Chimera

by Ken Goddard

  “Do you have a sense of what happened here?” Preithat asked the scene commander.

  “Not a clear one yet,” the scene commander said, “but we believe Boon-Nam was the one who secured Captain Choonhavan to the chair — only because Yak was not physically capable of doing so — and probably executed him and the chef. We’ll be able to confirm that when we conduct the ballistic examinations on the two pistols and the bullets from the bodies.”

  “Do we have any idea why he would do this?” Preithat pressed.

  “At this point, we’re assuming there was an argument which resulted in Boon-Nam shooting Yak in the stomach, perhaps accidentally, perhaps not. He goes outside. Yak gets to his gun, shoots back through the screen door — possibly hitting Boon-Nam, possibly not. Boon-Nam runs out to the garden, Yak staggers outside, empties his weapon at Boon-Nam, hitting him a few times, but none of the wounds immediately fatal. Then Boon-Nam fires his pistol one last time, striking Yak in the forehead and flinging him backwards into the den.”

  The scene commander then stared at Bulatt thoughtfully for a long moment. “There are some difficulties with this theory, as you undoubtedly realize, Agent Bulatt; the apparent lack of blood spattering around the doorway to the garden being one. But, as you might imagine, the rain always makes such determinations difficult.”

  “I don’t envy you your job here, commander,” Bulatt said honestly.

  “Do you think it’s possible that — ?” Preithat started to ask when the cell phone on his belt began to ring.

  “Excuse me,” he said as he brought the phone up to his ear. “Yes?” He listened for about twenty seconds. “Where, exactly?” He listened for a few more seconds. “Thank you, we’ll be there as soon as possible,” he said, then closed the cell phone and looked at Colonel Kulawnit. “The foreign guide’s fishing yacht — the Avatar. It’s been located.”

  “Where?” Kulawnit demanded.

  “Anchored off Ko Tanga. Our resident Ranger remembered seeing it earlier this afternoon when he received our alert. There are at least two Caucasian males on board, both matching the descriptions we obtained from the Shining Wind hotel staff: in their mid-to-late thirties, tanned, muscular and fit.”

  “What are they doing there?” Bulatt asked.

  “Fishing and diving, acting like normal vacationers.”

  “Why would they anchor themselves in Thai waters?” Kulawnit demanded, his eyes flashing. “If they were involved in my son’s death, why wouldn’t they be trying to escape — presumably into Malaysia?”

  “I think they’re going to see Kai, Khun Prathun,” Preithat said, smiling in pleasant anticipation. “Perhaps now we will finally understand what happened, and why.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Tanga Island Cove, Malacca Strait, Thailand

  “Can you see him?” Quince Lanyard whispered to his throat mike.

  The three low-riding outboard motorboats had been moving in slowly for the past hour; each one in turn accelerating for a few seconds, and then coasting to a stop in the dark water off Tanga Island. Lanyard and Gavin had been monitoring their progress with night-vision-scoped rifles from two separate positions — Lanyard from the Kevlar-and-titanium-armored bridge deck of the Avatar anchored two hundred yards off the Tanga Island Cove, along with four other similar yachts, and Gavin from a rock-lined promontory on Tanga Island overlooking the cove where the meet was supposed to take place.

  “I count twelve unfriendlies — all armed with AKs and extra mags, but no armor — and maybe half of them equipped with one those old hand-held single-lens night-scopes. Looks like two scopes for each boat, driver and team leader. None of the twelve look like Kai.” Gavin’s whispered reply was clearly audible in Lanyard’s tactical earphones. “Maybe he decided to stay home, let his minions do all the dirty work.”

  “And miss all the fun? Not bloody likely,” Lanyard muttered. “My guess is — wait. There’s something moving out there — your two o’clock position, out past the second buoy. Can’t make it out; too much fog down here.”

  “Hold one.” Gavin readjusted his position, centered the cross-hairs of his modern night-scope on the second buoy that was barely visible in the low-lying greenish fog, and then brought the cross-hairs up slightly. As he did so, an indistinct and blurry dark-spot almost hidden by the fog slowly resolved into a recognizable shape. “Got it. Looks like a fast boat, mini-cig, heading your way from the east. Coming in slow; two passengers, one of whom… is definitely Kai. Got you, you sneaky bastard!” Gavin chuckled.

  “Okay, time to mess with their little pirate minds,” Lanyard said, “Turn on the first flasher.”

  Moments later, a bright green light began flashing on and off at a point close to the rocky shoreline and almost a hundred feet below and to the left of Gavin’s barricaded position.

  As Lanyard and Gavin watched through their night-scopes, confused activity erupted in the three low-lying surveillance boats as the men without the hand-held night-scopes began pointing frantically at the blinking light that the men with the hand-scopes were obviously having trouble seeing.

  “Bright green on bright green. Ah, Quince, me lad, you’re a devious bastard indeed.” Gavin chuckled again as the most of the men with the hand-held scopes set them aside and began gesturing at the blinking light. Finally, two of the boats began to move cautiously toward shore in the direction of the light flashes while the third turned sharply and began accelerating in the direction of the Avatar.

  “Stand by, mate,” Gavin whispered into his throat mike, “it looks like you’re about to be boarded, bow and stern.”

  Over the Malacca Strait, Thailand

  The Blackhawk helicopter — on loan from the Thai Army, and carrying five heavily armed Forestry Division Rangers and a Ranger Sergeant Fire-Team Leader, in addition to Bulatt, Kulawnit, Preithat, the two bodyguards, and a pair of Army crew chiefs manning the two M60 machineguns mounted at the open cabin doors, all wearing camouflaged and inflatable life vests over their heavy armored vests — was flying low over the Malacca Strait, heading south, halfway to Tanga Island, the pilots eyeing the storm clouds that threatened to disgorge their liquid contents at any moment, when Major Preithat turned to Bulatt and motioned that they should put their helmets together.

  The physical connection between the two helmets caused the output from their throat mikes to be picked up by both sets of embedded earphones.

  “You said you thought the scene at Yak’s house was rigged,” Preithat reminded. “What did you see that made you suspicious?”

  “A couple of things,” Bulatt replied. “First of all, the shoulder holster Boon-Nam was wearing. It wasn’t his; or, at least, I don’t think it was.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I could see a deeply indented buckle mark near the end of the shoulder strap, where the strap would have been buckled for a man with a much bigger chest; but no indentation at all on the strap where it was buckled for Boon-Nam. It was as if the strap had never been buckled in that location before.”

  “Will that show up in the lieutenant’s crime scene photo?”

  “I hope so,” Bulatt said. “Also, I saw what looked like some gun-oil stains at the shirt and waistband of Boon-Nam’s trousers, right at the spinal area where a man might conceal a small pistol. He could certainly have decided to change pistols — maybe going for some extra firepower — at the last minute; but that doesn’t sound like something a professional assassin would do. I’m guessing, of course; I know very little about the habits of professional assassins, and nothing at all about Boon-Nam.”

  “Interesting.” Preithat’s eyes looked deeply thoughtful. “Was there anything else?”

  “The fourteen spent casings outside the door,” Bulatt said. “All located more-or-less where you would expect them to fall — after being ejected from the pistol and bouncing off the walls and door of the house — if the shooter was standing on the porch and firing toward the garden; but that would mean the door was shut.”
>
  “Yes?”

  “So, according to the lieutenant’s theory, Yak would have had to be flung backwards through at least the screen door by the last bullet — fired by Boon-Nam, presumably — that hit him in the head; but I didn’t see any damage the door. So how did Yak manage to end up dead, and on his back, inside the house?”

  “Ah.”

  “Which bring us to Boon-Nam’s last shot.”

  Preithat cocked his head, waiting.

  “It looked to me as if one of the bullets hit Boon-Nam right in the spine, just above his shoulder blades; a perfect place to paralyze a man’s arms and legs, but not necessarily kill him. It would be an easy shot for an expert or experienced marksman, especially if he was using low-velocity ammo or a silencer.”

  “But, according to the lieutenant, Yak was not a good shot.”

  “So it would seem.”

  “Of course, he could have gotten lucky.” Preithat started to shrug, and then blinked in sudden realization. “Oh… no, of course not; because then, as you said, Boon-Nam would have been paralyzed, and not been able to fire the last shot.”

  “You see the problem,” Bulatt said. “There was nothing definitive by itself; or, at least, nothing that I could see. But, in total, it was a very curious crime scene.”

  “Yes, I do see what you’re saying,” Preithat nodded his head slowly, and then sighed as he glanced over at Colonel Kulawnit who was sitting apart on the opposite side of the transport helicopter, in one of the crew chief seats, staring at nothing. “The colonel is not going to be pleased when he hears this. I think it made some sense to him that his son would be killed by malicious criminals like Yak and Boon-Nam; but if they weren’t the ones, then who? The foreign guides? Their client? Kai and his pirates?” Preithat frowned.

  “Perhaps Kai will have an answer for you,” Bulatt suggested.

  “Yes.” Preithat nodded, glancing over at Kulawnit again. “That would be a good thing, for all of us.”

  Tanga Island Cove, Malacca Strait, Thailand

  Jack Gavin waited patiently in the almost total darkness, watching through the night-vision scope attached to his M4 assault rifle until the two boats — the mini-cig and the single outboard motorboat — approaching the Avatar were only a few feet away from the anchored fishing yacht; which coincided nicely with the cautious approach of the other two outboard motorboats heading to shore in the cove below his barricaded position. Then he reached down to the transmitter resting on a rock near his right knee and pressed a button.

  Instantly, two dozen flashers — in varying colors of bright red, yellow and green — began to pulse in varying rhythms in the rocks in randomly set positions within a fifty-yard of his position. Then, two seconds later, strings of firecrackers began going off in the area of the flashers.

  The effect on the armed eight men coming ashore was instantaneous. Seven of the men scrambled for their rifles and began firing wildly the flashing lights. The eighth man — one of the team leaders, Gavin noted — grabbed his night-scope instead, brought it up to his eyes, and began scanning the rocky promontory overhead.

  He had just spotted an odd shape that looked out of place in the rocks high overhead when a single bullet from Gavin’s flash-repressed and moderately silenced rifle tore through his head. His body was still tumbling backwards into the boat when the remaining seven men began falling under the methodical onslaught of Gavin’s rifle.

  The effect on the six armed men from the other two boats rapidly approaching the Avatar was equally instantaneous. Two of the men from the outboard motorboat leaped up on the bow of the fishing yacht — and immediately tumbled backwards into the water, victims of Lanyard’s similarly equipped rifle — as the min-cigarette boat approaching the stern veered away, made a wide circle, and then began to accelerate in a straight line parallel to the Avatar.

  Approaching Tanga Island Cove

  The Blackhawk helicopter was less than three nautical miles from Tanga Island when the pilots got the radio call.

  “Colonel,” the pilot called on the Blackhawk’s internal radio system, “our resident Ranger on Rawi Island is reporting a gun battle taking place in the Ko Tanga cove between some Malaysian pirates and the men on the Avatar. We can see the flashes of gunfire from our position. The Ranger and his constable are approaching the cove in their patrol boat now, and a second boat with three more constables is on the way. What are your orders?”

  Colonel Kulawnit unbuckled his seat harness, stood up, and looked out the cockpit window at the distant flickers of light, barely visible through the low clouds.

  “Tell them to stay back and observe, and not to engage either side. We’ll be there shortly,” Kulawnit said. He returned to his seat, buckled in, then looked up at Preithat and reached for the selector on his throat mike.

  “Kuhn Sat, I want these foreign guides taken into custody alive, if at all possible; but do not risk your men unnecessarily. I have no such concern for Kai and his pirates. They are within our jurisdiction; deal with them as you please.”

  “I understand, Colonel,” Preithat acknowledged as Kulawnit turned his attention to Bulatt.

  “Khun Ged, I am grateful that you were willing to accompany us on this investigation; your input has been invaluable. But you are not armed, by treaty convention; so I ask you also to please stay back and not to engage these men, if at all possible. I do not wish your life placed at risk.”

  “Don’t worry, Khun Prathun, I’ll stay here in the helicopter,” Bulatt said, smiling as he glanced around at Preithat, the six assault rangers, and the two investigator bodyguards who were all busy checking their weapons, ammunition pouches, radios, vests, inflatable life jackets and night-vision gear while the two crew chiefs loaded their 7.65mm machineguns and double-checked their safety harnesses. “I think you have more than enough resources to deal with a few illegal hunting guides.”

  Tanga Island Cove

  Lanyard was lining up the dark green cross-hairs of his night-scope on the driver of the mini-cig boat — who had completed his wide circle and was accelerating into a power run along the starboard side of the Avatar — when he saw the other occupant, Kai, crouch down into the cockpit, and then jerk back up with his arms and legs to pull a concealed heavy machinegun up into a mount-locked firing position.

  “Oh bloody hell!”

  Lanyard dove to the deck just as the. 50-caliber armor-piercing rounds began ripping through the Avatar’s titanium- and Kevlar-lined bridge walls that had been designed to stop much smaller and far-less-lethal projectiles.

  Cursing furiously as the half-inch-diameter bullets progressively shredded the Avatar’s bridge structure, Lanyard discarded his rifle, grabbed the 25mm M109 payload rifle, tucked the stubby weapon to his chest, and rolled to the rear of the deck just as the. 50-caliber bullets began a return sweep, ripping through the Avatar’s main cabin walls directly underneath the bridge as if they were made of tissue paper.

  Still cursing, Lanyard came up to one knee, shouldered the fifty-pound rifle, and sent a pair of 25mm explosive armor-piercing rounds streaking into the engine compartment of Kai’s racing boat. The detonations blew apart the port-side engine and ripped the port-side drive shaft loose, skewing the boat sideways and catapulting Kai and his driver into the water.

  Shaking off the recoil effects of the rapid two-round volley, Lanyard stood up and quickly sent a third AP explosive round into the engine of the outboard motorboat hovering near the Avatar’s bow — shredding the engine cowling and killing the two cowering occupants — and then instinctively swung around and sent the last two rounds in the M109’s magazine arcing across the water and into the engine compartment of the Forestry Division patrol boat that suddenly appeared, accelerating past the western edge of the island at flank speed with searchlights sweeping.

  The explosive impact of the two AP projectiles inside the confined space of the patrol boat’s small engine compartment brought the coastal vessel to a surging halt, cutting off all power to the single
propeller shaft and the two glaring searchlights in the process; but not before their final sweep revealed Kai pulling himself into the smoking cockpit of the mini-cig boat and fumbling for the. 50-caliber machine gun.

  Too busy to curse now, Lanyard tossed aside the spare magazine of armor-piercing rounds he’d instinctively pulled out of the blue-striped ammo box, grabbed instead the single magazine of anti-personnel rounds, slammed the heavy box magazine into the M109, pulled back on the arming bolt, thumbed the weapon’s computerized BORS ranging system to the new ammo, and came up to one knee with the payload rifle already on his shoulder.

  He triggered the first anti-personnel round at the moment Kai — visibly stunned and bleeding profusely, but still furiously intent on destroying the fishing yacht and anyone on board — was bringing the. 50-caliber machinegun around to bear again on the Avatar’s bridge.

  The ‘slow-velocity’ 1-inch-diameter bullet, electronically controlled by the M109’s optical ranging system, detonated against the breach of the. 50-caliber weapon into hundreds of extremely-high-energy fragments, dislodging the heavy machinegun from its mount and literally vaporizing Kai’s upper torso — just as the blinding searchlights from a rapidly approaching Blackhawk helicopter switched on, illuminating the Avatar and flaring-out Lanyard’s night-vision goggles.

  Reacting instinctively, Lanyard flipped his recycling night-goggles up and away from his eyes, winced against the searing glare of the searchlights, and fired the M109 twice in the general direction of the hovering helicopter.

  Distracted by the barrage of AK-47 rounds ricocheting off rocks in a fifty-foot radius around his position, and only vaguely aware of the big-caliber firestorm that had erupted on the far side of the distant Avatar, Jack Gavin was having a much easier time with his assignment.