by JL Curtis
Forty minutes later, Cho finished briefing the old man, and as the car turned onto Nakhon Road, told Som to pull over at a bus stop. Shaking the old man’s hand, he said, “Get some sleep. Look around a bit tomorrow, and plan on going to work tomorrow night. Someone will give you instructions at the Lantern in the hotel at six PM tomorrow night.”
He slipped quickly from the car and Som continued on to the hotel, pulling up in front, he played the perfect chauffeur, obsequious and hoping for a good tip. The old man realized he still hadn’t changed any money and vowed to do that immediately if not sooner.
Som handed both bags out and pulled a third small briefcase from the back, “Sir, please don’t forget your computer.”
The old man stopped, started to reply and just nodded and took the bag. Making a production of it, he gave Som a $20 bill as a tip and thanked him. He stacked the bags and carrying the second briefcase walked to reception.
After checking in, he changed $200 into Baht and was rewarded with a wad of multicolored bills, and figured it was play money time again. He let the bellhop lead him to his room, tipped him what he thought was the equivalent of $5 and hauled his bag onto the king sized bed.
He went back and locked the door, and then went to the small briefcase Som had given him. Opening it he found an Ed Brown Kobra .45, three magazines and fifty rounds of Speer Gold Dot ammo, along with a Don Hume holster and dual magazine carrier.
Safety checking the pistol he grabbed a pen off the nightstand and function checked the pistol also. He figured the trigger pull was right at four pounds, and the way it shot the pen out of the barrel, the firing pin was good.
The old man smiled as he loaded the pistol, put it in the holster cocked and locked and placed it on the nightstand. Pulling out his phone, he realized he’d forgotten to let Jesse know he made it, so he quickly texted her, then decided to take a shower and see if he could sleep.
Amazing himself, he soon drifted off even with an eleven hour difference in the local time and his body clock.
31 The Hunt Is On
The old man woke up at 8 AM when the sunlight hit him in the face. Blearily looking at his watch, he couldn’t remember if he’d reset it the night before or not. He rolled over and looked at the bedside clock; it said 8:05, so he reset his watch to that time, hoping it was correct. As he tried to set up, he groaned as both hip and shoulder decided to let him know they hurt. Rolling his shoulders finally got a little relief, and he decided a long hot shower was definitely required this morning. He performed the morning ablutions, and went looking for breakfast. He hit Lantern, grabbed coffee and a roll, and called it good. Checking his phone, he realized Jesse still hadn’t acknowledged his text, so he sent another that he was up and going to work. Based on the instructions he’d received from his FBI contact, he went online and found the American Embassy, but it was too far to walk, being over on Wireless Road, so he went back down and got a taxi from the queue outside the hotel. Twenty minutes later, he paid the driver and knew he was going to need more play money.
Approaching the Marine corporal on guard, he told him he needed to see Mr. John S. Bach. He was directed to wait, the Marine made a quick call and about ten minutes later, a young man from the embassy approached him. “You’re the gentleman requesting to see Mr. Bach, is that correct?”
“Yes sir, I am,” the old man said.
“Passport and creds please.”
The old man handed over the passport with his credentials underneath and the young man looked at the passport, and then quickly scanned the credentials. Noting the CIB note that Cho had supplied, he quickly handed the credentials back and turned to the guard. “Buzz us through please. He’s cleared.”
The young man turned and walked toward the side of the building, entered a side door, and led the old man downstairs. At a secure door, he turned to the old man. “Cellphone? If you’ve got one, turn it off and put it in one of the slots. No other electronics, right?”
The old man pulled out his cell, turned it off and stuffed it in a slot. “Okay, I’m clean.”
Opening the cypher lock, he led the old man into the secure space, flipped on a flashing blue beacon in the ceiling and yelling out, “Uncleared in the space.”
He directed the old man into a conference room just inside the door, told him to wait and closed the door on his way out. The old man heard a click and figured he was locked in, so he sat down facing the door and waited. About five minutes later, the door clicked again, and an older man walked in saying, “You Cronin? I’m Wallace Hearns, for my sins I’m the Legat here and boss of this bunch of misfits and malcontents.”
The old man got up and stuck out his hand, they shook and he said, “Yeah, John Cronin out of Texas. I need to give y’all a heads up on what I’m over here for, since this is kinda off the books, at least as far as the Thai government is concerned.”
“If it’s CIB it is either drugs or trafficking in persons, right? Sit, sit… Need a cup of coffee?”
Sitting back down, the old man said, “Sure love one, black if you’ve got it.”
Hearns left, but didn’t close the door. A couple of minutes later, he was back with two Styrofoam cups of coffee and three other people, including one that looked Thai or maybe Vietnamese.
They all took seats and Hearns made the introductions. “Phillips, Torrence and Phan; all FBI agents and working all the smuggling angles. So what you got? I got a heads up from Milty that you would probably reach out to us while you were here.”
The old man repeated what he’d been told by Cho last night, and what he suspected his part was going to be.
“Interesting,” Hearns said. “We’d heard rumors about another snatch and grab the other night, and some nibbles about the possibility of a heroin shipment, but this is the first confirmation we’ve gotten of it. Also, FYI we’re right in the middle of a major US and Thai training exercise, Cobra Gold, which is driving us nuts. Buncha damn Marines and Navy in country, and I don’t have enough folks to cover all the places and crap going on.”
“Any possibility there is any interaction there?” The old man asked. “Or are these totally disassociated events?”
Hearns leaned back in the chair and sighed. “Well, there is always some low level stuff anytime there is a big military exercise in country. Normally it’s a few guys running bus loads of hookers into the field, and maybe some Thai-Stick low grade grass. We don’t usually get heroin moved to the military, as they don’t tend to use at a level that would make it worth the risk. Same with the kidnapped girls: too much risk and very little reward. Usually these are older bar hooks out of Bangkok, who are looking at an easier chance for money, since there is less competition. Phan, you got anything to add?”
Agent Phan leaned forward. “Not really, but a major move of heroin right now is a bit unusual. I know the last shipment got nailed in an LA warehouse; so maybe this is a rush job to fill that gap. If so, I’m betting it will go via South America, then Mexico before it gets into the States via the southern border.
The old man filled them in on the last bust they’d had in Laredo, and the fact that it was a mixed load of cocaine and heroin, which was highly unusual. Normally, each drug was shipped separately.
A few more questions back and forth, and the three agents left. Hearns asked, “You carrying John? Or do you need a weapon?”
“I’m carrying, but it’s a loaner from CIB, you need the serial on it?”
“Yeah, that and a number for you, cell if you have it. That way if something comes down I can reach out to you.”
“Okay,” the old man said. “Ed Brown Kobra, serial number is 2434, and my cell is a Texas cell that supposedly works here. 2145551212.”
Hearns copied the info down and said, “You okay for mags and ammo? Oh wait, that’s a .45 isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but I’m good on both. Three mags and a box of Gold Dots.”
Hearns slid a card across the table. “Okay, here’s my official card, and my direct cell is
on the back. I can’t offer backup, but if you need comms, we can get you in and get you connected if you need it. CIB seems to be pretty clean, but a lot of the other government organizations seem to be holey as hell; Colonel Wattanapanit seems to have a good head on his shoulders, and he works with us on occasion.”
The old man laughed. “Yeah, Joe was my roommate at NA, so I’ve known him for a while. We did an op a couple of years ago that ended up getting a big bust in LA, both drugs and money. I think that’s why he called me and believe it or not, I’m actually getting paid for this gig!”
Hearns laughed. “Cash the check quick! Anything else? If not let’s get you out of here, and I can get back to the daily cat herding.”
The old man laughed and allowed Hearns to escort him out the door. He picked up his phone and the same young man walked him out of the embassy. He caught a taxi back to the Hilton, mulling over what he’d heard and not heard this morning, and what impact the military exercise might be having on Joe’s operations.
Heeding Cho’s warning about working all night, the old man took a nap and got back up at 5 PM. He decided since he was going to be working, it was Dickie’s, rather than tourist clothes. Going out the door, he realized it was raining, so he picked up his black rain jacket; heading downstairs at 6 PM, he went to Lantern as directed and had a salad and tea. Finishing dinner, he waited to be met; instead the waiter slid him an envelope folded under his check. Stuffing the envelope in his pocket, he paid the bill and wandered out of the restaurant. He found a quiet corner of the lobby and quickly looked at the paper inside. It was directions to walk a block to the bus stop, be there at 7:15 PM, and cab number 233 would pull to the curb and pick him up. He would know the driver. Looking at his watch, he shoved the paper and envelope in his pocket and headed out of the hotel. The rain was actually refreshing, and he enjoyed the short walk. Standing just past the bus stop, he checked his watch and looked up to see a taxi pulling in. It was number 233, and Som was driving again. “Good evening, Sam,” he said, getting in. “I’m sorry you’re getting stuck dragging me all over Bangkok, but I guess that’s what you get for working for Joe, right?”
Som nodded and smiled as he pulled away. “Yes, Captain Cronin, we who drive are serving too, but I’m out of the office, so no complaint here.”
Twenty minutes later, the car went through a fence into a gated compound which the old man figured must be one of CIB’s safe houses. Som parked the taxi and led him into the foyer of the house, then into what must have been the living room. Now it was more like a command center, with phones, blackboards, computers on tables and radios and ten people milling around and working.
The old man went over to Cho and shook his hand, motioning to the corner of the room. “I need to let you know I checked in with the Legat today, just to let them know I was here. SAC Hearns took the number of the Kobra and now I’m good with them if anything comes up. He’s got a young agent named Pham there, and I don’t know his background, but Hearns seems to think a lot of him.”
“Thank you for being honest,” Cho said. “And, yes, we know Pham; he’s actually Vietnamese, but he’s fluent in Viet, Thai and I think Cambodian languages and a few dialects. He’s worked with us a couple of times. He is a virulent anti-communist and hell on drugs. But now, let me brief you. Things have accelerated a bit.”
Cho stepped to one of the larger displays. “Here is a photo of Laem Chabang taken two hours ago. It appears our target ship has pulled in twenty-four hours early, and it is now offloading its scheduled cargo. We believe they will have completed the offload by now, and will start onloading sometime in the morning. I have an agent watching the ship, but he cannot access the port, so he’s using long range IR system. He’s reported the lights on that pier went out about a half hour ago, and two trucks pulled up to the gangplank, but they appear to be onloading provisions or small boxes only. He has not seen any sign of additional persons going aboard, and it appears nothing other than, how you say, CONEX[26] boxes have come off. He has not seen them remove the hatches or access internal storage on the ship. I have a helicopter loaned to us by the Navy, and we will leave for Sattahip at oh three hundred. Sam will pick you up at the hotel at oh two hundred, and bring you to the airport.”
The old man shrugged. “Well, I’m not sure until I can see it up close, but it looks like an older class of ship, with both holds and racks to carry what looks like a two high stack of CONEX vans. Looking at the picture, it looks like it can carry a maximum of what, twenty-four vans, eight to a section over the three holds. Now the big question is, whether or not there is access to the holds… No wait, there has to be access for them to run their safety checks and bilge checks.”
Shaking his head, he said, “I need eyes on Joe, sorry.”
“No problem,” Cho said. “We can go aboard tomorrow morning after we get to Sattahip.”
“Okay. Uh, one thing, do you know where I can get a backpack? All I brought was a briefcase, and if we’re going to fly, I’d rather have a backpack for my stuff. And I guess I better go get some sleep?”
Cho turned to Som and they held a short conversation in Thai; he turned back to the old man, “Sam will stop on the way back and get you a cheap backpack; and yes, you should go sleep. I need you awake for tomorrow.”
The old man thought it was a bit of a dig, until he realized Cho was smiling, so he nodded and turned to Som. “I’m ready when you are.”
Som made a quick stop at one of the bazaars along the street, coming back with a cheap copy of a North Face backpack, and waved off any payment. He dropped the old man off at the hotel, and promised to be back at 2 AM. The old man went up to his room, moved a number of items from his briefcase and suitcase to the backpack and laid down to get a couple of hours of sleep.
Waking up at one, he took a quick shower, and dressed in his normal grey Dickie’s. Belting on the Kobra, and the spare mag pouches he checked that they seated well and the pistol came smoothly to hand. Satisfied, he looked out the window, and sure enough, it was raining again. Grumbling to himself, he grabbed the rain jacket and slipped it on, covering the pistol and pouches. After a quick check of the room, he was out the door.
Som was sitting in the Mercedes when the old man came out of the lobby and he quickly pulled forward and jumped out of the car to open the back door. The old man got in and settled back. “Sam, I’m trying to do the math here. If we fly to Sattahip, how do we then get to Laem Chabang? And what time do we get there? Why not just fly directly into Laem Chabang?”
Som glanced in the rear view mirror. “Sir, the issue is alerting those at Laem Chabang we are coming, which would happen if we land there. The Navy is concerned enough that we are loaned one of their helicopters, and they will provide transportation for us from the base to Laem Chabang, which will take about an hour from my understanding. We should be there about sunrise.”
The old man grumbled, and sat further back, trying to nap for a few minutes, figuring this was going to turn into one of those days. Seemingly minutes later, he felt Som brake the car and realized they were in front of a small hangar. Som got out, opened the old man’s door, and then opened the trunk. Pulling out the old man’s backpack, he handed it to him, pulled another much fuller backpack out of the trunk and locked the car. The old man looked at him in surprise. “Oh yes sir, I too am going on this raid. I will lead the team at the pier.”
The old man nodded and looked at Som with a new perspective, as they walked through the hangar. They found five other young officers and Cho standing in front of what looked like a US helicopter. Cho smiled. “John, good morning! Are you ready to go flying?”
The old man laughed. “You’re crazy; but I must be crazier to go along with your little scheme here, but let’s do this. And where the hell did y’all steal a US chopper?”
As they walked out to the helicopter, Cho said, “Oh, we bought ten of these from the USA. That helps for compatibility between our Navies and Marines.”
That reminded the
old man about his earlier question. “Joe, what is this I hear about a big exercise, Joint Cobra or something like that? How much of that could be tied in to this?”
Cho looked puzzled for a second. “Oh, you mean Cobra Gold? It is a joint US and Thai Navy exercise. We don’t have much to do, as most of that is taking place in the country side, very few are in town until next week, and then we will ramp up all officers to cover all the bars and sex areas. We do not believe this is connected at all, but the kidnappers may think we are too busy to worry about them right now.”
They climbed aboard the helicopter and the old man leaned over and yelled, “God, this brings back memories, shitty canvas seats, noisy as hell, and stinks of hydraulic fluid and jet fuel! And are you sure those pilots are old enough to fly this thing? They both look about sixteen!”
Cho laughed. “John, these are two very experienced pilots, they routinely land this chopper as you call it on ships on sea. They are very good!”
The old man nodded and stuffed the foam earplugs the crew chief handed him and leaned back trying to get as comfortable as he could. The helicopter took off and an hour later after bumping and bouncing through the night and rain, landed on a long runway and taxied for what seemed like a half an hour. It finally came to a stop on a small ramp and they climbed gratefully off the helicopter; as they did, the old man looked around with a puzzled expression. “Joe, where are we? This place looks familiar.”
“This is Utapao International,” Cho said. “It used to be the Royal Thai Air Base Utapao, and America flew many bombers and tankers from here during the Vietnam war, along with a small Navy Detachment that operated from this area. We are about an hour from Laem Chabang, so we need to load and go.”
The old man shook his head. “I think I flew out of or through here back then.”
The team, along with Cho and the old man loaded up in the van and Som once again played chauffeur. At Pattaya they got caught up in a traffic jam, and finally Cho told Som to put the beacon on the roof and get them through it. Som did so until they got to the intersection of Hwy’s 3 and 7, where they found two buses had hit and one was rolled over blocking Hwy 3 from side to side. They finally managed to back track and get on a small side street, weaving through neighborhoods and finally back on Hwy 3 a mile or so north of the intersection, but that took almost forty minutes.