Paiboon’s earpiece squawked, jerking him out of his reverie. “She’s up. The lights just went on. Stand by.” It was the voice of the Cambodian.
Chapter Eighty-Two
The alarm didn’t startle Charly Blackburn. She had been watching the clock on and off all night. Her mind was spinning. She was worried about Mac and Culler, and she was concerned about her agent, Vanquish.
The fact that she had renewed her affair with Mac also troubled her. She was falling for him again, but when this operation was done he would probably move on again, like he had always done in the past. Damn, she thought, why can’t I ever get a break?
Too much was going on in her head to sleep, so she was glad when it was finally six-thirty in the morning and time to get ready for work.
She pulled herself out of bed, turned on the lights and padded nude into the bathroom. She planned to get to the office a little early this morning. Her desk would be pilled high with stacks of cable traffic that had accumulated over the past few days while she was out of the office, and she wanted to plunge back into her normal routine. She needed to take her mind off all the stuff that was causing her stomach to churn and flutter. It was making her sick.
She showered, dressed in a cool, bright ensemble of print slacks and blouse and slipped into matching sandals. The last thing she did before heading downstairs for breakfast was to strap on her ankle holster.
Her maid had set the table with a healthy breakfast of juice, fresh fruit, mangos and sticky rice, yoghurt and coffee. She ate in silence on the veranda while reading the morning edition of the Bangkok Post.
The sun was already warming the morning when she tucked her unfinished Bangkok Post under her arm, grabbed her bag and headed for the garage and her silver Toyota 4Runner.
A uniformed Thai security guard swung open the gate to her compound, and she pulled out onto the narrow residential street that would take her past the Galse Shopping Center to the busy Charoen Prathet Road and north along the Mae Ping River to the consulate.
It was cool in the early morning hours, and the air smelled fresh. Rolling her front windows down to take advantage of the morning air, she concentrated on all that she needed to do when she got to her office, but not so much that she didn’t notice the green pickup truck that pulled out of a neighboring driveway and dropped in a few car lengths behind her.
Something was not right. The road was practically deserted, which was not unusual for this time in the morning, but that pickup truck behind her was curious. She could see in her rear view mirrors two men in the front seat. Maybe they were workers coming from one of the homes in the neighborhood.
They had pulled out of one of the driveways beyond her villa, but what were workers doing there so early? And even if they were workers, why were they leaving at this hour? Shouldn’t they be arriving?
She sped up and the pickup did the same to stay directly behind her, a bit too closely. She slowed down to let the pickup pass, but it slowed as well, keeping the same distance between them. As a car passed coming from the other direction, she became nervous. Maybe she was getting paranoid, but she was a professional – she could not ignore the signs.
She should get off the narrow residential road. The Galse Shopping Center was about a kilometer up ahead. Even at this hour there would be people at the shopping center – shopkeepers opening up for the day and deliverymen. She decided to pull in there. Maybe the pickup would not follow her into the parking lot.
She dug into her bag, pulled out her cell phone and placed it between her legs, ready to call security at the consulate, if necessary. She also removed the PPK from her ankle holster and pushed it under her right thigh where it would be handy.
Near the entrance to the shopping center the road curved sharply to the right, she turned into the curve with the pickup close behind her. Then she saw it.
Approximately one hundred meters in front of the entrance to the shopping center was a stretch limousine with the hood up, completely blocking the road in front of her. The limo’s chauffeur was standing by the front of the vehicle, looking directly at her and talking into his cell phone.
Oh shit, she thought. This can’t be happening. Her mind spun and her defensive driving training kicked in. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. She was calm now. She was in a bad situation, and she needed to get out of it.
She slowed down almost to a stop and dropped the 4Runner down into four wheel drive and low gear, then she lined up her left front fender with the left rear fender of the limo and floored it.
The 4Runner crossed the median of the road, engine wailing, and crashed into the rear of the limo, spinning it sideways and knocking the chauffeur off of his feet and into the ditch. She held the accelerator to the floor and bulldozed the rear of the limo out of the way, its tires screeching along the pavement.
Her rear wheels spun in the dirt at the side of the road, and then she was through and free. She jammed the gearshift up into drive, sped through the wreckage and skidded back onto the road. She popped the gearshift out of four-wheel drive to gain speed and floored it again.
The pickup followed her through the wreckage, its rear wheels spinning in the dirt at the side of the road and almost sliding into the ditch.
Then the shooting began.
The traffic on the other side of the shopping center’s entrance was heavier due to the workers arriving from the more populated side of Chiang Mai. But she kept the accelerator to the floor. She passed one car after another, swerving to get back into her lane and to avoid cars coming from the other direction.
She could hear the bullets striking the rear of her vehicle, and she hunched low over the wheel to present as small a target as possible.
She wanted to reach the relative safety of Charoen Prathet Road, where rush hour traffic would already be moderately heavy.
She grabbed her cell phone and hit the speed dial for the Marine Security Guard Detachment at the consulate. The Marine on duty answered after two rings, and she screamed into the phone: “This is Charly Blackburn. I’ve been ambushed near the entrance to the Galse Shopping Center. I’m heading east toward Charoen Prathet Road and being pursued by a green pickup with two men who are shooting at me. Send help now! Please hurry. Now!”
She tossed the cell phone on the seat beside her without waiting for a response and pulled the PPK out from under her thigh.
Two bullets punctured her rear window and exited through the front windshield, making her wince and forcing her to drive faster. She sped through the light traffic, weaving in and out, with the pickup close behind.
She snapped off a couple of rounds out the window in the direction of the pickup behind her but held little hope of them hitting anything. Getting away was her main concern, but why not frighten them a bit, letting them know she was armed and dangerous?
She hit the entrance to Charoen Prathet Road, but it was backed up with traffic at the red light. She spun around the traffic on the shoulder of the entrance ramp, ran the red light and careened onto the main road. The pickup hesitated for a moment but then followed her around the stalled traffic, through the red light and up the ramp onto the road.
Blaring her horn to get people to move, she wove back and forth through the traffic with the pickup close behind her. Why won’t they drop off? Three more rounds punctured the window, one dangerously close to her head.
They were still five kilometers from the consulate when she saw the Marine Security Humvee speeding toward her from the other direction, lights flashing and siren blasting. It passed her in a blur and then, as the driver recognized her and the green pickup, spun off the side of the road and reversed direction. The pickup was now between Charly and the swiftly closing Marines.
She continued to weave through traffic as rapidly as possible, heading for the safety of the consulate, while the security vehicle was gaining on the pickup. She heard the distinct sound of automatic M-16 fire behind her and gleefully thought, Now the bastards will know what it feels
like to be in the sights of U.S. Marines.
The men in the pickup evidently did not want to mess with the Marines. They broke off the chase and exited the highway heading west.
As soon as she saw the pickup exit the highway, she eased her foot off of the accelerator. The Marines caught up to her and pulled alongside. They gave her the thumbs up sign and signaled her to follow them. She blew them a kiss and pulled in behind.
Chapter Eighty-Three
She did what? You let her get away? This was supposed to be a simple operation.” Khun Ut was furious. He was standing behind his desk in the Ban Hin Taek mountain villa, dressed in a tailored, eggshell-colored safari suit, jamming his cheroot at the Cambodian.
Ung Chea was not intimidated by Khun Ut’s rant, but he was ashamed. “She is very good, sir. She drove through Paiboon’s limousine like it was a movie prop. I never saw anything like it.”
“Of course she is good. I told you that in the first place. She is CIA. You should have taken more men to do a proper ambush. The three of you were clearly not enough.”
Ung Chea was not used to being berated by anyone, including Khun Ut, whom he considered to be a friend as well as a boss.
“I am sorry, Khun Ut. If I were Japanese I would commit suicide right here and now, in front of your desk.”
“Okay, okay. Enough.” Khun Ut collapsed in his chair and swung his good leg up on his desk. “Let us not dwell on the past. We screwed up. All of us. We should have used more people. We underestimated her. Now what can we do to get things back on track?”
The Cambodian dropped heavily into one of the chairs in front of Khun Ut’s desk and massaged the nub of his missing ear, trying to get his mind around what had just happened.
“I think we are done with the girl. If she ever leaves the consulate again, we can be sure it will be with armed guards. If she does go back to her home, she will take plenty of protection with her. She will be out of reach for us, at least for the time being.”
Khun Ut took a long drag from his cheroot and exhaled a stream of smoke toward the ceiling. “Maybe, maybe not. But…damn, she was key. She was the one with information on the two farangs, all the information. She was the only one who could tell us everything—what they are up to, who sent them and what their next move will be. Mai pen rai, we have to move on.”
He thought, toying with his cheroot. “What about Paiboon’s source? You know who I mean, the one you told me about who is close to Sawat’s whore?”
“I was thinking the same thing, sir.”
Chapter Eighty-Four
Mac and Culler reached the rendezvous point before daybreak, with a whole day to kill before the arrival of Vanquish and his heroin-laden donkey caravan. They checked his progress on the GPS regularly, noting the wristwatch Charly had given him was working perfectly. They would not be surprised by his arrival.
They found a comfortable spot, ate a snack of granola bars and water, doused themselves with mosquito repellent, and made themselves comfortable. They slept or just rested for most of the day.
“Come on, Mac, let’s get moving. It’s almost four o’clock. We’ve only got another couple of hours of sunlight left.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I was having a great dream, though.” Mac sat up, rubbing his eyes.
“I never met a person older than a teenager who could sleep like you can. How do you do it?”
“Practice, my friend, practice.”
They scouted the area and found a good location about one hundred-fifty meters west of where Vanquish would set up his camp. An outcropping of rocks would give them good concealment from the camp, and there was a place where they could burrow into the undergrowth in case they needed to hide from anyone searching the area.
They stood side by side at the base of the boulders. Looking up, Mac said, “This is as good a place as any for us to wait for them. We can lay up there on the top of the rocks tonight and get a good view of their campsite. Now let’s reconnoiter the area around here and take another look at the layout of their campsite.”
They stood in the middle of the campsite area and looked around them, trying to reconstruct what Vanquish had told them during their meeting.
“The guy is really good,” said Mac. “See how the stream circles the place like a horseshoe? Over there to the south is where they will have their fire and sleep. See the remains of their last campfire? Surely that’s where they’ll camp tonight.”
“Yep, that’s what he said they would do.”
“And here, about where we’re standing now, is where the packs of heroin bricks will be stacked. That means the donkeys and horses will be tethered over there to the north.”
They walked to the spot and Mac pointed out signs of hoof prints and manure as indications the animals had been there before. “You know it’s actually a pretty nice campsite. It’s no wonder Vanquish didn’t think he’d have any problem convincing them to return here for their first night.”
“You’re pretty good at reading animal shit. You must be part Indian. Let’s find the spot where they crossed the stream the last time. I believe he said…I can’t remember. Did he mention it?”
“No, he didn’t, and we forgot to ask him. Damn. We don’t want them crossing anywhere near the spot we picked out to observe them. Let’s find it.”
It didn’t take them long to find the crossing spot. It was at the shallowest part of the stream, right in the middle of the bend of the horseshoe where the stream widened to make the curve.
“That’s perfect,” said Mac. “Now let’s go back and wait for them. We can get another couple hours of rest.”
“Is that all you can think about? Sleep? Getting your beauty rest?”
“No, it’s not all I think about.”
Culler rolled his eyes.
Chapter Eighty-Five
If Vanquish was making an effort to move stealthily through the jungle, he certainly didn’t act like it. It was dusk and Culler and Mac were lying prone, side by side on the top of the boulders, when they heard the first sounds of Vanquish and his caravan moving toward them through the jungle.
“What’s that?” asked Mac.
“What? I can’t hear anything.”
“That’s because you’ve had far too many explosions going off too close to your head. You’re half deaf. Listen.”
“Sounds like animals. Do you think that’s them?”
“Maybe. Or maybe it’s a herd of elephants.”
Twenty minutes later the caravan reached the stream, and they could hear voices and splashing as the animals crossed over to the campsite. They still could not see them clearly through the thick underbrush.
“Stay here and keep me covered while I try to get closer,” said Mac. “We need to find out exactly what we’re up against while there’s still some light.”
Mac slid off the rocks, checked his rifle and ammunition drum, and moved stealthily through the underbrush toward the campsite. Culler watched the man in the Ghillie-suit blend into the undergrowth and become practically invisible.
Culler surveyed the area with binoculars, but, aside from the occasional rustling of bushes as Mac moved closer to the campsite, he couldn’t see anything.
The foliage thinned and the voices and the braying of the donkeys became clearer as Mac crept closer to the edge of the clearing. He dropped into a prone position and pushed himself deep into the underbrush. He lay motionless and surveyed the campsite through his binoculars.
Vanquish, clearly distinguishable with his broad-brimmed black cowboy hat, directed the activities. There were three men, including Vanquish. One wore a dirty white bandana on his head and looked to be about middle aged, and the other was much younger, maybe a teenager or early twenties. He wore a faded blue baseball cap. Both men deferred to Vanquish.
Vanquish and the older man busied themselves setting up a temporary rope corral for the three houses and eight donkeys, while the young man set up their sleeping area at the southern end of the campsite. The boy spread
out a large tarp on the ground and strung a shelter sheet above it from surrounding trees, and then he went about collecting twigs and branches for a campfire.
Once the corral was complete at the north end, the two older men unsaddled the horses and unloaded the heavy packs from the donkeys. Carrying the saddles and packs to the middle of the campsite, they stacked them in a neat pile.
At one point just before dark, the boy, in search of twigs and branches for the fire, came dangerously close to Mac’s hiding place.
Mac watched the boy approach and thought, I’ve set up too close to the campsite. God don’t let him spot me. But he didn’t, and Mac breathed a huge sigh of relief as the boy walked away from his position carrying an armful of branches back to the camp fire.
Mac lay motionless, as only a trained sniper can do, for the next four hours, observing every movement through his night vision binoculars.
Vanquish and the bandana guy ate their dinner and smoked by the fire while the boy took his dinner back to his post on the pile of packs.
After dinner the Hmong dug the bottle of Mekong whisky out of his saddle bag and presented it to the others, who were delighted at the unexpected treat.
They passed the bottle among them. The boy was on duty so he did not drink at all, and Vanquish drank very little, while bandana guy was happy to guzzle most of the bottle.
When the bottle was empty, bandana guy stood up on unsteady legs and stumbled to the bank of the stream where he took a long, wobbly pee. Then he wove his way back to the sleeping area, fell unto the tarp and passed out.
The Hmong flipped his cigarette into the fire, checked on the boy one last time and joined the bandana guy on the tarp to get a couple hours of rest before his midnight shift.
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