Yak felt the air being sucked out of his lungs, making it almost impossible to speak.
“Khun Marcus,” he rasped, forcing the words out. “I did not mean — ”
“A Thai Ranger raid team showed up at the Khlong Saeng Preserve this evening. They seemed to know where we would be working. Did you inform on us?”
The question struck Yak’s brain like a lightning bolt. His eyes flickered briefly to Choonhavan, and then back to Wallis.
“Khun Marcus, you cannot possibly believe I would ever do such a thing,” Yak sputtered. “I would compete with you — if it was possible to do so — of course, as you would expect me to do; we are both businessmen, after all. But inform on you to the Thai Rangers? No, never! Even if I was so insane, you know they would never trust me. Not even Choonhavan, and you know he — ”
The words were rushing from Yak’s brain to his tongue almost completely uncensored; a poor idea in the best of circumstances. But some deeper-seated survival instinct — not to mention the terrified and futilely struggling presence of Choonhavan, and the fact that neither of his full-time bodyguards had yet appeared — told Yak that his only chance to live through the next few minutes might lay in the complete truth. It was a new and unsettling concept to the irrevocably corrupt Thai.
“What is Kai to you?”
Yak had to force himself to stay on his feet, only vaguely aware that he had voided his bladder.
“He’s nothing, just a — a potential partner… someday… not now… much later. After you have — ”
“Departed?”
“Yes, that is it, exactly — departed. Only then, when you are gone, no longer in the business, would Choonhavan and I ever even think to — ”
The bound and purple-faced Forestry captain began struggling even more frantically now.
“Don’t you think two-million Bhat is a bit steep for second-rate help?” Wallis asked as he allowed ten 1-carat diamonds to drop from his hand onto the polished desktop.
Yak was still staring wide-eyed at the diamonds when the first bullet struck him in the solar plexus, the impact sending him staggering backwards. A tiny whimper escaped his lips as he stared, wide-eyed, down at the hole in his pajamas. He was still staring when the second bullet ripped through his forehead, flinging him backwards to the floor.
Wallis remained where he was for a few seconds, listening to the distant and muted sounds of the still- complaining chef rattling pans in the kitchen.
Then, satisfied, he scooping up the loose diamonds, dropped them into his jacket pocket, and then reached down by his chair, picked up the shoulder-holstered and silenced pistol that had once belonged to Jack Gavin.
Humming to himself, Wallis stood up, glanced briefly at the now-frozen-in-horror Choonhavan, walked over to Yak’s sprawled body, knelt down, placed the silenced pistol in his right hand, used Yak’s limp index finger to fire a bullet through the screen door leading out into the garden, allowed the pistol and Yak’s limp hand to drop to the thick rug, and tossed the empty shoulder holster aside.
Then he stood up and walked back over to the chair where Captain Choonhavan was staring at him with a hopeless expression in his still-widened eyes.
“Alright, lad, it’s time you and I had a serious discussion about your future.”
The Surat Thani Airport, Thailand
Later that morning, a shaved, showered and neatly dressed Marcus Wallis walked up to the Thai Air ticket counter at the Surat Thani Airport, set his over-night bag down, reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his passport.
“I have reservations for the morning flight to Bangkok,” he said as he took out his wallet and handed the clerk a credit card.
The clerk called up the flight on her computer, glanced down at the open passport and the name on the credit card, and then took at least two seconds to examine Wallis’ facial features before smiling pleasantly.
“Yes, Mr. Emerson, we have you confirmed in business class for that flight, window seat ten-A, boarding in approximately thirty minutes. Will that be satisfactory?”
Wallis smiled pleasantly in return.
“Yes,” he said, “That will do just fine.”
CHAPTER 5
The Malacca Strait, Thailand
It was an hour past dawn in the Malacca Strait, three-quarters of the way from Phuket Bay to Langkawi Island, the rain-storm continuing unabated, and the bow of the Avatar shoving the waves aside with bone-jarring impacts, when Quince Lanyard and Jack Gavin decided it was time to rest.
They’d been searching for a good spot to anchor — ideally a place well out of the shipping lanes that offered some concealment from the ever-present coastal patrol boats — when they spotted the cove on the leeward side of a small island no more than three kilometers off the southern Thailand coastline.
Ten minutes later, Quince Lanyard set the bow anchor, shut off the engine, took one last look around — noting with some degree of satisfaction that he could barely see the shoreline through the wind-swirled gusts of rain — and followed Gavin down into the main cabin.
Once inside, the two men secured the doors and windows, poured themselves cups of steaming coffee, and then sat in the cushioned bench seats surrounding a combination cabinet and coffee table where they’d already laid out the assault rifles and cleaning kits.
“You’re looking better — a lot less green,” Lanyard commented. “Must be getting your sea legs. Want something to eat?”
“Maybe later, after this bloody storm dies down,” Gavin muttered.
“It might not get any better than this for a while,” Lanyard pointed out.
“In that case, I’ll settle for an IV-pack and coffee. You think that bastard Kai’s going to be cooperative?” Gavin asked as the two men began to field-strip the assault rifles with long-practiced motions.
“No, I think he’s going to try to double-cross us,” Lanyard replied. “Be different if all three of us were going to be there, but we’re not. You and I aren’t going to scare him; not like Marcus does.”
“Probably a lot of truth to that.” Gavin nodded thoughtfully. He started to say something else when the satellite cell phone secured to Lanyard’s belt began to ring. He pulled the cell phone out of its secure holster, examined the screen, and smiled.
“Speaking of the boss — ” Lanyard brought the phone up to his ear. “Gecko-Two, go.”
“This is Gecko-One. I need to talk with both of you.”
“Hold one.” Lanyard walked over to a wall console, inserted the satellite phone into a slot, and pressed a now-glowing blue button. “Gecko-Two here.”
“And Gecko-Three, both of us still afloat in the bloody galleon,” Gavin added. “Can you hear us?”
“You’re coming in fine.” Wallis’ voice echoed in the small cabin. “Confirm encryption circuitry is engaged at your end.”
Lanyard examined the wall console and verified the second light was glowing — a steady bright green.
“That’s affirmative. Encryption is engaged at our end,” Lanyard confirmed.
“Good. There’s been a new development,” Wallis said. “It seems Yak and Kai have been conspiring to take over our operation. That’s probably what caused all the commotion last night.”
“So Yak was the one who turned us in to the Thai Rangers?” Gavin asked, the skepticism evident in his voice.
“No, I don’t think so,” Wallis replied. “He seemed surprised to hear about the appearance of the raid team, and Choon knew nothing about it either. All things considered, I’m assuming it was Kai who jumped the gun on his own. That would make more sense because Yak knew we’d worked Hateley in the Khlong Saeng Preserve previously. Kai would only have known our general location; which is basically what the map we found on the dead Rangers — the one with the entire Reservoir area circled in red — indicates.”
