Chimera (9 page)

CHAPTER 8

The Genetics Section of the Draganov Research Center
 

Intent on initiating his latest set of experiments, Sergei Draganov’s eyes swept back and forth from his lab notebook to the rack of ninety-six vials, smoothly pipetting micro-amounts of genetic material with robot-like precision until he realized that the rack of pipette tips on the lab bench next to his right hand was empty.

He blinked, looked up at the glass-paneled storage shelf overhead where he kept his pipetting supplies, saw that it too was empty, and sighed.

Leaning over to his left, the pipette still clutched in his right hand, he activated the wall-mounted intercom that was the primary communication tool between the administration office where the old woman sat, and the widely scattered buildings of his research center operation.

“Where is Borya?
 
I need more pipette tips and vials from the supply shed.”

“I don’t know,” the old woman responded, her raspy voice echoing throughout the genetics lab. “At MAX I think.”

“Why would he be there now?”

“Because he has become crazy.
 
Why else would anyone want to be there with all those evil things?”

Draganov rolled his eyes.
 
“Borya has not become crazy and the animals in MAX are not evil.
 
They are just ... damaged.
 
It’s not their fault.”

“No, it is our fault. All of us. We caused their grief.”

Draganov sighed.
 
“We have discussed this many times. They are experimental lab animals. In any other research facility, they would have been sacrificed after the data was gathered, but I want to learn more from them so we keep them alive and well cared for. That is Borya’s primary job, to help me care for them.”

“But you have been gone too much, Sergei Arturovich.
 
Left to himself, Borya becomes more distant every day.
 
He hardly talks with us anymore, not even on the intercom. And Aleksei says that Tanya —”

“Borya drinks too much, and Aleksei fills your head with nonsense.”

“But Tanya not getting better and Aleksei says we could all be in danger if —”

“Tanya will be fine and Aleksei is wrong.
 
Our work is very safe.
 
You have no need to worry.”

“But —”

“Enough.
 
I’m tired and I need to sleep.
 
Find Aleksei and —”

The voice of Aleksei Tsarovich, the Center’s burly veterinarian, suddenly boomed out over the intercom.

“I’m here, Sergei.
 
What do you want?”

“Where are you?
 
I’ve been trying —”

“At the medical clinic with Tanya.
 
Her fever is worse, and the x-rays —”

“What x-rays?”

“The ones I’ve been taking of her.
 
You must come see for yourself.”

*
   
*
   
*

Tanga Island, Malacca Strait, Thailand

Lanyard was leaning back in his deck chair, sipping at his beer and contemplating the contours of Tanga Island and the positioning of the other dozen or so boats anchored around the popular diving spot, when a pair of dark-green-shelled abalone arched up out of the water and clattered onto the deck.

Moments later, Jack Gavin climbed up the stern ladder, set his scuba tank, mask and fins aside, caught a chilled can of beer tossed by Lanyard, and settled into a second deck chair with a squish of warm seawater.

“Ah, this is more like it — a bloody patch of water that stays flat and calm.”
 
Gavin popped the tab on the can and took a deep swig of the cold brew.
 
“So, how are things going in the planning department?”

“A bit dicey,” Lanyard said, still staring across the glistening water at the small island, and the clouds that were starting to darken again.
 
“Wallis called a few minutes ago.”
 
Lanyard quickly summarized the information on Kulawnit and Bulatt, and the concern about the Thai police showing up.

“I think he’s dead-bang-on about Kai,” Gavin said after considering the new information for a few moments.
 
“We don’t dare leave that bastard in a position to cut a deal with the Thai police and Interpol; we’d end up running for the rest of our lives.
 
But I don’t like the idea of them popping up and cutting off our escape either.
 
I think we need a better plan.”

“Come up with that all by yourself, did you?”
 
Lanyard raised his eyes skyward and shook his head sadly.
 
“Just goes to show there’s nothing like a little compressed air to stimulate the brain.
 
Don’t suppose you happen to have one handy?”

“What, a better plan?
 
Not likely, mate.
 
Planning’s not my cup of tea, you know that.
 
Always forgetting about the ‘what happens afterwards’ parts.”
 
Gavin shrugged cheerfully as he took another sip of beer.
 
“That’s why you and Wallis are the thinkers, and I’m the ops go-to bloke.
 
And speaking of Wallis, what’d he have to say?
 
I’ve never known him not to have an alternate plan.”

 
“Oh, he has one,” Lanyard said.
 
“Basically, you and I deal with Kai, and he’ll cover our arses like he always does.”

“There you go, mate.”
 
Gavin raised his beer can in salute.
 
“Sounds like a plan to me.
 
So how do you want your ‘Ab’ cooked, with or without the bloody lobster?”

CHAPTER 9

Police Bureau – Scientific Crime Detection Laboratory, Bangkok, Thailand

Special Agent Gedimin Bulatt and Colonel Prathun Kulawnit waited in the main examination room of the Royal Thai Police Bureau’s Scientific Crime Detection Laboratory as two men in white lab coats rolled a pair of stainless steel autopsy tables into the room through a large stainless-steel double-door.

The two bodies, each covered with a clean white sheet, appeared to be the size of a small child.

As Bulatt and Kulawnit watched, the lab technician uncovered the first body, and then stood back as the second white-coated man — Dr. P.K. Chalermchai, a professor of biology from the local University — stepped up to the table.

“As you can see,” he said calmly, “the carcass is that of a Clouded Leopard; in this case, a very young adult male weighing approximately 25 kilos — fifty-five English pounds,” the professor translated for Bulatt’s benefit.
 
“He was found just outside the boundary of the Khlong Saeng Wildlife Preserve in the southern peninsula.
 
Apart from being slightly malnourished, this particular leopard was very large for its age, lean, fit, and otherwise in excellent health at the time of his death.”

“How did he die?” Bulatt asked.

“A cobra bite, to the right foreleg.”
 
The professor pointed out an area on the creature’s right foreleg where the fur had been shaved away, revealing bare skin and at pair of puncture wounds approximately two inches apart.”

Bulatt whistled softly.
 
“That must have been one hell of a cobra.”

“A King, almost certainly,” the professor said, nodding.
 
“Based on the distance between the fangs, I would estimate its length at about six meters — twenty English feet.
 
And that is the curious aspect of this leopard’s death, as I explained earlier to Colonel Kulawnit.
 
We almost never see a Clouded Leopard killed by a cobra or any other poisonous snake; they are usually very adept at recognizing and avoiding such dangers.”

The professor stepped over to the second table, and waited for the technician to remove the sheet.

“Here again, we have what appears to have been another large and healthy — albeit slightly malnourished — young male Clouded Leopard, also found near the outer boundary of the Khlong Saeng Wildlife Preserve.
 
The weight was probably in the area of twenty-five kilos, although it’s difficult to be sure because of the loss of tissue.”
 
The professor pointed to the left front shoulder of the carcass where, as Bulatt could easily see, the left front leg had been ripped away.

“I assume this one didn’t run into a cobra,” Bulatt commented.

The professor smiled.
 
“No, a creature far more dangerous: a tiger.
 
We were able to confirm the species of the attacker by the saliva saturating the wound area; but the size of the teeth marks and the massive hemorrhaging to the surrounding tissues would have been indicative in any case.”

“And I take it you rarely see Clouded Leopards killed by Tigers?” Bulatt said.

“Almost never.
 
Clouded Leopards are taught by their parents to be very wary of Tigers and other large predators from the time they are cubs.
 
Also, Clouded Leopards are excellent climbers, extremely agile, and see very well at night,” the professor explained.
 
“Given the deteriorated condition of the body, it’s difficult to make a conclusive finding; but if I were to guess, I would say that this leopard was taken by surprise … by a Tiger … and on the ground — a very unusual situation, indeed.

“So,” the professor went on when Bulatt and Kulawnit remained silent, “what we have here are two extremely unlikely deaths of two magnificent specimens of Thai wildlife that should not have been so big — or so hungry — occurring within days of each other at roughly the same location.
 
Which brings us to these interesting items,” he said, turning to the technician who handed him a pair of stainless steel trays.
 
“We found these attached to the necks of both leopards.”

Bulatt walked up to the professor, stared down into the trays, and blinked in confusion.

“Fire-flies™?”

“You recognize them?” Colonel Kulawnit asked.

“I think so.
 
These look like a variation of the tracking devices we use to follow suspect vehicles or shipments at night with night-vision goggles,” Bulatt said.
 
“They kick out a burst of infra-red light every few seconds that you can easily spot miles away.
 
The ones I used worked on small lithium batteries, and usually burned out pretty quickly, especially in cold weather; but these seem to be more sophisticated.”

“The batteries are built into the device and recharged through small strips of solar cells attached to the collar,” Kulawnit said.

“Interesting,” Bulatt said.
 
“So who makes them?”

“We don’t know.”
 
Kulawnit shrugged.
 
“We are making inquiries with our military experts now.
 
The professor is familiar with electronic equipment used to track animals for biological research, but he has never seen anything like these devices; and he’s certain that no Thai research biologists are using them in the southern peninsula.
 
Among many other reasons, the cost would be prohibitive.”

“So why were these cats wearing them?” Bulatt asked.

“Exactly.”
 
Kulawnit nodded.
 
“We think the devices were attached to the necks of these creatures in order to make them easy to find, and to kill.”

“But that would be a pretty expensive proposition, to capture an animal like this, tag it with a fire-fly™, release it, and then what — hope you run across it again?
 
That’s an insane way to run a canned hunt, unless you’ve got money to burn.”

“It doesn’t make much sense,” Kulawnit agreed.
 
“But we are constantly trying to deal with wealthy foreign hunters who bribe their way into Thailand to kill our wildlife as trophies, and we don’t like it when mysterious events like this start occurring in our National Preserves.
 
That’s why, when the second leopard was found, I called your office.
 
When they said you were already in Tokyo for our Interpol meeting, I asked them to divert you to Bangkok, but not to tell you why.
 
I wanted to surprise you, and give you the opportunity to enjoy an evening of Thai hospitality too, of course, before we fly back to Tokyo; but my hope also is that you can encourage some of your scientific experts to help us resolve this —”

At that moment, the cell phone on Colonel Kulawnit’s belt beeped plaintively.

“Excuse me a moment,” he said as he stepped away and brought the phone up to his ear.
 
“Colonel Kulawnit.”
 
He listened for a few moments.
 
“What?!”

As Bulatt and the professor watched in confusion, Kulawnit’s face turned ashen.
 
“I’m on my way there now,” he snapped, and closed the cell phone.

“Khun Prathun, what —?”

“Four of our Forestry Rangers have been found dead, shot, in the southern peninsula,” he whispered.
 
“One of them is my son.”

CHAPTER 10

Charter Flights Section of the Bangkok International Airport

The cab dropped Wallis off in front of a medium-sized hanger with the name ‘RIGLEY CHARTERS’ painted in big blue letters on the side.
 
As he walked inside the attached office, a slender, clean-cut man in his mid-thirties looked up from a computer.
 
The tabs on his uniform shirt identified him as a pilot.

“Help you, sir?”

“I understand your company charters fast and slow flights from varying locations on short notice?”

“Fast and slow flights?”
 
The pilot cocked his head, looking puzzled.

“Private jets and seaplanes,” Wallis translated.