Plausible Denial (19 page)

“Okay,
One. Call when you get straightened out. We will continue searching from above.
They are moving south so, until you say otherwise, that is where we will
continue to search.”

The
triple canopy made it impossible to view the ground below from the helicopter,
so Ung Chea ordered it to cover the western perimeter of the swath of jungle
that ran from the precipice behind the warehouse for almost thirty miles, until
it ended at the outskirts of Chiang Rai. He called for his other Huey to join
the search and ordered it to search the eastern side of the jungle swath.

Ung
Chea moved up to the front of the Huey and stood behind the pilot and co-pilot.
“They are on foot and moving through thick jungle, so they cannot move that
fast,” he instructed the pilots, shouting over the wail of the turbo engine.
“But they have got to come out of there at some point so keep on the perimeter.
We’ll box them in until Paiboon’s men can catch up to them.”

Chapter Fifty-Five

C
uller
and Mac walked rapidly along an animal trail alongside the stream. Their
Ghillie-suits were soaked through with sweat and mud. 

Both
men were familiar with a jungle environment. They had gone through survival
school together in the jungles of Panama as a part of their CIA junior officer
training, and they were at least thankful for the absence of Black Palm trees
in the jungles of Thailand. They recalled being pierced frequently by the sharp
black palm needles after each slip and fall in Panama, having to deal with the
puss-filled, infected sores the needles left afterwards. Black Palm was worse
than mosquitoes and leaches combined.

A
Huey helicopter flew noisily overhead, its powerful searchlight arching back
and forth over the trees above them. Protected by the triple canopy, they were
not afraid of being seen from above. The searchlight could not penetrate all
the foliage to the ground, but just the same they quickened their pace as the
adrenalin coursed through their veins. The Huey continued heading south, waving
the searchlight from side to side over the tops of the trees.

Mac
estimated they had less than two miles to go to find the hidden RAV4. At this
rate they would be there in about twenty minutes. He prayed the camouflage
would protect it from detection by the helicopter.

The
first signs of daylight could be viewed occasionally through breaks in the
canopy above them, but the jungle floor remained dark. Their night vision gear
illuminated the way in front of them and permitted them to continue to move
swiftly through the jungle.

Occasionally
they would startle a bird or animal that would go scurrying out in front of
them, but otherwise the monotonous chirping and wailing sounds of the jungle
remained constant.

Chapter Fifty-Six

P
aiboon
was in the lead, swinging a powerful searchlight back and forth in front of
him. His men were strung out behind. All of them carried flashlights. Their
beams swayed and bounced about in front of them. The trail was fresh and not
difficult to follow, but the men slipped and fell constantly as they struggled
to keep up with Paiboon.

Paiboon’s
walkie-talkie squawked and he replied. “This is One.”

“One,
this is base. What is your situation?”

“Base,
we have reached the jungle floor and are following. They are heading almost due
south, and so far their trail is not too difficult to follow. We are moving as
fast as we can.”

“I
can see your lights, One. We are looking for their vehicle. We think they are
headed for it. Keep the pressure on them, and we will try to keep you in sight
from up here. Base out.”

The
flashlights did not work as well as night vision gear because the lights cast
deep shadows wherever their beams were cast, and the shadows concealed
depressions and roots which were constantly tripping up the pursuing security
guards.

Because
of this Paiboon walked right past the heroin brick lying in the middle of the
trail near the stream.

But
the next man in line, Kaset, stumbled on it and stopped abruptly, causing the
next man in line to bump into him.

“Paiboon,”
Kaset called out. “Stop. Look what they dropped.”

Paiboon
shined his searchlight on the brick. “
Mai pen rai
, leave it there. We
can come back for it later. Keep moving. We must catch them.” He turned and
continued following the trail and the others followed.

Kaset
thought for a moment, his flashlight illuminating the precious heroin brick,
and stepped aside to let the others pass him. He licked his lips and reached
down to scrape off a thumbnail-sized flake of the heroin to taste. Satisfied,
he crumbled it between his fingers and snorted it up his nose.

That
will give me energy
, he thought, smiling at his good fortune as he slipped
back into the line and continued following the trail.

The
heroin kicked in almost immediately, giving Kaset a burst of energy and a
feeling of euphoria. He edged past the guards who had passed him and took up
his position directly behind Paiboon.

But
minutes later the potent toxin ricin began to trigger allergic reactions and
inhibit protein synthesis throughout his body. His throat and nasal passages
began to swell and he felt nauseous. His stomach began to rumble, and the first
urges of diarrhea began to trouble him.

He
tried to shrug off the debilitating effects of the poison that was now coursing
through his body, aided by the pounding of his heart caused by the severe
exertion of the forced march through the jungle.

Mai
sabai,
what is wrong
? he thought, just before his entire body seized
up in shock, and his legs ceased to move on command. He pitched forward into
the mud, eyes wide open and swollen tongue hanging from his open mouth.

The
guard following behind tripped over him and joined him on the ground. “Paiboon,
stop! Kaset is sick,” he called.

Paiboon
stopped and dropped to one knee beside Kaset’s body, while the others stood
around gaping at the convulsing figure on the ground. “Must be a heart attack,”
he said. He grabbed the nearest guard by the sleeve. “Stay here with him. If he
can walk, take him back. If not, stay here with him and I will send help.”

He
stood up and motioned to the three remaining guards. “Come, we must hurry or
they will get away.”

Chapter Fifty-Seven

C
uller
and Mac reached the cutoff point where they left the stream and turned east for
the final mile and, hopefully, the RAV4. They had stopped momentarily at the stream
to shoot another azimuth on the GPS and drink heavily from their Camelbaks, but
now they were charging through the underbrush as fast as they could manage.
They tried to move as quietly as they could, but it was not always possible.
Speed was their main concern at this point.

The
Huey buzzed over their heads, blades thumping loudly and causing the foliage to
rustle in the downdraft. It was flying low coming south to north, the
searchlight moving incessantly, attempting to probe into the depths of the
jungle. Another circled far to the west of them. They knew they were nearing
the edge of the jungle where they would be most vulnerable, and they figured
that was where the helicopters were concentrating their surveillance.

Mac
stopped to check his GPS. Both men were breathing heavily. Culler was bent over
with his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath.

Between
gulps of breath and water, Culler broke the silence. “Almost there?”

“Almost…it’s
about another quarter of a mile. We’re doin’ good.”

“Then
I think we should slow it down a bit.” Santos took long, deep breaths to
re-oxygenate his body. “We need to be rested in case we have to fight our way
out of here, and we need to keep the noise down to a minimum from now on.”

Mac
responded between long gulps from his Camelbak. “Good point. You sound like a
bull elephant thrashing through the underbrush…”

“Me?
What about you? You’re no Goddamn gazelle.”

“Okay,
it’s starting to get light out there, too, so you’re right, let’s take it a
little easy. But not too easy. Wait…hang on…Listen…I hear something.” 
Putting his hands to his ears, Mac turned around to listen behind him. He
concentrated on his hearing while both men held their breaths and remained
motionless. Maybe it was just the rustling of the leaves or an animal.

Culler
said, “I don’t hear anything.”

“Maybe
not…I know they’re behind us, so maybe I’m just imagining things. We need to
get to the car before they catch up to us.”

Culler
adjusted his gear and took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s move out.”

They
proceeded more quietly now, choosing each step with care not to snap twigs or
rustle branches. Their ears were focused in front of them, listening for signs
of people near the RAV4. The Huey buzzed over their heads once again, this time
coming from north to south.

Eleven
minutes later Mac stopped to check the GPS one last time. They were less than
one thousand meters from the spot where they had left the camouflaged vehicle.
Mac thought he heard something. They squatted down and listened intently, holding
their breaths.

Then
they heard it – the unmistakable sound of a car engine in low gear whining,
growling, and struggling to maneuver along the same rutted logging road they
had used to enter the jungle. They looked at one another with wide eyes and muttered
“Shit!” in unison.

“Let’s
move out,” said Mac. They ran toward the spot where they had left the car. The
jungle was thinning, making it easier to move, but the underbrush was still
fairly thick. Despite their efforts to keep the noise down, they sounded like
two large deer charging through the woods.

They
almost overran the RAV4. Culler saw it first, nestled in a small clearing and
covered with branches. They doubled back and set up in a position between the
RAV4 and the oncoming car.

They
could now clearly hear the car heading up the trail directly toward them.

The
morning light cut through the trees on the edge of the jungle, forcing them to
switch off their night vision gear. They were each down on one knee with their
weapons pointing toward the sound of the oncoming car.

Mac
spoke softly, “There’s only one way in and out of this place, and it won’t take
a Davy Crockett to follow those tire tracks right to our vehicle. We’re gonna
have to neutralize whoever’s coming up that trail before we can get out of
here.

“Okay,”
said Culler, hefting up his gear and checking his rifle. “Let’s go get’em. I’ll
take the left side of the trail and you take the right.”

They
moved out quietly at a fast walk, occasionally darting from one concealed location
to another, keeping in the shadows on each side of the trail. The recent ruts
left behind by the RAV4 were unmistakable. The distinct sounds of a vehicle
struggling up the trail toward them were also unmistakable.

And
then the sounds of the vehicle changed. It was stuck in the mud, or getting
stuck. The whine of spinning wheels increased and then stopped completely.
Moments later they heard the sound of doors slamming and men talking.

Mac
signaled Culler by pointing to his ears and then toward the vehicle. Culler
acknowledged with a nod. Moments later they had the car in sight. It was stuck
in the middle of the trail with two men standing beside it trying to decide
what to do next.

It
was a police cruiser, and both men were uniformed police officers.

Mac
went down on one knee behind some brush and whispered into his lapel mic.
“There’re cops. Whatever you do don’t shoot’em. We can’t kill these guys.”

“Yeah,
I know. We’re going to have to stop them though, and fast. How do you figure on
doing that?”

“Hell,
I don’t know. Hit’em over the head or something. Let’s get closer and we’ll
figure it out.”

They
moved through the underbrush on each side of the trail until they were within a
few meters on each side of the police car. One cop was behind the wheel, and
the other was trying to push from the rear. The left rear wheel spun, spraying
mud and grass up behind it, splattering the cop who was pushing.

He
yelled something in Thai that probably meant stop. The driver took his foot off
of the accelerator and the engine stopped screaming.

But
the muddy cop in the road did not. He ran around to the driver’s side and
continued to yell at the driver. Seizing the opportunity, Mac ran up behind him
and swung the butt of his rifle up an around and smacked the screaming cop hard
on the side of the head.

The
cop went down in a heap and Mac shoved the barrel of his rifle through the open
window. He jammed the muzzle into the side of the driver’s head and the driver
froze.

“Hands
where I can see them,” commanded Mac. He pulled the door open, grabbed the cop
by the shirt and jerked him out of the car, shouting, “Out, out, out.”

The
cop hit the ground hard and Mac butt-stroked him on the side of the head. He
lay still in a heap next to his buddy.

“Need
any help?” asked Culler, who had run up and was standing on the other side of
the car, rifle at the ready.

“Naw,
got it under control. Why don’t you just take a nap under that tree over there
while I take care of things here?”

“Great
idea!”

Mac
took a deep breath and thought a moment, surveying the situation. “Look, those
other guys aren’t far behind us so we don’t have much time. You get these guys
off to the side and immobilize them and I’ll go bring the RAV around.”