mom.”
“You mean you actually got some useful work out of these characters?” Reston said as he quietly opened the bedroom door and observed his two sons sprawled out on the twin beds, sound asleep. “How’d you manage that?”
“Classic good-cop bad-cop act,” Bulatt said as he and Reston each picked up one of the boys. “Had a beautiful Thai warrior princess on hand for the good cop, so all I had to do was come up with an effective twist for the bad cop.”
“I heard about your partner,” Reston said. “What did you use for a twist, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Turns out your boys like to play with baby electronic spiders, but turn pale at the sight of a bigger one that’s real.” Bulatt motioned with his head at the red-kneed tarantula squatting on the arm of the couch, apparently watching the scene with some interest.
“Really?” Reston walked over to the couch and stared down at the inquisitive spider. “You think I could arrange to borrow this little guy, every now and then?”
“I’m sure we can work something out,” Bulatt said, nodding agreeably.
A half hour later, a buzzing sound emanating from the couch woke Bulatt out of a light sleep. He fumbled around, found the Blackberry, pressed the light button, noted that it was five-fifteen in the morning, and then thumbed the ‘ANSWER’ button.
“Morning, Henry, where are you at?”
“Rear parking lot of the Windmill Inn,” Henry Lightstone answered.
“Have a pleasant flight?”
“Have you ever flown with Woeshack, at night, and during bad weather?”
“Ah, right, my apologies.”
“Tell it to Paxton, Stoner and Takahara. They just spent the last three hours discussing the best way to dispose of your body, in between watching out for radio towers and tall trees. I don’t suppose you’d care to tell us where you’re staying?”
“Tell the guys I’m hiding out from a bunch of government goons in a hotel room with a gorgeous Thai warrior-princess; a pair of very clever fourteen-year-old CIA-trained hackers; and a boxful of red-knees,” Bulatt said. “No need to add to my grief.”
There was some murmured conversation on the other end of the line.
“Larry thinks you’re bullshitting us, as usual; Mike wants to meet the kids; and Dwight says you’re not going to be of much use to the princess when he’s done ripping assorted parts off your body,” Lightstone said, coming back on the line. “Personally, I’m in favor of handcuffing you into the plane with Woeshack.”
“Which is precisely why I arranged for your morning entertainment; something special to take your minds off your troubles,” Bulatt said, and went on to describe the latest modifications to his plan.
“These are more of the hunter/killer guys you’ve already beaten up and shot; the ones that Schweer told us about?” Lightstone inquired.
“Probably the back-up team,” Bulatt corrected. “If they’re anything like the first group, and the fellow on first-watch, look for them to be heavy on the muscles and firearms, but not real alert. Personally, I’d let them all get a good look at the red-knees wandering around loose in the cars before you make contact; they don’t seem to be able to handle distractions very well.”
“And you really need us to deal with these idiots?”
“Actually, the one I’m concerned about is Smith,” Bulatt explained. “He seems to be experienced, and half- way smart; and he’s probably going to be seriously pissed when he finds out the kids cancelled all of his team’s government travel cards, and messed with their cell phone accounts.”
“No shit?”
“Like I said, they’re very clever kids,” Bulatt reminded.
“And this gorgeous Thai warrior-princess; you saying she’s real?”
“You recall that Colonel Prathun Kulawnit has a daughter?”
“I vaguely remember him showing us a photo one evening,” Lightstone acknowledged.
“Well, she’s all grown up now; and, at the moment, safely nestled in bed about twenty feet from my couch with a bunch of red-knees crawling over her very gorgeous body,” Bulatt said. “Would you like for me to make up some lurid details, or would you rather take all of your frustrations in life out on a bunch of government thugs who are trying to keep us from hunting down the assholes that killed her brother and shot her father; most likely because they want to recruit the assholes for their own purposes?”
There was a long pause.
“Okay,” Lightstone said agreeably, “how much time do you need?”
“Twenty-four hours would be nice; forty-eight even nicer. Smith seems to have a wallet-full of get-out-of-jail cards.”
“How about Smith goes down for assaulting a federal agent, with witnesses present, and I get to meet the princess?”
“Who gets assaulted?”
“Me.”
“Think there’ll be any serious bruising involved? I really don’t like these guys hanging around our lab; kinda makes me nervous.”
“Count on it.”
“Sounds like a deal,” Bulatt agreed.
“You’ll still owe the rest of the guys, though,” Lightstone reminded. “We flew the whole way under the clouds, and some of those trees were pretty goddamned tall.”
“How about I let all you guys in on the take-down?”
“What are we talking about?”
“Right now, four extremely wealthy trophy-killers, probably in-your-face arrogant CEO-types with hidden collections who like to travel a lot; three ex-Australian SASR commandos turned hunting guides who, according to Smith, are good for the deaths of an international smuggler named Gregor and his entire crew, not to mention at least five dead Thai Rangers — including the Colonel’s son — and a lot of collateral damage that we know about; and maybe a bunch of Russian immigrants thrown in for good luck.”
“And you were planning on keeping these assholes all for yourself?” Lightstone asked accusingly.
“Just trying to stay flexible until the last minute,” Bulatt corrected. “Also, there’s the minor problem that I don’t know who they really are, or where they’re at, right now… except for Smith, of course.”
“But you do have a lead?”
“On one of the CEO’s,” Bulatt acknowledged. “A guy named Michael Hateley. I should know a lot more about Mr. Hateley and his associates in a few hours, assuming I can keep Smith and his goons away from my kid- hackers.”
“Consider it done. You want to make the wake-up call?”
“Sure.”
“Adios.”
“Later.” Bulatt disconnected the call, slipped the Blackberry back onto his belt, and then reached for the cell phone he’d taken off the watchman and punched in a series of numbers.
After four rings, a sleepy voice answered. “This is Smith, what’s the hell’s happening out — ?”
“Help,” Bulatt said calmly. Then he disconnected the call, turned the cell phone off, set it aside, and snuggled back into the comfortable cushions with a contented sigh.
CHAPTER 33
Conference Room, Fish and Wildlife Forensics Lab
At fifteen minutes after eight in the morning, Gedimin Bulatt and Achara Kulawnit entered the National Fish and Wildlife Forensic Lab’s conference room where they found Renwick, Hager and Reston waiting.
