by Ken Goddard
“Are Quince and Jack okay?”
“They’re fine, Mr. Hateley; good as new in a few days.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Hateley paused. “And I assume our options for more hunts in Thailand are still… limited?”
“To the extreme,” Wallis replied. “We had to shut down our operation in southeast Asia. It will be some time before we’re able to return.”
“I see.”
“On the other hand,” Wallis continued, “there is a bit of silver lining in all these dark clouds.”
“Really? And what would that be?”
“Your next hunt, Mr. Hateley,” Wallis replied. “How would you like to be the first man in a very long time to hunt and kill an extinct species?”
Part III: The Interpol Intervention
CHAPTER 19
Phuket Military Hospital
Prethat, Bulatt and Interpol Officer Pete Younger are sitting in the visitors waiting room of the Phuket Military Hospital. They all rise when Achara emerges from the intensive care ward with a strained look on her face.
“They say my father is doing as well as can be expected. The second surgery drained his strength, but his prognosis for recovery is good.”
“That’s wonderful news,” Bulatt said, smiling.
“Yes, I hope so.”
“Achara,” Bulatt went on, “this is Pete Younger, the friend I told you about.”
Achara turned and took Younger’s extended hand in both of hers.
“Yes, Khun Ged’s New Zealand Interpol friend who will help us find my brother’s killers. I am so pleased to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine, Khun Achara,” Younger responded warmly. “Interpol has many resources for finding people, and I promise you that Ged and I will use them all.”
“But before you do that,” Prethat interrupted, “we must talk. There is a conference room on this floor that we can use.”
A few minutes later, the four investigators were sitting in stuffed chairs around a small table in a corner of the large conference room.
“I regret to inform you,” Prethat began, “that as the acting commander of our Wildlife Ranger Force, I am unable to remain a part of this investigation.”
“We understand, Major,” Bulatt acknowledged. “There will be many things requiring your attention while Colonel Kulawnit recovers.”
“That is sadly true, but I wish to remain aware of your progress. There may be ways I help, and it would please me greatly to do so.”
“You will receive a daily report,” Bulatt promised.
“That won’t be necessary. To keep Captain Kulawnit from taking an improper role in this case, I would like to assign her to your Interpol team. Is that acceptable?”
Bulatt blinked in surprise, then looked over at Achara and saw her nodding in smiling satisfaction.
“Very acceptable, Major.”
“Yes, welcome to the team, such as we are, Khun Achara,” Younger added with a cheerful smile.
“In that case,” Prethat said as he began handing out reports, “here is everything we know about the men who shot and killed our Rangers so far.
Bulatt, Younger and Achara started skimming through the reports. At the third page, Bulatt's head snapped up.
“You got a registration number for a Gulfstream-four that left Phuket Airport very early that morning?”
Prethat nodded. “Yes, but it’s registered to a charter company based in Bangkok, and not in the US as we had hoped.
“But why would a wealthy and presumably smart man use a US registered plane on an illegal hunt if he’s trying to remain covert?”
“Exactly,” Younger agreed. “Much better to return home from a larger nearby airport. If cost didn’t matter, I’d pick Singapore.
“Where his own plane might have been waiting for him, if we’re lucky,” Achara added.
Prethat nodded approvingly at the interplay of the newly-assembled Interpol team.
“Maybe we should visit this company and see what they can tell us about people who charter expensive planes for short trips at late hours?” Bulatt suggested.
“An excellent idea,” Prethat said. “And since I am going to Bangkok also, I will be happy to join you as my final part in your investigation.”
“You don't think we can convince these blokes to cooperate, Major? We do have our clever little ways,” Younger added with a smile.
“Yes, Colonel Kulawnit has often described how his Interpol friends gain cooperation from suspects,” Prethat replied. “I believe the term is verbal judo.
The Thai Major was smiling also, but his eyes were deadly cold.
“Just think of me as Plan B.”
The break room of the Draganov Research Center
Shaken by the inexplicable behavior of Borya, Draganov and Tsarovich locked themselves in the clinic’s small break room, and have been drinking vodka and arguing passionately for the past hour.
“This is wrong, Sergei Arturovich,” Tsarovich insisted, throwing up his hands in frustration. “We cannot accelerate the Clouded Leopard program until we know what happened to Tanya, and why.”
“The nano-probes are so tiny, a few could have escaped containment,
Draganov argued. “And remember, no one in the Clinic has been infected, only Tanya.”
“And possibly Borya also — both are in daily contact with the animals, and exposed to urine and feces.”
“But we know the probes break down as they pass through a liver,” Draganov reminded. “How many tests did we run? Hundreds, and not one intact probe detected. So it can't be an excretion issue. It must be something else.”
“But what?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps we’ll know more once we expose Tanya to the first of the reversal probes.”
“When will you have it ready?”
“Not by tonight. There are so many switches that must be reversed in the right order, and I must work first on the next Cloud.”
A pained expression filled Tsarovich’s face.
“But — ”
“We have no choice,” Draganov said, shaking his head firmly. “Emerson is a very dangerous man. I have seen him hurt people, and I’m now convinced that and his men are responsible for my brother’s disappearance.”
“So, just one more enlarged Cloud. Is that all he wants?”
Draganov stared down at the floor for a long moment, and then looked back up at Tsarovich.
“No, that is not all. He also wants one of the little ones, Baba — the oldest.”
“For what, a petting zoo?”
“No, for the hunt he plans… soon, perhaps in a few days.”
“No,” Tsarovich shook his head in disbelief, “he cannot possibly want that now. Baba is much too young to be hunted.”
“I know, but Emerson insists. I sent him photos, but he says Baba now looks enough like an adult and that’s all he cares about.”
“Does Borya know of this?”
Draganov’s eyes widened in horror.
“No, he doesn’t, and he must not know until after Baba is gone. Can you imagine how he would react?”
“Badly. Very badly.
“Yes, exactly, so say nothing to anyone. It’s late and I must get to work.”
As the two men get up and leave the small break room, they fail to notice the glowing light on the intercom indicating that someone has been listening.
Tanya’s room
As Tanya continues to stare at the intercom on her lamp table in horror, the little Cloud kitten begins to lick her face happily, his eyes glowing a bright emerald green.
CHAPTER 20
The Graystone Fields Ranch
Michael Hateley was sitting alone in the middle of his spacious and luxurious underground den, sipping at a glass of expensive single-malt scotch and staring contemplatively at the empty section of wall opposite his chair — an area he’d once set aside for his world record Clouded Leopard trophy, but was now re-structuring in his mind for a far grander trophy
— when the intercom beeped.
“Yes?”
“Dr. Stuart Jackson Caldreaux is calling, on the secure line, sir.”
Hateley reached over to the receiver on the nearby lamp stand and punched the hands-free button. “Hello, Stuart, how are things going in the Big Easy these days?”
“’Nawlins will rise up from the proverbial ashes once again, just as she always has,” Caldreaux replied in his rich Cajun drawl. “Not sure Ah can say the same fo’ myself, though.”
“Oh, why is that?”
“Ah jest received a call from a mutual friend of ours, tellin’ me that he had to cancel my planned hunt in Thailand and Malaysia next month. Said the po-litical situation is currently too unstable in the southern peninsula. Don’t know ‘xactly what he meant by that, but it did sound a mite ominous.”
“Did you ask him for specifics?”
“Yes sir, Ah did, but our mutual friend was a little vague. Wasn’t tellin’ me the whole story, Ah’m pretty sure — which isn’t like the man, if you know what Ah mean?”
“I agree, that doesn’t sound like him at all,” Hateley said supportively. “He’s always been straight-forward and up-front with me, as far as I know.”
“But that led me to thinking,” Caldreaux went on, “didn’t you go on a hunt with our mutual friend in Thailand just recently, lookin’ for that mythical Giant Clouded Leopard you’re always goin’ on about?”
“Yes, I did. Matter of fact, I just got back a couple of days ago.”
“How’d it go? Any luck?”
“The hunt itself was spectacular. Set myself up a midnight shoot on a bamboo stand, using the two-forty-three Remington and a new fourth-generation Aries Crusader night scope I just picked up; and managed to drop a big Cloud that was prowling around high in the trees about a hundred yards out. Magnificent specimen — had to be in the hundred-and-twenty kilo range; definitely world record class.”
“Pardon me for sayin’ so, Michael, but it sounds like you’re describin’ a big fish what got away, ‘stead of a big trophy you’re havin’ center-stage mounted for our next get-together? Or did I misunderstand your meanin’?”
Hateley sighed. “No, Stuart, you were quite perceptive, as always. It seems our mutual friend managed to lose my trophy on his way out of the country; a major disappointment, as you might imagine. I never even got to touch it.”
“Gawd almighty! How’d he manage to do an outrageous thing like that?”
“I don’t know. Something about increased Ranger patrols in the entire southern peninsula, and having to abandon everything when they ran into an unexpected check-point situation. Like you, I don’t think I’ve heard the entire story.”
“Ah thought we’ve been payin’ a significant premium on our license fees to take care of them penny-ante check-point issues?”
“That was my understanding, too,” Hateley agreed. “Sounds like the Thais might have put a new park and wildlife management team in place. If that’s the case, we may have to renegotiate our access privileges.”
“Damn, Ah sure do hate to hear that. Ah always enjoy our little excursions into that part of the world, both the huntin’ and the socializing’ afterwards. You think it might be a pressure tactic by some of the locals, to try to get us to pay more?”
“That’s always possible,” Hateley said, “but I got the impression it had more to do with how the Thai hunting laws are being interpreted in the field. There was a bit of a confrontation out on the road near our hunting site between our friend and some Rangers on patrol on our last night, which ultimately led our hasty departure. I’d like to believe our mutual friend was being overly cautious in the face of unexpected circumstances in a foreign environment; but, in any case, I can’t imagine it’s going to take very long for things to regain their natural balance.”
“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 entree 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 tank
s 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.