Wincing against the blinding glare, he looked up into the drizzling rain and found himself staring into the barrel of a machine gun mounted in the open doorway of a hovering Thai Coastal Patrol helicopter some fifty feet from and above the boat.
An amplified voice from the hovering chopper barked out what sounded like an order in Thai, but Bulatt had no idea what the words meant.
“You, in the boat,” the voice barked again, this time in English, “drop your weapon!”
Bulatt blinked in confusion, then looked down at his right hand and realized he was still holding Kulawnit’s empty pistol. He quickly dropped it at his feet — hearing the weapon splash into the water that was close to swamping the badly-damaged boat — and raised his hands high in the air.
As the helicopter moved in closer — now hovering less than twenty-five from and above the boat, the downdraft from its spinning blades churning the water and forcing Bulatt to try to maintain his balance with his wide-spread knees — the distant patrol boat began a wide turn in his direction.
South of Tanga Island, in the Malacca Strait — still in Thailand territory
They were a little more than twelve nautical miles off Tanga Island — Lanyard struggling with the few remaining controls while Gavin worked feverishly to stock the small dinghy with food, water, gasoline and a basic load of survival gear — when the vaguely soothing sound of the rain striking the flying bridge awning and windows of the wallowing Avatar was suddenly overwhelmed by a high-pitched shriek, followed by a concussive roar, that sent Lanyard and Gavin diving to their respective decks.
“What the bloody hell — ?!” Gavin yelled from the foredeck as he struggled to readjust his night-vision goggles.
“F-fives, pair of the buggers, probably flying out of Phuket,” Lanyard yelled back as he stared up at the twin- afterburners of the low-flying fighter jets. He continued to monitor the course of the planes — now just two rapidly dwindling pairs of bright green spots in the viewer of his night-vision goggles — until they finally disappeared in the distance.
“Good,” he sighed. “I don’t think they spotted us.” He looked around at the swirling fog now surrounding the Avatar. “Probably damn near impossible to see anything in this soup from the air, thank God.”
“You really think they’re out here looking for us?” Gavin asked as he scrambled back into the bridge.
“Would you be out flying low-level off-shore recon in this bloody weather, and in the middle of the night, unless some pissed-off general told you to get your arse up in the air and be quick about it?”
“You wouldn’t see me volunteering for the job,” Gavin acknowledged. Then, after a moment: “You think they’re going to care much about whose air space we’re in if they do spot us?”
“I wouldn’t, if I were them,” Lanyard said. “But then I — oh bloody hell!”
“What’s the matter?” Gavin asked, but the sudden shift in the decibel levels on the bridge gave him the answer he didn’t want to hear. “Don’t tell me we lost another bilge pump?”
“Afraid so, mate; down to one, now.” Lanyard stared glumly at the four grouped lights on the control panel, three of which were now glowing bright red.
“How much time, do you think?”
“At the rate we’re taking on water, maybe another twenty minutes; less if we lose the last pump. At that point, we might as well shut the engines off and pull the plugs ourselves.”
Gavin sighed. “Okay, I’d better start heaving the odd bits overboard. Anything you want me to hold back for a last go?”
Lanyard shook his head. “If they’ve got the Thai Navy and Air Force out looking for us, we’re way past a ‘last go.’ Toss everything that looks out of place on a fishing boat — the weapons and ammo first — but bring along extra batteries for the goggles and a couple of the emergency flashers to signal Wallis. We’ll keep that lot with us as long as we can; but the important thing, if they spot us, is to look exactly like a couple of distressed fishermen who buggered up their boat in the storm. Might not do us any good if we get picked up in Thai water, but it’s always worth a try.”
“What about this?” Gavin held up the shredded and bloody burlap sack.
“Toss that, too. Wallis’ll take our word for what happened. And besides, maybe it’ll give the sharks something to poke at instead of following after us.”
CHAPTER 17
Onboard the Thai Coastal Patrol Cutter Sawaeke Pinsinchai — off Tanga Island
Bulatt stood beside Major Preithat at the stern of the Thai Coastal Patrol Cutter Sawaeke Pinsinchai and watched as the paramedic team carefully loaded Colonel Kulawnit — who was now strapped tightly into a transport litter — into the medivac helicopter that had just moments earlier landed on the Cutter’s stern heliport platform.
“Don’t worry, my friend,” Preithat said. “The corpsman assures me the Colonel is stable, and that a team of surgeons are waiting in an operating room for his arrival. Thanks to you, he is certain to recover from his wounds.”
Lost in thought, Bulatt blinked and then turned to Preithat. “What about you, Khun Sat? You’re injured too; aren’t you going with him?” he asked, nodded at the bloodied bandages wrapped around the Preithat’s head and right arm.
“My wounds are minor.” Preithat shrugged. “We’re sending three other Rangers with far more serious injuries in the helicopter with the Colonel. You and I will follow in the patrol boat.”
“You mean back to Phuket?”
Preithat nodded. “Yes, Phuket is where our investigation and my command are based. Where else would we go?”
“How about after those bastards in the yacht? The ones who shot at us and damn near killed Kulawnit; and perhaps the ones who killed his son?”
The understanding smile on Preithat’s face didn’t quite match the frustrated look in his eyes. “Colonel Kulawnit admires you, Khun Ged, because he sees you as an honest and stubborn and unrelenting investigator who devotes his professional life to confronting and destroying the evil forces in this world. Which is to say a man very much like himself; and, I gather, like many of your Interpol peers.”
Bulatt started to say something, but Preithat held up his hand.
“I, too, admire your determination and your courage; and I certainly share your desire for justice and revenge. But I must tell you that being in a small patrol boat south of Ko Tanga during the next few hours would not be a good thing for any of us.”
“Why is that?” Bulatt asked.
“As we speak, every one of our Navy’s counter-piracy patrol boats in the Malacca Strait is in position — or moving there now — to intercept any vessel attempting to escape south into Malaysian waters. The Sawaeke Pinsinchai will be joining them — using her assault helicopter to help close the trap — as soon as we transfer over to our Forestry patrol boat. Also, the Royal Thai Air Force now has six fighter jets in the air who will be acting as a final escape deterrent as well as spotters.”
“That’s a lot of fire power for a couple of illegal hunting guides,” Bulatt commented.
“Yes, but these men are no longer being viewed as simply violators of our wildlife laws. The shooting down of the Royal Army’s Blackhawk helicopter changed our investigation into a military matter of some complexity, especially since we think foreigners are involved,” Preithat explained. “And the fact that our suspects are apparently heading for Malaysian territorial waters has made things even more complex.”
“In terms of international politics, I assume?” Bulatt nodded in rueful understanding.
“Yes, exactly. And you should also know,” Preithat went on, “that these Navy patrol boats are manned by Thai Sea Rangers who have orders to engage and sink any vessel that fails to obey their orders. These Sea Rangers are an elite group of fighters — very much like your Navy SEALS — who have been made aware of our losses, and therefore are certain to be aggressive in their actions. So you can imagine how easy it would be, at night and in this weather, for an unfortunate mistake to occur.”
