enforcement,” he said, an angry glint appearing in his eyes. “God knows I’ve paid more than my fair share to the local gendarmes to keep things flowing smoothly around here.”
Bulatt and Younger both winced, looked at each other, and shook their heads sadly.
“I’m truly sorry you chose to bring that topic into our discussion, Mr. Rigley,” Younger said, his deeply suntanned face shifting into an expression that seemed genuinely sympathetic.
“And you’re going to be even sorrier in a few moments,” Rigley went on heatedly, “because it just so happens that I know a few things about international law. For example, I know that foreign Interpol officers have no actual law enforcement authority in Bangkok or anywhere else in Thailand.” He turned to the mechanic who had already stood up from his desk and was now standing in from of Bulatt and Younger with a broad smile on his face, clenching his large grease-stained fists.
“John, throw their Interpol asses out of here, and don’t be gentle about it, while I call the — ”
The big mechanic started for Bulatt, and then crumbled to the floor unconscious from the impact of a vicious Achara spin kick to the side of his head. Ridley was still staring open-mouthed at Achara when the front door slammed open.
“While you call the police, perhaps?” an audibly furious voice inquired from the doorway.
Roger Rigley’s mouth dropped open and his eyes grew wide in shock.
“Uh, may I help you, officer,” he managed to croak out.
“Yes, you may,” Major Preithat acknowledged as he stepped into the office and made a point of removing a microphone from his ear. “You may start by grounding all of your aircraft based at this facility, and all others now occupying Thai Air Space, which specifically includes your G-Four jet that is now in route from Singapore.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Preithat looked at his watch. “I believe I spoke quite clearly. You have precisely five minutes to obey my order. If you fail to do so, I will direct the Thai Air Force to ground them for you, by whatever means they find necessary and appropriate. Do you understand the meaning of the phrase ‘necessary and appropriate’?”
“But — ”
Preithat looked at his watch again. “Four minutes and fifty seconds. And kindly be advised that you are now, officially, under arrest for suspicion of taking part in a conspiracy to murder six Thai Rangers, so please make no attempt to leave these facilities until I tell you to do so. It would be inconvenient to have you shot before we have finished our discussion.”
As the now-ashen pilot-owner frantically grabbed for the radio-mike on the adjacent desk, Preithat turned to the new Interpol team.
“I’ve heard some very interesting things from Kuhn Prathun over the years about these verbal judo techniques, and the three of you did seem to be making excellent progress,” he said, his dark eyes remaining fixed on Rigley much like a cobra observing a tasty rat, “but I’ve always preferred the direct approach myself, especially when time is of the essence.”
An hour and fifteen minutes later, Bulatt and Younger stood outside the hanger beside Preithat’s official vehicle, holding cups of hot tea thoughtfully provided by a young police clerk. The entire hanger complex was now surrounded by a dozen Royal Thai Police and Ranger vehicles, with several uniformed officers maintaining a watchful presence. Four additional vehicles had taken positions out on the tarmac.
Younger looked around approvingly. “Don’t you just love the Thai approach to hostile witness situations?” he commented.
“It does cut down on a lot of extraneous bullshit,” Bulatt acknowledged.
“I thought the ‘inconvenient to have you shot’ part was a nice finishing touch,” Younger went on. “I’m actually rather envious; the New Zealand legal system tends to frown on that sort of interrogative approach. And speaking of which, do you think the Major’s going to let our Mr. Rigley call his lawyer any time soon?”
“I don’t think any defense attorney in his right mind is going to want to be anywhere near Major Preithat and Mr. Rigley right about now,” Bulatt said seriously.
“All in all, an elegant approach to problem-solving.” Younger raised his tea cup in salute, presumably to Preithat and his aggressively responding Ranger force, and then sipped cautiously at the hot tea.
A few minutes later, Major Preithat stepped out of the hanger and called out to the two Interpol investigators. “Gentlemen, I believe Khun Achara has found something.”
The three men hurriedly entered the office area and found Achara typing furiously at a computer keyboard.
“Tell me you found bank records,” Bulatt said hopefully.
“No, better,” Achara responded. “Look at this.”
She turns the computer screen around so that they could all see it.
“What are we looking at?” Younger asked.
“A hidden file for four clients listed as ‘A’, ‘B’, ‘C” and ‘D.’ Our suspect’s recent flights match client ‘A.’”
“Exactly?” Bulatt whispered.
“Yes. The dates are different for each client, but the flights are the same — same locations and five days apart. And all pay in cash.”
“So what are we looking at, a hunting and poaching club?”
“If they are a club,” Prethat said, “why don’t they hunt together? These clients are hunting in synchrony but apart, as if they’re — ”
“Competing?” Bulatt suggested. “Three wealthy clients competing against each other?”
Bulatt and Younger looked at each other and smiled.
“Achara, do you have access to those landing and take-off records?” Younger asked.
“I’m running our dates against the Bangkok landings now, but Singapore International is being difficult.”
Prethat grunted, stepped away from the group, and was soon talking heatedly with someone in Mandarin.
“The same private plane arriving in Bangkok and then departing five days later from Singapore on the right dates. Can we be that lucky?”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Bulatt commented. “Everything about this set-up so far smells of big money and aggressive smarts.”
Prethat rejoined the group and turned to Achara.
“You have access for one hour. The pass-code is Panther.”
“Excellent!”
Achara began typing furiously again, and then paused to watch the computer screen flash through blocks of data.
“Come on, one of you bastards be stupid for once in your bloody lives,” Younger muttered.
Achara’s eyes suddenly widen in amazement.
“Yes, the same private plane — a G-five — matches the last two flight data sets at Bangkok and Singapore for client ‘C.’”
Bulatt smiled. “It looks like somebody got tired of suffering in first-class.
Younger pulled out his Blackberry and moved behind Achara.
“Do we have a registration number?” he asked.
Achara pointed at the screen. “Yes… there.”
Younger began typing on his Blackberry as Achara turned to Bulatt.
“If we get a hit on that plane, you and Pete can track it down while the Chief and I overfly the Khlong Preserve with his new toy.”
“Is that thing really going to work?”
“He thinks so. We’ll have plenty of power from the plane’s engine, but the trees may be — ”
“Well, folks, according to the Interpol computers, it looks like we have a winner in the category of upper-class arrogance and stupidity.”
Prethat, Bulatt and Achara all turn to stare at Younger.
“Our G-five luxury aircraft,” Younger continued, “is registered to a corporation owned by a Mr. Samuel Houston Fogarty.”
