Authors: Ken Goddard
“But, in the meantime, Captain Kulawnit,” Bulatt broke in, “on the assumption that we may be dealing with a rogue element within the intelligence community, we’re going to try a more conventional approach to resolving the issue.”
“Really, what’s that?”
“We believe the security clearance my boss — Special Agent in Charge Schweer — holds will be high enough to give him access to that latent print information we’re requesting if he makes direct contact with the appropriate people at our Pentagon and our National Security Agency.”
Schweer leaned toward the conference phone.
“Yes, that’s correct, Captain Kulawanit,” Schweer confirmed.
“I’m flying back to Washington DC later this morning in an attempt to do just that.
And if I discover my clearance level isn’t sufficient, I assure you that I’ll find someone with the necessary clearance if I have to go all the way to the Director of the Fish and Wildlife Service himself.
No government agency should be attempting to hack into our federal crime lab servers; and I seriously doubt that any individual in our military forces — active, retired or otherwise — has been authorized to shoot at Thai Rangers, much less a member of Interpol.
Someone will give us that information.”
“That’s wonderful, Agent Schweer,” Achara said somberly.
“We will all be most grateful for your efforts.”
“Perfect job for a guy with a T-Rex personality,” Ferreira stage-whispered to Hager, who grinned and nodded in agreement.
“What was that?” Schweer growled, glaring at the two scientists.
“Ah, I was suggesting to Mr. Hager that I’m sure the intelligence community will be looking forward to your arrival, sir.”
Ferreira smiled cheerfully.
“And, finally,” Bulatt broke in again before the playful forensic harassment of his boss got out of control, “I wanted you to hear from Donn Renwick, our firearms expert, regarding his work in this case.”
Renwick replaced Schweer at the microphone.
“Yes, Captain Kulawanit, Chief Narusan, Donn Renwick here.
First of all, I want you to know that ran a background check on that M-Four carbine and determined that it was manufactured in the United States on October twenty-fourth, two-thousand-and-four, for our Military Special Forces Command.
The weapon was officially transferred to Afghanistan on March seventh, two-thousand-and-five, as part of a re-supply drop for our troops hunting down bin-Laden; and was never heard from again, until a few days ago.”
“Are you saying our suspects may be American Special Forces personnel?” Achara asked, sounding shocked.
“Not necessarily,” Renwick replied.
“Several of our allies dispatched Special Forces or Commando teams to Afghanistan in two-thousand-and-five, many of whom had access to U.S. weaponry; and I have no doubt our soldiers distributed U.S. weapons and ammunition to NATO and friendly Afghan troops.
And if you add to that all of the firearms lost or stolen during that conflict, there are clearly many ways this specific M-Four carbine could have ended up in the hands of your suspects.”
“But would it be fair to say there’s an obvious link to soldiers with Special Forces training; especially considering the possible intelligence agency issues?”
Renwick turned to Schweer with a shrug, as if to say ‘your bailiwick.’
“Yes, that would seem to be the case,” Schweer said into the microphone.
“I’ll have our office run a link analysis; but I think it’s fair to say the information we have so far corresponds nicely with Chief Narusan’s crime scene report.”
“I think very much, yes, a professional soldier who did shooting,” Narusan agreed.
“Also,” Renwick went on, “I helped Steve disassemble the rifle for latent print processing … and, in doing so, examined the individual parts fairly closely.
Apart from some corrosion and recent impact damage, the weapon was well-maintained and otherwise in excellent condition, with very little wear on the bolt, chamber, barrel and firing pin.
In my opinion, it hadn’t been fired very often; possibly only a few dozen rounds.”
“Use once, throw away; very smart, very professional.”
Chief Narusan chuckled audibly.
“Yes, I think the Chief is correct on all counts,” Renwick said.
“It’s probably not likely that we’ll ever be able to match this rifle to any other crime scenes; but I entered the bullet and cartridge data into NIBIN anyway, just to be safe.”
“Thank you very much for your efforts, Mr. Renwick; and all the rest of you as well,” Achara said.
“It seems we are making some progress on this investigation, after all.
If nothing else, we are certainly ruffling some powerful feathers.”
“A couple more things, Captain Achara,” Bulatt broke in again.
“First of all, I think we may have located the manufacturer of the flashers found on the Clouded Leopards and at Tanga Island.
I’m going to be checking on them tomorrow morning, and I’ll let you know what I find out as soon as I can.”
“Excellent.
That would be very helpful for us,” Achara replied.
“Also,” Bulatt went on, “one of our lab’s electronics experts took a look at the photos you sent of the internal mechanisms of that remote transmitter.
As best they can tell, with a nine-volt battery, the device should only be capable of activating flashers within a hundred-meter range. But they also say there’s no reason why the Chief couldn’t construct a new transmitter with much more power that operates on the same frequencies. It occurred to me that you might have other animals in your Wildlife Preserves with similar flashers attached to their necks — or, perhaps, a hidden stockpile of the flashers — that such a device might help locate, much to the dismay of our suspects.
I asked our expert to fax the relevant technical information to the Chief at your office, and I believe he’s already done so.”
Chief Narusan laughed delightedly.
“Yes, very good idea, Kuhn Ged.
I will make new transmitter right away; easy to do.”
“I believe that’s all we have at the moment, Captain Achara,” Bulatt spoke into the microphone, and then looked quickly around the conference table.
“Anything else, guys?”
“One more thing for the Chief,” Renwick said.
“We’re assuming our wealthy hunter used an expensive rifle on his Thai hunt that he’s not likely to throw away after every illegal kill.
As such, during your continuing search for evidence, we hope you can find an expended bullet or cartridge casing from this weapon that we can enter into our NIBIN system.”
The sound of muted and otherwise unintelligible conversation back and forth could be heard through the sensitive conference phone speaker for a few seconds.
Then Achara voice came back on the air.
“Chief Narusan has asked me to inform you that — in addition to his temporary assignment as my primary crime scene examiner — he was recently designated the official CSI officer for his ship, the
Sawaeke
Pinsinchai
.
And as such, the Chief wants me to assure you that he will find these items if he has to search the entire southern peninsula of Thailand on his hands and knees, meter by meter.
And with that, gentlemen, we wish you well in your endeavors, and bid you goodbye; the Chief and I have work to do.”
CHAPTER 27
In a helicopter over the Khlong Preserve
As Captain Achara Kulawnit smoothly piloted the blacked-out military surveillance helicopter fifty feet over the treetops of the massive Khlong Preserve with her night-vision goggles, a similarly equipped Chief Narusan monitored the bright-green lit forest from his copilot seat.
Underneath the helicopter, mounted to its landing skid, Narusan’s jury-rigged — but extremely powerful — flasher-activating transmitter pulsed steadily.
They had almost completed covered the western edge of the Preserve with four successive passes when Narusan suddenly yelled out and then pointed at a distant burst of light — a flash that quickly steadied out into a rhythmic pulsing.
As Narusan carefully read out coordinates from a map into his helmet mike, transmitting the information to their ground team, Achara turned the helicopter toward the flashing light.
*
*
*
At a landing site in the Khlong Preserve
Ten minutes later, Achara landed the surveillance helicopter in a clearing near a pair of jeeps that were lighting the landing site with their crossed headlights.
She and Narusan hopped out of the chopper and ran to one of the jeeps.
After a brief discussion about who was in charge of the operation that left no doubt in anyone’s mind, Achara jumped into the driver’s seat, yelled at everyone — specifically including Chief Narusan — to hold on, then accelerated out of the landing area, leaving the former jeep driver guard the helicopter.
*
*
*
In a jeep in the Khlong Preserve
Captain Achara Kulawnit continued to accelerate the four-wheel-drive Cherokee jeep through the deep muddy ruts of a tree-lined dirt road leading into the western section of the Khlong Saeng Wildlife Preserve, pushing her battered Thai Forestry Police patrol vehicle — and the two others following closely behind — to their limits of their engines and headlights because she sensed they were finally on to something that might give her access to the killers who had dared to strike at her brother and father and fellow Rangers.
Next to her in the front passenger seat, Chief Narusan — seemingly oblivious to the police captain’s manic driving — read a map with a flashlight and monitored an electronic tracking device mounted on the jeep’s dash while Colonel Kulawnit’s two re-assigned bodyguards held onto the overhead safety straps with one hand and their M4 carbines with the other.
In the second jeep, the Ranger lieutenant — who had started out in charge of this raid team — in the front passenger seat and the senior sergeant behind the steering wheel chuckled approvingly at the driving skills of Colonel Kulawnit’s famously aggressive daughter, while the three constables stuffed into the back seat simply held on.
In the trailing jeep, the junior sergeant in the front passenger seat chided his corporal — a lesser-skilled driver — to go faster while the second trio of constables in the back seat rolled their eyes and prayed.
Every few seconds, Captain Achara Kulawnit briefly took her eyes off the road to check her odometer.
At the 5.8 kilometer mark, she slowed down, made a sharp left turn onto a very narrow mud trail just barely wide enough for the jeep to slip through, and followed a crossed-over set of old tire tracks for another thirty seconds until she came to a small, chain-sawed clearing in front of an old maintenance storage shed.
Achara brought the jeep to a sliding stop in front of the shed, shut off the engine, and then turned to Narusan; only vaguely aware that the driver of the trailing jeep had taken up a blocking position on the road, and that her newly assigned bodyguards and all of the uniformed Rangers were rapidly taking up protective positions around her jeep, carbines and assault rifles aimed outward and at the ready.
Major Preithat had made one thing very clear to the assault team members:
anyone who allowed Captain Achara Kulawnit to be injured in her search for the killers of their fellow Rangers would answer to the Colonel personally; an unthinkable possibility that the Colonel’s two hardened, chastened, re-assigned and now coldly furious bodyguards informed the other uniformed Rangers would simply not happen.
They would all die first; an admonition firmly echoed by the assault team’s senior sergeant who had been a close friend of Sergeant Tongproh.
“Where do we go now?” Achara asked, the controlled anger in her voice matching the fierce expression in her dark eyes.
The Chief Petty Officer consulted his electronic device and map once more, and pointed with his open left hand at a distant point in the trees off to their left.
Then, having done so, he set the map and electronic device aside, pulled an IR-filtered flashlight out from under the seat, and then reached up and snapped the night-vision goggles over his eyes.
Achara did the same.
Outside, one at a time, the two uniformed sergeants directed the highly-trained members of their assault team to put on and activate their own night-vision gear.
*
*
*
On foot in the Khlong Preserve
They went in a single file, Chief Narusan and the senior sergeant in the lead, closely followed by Achara and her two mothering bodyguards, and backed up by the corporal and two constables.
The junior sergeant and the other four constables maintained a rear-guard position around the shed and jeeps.
Twenty yards into the dense forest, everyone paused while Narusan pulled a small transmitter out of his jacket pocket and pressed the center button.
Instantly, off to their right and deep in the trees, a periodically-flashing firefly became faintly visible.
“Ha, good CSI!” the chief exclaimed to the senior sergeant, smiling broadly.
Using the flickering light as a guide — the senior sergeant, Achara and her two bodyguards probing their way with long sticks to scare off lurking snakes and predators while Narusan kept the distant flasher in sight, and the three trailing Rangers monitored their flanks with forefingers softly brushing against the trigger guards of their rifles — the assault team slowly and methodically worked their way through the trees, brush, fronds and clinging vines until, finally, they came to a small, machete-cut, ten-foot-square clearing that was already starting to be covered over and filled with new plant growth.