by Mark Tufo
“But there’s no blood on the chairs.”
“Could have been wiped clean. Or they could have been dragged to the floor before they were killed. Again, forensics will be able to confirm. But this is a totally different type of crime than the others.” He paused. “So now the question is why someone wanted them dead, and why cover it up in such an elaborate fashion versus tossing them into the ocean for the sharks to feed on?”
Hal frowned. “They weren’t telling us everything yesterday. We could both tell.”
“Agreed. But we can’t assume that they were killed to keep them from talking, although that’s the most likely reason.”
“Let’s follow that logic, though. If they were, to keep them from talking about what? What’s worth killing two men over?”
Sunan eyed the drugs on the table. “Most murders are about money or passion, as you said. This was an execution. That’s never passion—which leaves money.”
“And making it look like the killer instead of dropping them into the sea?”
“Obviously, if they’d just disappeared and turned up floating, it would raise questions about why. This way, it’s a crazy serial killer. Convenient, and would have probably worked except for the detail about the throat wounds.” Sunan walked over to the table and turned to the forensic technician. “Did you already dust these for prints?” he asked in Thai.
The tech nodded.
Sunan picked up a yellow cellophane-wrapped Thai stick and sniffed it. “Good quality. Maybe we can start with this.”
“Weed?”
“We find who sold them the drugs. This packaging is distinctive. I’ll ask my colleagues on the force about who wrapped it, and that will at least give us a direction to follow.”
“What about the woman the bar girl told us about? Aranya?”
Sunan rubbed his face with weary fingers. “That will take time. I can’t be everywhere at once. The call on this one came in first thing this morning, and I have to finish with it before I can begin putting out feelers for the woman.”
“Pattaya isn’t that big a town. If this is about money, it’s got to have something to do with drugs. What else is there worth killing over?”
They moved to the bedroom and went through the men’s belongings. “Looks like they were planning to stay for a while,” Hal commented. “So this wasn’t just a crash pad they used to get high.”
“Which again points to them wanting to avoid further questioning, doesn’t it?” Sunan asked, his voice soft.
Hal nodded. “Yes, it does.” He walked to the bedroom door, and Sunan cleared his throat.
“Where are you going?”
“I think it’s time I have a chat with the colonel. Nothing about this is adding up, and I have a feeling I haven’t been told the whole story about anything.”
“If you wait until I’m done, I can go with you.”
“How long?”
“As long as it takes. Maybe an hour. Why—do you have something pressing?”
“Not really.”
“Then pull up a chair and see what I do with every day of my life. A far cry from what you’re used to in the States, I’m sure.”
“Seems like you do a pretty thorough job. Good catch on the throat wounds.”
“In spite of anything I have to work with, not because of it. If this was Bangkok, it would be a different story.” Sunan frowned again. “Let’s hope I can get this over with before it starts raining again. The road south is hell in a storm.”
— 8 —
Hal and Sunan arrived at the base and encountered a contingent of Thai guards at the main gate who flat out refused to allow Sunan in. Hal explained why he needed the inspector with him, but they wouldn’t budge, even after Sunan threatened to call their superior and have them censured for insubordination.
“It’s a federal government installation,” Sunan explained as they faced off against the Thais. “Technically they’re right. I have no jurisdiction on base, and they know it. I told you they hated the police here—this is their chance to get even.”
“It’s stupid,” Hal griped.
“No question. Welcome to Thailand.”
“We can go around to the other gate.”
Sunan shook his head. “No point. They’ll just radio these guys, and then it will go even worse—they’ll start viewing you as the enemy too and make your life difficult in petty ways when you try to come and go. Not worth it. Go do what you need to do, and I’ll find a telephone and make some calls about the girl.”
Sunan climbed back into his vehicle, leaving Hal to find his way onto the base.
At the colonel’s office, his aide gave Hal the stink eye when he showed up and asked to see Hedges immediately.
“I’m afraid the colonel is otherwise occupied. I can see if I can fit you in…after lunch, if that works for you,” the man offered, his tone disapproving.
“It doesn’t. I need to speak with him now. It’s an emergency.”
The aide looked Hal up and down. “I see. What is the nature of the emergency?”
Hal’s face flushed with color and he was preparing to unload on the unctuous staffer when the colonel’s voice called from down the hall.
“It’s okay. Send him back. I need a break, anyway.”
Hal’s eyes narrowed and he glared at the aide and then followed the colonel’s voice to his office. He swept past the male secretary, entered the office, and shut the door behind him.
“Well? What’s the emergency?” Hedges boomed.
“The two men who were with the murder victim? You got them out of jail yesterday.”
“Yes? What is it?”
“They’re dead.”
“What! How?” Hedges said, half standing behind his desk.
“Murdered. Same way that the victim got it,” Hal said, holding back the discrepancy in the killing, wary of the colonel and unsettled by his composure—especially given that he hadn’t asked where the men had been killed.
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m trying to fit together how this is all connected, but I’m drawing a blank, Colonel,” Hal said. “And I’m getting the feeling there may be more to the story than I’ve pieced together so far.”
The colonel’s face could have been cast in bronze. “Explain yourself.”
“They were found with drug paraphernalia in a shack on the outskirts of Pattaya. Which brings up the questions of why they were off base and how they got there.”
“That’s no mystery. They probably bribed the guards. It’s not unheard of.”
“Why would they risk being arrested for desertion? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“I can’t answer that for you. But you said they were murdered the same way as the others?” He paused. “Good God.”
“The Thais believe it’s a white man who’s doing the killing, Colonel. Someone with a grudge against the military, by the looks of it.” Hal eyed Hedges, his stare hard. “Do you know anyone who might fit that bill?”
Hedges swallowed and returned Hal’s look. “I’m not sure I like your tone.”
“No disrespect intended, but if there’s anything you haven’t told me, now would be a good time.”
They held each other’s gaze, and the colonel looked away first. “You mentioned drugs? What does that have to do with any of this?”
“We’re not sure.”
Hedges sighed. “What I’m about to tell you is classified.”
Hal nodded. “I have a security clearance.”
“Fine. Almost four years ago, the military conducted a medical experiment in Vietnam—it was an effort to boost stamina and endurance in our troops. An agent had been developed that the brass thought would give our boys an edge—much like amphetamines during the Second World War, which were given to pilots so they could fly around the clock for days at a time.”
“I’ve heard that a lot of our men use it here, too.”
Hedges waved the comment away. “Anyway, the first field trial of the
agent was a disaster. It…it turned the men into monsters. The Pentagon decided to end the trials and shelved the project.”
Hal waited for more. Hedges glanced at his window and then returned his eyes to Hal.
“There were…rumors…that some of the men in the trial went missing.”
“I’d think that was knowable.”
“Not as easy as you might imagine. From what I gather, a pitched battle with Charlie took place during the trial, and with all the pandemonium it was impossible to account for everyone.”
Hal’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean when you say it turned them into monsters?”
“They became killing machines. I mean completely crazy, unconcerned about being wounded, and some of them turned on each other when there were no more enemies standing. It was a bloodbath. Enough so the DOD destroyed the files.”
“How do you know about it, then?”
“Shortly after the first victim washed ashore here, a member of military intelligence showed up and gave me a briefing.”
“I don’t understand. Vietnam’s a long way away, and that was four years ago,” Hal said.
“They think there’s a possibility one of the trial subjects might have worked his way from Vietnam and is now in Thailand.”
Hal absorbed that. “A white devil,” he murmured.
“The agent was called VX-99. It was a nightmare drug. But if this is one of the test group committing these crimes, you could be up against something superhuman.”
“What exactly did the drug do? And why would it still be doing it four years later?”
“It stimulated the area of the brain that’s responsible for the fight-or-flight response and increased both aggression and stamina. But it also caused vivid hallucinations. Murderous impulses. Apparently the changes were permanent.”
“Did the trial participants know what they were getting into?”
Hedges’ expression hardened. “That’s none of your concern. What matters now is that if it is one of them, we need to find him and stop him before this gets any worse.”
“Do you have any idea who it is?” Hal asked.
“There were two men that are still unaccounted for. One wasn’t white, so that excludes him. Which leaves the other—a marine scout who was a tracking specialist from Louisiana. Corporal James Kendrick.”
“Why would he be killing military here in Thailand?”
“I have no idea.”
Something about the colonel’s tone rang false, and Hal sat forward. “Could he have been involved in anything with these men?”
Hedges shook his head. “By all accounts, we’re talking a madman, Shaw. A killing machine. Not someone who would be functioning at a very high level. I don’t see how he could be connected to the victims, other than the military angle. Who knows? He’s crazy, if it’s him. That should be obvious.”
“Back to the drugs. Do you have a big problem with them on base?”
Hedges looked away. “We’re in the middle of the opium production capital of the world. But we do the best we can, and nobody I know of is using. What did they find them with, anyway?”
“Some opium and Thai stick.”
Hedges waved a hand. “Don’t get sidetracked with that. It’s not uncommon for the men to take a little chemical vacation in their off hours. We frown on it, but you can’t stop everything.”
Hal switched gears. “The victim who was their buddy. Sergeant Kyle Walkins. What do you know about him?”
“Just what I told you.”
“Did he have a girlfriend?” Hal watched the colonel’s eyes, which flitted to the papers on his desk before returning to Hal’s face.
“How the hell would I know? Pattaya’s a frigging cathouse, Shaw. For God’s sake, if the man had a local squeeze, what does that have to do with anything?”
“So you don’t know if he had someone he saw regularly?”
The colonel exhaled forcefully and his face darkened. “You’re wasting time we don’t have with these tangents. If it’s our man out there killing, he’s not going to stop until you find him. Obviously if it’s him, this is beyond sensitive. We can’t allow the locals to capture him—an American serial killer would be a public relations disaster, and with the way the war is going, we can’t afford that. So stay on topic, Shaw. This isn’t an investigation you have weeks to conduct, running down every idiotic lead that comes up. Girlfriends, a little weed…those didn’t get anyone killed. If they did, half our force would be in coffins.”
“It was just a question.”
“Maybe I’m not being clear enough. You were sent here by a general who pulled strings. I accept that. You’re supposed to be the best. Fine. We need the best, and we need this resolved yesterday. We cannot have more murders linked to a white devil, as you called him. I’ve already said you can have anything you need. So go do your job and stop messing around with distractions. There’s a monster loose, and damn it, he’s going to strike again.”
“Assuming you’re correct it’s him. Do you have any evidence?”
“Military intelligence sends a guy halfway around the world to tell me a story they can’t put in writing. Seems like they’re pretty sure one got away from them. That’s good enough for me.”
“That’s not how it works, Colonel. That’s a guess on their part. I deal with facts and evidence, not hypotheses and hunches, no matter what the source.”
Hedges’ face darkened. “Then go find some, and stop bothering me with tangents. I’ve told you what you need to know. Do your job. Dismissed.”
Hal didn’t allow his expression to react to the curt termination of the discussion. Instead, he offered a salute and showed himself to the door. The colonel called out to him as he was reaching for the knob. “I’m sorry if I snapped at you, but this is a crisis in the making, Shaw, and I need you giving it a hundred percent. Don’t take my concern the wrong way. I want this behind us before it blows up in our faces, and the clock’s ticking.” He hesitated. “You can’t breathe a word about the VX-99 to the Thais. That’s top secret, you understand?”
“Of course, sir. But it’s going to be hard to do my job saddled with a counterpart who’s missing a big part of the story.”
“Figure out a way to deal with it, because what you’ve been told is classified, and that’s not negotiable.”
Hal forced the bitter retort that sprang to his lips away and nodded without looking back at the colonel. “Yes, sir.”
When Hal returned to the gate, Sunan was waiting for him, standing well away from the guard post, leaning against the fender of his truck. He offered a small smile as Hal approached.
“You don’t look happy,” he observed.
“Occupational hazard,” Hal agreed.
“Well, I have some news that might cheer you up.”
Hal’s eyebrows rose. “Oh?”
“We have a lead on the woman. Aranya.”
“That’s great,” Hal said, recalling the colonel’s admonishment to stay focused on the murderer.
“You still sound unhappy.”
“You know where she is?” Hal asked.
“I believe so.” He cocked his head and regarded Hal. “You learn anything new?”
“Nothing that can help us catch a killer,” Hal said—technically the truth. Understanding that the murderer might be a crazed ex-serviceman didn’t open any doors; they already suspected it was an American based on the white devil description, and the chemical reason why he might be killing was immaterial to locating him. Still, Hal felt uneasy as he climbed into the vehicle, the small dishonesty of withholding information from Sunan not sitting well.
Sunan seemed to intuit his discomfiture and said nothing as he started the engine and pulled away, leaving a cloud of dust for the guards in his wake.
— 9 —
Hal eyed the three-story apartment building on one of the dirt-surfaced main roads that ran to the beach, muddy pools of water pocking the surface; the neighborhood was still one of the nicest he’d
seen in the beachside city. The façade had been recently painted, and a café that occupied the ground floor retail area appeared more expensive than most in the area, with wooden tables and leather chairs instead of the ubiquitous cheap white plastic furniture. Hal followed Sunan, who was walking toward the entry at a moderate pace under the broiling heat of the direct afternoon sun.
“Pretty nice digs for an ex bar-girl,” Hal murmured.
“Nicer than my place. She must be talented,” Sunan agreed.
The building had a doorman, a reed-thin character in a burgundy T-shirt and ratty shorts. He was sitting behind a table with an ashtray on one corner and a water bottle in the center, a small transistor radio keening from the floor. Sunan introduced himself and had a short discussion with the man, who limited his responses to monosyllables, eyes darting from Hal to the inspector and back like he was expecting an attack.
Sunan motioned to the stairs. “Second floor.”
They set off toward the steps. “Wasn’t very talkative,” Hal observed.
“He confirmed she’s there. Hasn’t left today. So that’s something.”
They mounted the stairs, and Sunan made for the last apartment at the end of a short hall. When they arrived, Hal cocked his head at the rock music seeping through the door—Three Dog Night.
Sunan knocked and, after a lengthy wait, knocked again. A female voice called out from inside, and then the music volume diminished and the door cracked open.
“Yes?” a slight young woman asked, peering through the gap. Hal could see that she was a stunner, her skin flawless, eyes a rich chocolate, her hair gleaming ebony.
Sunan announced himself and held up his badge holder. The woman’s gaze flicked to Hal, who nodded to her but remained silent. She asked Sunan something and seemed satisfied by his answer. The door closed and the sound of a chain rattled against it, and then she swung it wide and stepped aside so the men could enter.
