Plausible Denial (40 page)

Chapter One
Hundred-Twenty-Five

S
antos
and MacMurphy observed the commotion from their positions on the side of Doi
Tung Mountain, more than three-quarters of a mile away. Santos lay behind the
spotter scope and MacMurphy alternated between the Lapua scope and binoculars.

It
was late in the afternoon and the shadows were growing long. A number of rescue
workers and investigators had joined the original group at the smoldering site
of the crashed Porter a quarter mile down the mountain below them. An ambulance
wailed up the side of the hill beneath Khun Ut’s villa and came to a stop under
the portico at the front entrance.

“Here’s
Khun Ut’s ride,” said Santos.

MacMurphy
settled in behind the Lapua. “Maybe we can finish the job right here.”

They
watched as three paramedics piled out of the ambulance, pulled a collapsible
gurney from the rear and rushed it in through the open double doors of the
front entrance. Moments later they returned with the gurney. One of the
paramedics held a transfusion bag of blood high over the body of the man lying
on the stretcher. A gaggle of a half a dozen men and women accompanied the
gurney out of the building. They milled around watching while the paramedics
prepared to slide the gurney into the back of the ambulance.

“I
wouldn’t risk it, Mac. Too many people hanging around him.”

Mac
concentrated on his shot, finger poised on the trigger. Then he relaxed. “Yeah,
too much commotion, can’t get a clear shot. Sure hope the first one did it.”

“He
doesn’t look too good, Mac. I can see his face. It’s as white as a sheet. Hey,
is that the Cambodian hovering over him? I think it is. The ugly guy in the
black shirt. I think it’s the Cambodian. Can you get a shot at him?”

“I
think you’re right. You’re right. Hang on… Son of a bitch… No good...”

Two
paramedics pushed the gurney into the back of the ambulance; the other held the
transfusion bag high over the injured man and stayed at his side. The door was
slammed shut and the other two jumped back into the cab, hit the siren and
lights, and sped off down the hillside.

Mac
slid back from the Lapua and turned to Santos. “That’s it for Khun Ut. Nothing
more we can do about him. If he croaks, fine, if not, well, we’ll have to go to
plan ‘B.’”

“What’s
plan ‘B’?”

“Haven’t
got the foggiest.”

“What
do we do now?”

“We
wait.”

“Wait
for what?”

“For
something to happen…”

Chapter One
Hundred-Twenty-Six

T
he
Cambodian watched the ambulance speed away from the villa, sirien wailing.
Darkness was fast approaching. Not the best time to launch a manhunt, but he
could not let those two
farangs
get away, and he figured they were
probably already on the run.

They
were out there someplace, either in the town or on the hillside on the other
side of the town. He was certain the shot that hit Khun Ut came from a rifle
fired by one of the
farangs
, probably from a rooftop of one of the
taller buildings in the town. This is where he would begin the search. He had
to find them. He could not let them escape.

He
entered Khun Ut’s office and stood by the side of the window, looking out over
the town of Ban Hin Taek in the direction of the shot. Could they see him now
if he stood in front of the window? Were they still out there? Would they take
a shot at him? Perhaps he could use a decoy to try to smoke them out. No, that
would be too risky. He pulled the blinds shut.

Khun
Ut had the town wired with informants and supporters. The two big
farangs
would stand out among the natives and be easily spotted. Someone would see them
and report back. He had ordered the exits from the town blocked – there were
only two, one to the north and one to the south. No one would escape via the
only road in and out of the town.

But
what about the mountain? They had found Sunthonwet’s Range Rover parked at the
Wat
high
on the other side of the mountain. He had ordered the
automobile to be staked out by his men. If they returned to the vehicle they
would be intercepted and killed. But what if they had another car stashed
nearby, or maybe another accomplice to help them escape – someone else like a
Colonel Sunthonwet or a General Sawat?

So
many options, so many possibly scenarios. He felt frustrated, confused and more
than a little intimidated by his new leadership role. What would his father do
in this situation? He had never been in total command before. And Khun Ut was
depending upon him.

All
he could do was to pull out all the stops and cover every possible escape
route. He would set things in motion and enlist the help of the police. After
all, a man had been shot by a known, or at least strongly suspected, assailant.
They should be leading the manhunt. It’s their job and Khun Ut certainly pays
them enough for their cooperation.

Paiboon
entered the office and stood silently by the door. Ung Chea shook off his
malaise and turned to him.

“Okay,
it is up to us now. We need to make sure the town is sealed tight and find
those two bastards. They are either in Ban Hin Taek or close by, maybe on the
other side in the foothills of the mountain. They can’t be too far away. Make
sure the police are alerted and get every one of our men on the chase.”

Almost
as an afterthought he said, “And get the prisoners out of here right away. Take
them across the border into the hills. I don’t want any police hanging around
the villa while they are in there, understand?”

Paiboon
said, “yes sir,” and turned to leave.

“One
more thing, get the two Hueys in the air. Have them search the rooftops and the
outskirts of the town, particularly on the eastern side. The shot came from
that direction. Make sure you load them with enough armed troops to give chase
on land if we find them.”

He
paused for a moment, thinking, and then continued. “No, actually, you stay here
on the ground and coordinate the ground search. I’ll go along with the Hueys.
They may actually be our best bet to find those bastards.”

Chapter One
Hundred-Twenty-Seven

S
antos
and MacMurphy watched from their concealed vantage point high on the side of
the mountain. The sun had dipped below the mountain behind Khun Ut’s villa,
casting long dark shadows across the valley. They switched to their night
vision equipment.

“Things
are going to get a little exciting here in a few moments,” said Mac. He topped
off the magazine to replace the round that had been fired and set the spare
ten-round magazine next to the Lapua in front of him. “Search parties will be
all over the town and patrolling this side of the mountain very shortly.”

Culler
checked his POF-416, making sure it was set on night vision firing, and set it
down close beside him. The ammunition drum was full of one hundred rounds of
5.56 caliber cartridges. He tipped the spotter scope down and to the left and focused
on the spot where the Porter had gone down.

“There’s
quite a crowd assembling down there by the Porter. Looks like they’ll be
working through the night.”

“Forget
about that,” said Mac. “Keep your eyes on the villa. Another opportunity may
present itself. They may try to move Charly and Vanquish out of there. My
Spidey-sense tells me they won’t want them around with the place teeming with
cops and FAA investigators.”

They
watched two Huey helicopters lift off from behind the villa and began
criss-crossing the town below, using powerful searchlights to illuminate
rooftops and roads.

“I
think we’re safe up here for the time being,” said Mac. “They believe the shot
came from much closer in.”

“Yeah,
none of those jokers would ever believe we could be almost a mile away and
still pick the sonofabitch off like you just did. They’re checking rooftops and
escape routes from the town.”

“Which
will soon lead them up the side of the mountain,” said Mac. “When they don’t
find us down there in the village they will widen the search.”

“Do
you think they found our car?”

“Good
point, let’s find out. Keep your eyes on the villa while I give Sunthonwet a
call.”

Mac
turned on his cellphone and checked the bars for reception. “Reception’s better
in the evening. I’ve got three bars. Not too bad. Should be enough.”

Sunthonwet
answered on the third ring.

“
Han
lo
, Sunthonwet…”

“Colonel,
it’s me, Mac.”

Long
hesitation. “Hello, um, Mac, are you okay?”

“That’s
what I’m calling about. Am I okay?”

Another
long hesitation. “They, they know you were here. They know…know I helped you.
Please do not contact me again. Sorry Mac…” He hung up.

Mac
brought the cellphone down from his ear, held it out in front of him like it
had suddenly begun to stink, and switched it off.

“Doesn’t
sound too good,” said Culler.

 “No,
not good. They know he helped us. That means they know about the Range Rover
and they also know we’re close by. We’re going to have to figure out another
way to get off this mountain, and out of the country.” Mac turned his attention
back to the villa. “But let’s not worry about that now. We’ll figure something
out. Right now…look, see that white van going up the drive toward the villa?
That’s one of Khun Ut’s security vans. Keep an eye on it.”

“I
see it,” said Culler.

The
van circled up the side of the hill and stopped under the portico. Two men
dressed in security garb with black tee-shirts got out and slid open the doors
on each side of the van. One of them turned toward the building and briefly
spoke into a walkie-talkie. Then they lit cigarettes and stood talking near the
rear of the van.

Culler
had the spotter scope turned up to forty-power. The van nearly filled his
circle of vision. “Looks like there’re waiting for someone to come out. Maybe
more than one person because they opened both side doors.”

Mac
moved the night vision scope of the Lapua back and forth between the two
security men and the front entrance of the villa, and waited, finger poised on
the trigger. Moments later the double doors of the villa swung open and four
men surrounding Charly Blackburn and Vanquish walked out onto the porch. Two
men guarded Charly and two guarded Vanquish – one on either side.

“Holy
shit,” whispered Culler, “there they are…”

“I
see’em, hands tied in front – no, they’re zip-tie handcuffs. Time to rock and
roll…”

Mac
was all business, not a touch of buck fever this time. He sighted on the black
shirt to Charly’s right and squeezed the trigger. The rifle bucked and he
brought the sights down on the man to her left and he fired again. The rifle
bucked again and he sighted on the man directly behind, to Vanquish’s left, and
cranked off another round.

By
now the bullets had reached their targets, creating chaos on the ground. Mac
continued his rapid fire from the semi-automatic sniper rifle, snapping off
round after round at the six black shirts around the van and on the porch.

The
guard on Charly’s right went down first. The bullet hit him high in the right
shoulder, spinning him away from her and sending him down hard. The guard on
her left was next. He flew straight back from the impact of the 250 grain
bullet which caught him high in the chest. He was dead before he hit the
ground.

His
third shot missed one of the two men holding Vanquish and ricocheted loudly off
the concrete porch behind him.

The
guards dropped the Hmong’s arms and drew their sidearms, looking around
frantically trying to figure out where the shots were coming from. Vanquish
stood there, head bowed and without his signature cowboy hat, looking dirty and
beaten.

But
he came alive quickly when he realized what was happening. He charged the guard
nearest to him and knocked him to the ground and fought to rip the pistol out
of his hands.

Mac
continued to aim and fire, aim and fire, methodically, but his human targets
were harder to hit because they were moving and the bullets coming from more
than three-quarters of a mile away took time to reach them.

Chapter One
Hundred-Twenty-Eight

C
harly
knew exactly what was happening. Free now, she dove at the first guard to be
hit. He was lying on the ground moaning. He did not resist when she yanked his
.357 magnum revolver from its holster. She dropped to one knee and turned the
gun on the remaining guards and started firing. She hit the one closest to her
in the chest and sent him flying backward.

Next
she turned the revolver on the guard who was struggling with Vanquish. She
aimed carefully to avoid hitting the Hmong and shot the guard in the groin.

Bullets
from the mountainside continued to rain down on the remaining guards and on the
entrance doors and windows of the villa – an effort to discourage any heroes
from joining the gunfight.

The
Hmong looked up at Charly with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. He grabbed
the wounded guard’s gun and turned it on a guard near the van who was trying to
run away down the hill. He shot him in the back and the guard tumbled forward
into the underbrush.

The
remaining guard fired at Vanquish at the same moment that Charly fired at him,
and both Vanquish and the guard went down hard.

Charly
ran over to the Hmong. He was holding his stomach with his two tied hands,
trying to stem the flow of blood.