lobby.
Bulatt walked up to her as Younger responded to his beeping Blackberry.
“I seriously doubt this was what the Major had in mind when he assigned you to our Interpol team,” he pointed out. “If nothing else, he probably expects you to get some sleep every now and then.”
Achara smiled cheerfully. “The Major also expects me to keep you and Peter safe while you are in Thailand, and that is precisely what I am doing — protecting the two of you from this very dangerous man.”
“And we thank you kindly for that,” Bulatt said seriously, trying to ignore the flashing gleam of amusement in Achara’s dark eyes. “Any chance you and Major Prethat can keep Agent Smith and his goons in protective custody for about twenty-four hours?”
“I’m certain that can be arranged,” Achara said with a dimpled smile.
“Good.” Bulatt turned to Younger. “And do you think you and Achara can watch out for each other, and stay out of trouble, if I make a quick trip to Oregon and Washington?”
Younger smiled brightly. “No worries, mate.”
“But why would you do that when so much is happening here?” Achara asked, looking puzzled.
“I’m going to go meet with some very smart people who just might be able to help us put the pieces of this puzzle together.”
CHAPTER 25
Outside a private plane terminal — Bangkok International Airport
Pete Younger, Major Prethat and Captain Kulawnit all watched as Agent Smith and his two men boarded a small private jet. Younger waited until they were all on board and the door was shut, then he reached for his cell phone and began typing:
OKAY, GED, AGENT SMITH ET AL HAVE BEEN RELEASED TO YOUR EMBASSY… AND THEY’RE UNDOUBTEDLY HEADING YOUR WAY IN A COVERT G5. PHOTO OF PLANE AND TAIL NUMBER TO FOLLOW. TIME TO WATCH YOUR BACK.
International Terminal — LAX Airport
As Bulatt entered the International Terminal at LAX with his carry-on bag, he activated his shut-off Blackberry, read the message from Younger, and then smiled. Then he looked up and saw a pair of three-piece- suited men headed in their direction. The one seemingly in charge stepped forward in front of Bulatt and held out a set of FBI credentials.
“Special Agent Gedimin Bulatt?”
“That’s right.”
“Sir, I’m FBI Special Agent in Charge Ted Grendel from the LA Office. Your boss apparently talked to my boss who ordered me to assist you in any way I can with your current assignment.”
“Really?” Bullet cocked his head curiously. “Would that order possibly include seriously messing with an aggressively obnoxious Fed Spook who plans on tailing me around the country in the comfort of his private jet and interfering with my Interpol investigation… ideally delaying him here for a while… maybe twenty-four hours or so… and then letting him think I’m going up to Seattle?”
The FBI SAC blinked, paused for a moment, and then smiled pleasantly. “That would be my pleasure, sir.”
On the tarmac of the Private Plane Terminal at Ashland, Oregon
As Bulatt stepped out of the FBI plane and onto the small tarmac of the Ashland Municipal Airport he saw a long-dark-haired young woman in a white lab coat approaching.
“Special Agent Bulatt?” the young woman asked.
“Yes, that’s right,” Bulatt nodded.
“Great. Welcome to Ashland. I’m Juliana from the US Fish amp; Wildlife Forensics Lab. I know you planned on visiting with us first before going on to Seattle; but after talking with his Interpol friend — and apparently yours also — Pete Younger, our director thought you might want to see these right away.”
She handed Bulatt a piece of paper and an envelope.
“That is my lab report on the analysis of blood on a skinning knife taken from subject Carolyn Fogarty. I confirmed the blood as coming from a Bighorn Sheep,” the forensic scientist continued.
“Could you match it to a specific trophy head?” Bulatt asked.
“If you bring me the head, yes sir, I could.”
“A second question. Did you receive the two Clouded Leopard carcasses from Bangkok?”
“Yes, we received them yesterday morning.”
“Wonderful.” Bulatt opened the envelope, read the message, and then turned to the FBI pilot standing at the doorway of their plane.
“Can you guys stand by for another quick flight either late this evening or very early tomorrow morning… this time to Redmond?”
“Hop, skip and a jump, sir.” The FBI pilot replied. “You’ve got my cell number. We’ll be ready to leave anytime you are.”
CHAPTER 26
The National Fish amp; Wildlife Forensics Laboratory, Ashland, Oregon
Special Agent Gedimin Bulatt and Special Agent in Charge Fred Schweer sat in the main conference room of the National Fish amp; Wildlife Forensics Laboratory, and stared across the table at three white-lab-coated forensic scientists — Steve Hager, Donn Renwick and Juliana Ferreira — who sat calmly behind their individual stacks of lab notes and case files.
They were all waiting with varying degrees of patience for the triangular conference-call system positioned in the center of the small conference table to ring back.
Schweer, by far the least technically-astute member of the group, was staring at the no-longer-familiar- looking communication device like it might suddenly lunge out and bite him if he didn’t hit it first.
In the time since their first call to Thailand that morning, the U.S. Fish amp; Wildlife Service Forensics Lab’s conference-call device had been significantly modified by the lab’s chief computer expert. There were now three separate electronic ‘black-boxes’ linked between the conference phone and the lab’s security phone line, and cross-connected with a dizzying array of cables; all three of which were rigged with big mushroom-like ON/OFF buttons that were all glowing a bright green.
The instructions left by Linda Reston — the lab’s the decidedly distracted technical support chief — were simple and to the point:
“If any one of those buttons turns red,” she’d said, meeting the gaze of every scientist and agent in the conference room, one at a time, “you hit it with your fist, immediately, and then come tell me about it. Any questions?”
“If more than one button turns red, which one do we hit first?” Schweer had asked reasonably.
“In the highly unlikely event that should happen, you immediately grab the phone line, rip it out of the wall, and then come tell me about it,” Reston had replied matter-of-factly before collecting up her tools and heading back to the lab’s Technical Support Section, where she had far more significant problems waiting.
That had been a half hour ago. They were still waiting for the call-back.
“Rip it out of the wall? Was she serious?” Schweer asked.
“Yes, I’m sure she was,” Ferreira replied.
“Definitely serious,” Hager added.
“And since you’re the closest one to the phone line, you’re the one she’s going to blame if you don’t rip it out
