“Alpha-Tango, go.”
“Be advised we have a change of plans. Relocate to pick-up point Echo-Five, full caution. We’re heading your way now.”
“Alpha-Tango, copy Echo-Five. ETA fifteen.”
Wallis turned back to Gavin. “As soon as Hateley takes off, Quince and I will scrub our trail. Then Quince will link up with you at Tauka Pa while I have a heart-to-heart with our Surat Thani friend.”
“You mean Yak?”
“Exactly,” Wallis muttered as he bent down and grabbed the legs of the dead lieutenant.
“What about the cat? Are we still going to try to get it out?” Gavin asked as he and Wallis quickly heaved the bodies of the four Rangers into the back of the jeep and covered them with a tarp.
“Bloody damn right we are; we’ve got too much invested in this project to miss out on Hateley’s final payment,” Wallis said emphatically. “And besides, he’s too good of a customer. We don’t want to lose him now, just when things are starting to get interesting.”
Wallis got back in the jeep, shielding his eyes from the headlight glare until Gavin had the Ranger’s jeep turned around and heading north.
“What was that all about, Marcus?” Hateley demanded. “You were out there a hell of a long time. I was starting to get worried.”
“Some unexpected complications,” Wallis said. “Nothing we can’t handle, but we need to get you on that plane to Singapore and then heading back home as quickly as possible. The fewer people who see you in the area of the Khlong Preserve right about now, the easier it will be for all of us.”
“You’re not going with me?
“No, I need to finish sorting things out around here first.”
“Sorting things out?”
Wallis shrugged. “Close up shop; set accounts in order; pay our respects; put out a false trail of bread crumbs, that sort of thing.”
Hateley was silent for a few moments.
“Is the situation really that precarious?”
Wallis hesitated before he spoke. “Straight up: it’s a bit dicey at the moment, Mr. Hateley; but nothing that you need to be concerned about. You pay us handsomely to deal with any complications, and that’s what we’re going to do. But you should be aware that we may not be able to hunt in this area again for a while.”
“By ’this area’ you mean — ?”
“Thailand.”
“Ah, I see.”
Hateley started out the jeep’s side window for a couple of seconds, then turned back to Wallis.
“What about my trophy?”
“The cat’s on his way to a first-class taxidermist as we speak. I’ll deliver him to you, personally, in about ten days, two weeks at the outside; tree-mounted, as we agreed.”
“And the money I’ve already invested in my next Thai hunt?”
“Your hundred and fifty thousand dollar down-payment, minus our expenses to date, will either be refunded to you when I deliver your mount, or invested in some equally profitable ventures, your choice.”
Hateley remained silent as Wallis re-secured the night-vision goggles over his eyes, started up the jeep, and continued driving toward the main road.
When they reached the paved roadway, Wallis pulled off to the side of the dirt road, got out, quickly removed the infrared filters from the Land Rover’s headlights, got back into the vehicle, turned on the headlights, pulled into the flow of traffic, and headed east.
Fifteen minutes later, at a remote clearing far from the originally planned pick-up site, Wallis secured Hateley and his rifle case in the back seats of a helicopter with the words ‘Pauley Air Transport’ painted on the side in bold letters, and then quickly scrambled into the front co-pilot seat.
Wallis and Hateley had both donned microphone-mounted head-sets that enabled them to communicate with the pilot and each other; but neither spoke as the helicopter road up in to the sky and then began to follow a pre- planned route to the Phuket International Airport.
Both men started out at the distant, brightly-lit coastline of Thailand; each aware, in their own way, that they might never see this sight again.
At the helipad near the tarmac area reserved for private charter planes, Wallis helped Hateley out of the helicopter, handed him the rifle case and then walked with him over to the gleaming forty-million-dollar Gulfstream-Four that stood waiting like an about-to-be released falcon. At the base of the stairs, Hateley turned and extended his hand.
“This turned out to be quite an exhilarating day, Marcus,” he said with a smile. “I’d hate to think my hunting days in Thailand are over because of an unfortunate incident.”
“We’ll do everything we can to make sure that is not the case,” Wallis promised.
“Good, I was hoping you’d say that; but, in any case, I’m a patient man. So what do you have in mind for my next hunt?”
“Something interesting, Mr. Hateley,” Wallis answered as he shook his client’s hand. “You can be sure of that.”
“Fair enough. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks,” Hateley said, and then climbed up into the cabin of the chartered plane.
The wealthy businessman settled himself into one of the four luxurious seats and motioned for the uniformed steward to fix him a drink. Then, as the sleek Gulfstream jet began to taxi out to the runway, Hateley looked out the window at the nearby helipad; but the helicopter and Wallis were already gone.
Wearing the night-vision goggles again to cope with the almost total darkness, Wallis worked the four- wheel-drive Land Rover through the deep muddy ruts of a tree-lined dirt road leading into the western section of the Khlong Saeng Wildlife Preserve.
As he did so, he periodically checked his odometer.
At the 5.8 kilometer mark, Wallis slowed down, turned left onto a very narrow mud trail just barely wide enough for the Land Rover, and followed a set of recently-made tire tracks for another thirty seconds until he came to small, chain-sawed clearing where the park maintenance staff had built a storage shed for an old back-hoe and even older tractor.
There was another Land Rover parked next to the shed, illuminated — at least for night-vision goggles — by an exterior shed light that had been temporarily covered with an infra-red filter gel, and then turned on.
Wallis parked next to the Land Rover, flashed his infra-red-filtered headlights twice, shut off the engine, then stepped out of the vehicle and walked around to the rear.
As he did so, Quince Lanyard stepped out of the surrounding forest and opened the rear door of Wallis’ Land Rover. Working quickly, the two men unloaded three back-packs, three scoped hunting rifles in waterproof cases, two tied plastic bags filled with shredded paper and a pair of walking sticks. Lanyard started to remove a five-foot- long black plastic Pelican™ case and a blue-striped military ammo can from the back of the Land Rover, but Wallis shook his head.
“Leave it there for now,” he said.
“Are we still in the clear?” Lanyard asked.
“So far, but the shit will definitely hit the bloody fan when those Rangers are found. We need to be gone before then.”
“With our assets secured and all loose ends tied, I assume?”
Wallis nodded. “Exactly.”
“What about Pauley?”
“He won’t walk away from his business, and I can’t see him lasting long under Thai interrogation.”
“Same with our client, I’d wager.” Lanyard nodded his head knowingly. “He’d give us up in a heartbeat.”
“We’ll have to see to it that he never steps foot in Thailand again,” Wallis acknowledged.
