Plausible Denial

by Rustmann Jr. , F. W.

  Breathing heavily and soaked in sweat, the exhausted guard replied, “What?”

  “Listen, shhhhh. Sounds like a car.”

  “Mai sabai. The blood is pounding in my ears. I cannot hear anything.”

  The other two caught up and the four of them huddled together, listening intently.

  “There it goes again,” said Paiboon. But they all shook their heads.

  “Mai pen rai, no matter. I heard a car from over there. No question about it. You are all so badly out of shape, huffing and puffing like old women, you cannot hear anything. Spread out and be careful. It must be them. And turn off your flashlights. If you screw this up, the Cambodian will make curry stew out of you.”

  Dawn was setting in but it was still quite dark under the canopy of the jungle, slowing them down considerably as they picked their way through the underbrush.

  When they got nearer to the clearing, Paiboon heard the unmistakable sounds of a four-wheel drive vehicle spinning and clawing in low gear ahead of them. Paiboon pointed to his ears and in the direction of the noise and signaled them to fan out and to hurry up.

  He estimated the sound was coming from about one hundred meters in front of them. He was exhausted from his hike, so he stopped and drank heavily from his canteen before charging off in the direction of the sounds. The combination of the ground mist and the darkness caused him to trip on a root and he fell heavily on his face in the mud, cursing.

  The others were out in front of him by the time he recovered and cleaned himself off enough to resume the chase. Another one of his men tumbled in the underbrush and cursed. Now he wanted to tell them all to slow down because they were nearing the edge of the jungle. Suddenly it became much lighter as the morning sun penetrated the dwindling canopy above them.

  The guard to his left was the first to break through the edge of the jungle. When he did he immediately brought his AK-47 up and began firing in short, staccato bursts.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Mac had returned to the police cruiser with the 4WD vehicle. The two vehicles were nose to nose on the narrow trail. Culler got into the cruiser and put it in reverse. The wheels spun in the mud of the trail while Mac nudged it backwards with the RAV4.

  Finally the spinning wheels of the cruiser gained traction and Culler took off weaving down the trail in reverse, one hand on the wheel and the other on the backrest of the passenger seat, looking out through the rear window.

  When the cruiser hit firm ground, Culler gunned it, hit the brakes hard and spun the wheel, executing a perfect mud slinging reverse one-eighty. Then he was off, careening down the narrow trail with his rear end fishtailing in the dirt and mud.

  Mac watched closely in the RAV4, admiring Culler’s driving ability. Defensive driving was something all CIA case officers learned down at The Farm. Things are looking up, he thought.

  The unmistabable staccato sound of an AK-47 shocked him, and then the plinking sound of the rounds impacting the left rear side of the RAV4 frightened him.

  He popped the gearshift lever into neutral, grabbed his assault rifle and hit the door hard with his shoulder, tumbling out of the vehicle and rolling. He came up in a low shooting position behind and to the rear of the right rear wheel.

  He spotted the shooter standing behind a tree by the edge of the woods, still firing short bursts at his vehicle.

  Mac put the red chevron on the assailant’s chest and pulled the trigger, firing off a silent burst from his POF. Seven 5.56mm rounds stitched the tree and the assailant at chest level, sending bark and gun flying, and spinning the hapless guard hard around and down with four rounds in his chest and arm.

  Still in a prone shooting position, Mac used the scope to scan the tree line to the northwest where they had exited the jungle. He spotted another guard running through the brush toward the logging trail, carrying his AK-47 at port arms.

  Mac touched the trigger, sending three deadly rounds into the man’s gut. The man went down with a crash in the underbush.

  Mac’s earpiece came alive. “Nice shooting, Mac. Now let’s get the hell out of here before any more of those guys come out of the woods. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. See if you can get that police cruiser moving a little faster while I cover us from here.”

  “I’m working on it. Don’t want to get too far from you. Just get your ass over here.”

  Mac took a last long look through his scope and, seeing nothing, bolted up and back into the RAV4. He pulled the gear shift lever back into drive and floored it, spraying mud and dirt behind him from all four wheels.

  Then it came again. The pop, pop, pop, sound of an AK-47 rattled off a long burst, and the rear of the RAV absorbed the 7.62mm rounds in a staccato plink, plink, plink. One of the rounds ricocheted through the back of his seat and creased his left hip, causing him to wince in pain.

  Santos yelled into his lapel mic. “Are you okay? Are you hit?”

  “Shit, shit, shit! I caught one in the butt. Stings like a sonofabitch. I’m on my way.”

  “Me too. I’m moving out.”

  “I can see you. I’m right behind you.”

  The two cars careened down the narrow logging trail. Soon they were out of sight of their pursuers and the automatic weapons fire ceased.

  Chapter Sixty

  Paiboon cursed as the vehicle sped out of sight down the trail. He stood up from his kneeling shooting position, exchanged the empty magazine for a full one and slung the hot assault rifle over his shoulder. His remaining security guard was huffing and puffing toward him.

  “They are gone,” he said to no one in particular. “But they cannot get far.”

  He keyed his walkie-talkie. “Base, this is One.”

  The Cambodian answered from the helicopter. “This is Base. Go ahead, One.”

  “They are heading east on a trail which leads into this strip of jungle, approximately eight or nine kilometers south of our warehouse. They are in two vehicles, a police cruiser and a small jeep, and they are moving fast.”

  “Talk us in, One. We are turning around and heading for your position now. Did you say one of the vehicles was a police cruiser? How did they get a police cruiser?”

  “I don’t know, sir, but the two vehicles left together and I saw no police around.”

  The Cambodian thought for a moment before answering.

  “The police have been searching for them. Khun Ut notified them. They must have killed the police and taken their cruiser, so their bodies must be around there someplace. Find them and I will notify the police to be on the lookout for a police cruiser as well as their vehicle.”

  “Yes sir. I hear your helicopter coming this way… I see you now… Keep coming. Keep coming… Left about thirty degrees… Good, keep coming and you will pass directly over my position… Okay, now turn due west and you will be directly over the trail. It must head out to a road.”

  “Good work, One. We can see the trail. Base out.”

  Chapter Sixty-One

  The two vehicles careened down the logging trail as fast as possible, but it wasn’t fast enough. Mac heard the sound of the helicopter first. “Uh-oh, we’ve got company again.”

  “I hear it,” Culler replied.

  The helicopter passed directly overhead and continued in a westerly direction. “I think they missed us,” said Mac. “The tree cover is still pretty good along this strip of road. It’ll be hard for them to find us from the air until we hit the road, but not impossible. What do you think?”

  Culler fought the wheel of the police cruiser, trying to keep up his speed but being thrown from one side of the trail to the other by the deep muddy ruts left by logging trucks.

  “I don’t think anyone’s following us from behind any longer, so let’s pull over into some cover the next chance we get and try to wait them out. That helicopter’s been in the air since before dawn. They’ll have to refuel sooner or later, so if we can hide till then…”

  “Good idea. Let’s ditch the RAV4 as wel
l. Everyone’s looking for it and it’s riddled with bullet holes. But the police cruiser looks like every other police car in Thailand. And this is as good a place as any. Hold on, I’m going to pull off into that brush over there to my right.”

  Mac pulled off the trail and ran the vehicle deep the underbrush beneath a thicket of fichus trees. Culler stopped the cruiser and backed up to get as close as he could to the RAV4.

  Stripping off his gear and Ghillie-suit, Santos said, “We better get out of this camouflage shit, so we don’t look like a couple of jungle monsters.” He opened the trunk of the cruiser and tossed his gear into it. He was now dressed in a sweat soaked white tee-shirt and blue jeans.

  Mac followed suit. His Ghillie-suit and jeans were torn and bloodied from the ricochet. He turned to help Culler, who was busy emptying the RAV and loading their gear into the back of the cruiser. They decided to keep their rifles and pistols beside them in the cab.

  Culler surveyed the back and side of the RAV. “You sure did get shot up. How’s your butt?”

  Mac looked down at a three-inch tear in his jeans high on his hip between the pocket and belt. The tear was coated in blood. “Stings like a bitch but it’s not too deep. I’ll live. We’ll get it fixed up later.”

  The helicopter returned from the west and thump-thumped over their position, rustling the trees and bushes in its powerful downdraft. They could barely see the helicopter through the trees as it passed overhead. “We’ve still got pretty good cover on this trail,” said Mac. “What do you think?”

  Culler threw the last of the gear into the cruiser and slammed the trunk. He looked up through the trees and assessed their situation. “We’re most vulnerable out on the trail. The helicopter can see it from up there. I think our best bet is to move as fast as we can down the trail and dash for cover whenever we hear the bastards approaching.”

  “Good idea. I don’t want to hang out around here any longer than we have to, and if we can get out on the road with the cruiser, we’ll be able to blend in better.”

  “And thank God for those tinted windows. People won’t be able to see our big farang faces peering out at them.”

  “Yeah,” said Mac, “got to avoid being seen. Leaving the trail for the highway will be tricky. That’ll have to be timed just right. But they’ll be looking for two vehicles, not just one, which is a good thing.”

  Mac thought for a moment. “Wait a minute. What about the police? Surely they’re out looking for their guys, too. And what if Khun Ut’s men in the helicopter have communicated with them about this? Damn, Culler, we need to get the hell out of here tout de suite before the whole goddamned world converges on this trail.”

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  The Cambodian cursed into his walkie-talkie. “This is bullshit. Mai sabai. How long ago did they leave? We cannot see them from up here.”

  “They left not more than ten minutes ago. I called you immediately. I hit the jeep as they were leaving. Maybe I got one of them.”

  “Then why did you stop following them? We cannot see the ground from here.”

  “Phom mai khao jai khrap, we could not follow, Ung Chea. There are only two of us left, and they are in vehicles and we are on foot.”

  “Why are there only two of you left? Mai pen rai, you are incompetent. Have you found the bodies of the police officers yet?”

  “Yes, Ung Chea, we just found them. They are unconscious but not dead.”

  “Dee mak, thank you. Stay with them until the police arrive. They are on their way. We will continue to search from here.”

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Culler and Mac piled into the cruiser. Culler drove and Mac sat in the passenger seat with his POF across his knees. His left hip burned like hell, and he tried to keep it from rubbing on the seat. Culler hit the gas and the cruiser leapt forward down the narrow trail.

  “Keep going like this and don’t touch the brakes,” said Mac. “We don’t want any lights flashing for them to see. Damn, it’s hot in here.” He put the A/C on high and opened his window to listen for the surveilling helicopter above.

  The trail improved as they progressed toward the road, and Culler pushed it faster. As the trail widened a bit, Mac heard the sound of the returning helicopter behind them. “Quick, pull over to the side as far as you can, but don’t hit the brakes. The helicopter is returning.”

  The Huey flew low overhead while Culler hugged the side of the road and slowed down by downshifting.

  “Good job,” said Mac. “Now let’s hang out here for a moment until he turns around and then let’s make a dash for it.”

  Culler pushed the gear lever into neutral, and the car slowed to a stop as far over under the cover of the trees as he could get. Moments later the gunship circled wide and came back toward them, low as before and thrashing the trees above them under the prop blast.

  Then it was gone behind them and Mac hit the dash with his fist. “Let’s go.”

  Culler slammed the car into drive and pushed the accelerator to the floor. The rear wheels spun and he cut the wheel to the left and bounced over the ruts and back to the middle of the trail. The speedometer reached thirty as the car lurched in and out of the deep ruts and spun haphazardly down the logging trail.

  Finally they careened out onto the pavement of the macadam road leading to the highway, and the car accelerated again. It was almost seven in the morning.

  Mac studied the GPS. “Keep heading straight until you hit the highway, then turn right, south, and go for about a thousand meters and then branch off to a dirt road on the left. Then you can slow down. But for now we need to get away from that Huey.”

  Culler concentrated on his driving. “Got it.”

  They skidded and bumped up unto the highway, and Culler hit the gas again. Ahead of them they saw a police cruiser speeding their way with sirens blaring and lights flashing.

  Mac leaned forward and hit the lights and siren switch on their cruiser.

  Culler screamed, “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Just drive. I’ve got an idea. As soon as we pass the cruiser, spin around and follow it north. They’ll think we’re one of theirs—maybe…”

  The police cruiser flashed past and Culler spun their car around on the shoulder of the road, spraying gravel and dirt, and came up behind the other cruiser. Their police radio squawked and something was said in Thai.

  Mac listened intently to the radio. “My Thai isn’t good enough to get the whole thing but it sounds like they are calling all units to look for the RAV4. Maybe they don’t know we’re in one of their cruisers.”

  “That would be a really good thing,” said Santos.

  They reached the road that led to the trail that had brought them out of the jungle and the police cruiser they were following turned into it. “Keep going straight,” said Mac.

  The Huey circled above them menacingly for several more minutes but them broke off and headed back east.

  “Let’s put as much distance between us as possible,” said Mac, studying his GPS. “There’s a secondary road coming up on the right. Take it east and follow it for about twelve miles. There it will intersect with another north-south secondary road. Take it south past Chiang Rai and follow it all the way to Chiang Mai.”

  “We need to stay away from the main highway. That’s where they’ll be looking for us.”

  Culler turned right onto the secondary road heading west and hit the button for the lights and siren. “We don’t need those any more.”

  “Right, but keep the speed up. We need to put some distance between us and them. Once we hit the north-south road, we can slow it down a bit and try to blend in.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then we find a place to ditch the cruiser and regroup.” Mac thought a bit before continuing. “We’re gonna need support. We’re too hot to handle this on our own.”

  “Well, that means either the general or Charly Blackburn. Take your pick.”

  Mac pushed back into his seat and m
assaged his temples. “Hell, I don’t know. Neither one’s a good choice. We can’t trust the general, and it’s risky to get Charly too far involved. We’ve got to keep that connection secure. Otherwise denial goes down the drain. We can’t do that to the DDO, not to Ed Rothmann.”

  “The way I see it, we’re going to need Charly and her Hmong tribesman. Without them we’re dead in the water. We’re not going to accomplish anything. Trying to go it alone is turning into a goat rope.”

  “And we’re not out of it yet. You’re right, of course. We’re going to need Charly to get us out of this mess and back on track to complete the mission. I’ll call her and tell her we’re on our way.”

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Charly Blackburn was eating a breakfast of fresh mango, sticky rice, and assorted fruits on the veranda of her villa when her “non-attributable” cell phone rang. She scrambled to find it in the bottom of her cluttered purse, and her heart jumped when she recognized the number on the caller ID.

  She shooed her servant away with a wave of the hand and the woman bowed deeply and shuffled back into the house on calloused bare feet. “Hey, what’s up?” she said into the phone, trying to act casual.

  The sound of her voice reassured Mac. Charly was a rock. She would know how to get them out of this situation. They were exhausted from the physical exertion and the adrenaline rush of the previous twelve hours. And they had left their Camelbaks and granola bars in the trunk and were afraid to stop the car to retrieve them for fear of being seen, so now they were hungry and thirsty as well.

  “The short story is we’ve commandeered a police cruiser. Right now we’re northeast of Chiang Rai heading south through a village named…Ban Lao, I think. The whole country is out searching for us, and pretty soon they’re going to know we’re in a police cruiser. Got any bright ideas?”