hand and
instinctively pointed it toward his assailant in a defensive posture.

Bandana
guy blinked his bleary eyes and shook his head. “You gonna get me scared with
that little knife?”

Then
Culler remembered the kind of knife he held. He brought his other hand up to
the round metal handle of the Spetsnaz and removed the round safety pin with
his thumb. He raised the knife out in front of him, holding it with both hands
and pointing it directly at bandana guy.

The
bandana guy looked at him quizzically. “That knife do you no good, asshole. Put
down, stand up and get away from packs.”

Culler
pressed the trigger button in the handle. The blade shot out and hit bandana
guy square in the middle of his chest, piercing his breastbone, penetrating his
heart and knocking him backward with the force of a karate punch. He let out a
surprised grunt and hit the ground dead with a thud.

“Holy
shit!” muttered MacMurphy, hurrying toward Santos, the Hmong close at his heals.

The
trio huddled around the dead bandana guy, looking down at him in astonishment.
“That is some knife you got there,” whispered Vanquish.

“Never
bring a knife to a gunfight, unless its one of those…” whispered Mac to no one
in particular. He turned to Vanquish, placed his hand gently on his shoulder
and whispered, “Please go check on the kid while we try and figure out what to
do next.”

The
Hmong walked to the campfire and looked down at the boy. The kid was curled up
in a fetal position hugging his pillow and breathing heavily, deep in sleep.
When he returned he found Santos quickly finishing his job of injecting the
remaining vials of ricin into as many heroin bricks as he could readily access.
Santos did not try to hide his actions. He didn’t even look up.

MacMurphy
walked over to the dead man, pulled the Spetsnaz blade out of the man’s chest
and wiped it clean on the man’s shirt. He turned to Vanquish and asked, “What
are we going to do now? How are we going to cover this up and protect you?”

 The
Homng looked over at the body and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.
Seemingly in no hurry to respond, he shook a cigarette from the pack and lit
it. He inhaled deeply and blew out the smoke in a long sigh.

“Well,
I very happy you did not shoot him. That be very, very hard to explain. A knife
wound is different. He was fighter and a drunk. Maybe I tell them he got out of
control and we fought and I had to kill him, or maybe he fell on his own knife
during our struggle, or something like that…”

“What
about the boy?”

“Yes,
the boy. He did not see nothing. He was sleeping. And, well, he is my nephew.
He will say anything I tell him to say.”

Culler
stood up and joined them. “That’s it. We’re done. Now what are we going to do about
bandana guy over there?”

“We
were just discussing that,” said Mac.

Vanquish
took another deep drag on his cigarette. “I take care of this.” He walked over
to the body and removed the man’s knife from its scabbard. He glanced back at
the two
farangs
momentarily and bent over, plunging the knife deep into
the man’s chest at the exact spot where Mac had removed the Spetznaz knife.
Then he kicked the body over onto its stomach.

“That
should do it. Now you guys better get out of here before my nephew wakes up.
Seeing two
farangs
standing here would not be good thing. I will take
care of everything here. Do not worry…”

Chapter Eighty-Nine

S
antos
and MacMurphy shook hands with Vanquish and vanished into the jungle undergrowth.
They flipped down their night vision goggles and moved rapidly back to their
staging area by the rocks, retrieved their packs, checked their GPS and headed
off toward the place where they had cached their duffle bags and clothing

They
stopped only long enough to bury the Styrofoam boxes of empty syringes. While
they were scraping out a hole with their knives, Culler said, “I sure hope what
we just did won’t harm any innocent people.”

Mac
stopped digging and looked up at him. “I know. That would be too bad. But we’ve
got to expect some collateral damage. It’s inevitable. We can’t control the
results… But I do know one thing.”

“What’s
that?”

“Whoever
touches this stuff – this heroin – is not innocent. There may be degrees of
innocence or guilt, but no one using this shit is totally innocent. People who
play with this kind of fire are bound to get burned.”

“That
may be true, but still…”

“No
buts about it, Culler, this operation has the potential to bring Khun Ut and
his entire drug syndicate down. That’s a good thing. No doubt about it. And no
one is going to die who doesn’t first shoot some of this shit into his veins.
That’s also a good thing.”

“Yeah,
I know you’re right. I just wish we could control the outcome a little better…”

“Can’t
believe you of all people are going soft on me…”

They
finished burying the boxes in silence and when they were done and satisfied
that the spot was well camouflaged, Culler asked, “You got any of Barker’s
anti-animal stuff with you? We don’t want anything digging up this stuff.”

“Right,
good idea.” Mac sprinkled the area thoroughly and, satisfied that no one would
ever find evidence of what they had done, they took off into the night, rapidly
heading east in the direction of Wan La-ba.

Chapter Ninety

T
he
next morning, the Cambodian was sitting across from General Sawat on the
veranda of the general’s villa when Sawat’s cell phone rang. The questioning
had not yet gotten nasty.

They
were having breakfast. Noi was still upstairs in her bedroom, putting on makeup
and dressing. Two of the Cambodian’s husky bodyguards stood with arms crossed,
backs against the double entrance doors that led to the pool deck and veranda.

Sawat
glanced at the number on the caller ID and repelled. He tried to regain his
composure but knew the Cambodian had seen his reaction.

“Who
was it?” the Cambodian asked.

“Um,
no one,” replied Sawat, rejecting the call and putting the phone back into his
pocket.

“Who
was it?” the Cambodian repeated, more forcefully now, staring menacingly at Sawat.

The
General stuttered, “It is nothing. Nothing. A client. It can wait. Would you
like some more coffee?”

Ung
Chea took advantage of the moment. “It is them, isn’t it? Those two
farangs
you have been helping. They want you to pick them up somewhere around Wan
La-ba, where you dropped them off. Isn’t that right?”

The
general’s eyes grew wide. He fidgeted, his palms were sweaty and his mind
raced.
How much does the bastard know?
I must remain calm. I can talk
myself out of this, but I must find out how much he knows. How could he know
about the farangs?

“Yes,
I dropped off two
farangs
near Wan La-ba the night before last. They
paid me well for the lift. But I have no idea who they are or what they are up
to. It is my business not to ask questions.”

The
sudden backfist knocked Sawat off his chair. Coffee, croissants and dishes
crashed across the pool deck.

The
Cambodian jerked the old man to his feet by the front of his shirt, righted the
toppled chair with his other hand and slammed him back into it.

“What
about the guns you delivered to them? What about the plane ride to Ban Hin Taek
and Mae Chan? Tell me you don’t know anything about these things.”

He
crashed another fist into the old man’s solar plexus, knocking the air from his
lungs. He followed up with a left cross to the side of the head which sent the
old man sprawling to the floor once again.

Noi
came running and screaming down the stairs and out onto the veranda, the dog
yapping in her arms. Ung Chea motioned the guards to stay where they were and
stopped her before she could reach the General. He ripped the dog from her arms
by the back of its neck and tossed it high across the veranda and into the
pool. Then he hit her with an open handed slap that sent her sprawling as well.

Ung
Chea was breathing heavily from the exertion, but pleased at the results. He
took a deep, calming breath. “Now everyone sit down quietly and listen to what
will happen to you if you do not tell me the whole story and cooperate fully
with me from now on.”

Chapter Ninety-One

S
antos
and MacMurphy were relaxing out of sight at the edge of the jungle when the
general returned Mac’s call. They had changed back into jeans and tee shirts,
but kept their assault weapons close at hand.

“Hello.
This is Sawat. I am sorry I missed your call. Is this Mr. Humphrey?”

“Yes,”
said Mac. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything
is fine. Just fine. Are you ready to be picked up?”

“Yes,
as soon as possible. Can you use the chopper? It’ll be faster.”

“The
chopper? No problem. Are you in the same place?”

“Yes,
at the old petrol station. You can take us back to the airport. Okay?”

“Okay,
I will leave right away. I should be there a little before noon. Is that
alright?”

“Sure,
as early as possible. We’ll be waiting. See you then. Bye.”

“Good
bye Mr. Humphrey.”

Santos
watched Mac closely during the conversation. “Is everything okay?” he asked.

“I
don’t know. He seemed… I don’t know…frightened…nervous maybe. He certainly
wasn’t his jovial old self, and I don’t like the way he cut me off when I
called the first time. That was strange…”

Culler
thought for a moment. “What was it old Bert used to say while we were in
training down on The Farm? ‘If it doesn’t taste good, spit it out.’
 Something like that. Remember Bert?”

“Oh
yeah, I remember him – huge guy who taught jungle survival. He’s the one who
showed us how to catch monkeys, snakes and all that good stuff to eat.”

“That’s
him. He was referring to plants when he made that remark. He said there were
lots of good things to eat in the jungle, but you had to be careful because
some things could poison you.”

Mac
chuckled, “So he told us to taste first and if it tastes bitter or rotten to
spit it out. He said your tongue was put in your mouth for a reason – to stop
things that might kill you going past it down into your stomach.”

Culler
pulled at his ear. “So what do you think? Should we spit this one out?”

“Yep,
I do. I really do. Let’s not hang around here and wait to get ambushed by Khun
Ut’s men. I don’t want another shootout. Let’s just get the hell out of Dodge
on our own.”

Chapter Ninety-Two

C
uller
and Mac gathered up their gear, put their assault rifles and Ghillie-suits out
of sight in their duffle bags and donned their hats and light disguises. They
carried their handguns concealed under their shirts in the small of their
backs.

They
walked out of the jungle, across the junk yard and stopped at the abandoned
filling station by the side of the road.

“What
do you think?” asked MacMurphy. “Do we hitch a ride, steal a car, what?”

“I
don’t see any cars around here to steal. We could walk back towards the town.
There must be something we could grab in town.”

An
old pickup truck rounded the curve and rattled toward them. Mac dropped his bag
and hurried to the side of the road and put his thumb out. The driver, an
elderly man with a woman sitting beside him, started to slow down but when he
saw the two of them he sped up and made a wide circle around them.

“I
think we look too threatening,” said Mac, watching the rear of the vehicle
disappear down the road. “Why don’t you take the bags and get out of sight
behind the garage. Maybe it’ll be easier to get someone to stop if there is
only one of us.”

Two
more cars passed without stopping. Mac glanced at his watch. Almost an hour had
passed since they spoke with General Sawat. They were running out of time. They
had to get out of there and on their way pretty soon or they were going to end
up fighting Khun Ut’s men again.