Plausible Denial (36 page)

“Downhill
is good,” said Santos, hitching up his backpack.

Chapter One Hundred-Fifteen

T
he
Cambodian arrived in Nong Khai late in the evening and checked into the upscale
Royal Mekong Nong Khai Hotel for a few hours of rest after his long drive. The
next morning he was up early, ate a light breakfast in the hotel and headed for
the home of Police Colonel Chatchai Sonthonwet. He wanted to get there before
the colonel left for work.

Like
most villas in Thailand, Colonel Sonthonwet’s compound was enclosed by an eight
foot tall masonry wall topped with broken glass. The entrance to the compound
was through a solid metal gate that was opened and closed from within by a
security guard.

At
six-thirty in the morning, Ung Chea drove his black Nissan Sentra up to the
gate, stopped, honked his horn and got out of the car. He was dressed casually
in chino slacks, a light, long sleeved, Thai silk dress shirt which concealed
the .357 magnum revolver on his belt, and sunglasses.

When
the guard did not respond immediately he pounded on the gate with the side of
his fist. He heard the guard scrambling on the other side.

The
guard slid open the peep door and asked who it was and what was his business.
Ung Chea stated his name, announced that he was from Chiang Rai, and said he
wanted to see Colonel Sunthonwet on personal business.

The
guard slid the peep door shut and ran back to the house. A few minutes later he
returned with Colonel Sunthonwet, dressed in a khaki police uniform, and opened
the gate.

If
Colonel Sunthonwet were surprised or nervous about Ung Chea’s unannounced
visit, he did not show it. He bowed deeply and the two exchanged
weis
,
and then Sunthonwet extended his hand, smiling.

“It
is good to see you Ung Chea. What brings you to Nong Khai so early in the morning?”

Ung
Chea did not return the smile. “I have an urgent matter to discuss with you
Chatchai, may I come in for a moment?”

“Certainly,
certainly, come in and join me for a cup of tea and some fruit. I was just
eating breakfast.”

“That
is very kind of you, Chatchai. I will not keep you long.”

Sunthonwet
led Ung Chea to the house and through to the veranda overlooking the Mekong
River. Breakfast for one was set on the table beside the morning newspaper. He
shouted a command to the cook, who brought another cup, plate and utensils,
poured tea and then quickly retreated back into the kitchen.

Ung
Chea took a sip of his tea and regarded Sunthonwet severely over the rim of the
cup.

“I
will come directly to the point, Chatchai. We are concerned about your association
with the two murdering
farangs
, Santos and MacMurphy.”

Sunthonwet
started to speak, but the Cambodian held up his hand. “Hear me out, colonel,”
said Ung Chea sternly. He removed his sunglasses and glared at the colonel
across the table. “We know you helped them leave Thailand a few months ago and
we know you helped them return a few days ago. What we don’t know is why you
are helping them, particularly since you must know what they have done to our
operation, and that there are police warrants out for their arrest.”

Sunthonwet
struggled to maintain his composure. He started to pick up his teacup, but then
thought better of it – he did not want to display any nervousness, and a
rattling teacup would not be good. So he clasped his hands in front of him,
leaned back and took a deep breath before speaking.

“First
of all, let me make one thing perfectly clear. I do not like the intimidating
tone in your voice. You can drop it right now or I will end this conversation
and send you packing back to your boss. Is that understood?”

The
Cambodian stared back at him, unblinking and expressionless. Only the flare of
the hideous scar on the side of his face gave him away. He did not respond.

“Good,
I will take that to mean you would like to continue this conversation in a
civil, gentlemanly manner.”

The
Cambodian remained expressionless, but Sunthonwet took even that as a positive
sign.

“If
you had done your homework properly you would know that Mr. MacMurphy and I had
a liaison relationship when he was assigned to Udorn a few years back. Did you
know that, Ung Chea?”

“Yes,
we know all about that. That was then, we want to know about now. Why are you
helping him now?”

“Because
he is my friend. It is as simple as that.”

“No,”
said Ung Chea, “it is not as simple as that. He is a CIA officer and he and his
CIA cohort have inflicted a lot of damage on our operation. Did you know that,
Chatchai? Did you know that they murdered several of our men and are wanted by
the police in this country? You are aiding and abetting wanted criminals, did
you know that? Do you know you could lose your position for that? Your very
lucrative position here in Nong Khai is now in extreme jeopardy because of what
you have done.”

Sunthonwet
knew what could happen to him and his family if Khun Ut decided to target him.
The loss of his position in the police would be the least of his worries. He
decided the best course of action was to stonewall.

“I
have no idea what you are talking about. My friend asked for help to get across
the border and I assisted him. That is it. Nothing more.”

The
Cambodian smiled his crooked grin, causing the scar to contract and redden,
screwing up the side of his face. “You are many things, Chatchai, but stupid is
not one of them. Do not insult my own intelligence with your stupid plea of
ignorance.”

Sunthonwet
struggled to keep his emotions, and nervousness, in check. When he began to
speak his voice cracked, giving him away. “I…I will tell you what I know and
then I must leave. I am late for an appointment at the station.”

He
paused and cleared his throat. “MacMurphy showed up at my house with another
fellow. I never saw the other guy before. He stayed in the background, letting
MacMurphy do all of the talking.”

“Did
you not notice that they matched the descriptions of the two
farangs
,
Humphrey and Callaway?”

“Not
at the time. I was happy to see Mac again. He wanted me to drive them to
Vientiane, so I did.”

“What
about their car?”

“I
left it parked near the train station. It was eventually picked up as an
abandoned vehicle and I assume returned to its owner.”

The
Cambodian stared at Sunthonwet for a long time, showing skepticism. “Okay, now
tell me about their return.”

“Nothing
to tell, really, I got a phone call from Mac. He was in Vientiane staying at
the Settha Palace Hotel. He asked if I would pick them up and bring them to
Nong Khai. So I did. That is all.” Sunthonwet pushed his chair back and started
to get up. “Now I must leave you and get to my appointment. That is all I
know.”

“Sit
down,” commanded the Cambodian with a wave of his hand, “I am not finished.
Call your office and tell them you will be late, but stay where you are.”

 Sunthonwet
slumped back into his chair, resignation and trepidation showed on his face.
“Okay, go on, but please hurry.”

“By
the time they returned you must have known that your two friends were the same
two
farangs
that were wanted by the police for murder, correct?”

“I
suspected as much, yes.”

“But
you continued to help them, right?”

Sunthonwet
lowered his eyes. “Yes, that is correct.”

“How
much did they pay you?”

“Not
much, a few hundred dollars. I really did not do very much for them. Just drove
them across the border.”

“They
were not chopped into Thailand, were they? You helped them avoid going through
customs. That was a pretty big favor, I would think. Certainly worth more than
a few hundred dollars, especially from someone like you, a corrupt cop who will
do anything for money. Is that all?”

“Yes,
that is all. Now I really must be going.”

The
Cambodian allowed Sunthonwet to stand but made no effort to get up himself. He
remained sitting in his chair. “What are they driving now?”

Sunthonwet
considered lying to the Cambodian, but he was afraid they already knew about
the vehicle. After a long pause he dropped his head and replied: “I loaned them
my wife’s Range Rover.”

The
Cambodian nodded knowingly, his eyes piercing into Sunthonwet’s. “You filthy
maggot. What else?”

“That
is all of it.”

“What
did they tell you they were going to do here?”

“Nothing.
They told me nothing.”

“How
long did they say they were going to keep your car?”

“They
said they had some loose ends to take care of and that they would return in a
week or two.”

The
Cambodian stood up. “I do not have to tell you that when Khun Ut hears about
this he will not be happy. Nevertheless, you can redeem yourself by cooperating
with us from now on. Do you understand?”

Sunthonwet
nodded.

“Okay,
here is my card with my cell phone number. Call me the moment you know or hear
anything. Anything at all. Do not screw this up, Chatchai. Understand?”

“Yes,
Ung Chea, I understand…”

Chapter One Hundred-Sixteen

S
antos
and MacMurphy circled around the base of the mountain peek and began their
descent on the other side. The lights of Ban Hin Taek were clearly visible in
the valley below and it was a fairly bright, moonlit night; however, they still
preferred to use their night vision goggles to help them maneuver rapidly
through the pine forest.

They
came upon an exceptionally large evergreen tree near a bunch of large rocks and
decided it was a good place to cache their duffel bags. Mac marked the spot on
his GPS and they continued their descent down the side of the mountain.

“It’s
nice up here,” said Santos. The two men moved rapidly down and across the
Mountain through the trees.

“It’ll
get worse as we get further down, thicker and hotter.”

“Yeah,
I know that. Too bad. This is almost like deer country back home in
Massachusetts.”

After
walking for about an hour they paused while Mac checked his GPS and used his
binoculars to sight in on Khun Ut’s mountain villa. “We need to continue
heading south for about another mile or so, and then we can start dropping down
the side to that outcropping of rocks we saw.”

“Better
to hike through these trees than through the jungle below,” said Santos.

They
moved rapidly through the woods until Mac was satisfied they were directly
above the rock formation and then they began their descent. The slope varied
between thirty and thirty-five degrees at this point which caused them to slip
and slide on the leaves and pine needles. When the woods began to thicken they
were forced to slow their descent.

Soon
the forest morphed into a mixture of forest and jungle. It got warmer and
harder to move. At about midway down the mountainside they spotted the rock
outcropping below them. The slope increased considerably. They had to slide
down on their butts and dig their heels in to slow their momentum.

They
were happy it was the cool, dry season and they didn’t have to deal with the
mud as they did when they assaulted the warehouse in Ban Mae Chan.

When
they reached the rocky outcropping they stood on the edge and looked out around
them.

“We
need to get lower,” said Mac. “We’re too high at this point. Still a little bit
too far north as well.”

Santos
nodded. “How about down there?” He pointed to a grove of trees that jutted out
of the mountainside about a quarter mile down and to their left.

“Yeah,
looks good. Let’s give it a try,” said Mac, already heading off in that
direction.

They
reached the grove and found a good, flat spot on the edge and dropped into the
prone position. Mac used his binoculars to survey the villa on the other side
of the valley. He also searched below and around him for an alternate location
to set up.

They
spoke in hushed tones.

Mac
said, “This is about as good as we can get. It’s a good camping spot as well –
decent cover, flat and a lot more comfortable than those rocks above us. What
do you guess the range is from here to the villa?”

“Shit,
it looks like a good mile away to me. I don’t know. That’s a long shot. Do you
really think you can hit anything that far away?”

“I’ve
used the 50 cal at this distance, and it was pretty effective, but this Lapua
is far superior to the 50 cal. I think we’re about fifteen hundred meters out.
That’s just under a mile. And if that’s correct this rifle and I should be able
to handle it. The current record for a confirmed kill by a sniper is 2,430
meters. That’s about one and a half miles!”

“Then
this ought to be a piece of cake, right?” joked Culler. “Well, let’s just check
and see what the actual distance is.”

Santos
dug into his backpack and pulled out the laser rangefinder. Lying in the prone
position, he aimed it at the front door of the villa. The seven power
magnification brought the villa into clear focus.

“I’m
putting it right on the front entrance under that portico. Let’s see...I’ve got
thirteen hundred and seventy-four meters. How accurate is this thing?”

“To
within a meter. That’s a good shot. Manageable. I wish we could get a little
closer, but it is what it is.”

Mac
found a good spot to set up the Lapua. He extended the Parker-Hale bipod and
the rear monopod, stabilized them in the dirt, and got into a comfortable prone
position behind the rifle. He had attached the eleven inch Sierra suppressor to
the end of the muzzle and ten rounds of 250 grain bullets were loaded in the
magazine.