dimpled grin.
“Ah,” Bulatt said as he took a cautious sip at the tea.
“And as a traditionally-trained Thai woman,” Achara went on in a suddenly more-serious voice, “I fully intend to cook you a warm and nutritious meal before we go outside and conduct our own hunt to locate and control Mr. Hateley and the men who killed our Rangers. But before I do that, I want you to help me understand something.”
“And what would that be?”
“Whatever else they may be, these killers we seek — Marcus and Quince and Jack — are clearly military men with a disciplined sense of order. All of the supply and equipment boxes stocked here for us were clearly marked, and the contents itemized on a separate check list.”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a plastic-sealed check list.
“So help me understand, please,” she said, holding up the torn but still readable list, “why a bear would ransack our cave, eat some of our food, and then carry most of the food that remained away; along with a cooking pot, a spoon, a fork, and a can-opener?”
CHAPTER 39
Outside Cave 2, the Maze.
The rocks that Bulatt had lugged and dragged to the front of the cave entrance now formed a two-foot-high barrier that — along with the pair of cross-tied tree limbs that could be pulled up and held tight against the entrance with a rope tied to a cross-bracing spear — would force any intruders, man or beast, to stay upright as they tried to work their way past the entanglements; thus exposing them to the lethal impact of a spear, an arrow, or a. 44 Magnum hollow point.
“What do you think?” Bulatt asked, kneeling in front of the cave entrance and peering in through the cross- tied branches. Behind him, the sky was darkening rapidly, forming a contrasting backdrop for the falling clumps of snow that had already filled the multiple sets of boot prints leading down to the now-invisible drop zone.
“I think I’m much safer in here than you are out there,” Achara said, her beautiful features visible in the reflection of the propane lanterns overhead as she brandished the stainless-steel revolver, “so don’t stay out there too long without me.”
“I’m just going to get to high ground long enough to contact Quince and let him know we had some interesting company,” Bulatt said. “I’ll come right back after that, we’ll eat dinner, and then we’ll go looking for Hateley and have our heart-to-heart talk, fair deal?”
“Yes, just as long as you leave that flasher on,” Achara said.
They had argued about that while they were outside searching for suitably-sized rocks to form the cave entrance barrier. Bulatt wanted to disable the blue flasher mounted over their cave — or at least move it some distance away — to make it more difficult for whoever had stolen their food and cooking equipment to find their way back; but Achara had insisted that Bulatt leave it on, to make it easier for him to find his way back.
“I am a Thai Ranger Captain armed with a barrier, four spears, twelve arrows, and a forty-four Magnum revolver with fifty rounds of ammunition,” Achara had reminded Bulatt firmly when he continued to look uneasily up at the intermittently-flashing blue light. “With all of that, I should be able to hold off an army of bears and thieves for days if necessary; but I do need you to deal with Marcus and the others. So, you either leave that flasher on, or I’m going outside with you; and that means you will miss out my delicious dinner.”
“Okay, I’ll leave it on,” Bulatt promised as he stood up, reached for the M14 rifle leaning against the cave entrance, and started working his way uphill — through the snow drifts and in the growing darkness — toward the distant green-flashing bait pile.
He was half-way to the bait pile, and no longer able to see anything of the cave behind him through the flurries of falling snow — except for the intermittently-flashing blue light — when the walkie-talkie in his left hand suddenly crackled.
“- stole all my goddamned food!” a voice raged.
Caldreaux. Bulatt smiled, recognizing the Cajun’s distinct voice.
“- four… stay there… coming — ” a deeply accented Australian voice responded.
Who’s that? Bulatt wondered as he held the walkie-talkie up, trying to get better reception. Definitely not Quince.
“- shit… after my trophy… not going to let — ”
Frustrated by the poor reception, Bulatt tried changing channels on the walkie-talkie, got to channel seven, and heard — a little more clearly — the same deeply accented Australian voice say “… heading over to position three, now, to check on Caldreaux…” and then the familiar voice of Quince respond with a “Gecko-Two, copy that.”
Okay, interesting to know, Bulatt thought as he listened to static for another thirty seconds.
Then, after switching the walkie-talkie back to channel one, he looked around; saw a high granite outcropping nearby; stuck the walkie-talkie into one of the empty pouches of his assault vest; quickly scrambled his way up and around the surrounding trees and boulders, using the stock of the M14 for leverage, his boots slipping frequently on the snow-covered rocks; and finally reached the top of the rocky outcropping. He could already hear the voices — much clearer now — as he retrieved the walkie-talkie from his vest.
“Cave-Four, this is Cave-One.” Hateley, sounding calm and amused, Bulatt thought.
“Don’t worry about the food, Stuart,” Hateley said. “Marcus is aware of the bear situation. He’s going to arrange to run them off and re-supply us tomorrow morning. Max and I both found our food stores ransacked, and probably Carolyn and her boyfriend did too, I’m guessing, but we haven’t heard from them yet.”
“Cave-One, this is Sarge-One,” Bulatt said. “Be advised we got hit also, but I don’t think it was — ”
At that moment, the suddenly hushed voice of Kingman interrupted. “They’re here! I can see them… at my feeding pile. I’m going off the air. We’re making too much noise, don’t want to scare them.”
“I can see mine also, and they are beautiful things to behold,” Hateley said with an almost reverent tone to his voice. Good hunting, everyone. Cave-One, out.”
Bulatt stared at the now-silent walkie-talkie for a few moments, shrugged, stuck it back in his vest, and began working his way back down the outcropping.
He was half-way back down the slope, the blue-flasher in sight, when a sudden movement off in the distance to his left caught his attention. Coming to an immediate halt, he slowly turned and then stared in disbelief as the two creatures — first the larger mother and then her smaller offspring — slowly stepped out of the trees and approached the intermittently-green-lit bait pile less than fifty feet away from his position. It was obvious that both creatures saw him; but neither of them seemed concerned as they slowly approached the piles of hay and fruit.
I’ll be damned, Bulatt thought, as he stood there and watched the two creatures — one very familiar looking and other something he’d only seen before in drawings and paintings — begin to feed. I guess we really are on a mammoth hunt.
Sniper Post, Base Camp
Quince Lanyard and Jack Gavin were huddled under the canvas shelter over the tripod-mounted M107 rifle, Gavin talking on one of the walkie-talkies, when Wallis appeared out of the darkness and sat down on a second trunk-like aluminum rifle case, setting the M40A1 bolt-action sniper rifle he’d been carrying next to a pair of loaded M4 carbines.
“I checked on Hateley’s cave,” Wallis said, pulling off his night-vision goggles and brushing away the accumulated snow and ice. “It was definitely a bear. Big bastard; probably injured from the look of the tracks. I followed him for a while, until the snow got too deep. It looks like he’s working his way back to an area somewhere between Cave-One and Cave-Two; probably where his den is located. Given the amount of food he seems to have consumed, I doubt that he’s going to be hungry again for a while. I got Hateley settled down. What’s the status on the others?”
“Caldreaux was a little worked up at first,” Gavin responded, “but it sounds like the elephants have just come
