Plausible Denial

by Rustmann Jr. , F. W.

  “Did the villager get the license plate number of the SUV or the make of the vehicle?”

  “No. He just described it as a big, white SUV. That is all he knows.”

  Paiboon, less intimidated now, volunteered, “I can go down there myself and talk to the villagers, sir. Maybe I can get a better description, or maybe the tire tracks will tell me something.”

  Khun Ut shook his head. “Good idea, Paiboon, but your job is here. It is better if we let the police do their own police work. We certainly pay them enough.”

  The Cambodian nodded. “I will speak directly with the constable responsible for that town. Perhaps he can get a better description for us. I will also suggest he look at the tire tracks to see if that helps. This country is full of white SUVs.”

  “But it is helpful information just the same,” said Khun Ut. “At least it narrows our search. The farangs are probably holed up in Chiang Mai where it is easier for a farang to blend in, and they are probably driving a white SUV. That is something, anyway. Now tell me about the woman.”

  The Cambodian absentmindedly stroked the scar on his cheek with his thumb. “Yes, the CIA woman. She is very difficult to follow, Khun Ut. We cannot stake out too close to the consulate because the police have tripled their security there. The same goes for her residence. Security is heavy all over the place.

  “She is also very good at avoiding our surveillance. We think maybe she comes and goes from the consulate during the day in cars other than her own. I think she hides in other people’s cars going in and out. Then she may take taxis for her meetings. At least we never see her go anywhere during the day.”

  “So you do not know what she does during the day, but you do know that she goes to work in the morning and returns home at night. Is that all you can tell me?”

  “Basically, yes, that is correct. Except for last night. She did not return home last night, and her car remained parked at the consulate. The surveillance team does not know where she is.”

  Khun Ut thought and massaged his knee. “I will bet you this magnificent mountain lodge that my father built that she is now with the two farangs in the white SUV. They are up to some sort of mischief, but they will be back. At least she will be back. You can count on that.”

  He turned to the Cambodian and spoke forcefully. “And when she returns I want you to grab her and bring her here to me. Intercept her between her home and the consulate. That is one route we can be certain that she will take. Set up an ambush and bring her to me. I have questions to ask her.”

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  Charly, Culler and Mac drove back to Chiang Mai, but on their way they made one slight detour. They drove southwest along the border to the village of Wan La-ba to case for a good place to drop off Culler and Mac.

  They found a spot on the northern outskirts of the village behind an old abandoned petrol station and junk yard. The far end of the junk yard, filled with rusting cars and trucks, was at the edge of the jungle. It was a perfect place for Charly to drop them off and pick them up with a minimal chance of being observed.

  They arrived back in Chiang Mai in the late afternoon. Charly dropped the two men off at the safehouse—where they showered, shaved and cleaned up—while she drove to a nearby grocery store to pick up more provisions.

  The men were happy to remove their disguises and were relaxing in tee-shirts and shorts when Charly returned. They fixed cocktails and sat around the kitchen table chatting before beginning to prepare dinner.

  When the topic turned to planning, Mac took a long pull from his vodka-tonic before speaking.

  “This whole God-forsaken country is out looking for us: police, Khun Ut’s men, good guys, bad guys. It’s only a matter of time before somebody spots us, disguise or no disguise, or they figure out we’re driving that Land Cruiser.”

  He turned to Charly and placed his hand on hers. “And I’m especially concerned about you, Charly. There’s no doubt they know who you are, and we have to believe that they have figured out that you’re a link to us.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” she said, “but I agree we need to tighten up our tradecraft.”

  “And that means staying as far away from you as possible, Charly,” said Culler. “We’re placing you in jeopardy just by being here. You did a great job setting everything us for us, with Vanquish and all, but we’ve got to cut the cord.”

  “I know, I know. I understand. I really do.” She looked up at them with pleading eyes. She wanted to remain a part of the operation, and she wanted to remain close to Mac. “But you still need me to get you up there and back, and then you may need my help to get out of the country.”

  “I agree with Culler. I think it’s becoming too risky. Why don’t we use General Sawat to get us up to Wan La-ba and back?”

  “You can’t trust him, Mac. You know that. I told you. He’s one of the most corrupt police generals in the country.”

  Culler said, “Everything’s a tradeoff. Like the proverbial security-efficiency teeter-totter. He’s been okay with us so far. Except for that yappy mutt and his ever present bimbo, that is.”

  Mac laughed. “How about I give him a call and ask him what he can do. Maybe he’s got a driver or a taxi or something. Then we could leave the Land Cruiser here and keep this place secure. We’re going to need a place to come back to, and we certainly can’t pitch up in a hotel any longer.”

  Charly stood up, downed the last of her white wine and set the empty glass down on the table.

  “Well then, if you don’t need me for anything else, I’ll get dinner started. I picked up some pasta for us. Figured you would need a carb load before embarking on your adventure—without me.”

  She reached down to her bag and dug out her GPS unit. “You’ll need this to keep track of Vanquish. Don’t lose it and don’t forget to return it when you get back. It’s the only one we have to track him.”

  Starting to the kitchen, Charly turned back to the men.

  “I just don’t want to go home tonight. I want to stay here, with both of you. I have a bad feeling about this.”

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  Charly cooked a delicious dinner of pasta and salad. When they finished eating, Culler stood up, offered a fake yawn, excused himself and retired for the evening.

  They all seemed to catch Charly’s feelings of foreboding—or perhaps it was just normal pre-operational jitters—but something hung heavy in the air.

  Charly and Mac made love slowly and passionately, with an intensity and a feeling of apprehension they had never experienced before. Afterward, they lay in each other’s arms quietly for a long time, caressing one another. Neither wanted to sleep. Neither wanted the night to end.

  Charly left early in the morning and took a taxi directly to the consulate where she had left her car. She had a full day at the office in front of her, having been away from her desk for the past few days; the cable traffic was piled high on her desk.

  Mac called General Sawat who agreed to pick them up on the third level near the “D” elevators in the parking garage at Chiang Mai International Airport. The meeting was arranged for eight that evening, after dark and when the airport was still fairly busy with flight activity.

  Mac planned to park the Land Cruiser somewhere near the pickup point and to haul whatever they needed in the two green duffel bags. They decided to dress casually in blue jeans, running shoes, short-sleeved shirts and, of course, their light disguises.

  General Sawat was alerted that he may not recognize them at first, though that did not concern him in the least. He agreed to park his car, which he described as a black late-model Mercedes sedan, next to the elevator bank and wait for a knock on his window at exactly eight o’clock.

  Culler urged Mac to ask the general to leave Noi and Ling Ling at home, but Mac demurred, citing the need for rapport with the general over Culler’s sensitivities. When Culler argued that it would be more secure if Noi and the dog did not come along, Mac replied, “It is what it is,”
adding that the general might leave them at home anyway, since they would be driving half the night.

  They spent their day organizing their gear, packing and re-cleaning and checking and reloading their weapons, and resting and watching the local news on TV. The police were still looking for the two Americans, Humphrey and Callaway, who had shot up the Wangcome Hotel in Chiang Rai and had rented the car that was blown up in Chiang Rai, although the reportage was far less frequent than before. There was still no mention of the shoot-out in the warehouse in Mae Chan.

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  They fortified themselves with an early dinner, put on their light disguises, loaded the two duffle bags into the back of the Land Cruiser and headed for the airport.

  They parked their vehicle on the second level of the main parking garage, close to the “D” elevators, waited until one minute before eight, grabbed their bags and took the elevator up to the third level. The black Mercedes was waiting for them at the curb.

  “Sawatdee khrap,” said the General as Mac and Culler piled into the back seat with their bags. He giggled, “You look different than before.”

  “Sawatdee khrap,” they replied. The car was filled with the strong scent of Noi, who was sitting in the front seat with Ling Ling at her breast.

  “Sawatdee Ka. Sabai dee mai?” Noi said with a wai. The dog barked when she saw Culler.

  “Sabai dee,” said Mac.

  “We’re fine,” said Culler, who barked back at the dog.

  The doors slammed shut and the General hit the gas. “Where are we headed, gentlemen? The border maybe? You fellows are quite famous, you know.”

  “Yes, we know,” said Mac. “But we’re not leaving quite yet. We have another small job to do. Head north toward Chiang Rai and I’ll direct you from there.” Mac passed him an envelope. “This is for a round trip up north. I hope it is satisfactory.”

  The general drove with one hand while stuffing the envelope in his shirt pocket. “It feels very thick. I am sure it is quite generous. What do I have to do for this?”

  “Just get us safely up north. I’ll direct as we go, and then we will need you to pick us up in a day or two and bring us back here,” said Mac.

  “You are not going to Mae Chan by any chance, are you? Maybe shoot the place up again?”

  Mac and Culler glanced at one another in the back seat. “What did you hear about Mae Chan?” asked Mac.

  The General cackled. “Mai pen rai. I hear about everything, my friend. I knew it was you two guys the minute I heard about it. Khun Ut knows it was you as well. But trust me, I did not tell him. He figured it out for himself.”

  “What else did he figure out?” asked Mac.

  “From what I have heard—and I have very good sources, you know—he knows you two guys are out to get him, but he can not figure why. He thinks maybe you are CIA. Are you CIA?”

  Leaning forward, Culler put his hand on Sawat’s shoulder. “Let’s just hold off on all the speculation. Let’s just say we’re the good guys and they’re the bad guys and leave it at that. Okay?”

  “Okay, okay…no problem. I was just asking.”

  Culler spoke forcefully, but quietly. “That’s the point, General Sawat, don’t ask. You came recommended to us as a person of some integrity. Someone who would respect the privacy of his clients. Someone who would not play both sides at the same time. If that’s true, we will all get along just fine. You will make money and be safe. If not, well, let’s just say there will be severe consequences.”

  Noi looked at him with wide eyes and squeezed the dog closer to her chest, making the mutt whine.

  Sawat pulled out onto the highway and floored the Mercedes, as if to say, I’m getting the hell out of here before this guy loses it. “Do not worry about a thing,” he said. “Your secrets are safe with me.”

  “I certainly hope so,” said Santos, leaning back into the soft leather cushions of the Mercedes.

  Mac broke the tension. “Keep driving north through Chiang Rai and then head for the border town of Wan La Ba. Do you know it?”

  “Yes, of course. I know it quite well. How fast do you want to get there? This car is equipped with blue police lights and a siren. We can go very fast if you want.”

  “No, no,” Mac shook his head. “Just get us there safely and quietly, without drawing attention to ourselves. We’re not in any great hurry.”

  Chapter Eighty

  They pulled into Wan La-ba almost three hours later. Mac directed the general to the abandoned filling station. The bright half moon in the star-filled sky illuminated the area, showing it to be quiet and deserted.

  The Mercedes pulled slowly to the rear of the gas station, its tires crunching on the gravel, and stopped out of sight of the road.

  General Sawat cut the engine and lights. “Okay, what next?”

  Noi whined, “I’m scared, Daddy, and so is Ling Ling. I do not want to stay here. It is too scary and dark. Mai sabai.”

  “Mai pen rai. It is okay, baby, we will not be here long. We are just dropping off our friends.”

  Mac and Culler grabbed their duffel bags and stepped out of the car. “We’re good,” said Mac. “We will be calling for a pickup in about thirty-six hours. Thanks for the lift. Please keep close to your cell phone, and be prepared to pick us up right here.”

  “You call and I will be here. You can count on it,” said the general.

  “We’ll count on it, that’s for sure,” said Culler with a menacing glare.

  They slammed the doors shut and took off at a trot for the edge of the jungle, duffel bags slung over their shoulders. Sawat slammed the Mercedes in reverse and hit the gas. Then he reversed gears and spun out onto the road, spitting gravel behind him. He hit the switch for the blue police lights and was gone, zooming back to Chiang Mai.

  Once inside of the tree line, Culler and Mac slowed to a walk and let their eyes adjust to the darkness. Mac checked his GPS while Culler looked over his shoulder.

  “Let’s find a good spot about a kilometer from here to hide our bags and civvies and change into boots and Ghillie-suits. After we cache our gear, we should turn almost due west to this point here, by the bend in the stream. That’s where we’ll look for a good spot to wait for Vanquish and his caravan. We’ll have lots of time to reconnoiter the area.”

  He set the way-points in on the GPS, hefted his duffle bag up on his shoulder, and headed down into the jungle. Culler followed close behind, stuffing his disguise moustache, wig and glasses into his shirt pocket.

  After they found a spot to cache their bags near the base of a huge banyan tree, they changed, snacked on a couple of power bars, drank some water and checked their weapons one last time before heading west toward the rendezvous point with Vanquish.

  They moved silently and slowly, using their night vision gear to pick their way through the heavy undergrowth. They figured it would take them about five hours to travel the five kilometers to reach the rendezvous point ahead of them. They were in no hurry. They would sleep when they got there around dawn.

  Chapter Eighty-One

  Paiboon was excited. It was the first time the Cambodian had trusted him enough to allow him to do anything other than routine guard duty. He was tired of being stuck doing boring security rounds at the warehouse or one of the other installations owned by Khun Ut.

  The only time he had ever experienced any excitement in his job was during the attack on the warehouse by the two farangs. That attack had fortuitously resulted in his promotion to chief of security at the warehouse and, now this, his first stakeout: his first real operational job.

  He was sorry about the unfortunate deaths of his colleagues, but he wouldn’t have gotten to his current position if the attack hadn’t happened.

  He was now on the fast track in Khun Ut’s organization, and he was most certainly getting an adrenaline rush on this job, even though he had been sitting there at the side of the road with the motor running for more than an hour already.

  He
sat at the wheel of a long, black stretch limo, wearing a shirt and tie, dark suit and chauffeur’s cap. He had an important job—maybe the most important job of the entire mission.

  The Cambodian had given him very specific instructions. He was to sit patiently at the side of the narrow, wooded road in the residential neighborhood, ostensibly waiting for someone, until signaled by the Cambodian to pull out onto the road and block it. The stretch limo would easily block both lanes of traffic.

  Once the road was blocked, he would exit the vehicle, raise the hood and stand by the side of the road with his cell phone at his ear pretending to call for help. The Cambodian and the other guys would take care of the rest.

  While sitting there alone in the limo in the early morning hours, he reflected on his conversation with the Cambodian at the warehouse earlier in the day. It was the conversation that had stimulated the Cambodian to invite him on this mission.

  He had told the Cambodian about the birthday party he had attended with his family over the weekend. During the party his sister had told him that one of her girlfriends, the mistress of retired police General Sawat, was upset about the visit of two farangs to their villa. The girlfriend had complained bitterly about one of the farangs, a large muscular man, who had threatened her precious little dog.

  The Cambodian had listened intently to Paiboon’s story, congratulating him on his ability to recognize the importance of such a seemingly innocuous story.

  “So,” the Cambodian had said, nodding his head approvingly, “General Sawat is helping the two farangs. That is important information, Paiboon. I want you to find out more from your sister, and we will pay her generously for her cooperation. I will inform Khun Ut about this immediately.” He embraced Paiboon, the first time he had ever done that.