Plausible Denial (16 page)

“Got
it, Boss. Great idea.”

Chapter Forty-Four

C
uller
and Mac drove back in the direction of Ban Mae Chan. They turned off the main
highway when their GPS showed them to be at the bottom end of the valley that
ended at the precipice at the southern end of Ban Mae Chan, the location of
Khun Ut’s warehouse.

They
followed the GPS map along a narrow paved road that ended abruptly at an old
dump at the jungle’s edge. They circled around the dump and continued slowly in
four wheel drive over a rutted and unmarked logging trail that took them deep
into the jungle until the road ran out.

They
pulled into the underbrush and piled branches on and around the vehicle to hide
it from view. With the car sufficiently camouflaged, they dressed for the
day-long hike through the jungle.

They
pulled on Ghillie-suits and filled their backpacks with extra ammo, granola and
power bars, dry clothes and socks, hammocks, shelter sheets, sleeping gear, and
other personal items.

GPS
devices, commo gear and night vision headgear went into separate pockets on the
outside of the backpacks. Camelbaks filled with water went under the backpacks.

Over
his shoulder, Culler carried a small, extra bag that contained two dozen, twelve
cubic centimeter vials of ricin packed in Styrofoam.

They
unpacked their short POF automatic weapons, screwed on the suppressors, checked
the day and night vision sights and popped in a 100-round drum of ammo for each
weapon.

Last,
they put their suppressed H&K sidearms in thigh holsters, belted their
fighting knives, and prepared to leave. The last thing they did was apply
camouflage paint to their faces. With the paint and Ghillie suits, they would
be nearly invisible in the jungle, day or night.

They
checked their GPS devices, entered the current coordinates for the return trip
and selected coordinates for their destination.

“We’re
all set, Culler. Let’s do it.”

They
hefted on their backpacks, slung their assault weapons and headed in a
northwesterly direction through the triple-canopy jungle on their way toward
Ban Mae Chan.

They
figured the roughly five-mile hike over the rough terrain would take most of
the day. They moved slowly and silently, like hunters stalking a deer, with Mac
in the lead. They were in no hurry and stayed close enough together to use hand
signals to communicate. The only sounds came from scurrying animals, birds and
screaming monkeys.

The
backpacks, Camelbaks, weapons and ammo weighed almost forty pounds, and the
uneven, slippery terrain through the wet jungle made the going even slower than
expected.

Soon
they were sweating profusely and sucking heavily from the tubes on their
Camelbaks. The rainy season had just begun so mosquitoes were an added problem,
forcing them to continually douse themselves with mosquito repellent.

It
was dark when they reached the base of the butte that led up at a thirty degree
angle to the back of the warehouse. The sky was cloudy, threatening an evening
shower, and blurring the stars and moon intermittently.

They
could barely see the reflection of lights above them through the almost
impenetrable triple canopy. Without the help of their night vision gear, they
would have been blind.

They
decided to rest and regroup. They sat close together among the winding roots of
a huge banyan tree.

Mac
whispered, “This is a good place to dump our packs. Let’s mark it on our GPS’s.
The climb is going to be a bitch, and we need to be as light and mobile as
possible.”

“Good
idea. I’m bushed already.” The sweat poured off Culler’s face and down his
nose. “Let’s eat a couple of granola bars and re-hydrate a bit before we tackle
the hill.”

They
ate, drank and rested for two hours before Mac nudged Culler and whispered,
“Let’s go. It’s almost midnight and it’s going to take us an hour or two to get
up this hill. Move slowly and quietly, and watch out for sensors or tripwires.
I don’t think their security is going to be that hi-tech, but you never know.”

Culler
said, “Let’s use the commo gear. It won’t hurt to have a backup in case we get
separated up there.”

“Good
idea.”

They
inserted their ear pieces, adjusted their volume controls down to minimum,
clipped the microphones to their collars and tested them.

Mac
led the way up the slope. The climbing was tough due to the slippery ground
from the recent rains. They followed animal trails which meandered up the hill,
using branches and trees to help pull them along whenever they could grab on to
something.

As
before, they climbed in silence but maintained visual contact with each other.

About
half way up the slope, they paused to rest. It began to pour and they hovered
close to a tree, wishing they had brought a shelter sheet. By now they could
see the reflection from the lights above them. The rain lasted only a few
minutes, and they continued their climb. The jungle thinned out as they
approached the highlands surrounding Ban Mae Chan. They could hear no sounds
coming from above other than the rustling of branches in the breeze and the
occasional squealing of monkeys.

They
still had no idea how they would get into the warehouse once they got up there,
but they were confident that a plan would emerge when they could lay eyes on
the place and evaluate the situation firsthand.

They
stopped frequently to rest as they continued their climb up the slope of the
ridge. The night vision headgear they wore covered their left eyes only,
leaving their right eyes open to normal vision. Both scanned the ground in
front of them continuously for sensors or tripwires. 

Finally,
at roughly one thousand meters from the top, they began hearing faint sounds
from above. First they heard a dog barking in the distance. Then, further up,
they heard the muffled sounds of men talking. They looked at each other to make
sure each of them had heard the sounds, adjusted their gear, checked their
weapons one more time and continued up the hill, even more slowly and
cautiously now.

Chapter Forty-Five

T
he
Cambodian watched the old black pickup truck turn into the parking lot behind
the Orchid Lodge. He stepped out of the darkness of a row of parked cars and
approached the pickup from the front, illuminated by the headlights, and waved
the driver to stop.

“
Sawatdee
khrap,
Sunthon. Pull over there in that row of cars and cut your lights.”
The Cambodian’s fingers barely touched in front of his face when he offered
Sunthon an offhand
wei
.

The
driver, a short, stocky man dressed in dirty mechanic’s overalls, did as he was
told and stepped out of the pickup. He carried a package about the size of a
motorcycle battery which he respectfully offered to the Cambodian with a bow.

“
Sawatdee
khrap
. I got it right here, Ung Chea. Sorry I am a little late, but I had
to put everything together.”

“
Mai
pen rai,
no matter. We have plenty of time. The car is over there. That
dark Toyota Corolla in the middle there.” He pointed to the car
near the
end of a row. “How long will this take?”

“Not
long, Ung Chea. Please watch out for me while I am under there.”

The
Cambodian signaled two other members of the surveillance team. They were staked
out in the darkness at separate corners of the parking lot. He pointed to his
own eyes with two fingers and then to the Corolla to indicate he wanted them to
watch closely while Sunthon was under the car.

Sunthon
selected a handful of tools and a roll of duct tape from the back of his pickup
and walked to the Corolla. He looked around one final time, ducked down between
the Corolla and the car next to it, and slid on his back under the engine
compartment.

He
worked silently for several minutes and then emerged without the package.

He
walked back to the Cambodian. “All done Ung Chea. You want me to hang around
for the fireworks?”

“No,
go back home to your family. We will take it from here.”

The
Cambodian and the two other members of his team settled in to wait for the
morning.

By
ten o’clock in the morning, the parking lot had thinned out considerably due to
departing guests, but no one approached the Corolla and no one matching the description
of Robert Humphrey and Ralph Callaway exited the building.

The
surveillance team saw, but took no particular interest in, a young
farang
couple who exited the rear door of the building, stood on the steps for a
moment discussing something. Then they saw the woman shake her head and reenter
the hotel, while the man headed toward the parking lot.

It
wasn’t until they saw him point his key remote in the direction of the Corolla
and the car beep open that they realized the wrong person was entering the car.

They
all stood there with mouths agape and did nothing while the young man inserted
his key in the ignition and turned it and the Toyota Corolla exploded in a huge
fireball before their eyes. 

Chapter Forty-Six

C
uller
and Mac reached a point about twenty feet below the edge of the precipice. They
could see the illumination of the security floodlights above them. Both were
soaked with sweat and needed a bit of rest. After a few minutes to catch their
breath, they checked their commo gear one more time and exchanged final words
before moving to the top.

“Okay,
it’s a little after two. Everyone but the guards should be asleep.  How
are you feeling, Culler?”

“I’m
good. Glad there weren’t any tripwires and hope we didn’t set off any sensors
we didn’t notice.”

“Doesn’t
look like it, but we’re not there yet. Be real careful going over the ledge.
The back of the warehouse is about fifteen meters back from there, so it’s
going to be tight if they have any roving security. If we have to take anyone out,
let’s do it as quietly as possible. We’re only going to get one crack at this
place, so let’s make it good.”

Both
men were outwardly calm and determined, but Mac, for one, had butterflies
flying around in his stomach. It always happened to him in situations like
this. He struggled to bring his breathing down and to display no outward signs
of nervousness.

Whenever
he was faced with a dangerous situation, he used techniques learned from years
of martial arts training. His senses were sharp; he was ready—nervous as a cat
ready to spring. Everything appeared to be in slow motion, but his reactions
would be quick and determined.

They
checked their weapons and night vision gear one last time, took deep breaths,
and crawled up the final steps to the edge. The climb was even steeper now, and
they had to pull themselves along using branches and roots to gain purchase on
the ground. They were about ten feet apart when their heads peeked above the
ridge.

They
had a clear view of the back of the warehouse. There were five windows across
the second floor and four along the ground floor with double doors in the
middle. All appeared closed.

One
security guard with an AK-47 on his lap sat on a chair in front of the double
doors. He was awake and smoking a cigarette, blowing smoke up into the sky. No
other security was visible, although they knew others were present.

Mac
signaled Culler to wait and adjusted his night vision lens down over his left
eye, then he clicked on the infrared laser located on the top of the forearm of
the grip of his assault rifle. The laser’s green line of death shot out in
front of the gun.

The
green line was invisible to anyone not wearing night vision gear, and whatever that
green line touched when he pulled the trigger would be hit dead on.

He
gently brought the gun out and over the ridge, set it to fire on semi-automatic
and placed the deadly green line directly on the unsuspecting security guard’s
forehead. He held it there, waiting for the guard to relax and exhale another
lung full of smoke into the sky, and slowly squeezed the trigger.

The
gun spat out a single 5.56mm round with an almost inaudible
phifft,
and
the
security guard’s head snapped back into the doors with an audible
thud; he slid off the chair onto the ground in a heap.

MacMurphy
and Santos leaped over the ridge in tandem and raced to opposite corners of the
building where they stopped with their backs to the wall, guns at the ready.
Both set their weapons on full automatic with the infrared lasers activated.

Mac
signaled Culler to hold his position and returned to the center of the
building. He leaned over the dead security guard and checked the knobs on both
doors but they were locked.
You never know
, he thought. He shrugged at
Culler and returned to his position at the side of the building, signaling
Santos to move out along his side.

They
kept in the shadows close to the wall, moving silently toward the front of the
building, green lasers scanning the terrain in front of them.

Mac
heard voices. He stopped, dropped to one knee, and pressed his back to the
wall. He heard muffled laughter and talking coming from the interior of the
building on the other side of the wall and above him on the second floor. It
sounded like several men chatting together, maybe playing cards or mahjong or
some other game. He looked up and saw light coming from the second floor
window.

He
whispered into his lapel microphone. “Hold it. I’m about halfway down the
building and can hear a group of men talking inside above me. They may be off
duty security guards or maybe on-duty guards goofing off. Maybe some good luck
for us. Meet you at the end of the building.”