American law enforcement officer.
Bloody hell?
Reacting instinctively, Wallis casually diverted from his exit route, walked over to a telephone kiosk, set his carry-on bag down, picked up the handset, and then stared casually across the passenger hall at the two familiar faces now heading in his direction.
As he did so, he also glanced around the passenger hall, searching for any signs of an active or passive surveillance. But all he saw were the seemingly random movements of uniformed air crews, airport staff and arriving passengers. No coordinated movements, no furtive glances, no brief or hurried conversations on pack-set radios or cell phones.
And, most important of all, no signs of focused attention on his position.
The Thai’s can’t have a surveillance on; nobody has a spotting or tracking team this good, Wallis reassured himself as he refocused his attention on Kulawnit.
Wallis knew Colonel Kulawnit’s reputation all too well. He’d done extensive research on the commander of the Thai Wildlife Ranger Force — an operational unit of the Thai Forestry Police Division tasked with protecting the country’s wildlife — when he and Lanyard and Gavin first considered the idea of running illegal safari hunts in the isolated rainforests of Thailand. What he’d discovered was a highly professional and aggressive military man completely devoted to his Rangers and his children; and a man of some family wealth who was apparently indifferent to the luxuries of life that additional money might buy.
“Don’t ever try to bribe Kulawnit,” one of his sources had warned. “That would be a terrible mistake. The Colonel has no tolerance for such insults.”
Well versed in the cultural art of progressive bribery, Wallis wasn’t accustomed to dealing with adversaries who handicapped themselves with scruples. And, at first, Kulawnit’s stubborn sense of honor made things awkward for Wallis and his surveilling teammates.
But, as it turned out, they’d found no such human failings in a Ranger Captain assigned to the Phuket Field Office by the name of Choonhavan, AKA Choon.
So who is your friend, Colonel Kulawnit? Wallis asked himself, staring at the athletic-looking man who was walking beside the Forestry Ranger commander and pulling a heavy-duty, roll-along suitcase that appeared to have weathered many such international flights. And, more to the point, why are you still in Bangkok? You’re supposed to be in Tokyo, attending your bloody Interpol meeting.
Wallis could only think of one thing that might have drawn Kulawnit away from a Pacific Rim regional meeting of the Interpol Working Group on Wildlife — of which the Colonel was a charter member — and back to Bangkok; and he didn’t like the idea at all.
Muttering to himself, Wallis waited until the two men walked outside, then hung up the phone and followed them out the door.
He was hoping they’d take a cab to wherever they were going, which would give him a chance to follow in another cab; but the sight of the uniformed police officer waiting beside the black Range Rover, and the half-dozen people waiting in the Taxi queue, dashed Wallis’ hopes.
Instead, he got in line for a taxi and watched as Kulawnit and Bulatt loaded their gear into the official vehicle, hopped in, and then disappeared down the airport expressway leading to the city center.
Outside the Bangkok International Airport
Wallis stood outside Bangkok International Airport’s main departure terminal in the misting rain, carefully watching the security guards going through their well-practiced routines of monitoring the flow of cars, buses, taxi’s and people from the shelter of his umbrella.
Nothing he observed looked out of the ordinary; but the alarm bells continued to chime softly in the back of his head, and he didn’t like that at all.
In almost any other situation, Wallis would have been perfectly content to sit and watch and wait until the unknown entities brushing up against his highly-sensitive survival instincts became evident, no matter if it took hours or even days. But time was starting to become a serious issue for his team, and he knew he didn’t have days or even hours to spare.
Not with twelve dead bodies waiting to be found and linked together, the gypsy pirate Kai on the loose, and possibly several hundred increasingly alert and angry Thai police investigators and patrol officers out looking for their missing comrades.
He glanced down at his watch. The flight to Narita would start boarding in less than an hour; which meant he either had to begin going through the security process in a few minutes, or walk away.
Wallis took one last look around, started toward the terminal entrance, hesitated, and then walked over to the far side of the walkway where a small number of tables, chairs and large umbrellas had been placed for the convenience of waiting passengers.
He placed the suitcase and briefcase under one of the tables, sat down beneath a large umbrella to avoid the misting rain, pulled the encrypted satellite cell phone out of his raincoat, punched in a memorized series of numbers, and then waited.
“Gecko-two, go.” Lanyard’s voice, sounding calm and professional, as usual.
“Gecko-one, what’s your status?”
“Fair to decent,” Lanyard replied. “We’re anchored off Tanga Island. I’m stretched out on the deck, enjoying a frosty one, and Jack’s doing a spot of diving off the bow, looking for dinner. I think he’s feeling better. Say’s we’ll have to settle for lobster if he can’t find anything better.”
“What about Kai?”
“No sign of him or any of his pirate mates yet. Figure it’s a bit early for those lads to be up and about; especially if they’re planning on mucking us over tonight. Which reminds me, did you tell Kai we’d be using the bright green visible flashers to mark our location for the swap?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Good, then we’ve got a proper surprise all laid out for the little buggers.” Lanyard hesitated. “How did things go with our rainy day fund?”
“It’s all moved over to the Caiman account,” Wallis replied. “I’m transporting our hard assets in carry-on, including a nice last-minute contribution from Yak and Boon-Nam.”
“Bless their rotten souls. How’s your six looking?” Lanyard asked, using the military pilot’s terminology for the ever-vulnerable rear — or six o’clock — position.
“I’m clear so far, but we may have a problem. I spotted Colonel Kulawnit in the Bangkok International airport this morning.”
“Heading out to Tokyo to attend his bloody Interpol meeting, I trust?”
“No, picking up someone who looked and acted very much like a covert American or Canadian law enforcement officer, and who almost certainly came in on the Tokyo flight. They drove back into the city together.”
“So, he’s probably one of Kulawnit’s Wildlife Interpol mates.” Lanyard was silent for a moment. “That doesn’t sound good,” he finally said.
“No, it doesn’t,” Wallis agreed. “I’m still at the airport and there doesn’t seem to be an alert on, so I’m assuming they haven’t found any of the bodies yet. But something is definitely on; something serious enough to pull Kulawnit away from a Pacific Rim Interpol meeting that he never fails to attend, and to possibly bring in outside help from North America.”
“And you’re thinking it might involve us, or Hateley?”
“We’re not the only ones taking advantage of the Thai wildlife preserves, by a long shot; but if Kai was the one who informed on us, and he and Yak were conspiring, and the police are at Yak’s home now — ”
“Too many paths starting to cross,” Lanyard agreed. “What about Kai? You want us to walk away, so to speak?”
“No. If he and Yak were actually cooperating with each other, instead of just conspiring, then he knows too much about us; especially if he’s got other police contacts besides Choon. Carry on with the plan, but be prepared to break off and disappear if the Thai police show up.”
“Five hours of darkness and the weather gives us some wiggle room, but not much,” Lanyard said. “I don’t mind playing coastal tag with a pack of Thai and Malaysian patrol boats at night. But come dawn, if we’re still in
