little grumpy, Captain Achara Kulawnit retrieved her suitcase from the slowly-moving carrousel, set it in the airport cart, walked over to the door marked U.S. Marshall’s office, gently pushed it open with one hand while she pushed her cart in with the other, stepped inside the office; and then immediately saw Bulatt.
“You’re here?” she said, her eyes widening with surprise.
“Yes, of course, I’m here.” Bulatt grinned. “Where did you expect me to be?”
Achara started to say something, hesitated, then quickly brought the palms of her hands together in a polite wai. “Khun-Ged,” she said, her cheeks visibly turning red, “I am happy to see you again. Thank you so much for meeting me here, instead of waiting for me at Medford. I–I — ”
Then, before Bulatt could say anything in response, she walked up to him, put her arms around his neck and shoulder, and hugged him tightly.
“I’m not just happy to see you,” she whispered against his ear, “I am delighted to see you; more than I can possibly tell you here.” Then she stepped back, stared into Bulatt’s widened and shocked eyes; and only then saw the lanky and deeply-tanned man out of the corner of her eye. He was sitting in chair at the opposite side of the room, wearing a nicely-tailored dark suit, cowboy boots and a bolo tie, and starring at her and Bulatt with a wide dimpled grin on his dark mustached face.
“Captain Achara Kulawnit,” Bulatt said once he was able to regain his composure, “I’d like you to meet a very good friend of mine, U.S. Marshall Bill Clark.”
Still grinning, Clark stood up from his chair, paused a brief moment to savor the shared looks of embarrassment between Bulatt and the young woman, and then stepped forward and offered his hand.
“Captain Kulawnit, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a very long time.”
Achara cocked her head curiously as she took the federal law enforcement officer’s hand in a firm handshake. “Oh?”
Clark glanced down at his watch. “Well, for at least for thirty-seven minutes, anyway; but that can be a very long time for us impatient types.”
Achara’s eyebrows were now furrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand — ”
The dimpled grin seemed to be a permanent fixture on Clark’s tanned face.
“Ma’am,” he said, “anytime my good buddy here starts looking vaguely embarrassed when he’s asking the U.S. Marshall Service for an official favor, I definitely want to meet the reason why.”
“A favor?” Achara looked over at Bulatt in confusion.
“Yes, ma’am,” Clark nodded. “I understand you’re running a bit late, and that you’ve got some anxious forensic scientists waiting to get their hands on that bullet and cartridge case you toted all this way; so I am going to do my buddy here a very official favor and see to it that you folks get to Ashland post-haste, U.S. Marshall Transport Service style.”
Outside the MAX facility at the Draganov Research Center
Sergei Draganov stood beside the rumbling Sno-Cat, trying to ignore the snowstorm that raged around him, as he anxiously watched Aleksei Tsarovich hurry out of the MAX facility.
“Did you find him?” Draganov demanded.
“No, he is nowhere in the facility, and he does not answer his pager.”
“Are the animals fed and watered?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” Draganov said with a relieved sigh, and then hesitated. “We could be running out of time. I think I need to help you — to get everything done — before he returns.”
Tsarovich started to argue but Draganov shook his head. “Another two or three days won’t make any difference to Tanya. I have an approach that I think will work; but this must be done first, or we’ll all be dead.”
Tsarovich stared at his long-time associate for a long moment, and then reluctantly nodded his assent.
The two men quickly pulled themselves into the Sno-Cat and drove down to a mid-way point between MIN and the entrance to the Maze.
Then, as Draganov continued to guide the lurching heavy vehicle toward the distant Maze entrance, Aleksei Tsarovich stood in the attached trailer-sled with a sharp knife and began tossing bales of hay and pouring sacks of feed across the snow-covered ground.
On a snow-covered rock crag overlooking the lurching Sno-Cat
The green-glowing eyes of Borya watched the scene below.
CHAPTER 32
Criminalistics Examination Room, National Fish amp; Wildlife Forensics Lab
As Bulatt and Achara Kulawnit watched from the far side of the Criminalistics examination room, Donn Renwick, Steve Hager and Dr. Juliana Ferreira — who were now dressed in white lab coats and sitting across from each other at a table-height lab bench, with the shipping box bearing the red Thai Forestry Division evidence tape sitting between them in the middle of the table — began to record information from the evidence tag onto their individual examination note forms.
Once they finished their initial note-taking, all three forensic scientists put on pairs of white cotton gloves and masks. Then Ferreira picked up the colorfully wrapped and tagged box and walked over to the far opposite side of the room, followed closely by Hager and Renwick.
Stopping in front of a ‘glove box’ — a three-foot-wide-by-two-foot-deep-by-three-foot-high glass-faced box equipped with a sealable-door at one end, a double-door vacuum chamber at the other, and a pair of long rubber gloves that allowed an examiner to handle items inside the box without physical contact — Ferreira opened the side door, placed the box inside, and sealed the door shut.
Then, after slipping her arms into the long gloves, she used a scalpel to slowly and carefully cut open the box. A small manila envelope and a six-inch-square box, both sealed with evidence tape, slid out onto the floor of the glove box.
Ferreira used the scalpel to cut the envelope open; slid a clump of wrapped tissue out into her gloved hand; placed the tissue clump in a vial; filled the rest of the vial with a liquid from a squeeze bottle marked ‘PROBE DECON’; screwed on a cap; placed the vial inside the vacuum chamber; shut and locked the inside door; pulled her hands out of the gloves; made a few valve adjustments on the vacuum chamber console; pressed a button marked ‘DECON’; and waited thirty seconds.
Then, after walking around to the side of the glove box and opening the outside door of the vacuum chamber, the three forensic scientists came back to the workbench, the vial in Ferreira’s hand and the evidence box in Hager’s.
“Can we watch what you’re doing, or should we be running for the door?” Bulatt asked.
“Sure, come on over, no problem,” Ferreira said as she sat back down at the workbench and began making adjustments to a low-power dissection microscope. Renwick and Hager took chairs on either side of the microscope station.
“Was all that glove-box business really necessary?” Bulatt asked as he and Achara cautiously approached the workbench.
“Probably not,” Ferreira said as she opened the vial, removed the now-soggy white tissue clump with a pair of plastic forceps, set it into a small glass Petri dish, placed the dish under the dissection microscope, and began to tease apart the wet tissue. “The nano-probes we found in those Clouded Leopard carcasses broke down real quick under UV light, once we isolated them from the lymphatic system, so exposure to air and sunlight at the Preserve in Thailand should have sterilized the bullet and the cartridge case. But there may be some completely isolated tissue under that peeled-back jacketing, and we’re still trying to figure out what the DNA segments attached to the nano- tubes do, so we don’t want to take any chances.”
“Appreciate that,” Bulatt muttered, eyeing the now-exposed mushroomed rifle bullet that Ferreira was slowly moving into the view-field of the microscope with a whole new appreciation for its lethal nature.
“That’s also why we asked you and the Chief to take a good soapy shower and go though that
