Plausible Denial (23 page)

“But
the CIA lady, Charly Blackburn, was at the Wangcome Hotel where the two
farangs
were staying. Remember? She must have been meeting with them. It could have
been a coincidence that they were all there at the same time, but I really
don’t believe this was a coincidence.”

The
three of them walked leisurely toward the front of the warehouse. Khun Ut was
reflective. He paused and blew a long stream of smoke from his cheroot. “You
are right, of course, Ung Chea. I had forgotten about that. There must be some
connection to the CIA, but still…maybe they are mercenaries. They must be
mercenaries.”

“Maybe
mercenaries hired by the CIA?”

“I
cannot imagine that. I have studied the CIA. Someone would have to authorize an
attack like this. And even if that happened, they would not hire mercenaries.
They require strict command and control over their operations and would be too
afraid of what the congress and the press would say if it got out.”

“Not
even after what we did to their consulate?”

“You
must understand, Ung Chea, the CIA is still very good at collecting
information. That is true. They, along with the DEA, were hurting us very badly
by exposing our operations and disrupting our distribution networks. It is for
this reason that we attacked them at their heart, their Chiang Mai Base. Our
attack has set back their operations against us for years. It instilled
confidence in our allies that we are strong and fear in our potential
competitors and enemies like the CIA, DEA, and the Thai government. We needed
to strike and strike hard, and we did. The CIA’s only possible response is to
back off and try to convince the Thais to take action against us. That will not
happen in my lifetime.”

“Then
who sent these mercenaries, Khun Ut? And why would they be meeting with
Blackburn, a known CIA operative? We control all drug trafficking in this part
of the world. We have no rivals, no competition.”

Khun
Ut stopped at the front of the warehouse and turned to face the Cambodian and
Paiboon. He took a deep drag on his cheroot and expelled a lungful of smoke.
“There are three people here in Thailand who can answer that question, the two
farangs
and Charly Blackburn. We will just have to ask one of them.”

Chapter Seventy-Two

C
harly
turned the Land Cruiser off of Route 110 at the little village of Bap Basang
and headed west up into the mountains on rural Route 1130 toward Doi Mae
Salong.

All
of the roads this far north were unpaved and full of potholes. Small villages
were scattered among the hills along the route.

She
shifted the Land Cruiser down into four-wheel-drive as they climbed higher up
into the mountains. Soon she turned off onto a small dirt road heading due
north toward the Burmese border.

“This
will take us up all the way to Ban Hin Taek, but we aren’t going to go quite
that far. About eight or ten kilometers up this road, there will be a logging
trail heading off to the right. Keep your eyes peeled for it. Our meeting with
Vanquish is in a small meadow about two clicks up that trail. A pretty deserted
location.”

The
Land Cruiser bounced and churned and whined its way along the rutted road up
higher and higher into the mountains. Culler was awake now. He leaned forward
and placed his folded arms on the front backrests. “Well, at least we know we
don’t have any surveillance.”

“No,
you’ve got that right…except for the stray villager or hunter, we’re not going
to run into anyone up this far,” said Charly.

“And
Vanquish is arriving at seven?” asked Mac.

“He’s
never on time. I’ve waited for well over an hour at times, but he always shows
up and—anyway—I can track him on my GPS.”

“Does
he know that watch he’s wearing contains a GPS?”

“No,
and don’t tell him either. He never takes the watch off. It was supposedly a
gift from his son. I told you the story, didn’t I?”

“Yes,
you did. This is a great op you put together, Charly. A real professional job.
You should get a medal for this one.”

“Speaking
of medals, Harry MacMurphy, tell me how you got your Intelligence Star. I’ve
heard lots of rumors, but no one seems to know the full story. No one I’ve
talked to anyway.”

Mac
and Culler looked at one another and laughed. “Yeah,” said Culler. “He got the
medal, the same day he got fired.”

“Yeah,
I heard that too. I also heard you followed him out the door, Culler.”

“Indeed
I did.”

“Well,
I want to hear the story, the whole story. I also heard you are richer than
God. Is that true also?”

Mac
laughed. “Now that last part, that’s real classified. Only a small handful of
people know about that. Where did you hear that?”

“You
know how it is in the clandestine service. We’re a small, incestuous group of
professional intelligence officers. It’s our business to know stuff. Now, how
can you do something important enough to deserve a medal, get fired for it, and
end up with a bundle of money?”

“It’s
a long story.”

“Don’t
give me that crap. I’ve got plenty of time. Tell me what happened.”

“I
will, but not now. I think you just drove past that trail you were looking
for.”

Chapter Seventy-Three

C
harly
hit the brakes, cussed, and backed the Land Cruiser down the narrow road to the
entrance of the trail. Once on the trail, she concentrated on her driving.

The
trail was narrow and overgrown. Trees along the way scratched the bottom and
sides of the vehicle. She drove cautiously until they reached a small meadow.
The grass in the clearing was covered in dew, and a light morning mist rolled
over it. She pulled out into the clearing, turned the heavy Land Cruiser around
and headed it back into the trail. There she parked it for a quick and easy
departure.

“Now
we wait for Vanquish,” she said. “He’ll be coming from over there, on the other
side of the meadow.” She indicated a spot about fifty meters ahead where the
trail continued north. “His village is a couple of miles northeast of us.”

Culler
glanced at his watch. “You timed this well, Charly. It’s exactly nine minutes
to seven.”

“Well,
I’ve done this a few times before. I keep trying to get him to vary our meeting
locations and times, but he’s very stubborn. He feels safe here and it fits in
with his morning routine. His morning rides are a passion for him, and he
rarely misses a day.”

“Where
is he now?” asked Mac.

She
pulled her GPS out of her bag and turned it on. They looked over her shoulder as
she zeroed in on their location and then expanded the map to show an area ten
kilometers around them. The pulsating blip emanating from Vanquish’s stainless
steel Rolex appeared about two kilometers away.

“There
he is and here we are. He’s on his way. His village is over here, in this 
clearing. Ban Hin Taek is in this direction about fifteen kilometers from us in
this valley.”  She expanded the map further so they could see. “He’ll be
here in about fifteen minutes.”

“You
want me to get the assault rifles out of the back seat for some extra
security?” asked Culler.

“Sure,
if you like. But I can assure you, we’re safe here. We weren’t followed. The
only way they could find us is if Vanquish is compromised, and I’d bet my life
on him.”

Mac
looked at her and then down the trail. “You already have, Charly.”

Chapter Seventy-Four

V
anquish
rode out of the morning mist from the north end of the trail, sitting tall and
stern in the saddle aboard a large palomino mare. He wore colorful native Hmong
dress with bright blue Chinese style baggy trousers and a gray wool vest with
silver buttons.

His
only concession to modern civilization was the broad-brimmed, black cowboy hat
he wore. The hat’s crown was decorated with a chain of native silver
ornaments.  He wore it pushed back on his head away from his tanned face.
His skin resembled overcooked meat, but his penetrating grey eyes, surrounded
by deep wrinkles from years of squinting into the sun, showed wisdom. He was of
indeterminate age—maybe sixty, maybe eighty. He rode like he was joined with
the horse.

When
he spotted the two
farangs
standing by the Land Cruiser next to Charly,
he jerked the reigns as if considering whether to flee, charge or stand firm.
Charly waved him over with broad gestures of her arm, indicating everything was
alright.

Vanquish
trotted across the clearing toward them but remained sitting erect in the
saddle after he reigned in the mare.  As his aloof and penetrating stare
fixed on the two
farangs
, Charly approached and reached her hand up to
him. His pale eyes darted from one
farang
to the other in a suspicious,
disapproving way.

“Don’t
worry,” she said, taking his hand in both of hers, “these men are my friends
and colleagues. I won’t introduce you because none of you need to know each
other’s name. They have heard of your exploits with Bill Lair and Tony Po.”

Culler
and Mac approached and reached up to shake hands with Vanquish, who remained on
his horse. “You know Bill and Tony?” he asked. When he reached down to shake
hands with them, the saddle squeaked and the scent of leather enveloped him.

Mac
said, “I met Bill Lair once many years ago when I was in training, and I met
Tony Po up in Udorn shortly before he died. It was in the mid-90’s. I was
assigned there.”

Vanquish
looked down and asked, “How many fingers did Tony Po have on his right hand?”

Mac
smiled knowingly. “Three. His middle and ring fingers were blown off while he
was screwing around with explosives. He used to order four beers with his two
outside fingers sticking up in the air like this.” He held up his hand with
pinky and index fingers extended.

Vanquish
laughed, breaking the tension and showing yellow stained but straight teeth.
“That is Tony.” He swung down from the saddle and stood facing Mac, who was
surprised at his shortness. “He was a quite a character. Crazy, daring and
indestructible. The Japanese on Iwo Jima tried to kill him, and the North
Koreans tried at the Chosen Reservoir, and then the North Vietnamese and Viet
Cong and Pathet Lao could not kill him in Southeast Asia, but all those beers
and many gallons of Mekong whisky…that finally did him in.”

Mac
shook his head and laughed. “You’re right, he was a legendary figure. He lived
one hell of a life. And when he died he had a liver like a hockey puck.”

“So
you guys are SKY?”

Mac
considered his response carefully. He knew that SKY was the cryptonym used by
the Lao Resistance, including the Hmong, to refer to the CIA. Rather than go
into details of their present situation, he figured it was best just to agree
with the man. “Yes, we are. We are all colleagues. We are all SKY.”

“Good,
then we can get started.” He wrapped the horse’s reigns loosely over the
rearview mirror of the Land Cruiser and turned to Charly. “Do you have the
map?”

She
unfolded a 1:50000 map of Northern Thailand and laid it out on the hood of the
vehicle. Vanquish put on an old pair of yellowed reading glasses and set his
gnarled index finger on the map.

“You
know all of this Charly, but I will repeat it for the new guys. The opium is assembled
in various movable refineries around here, here and here.” He indicated areas
along the border north of Mae Sai at Wan Ping, Tachilek and Wan Lom in Burma,
proud to display his knowledge to his newfound SKY compatriots.

“There
it is cooked in large pots and filtered through burlap bags and turned into a
thick, dark paste. The places where the cooking is done are moved around on an
almost daily basis to avoid detection by the CIA’s surveillance planes. After
the initial refining is done, the paste is dried in the sun and turned into
something like putty. The places where the drying occurs are changed regularly
as well.”

Mac
asked, “Do you have anything to do with that part of the operation?”

“No,
all of that takes place in the hills near where the opium is collected from the
farmers. There are others who bring the opium putty by donkey down to the
warehouse in Mae Sai. That is where the next stage of the refining is done. It
is very close to Ban Hin Taek.

“They
cook it again in large drums and add lime to the solution. That turns it into a
brown sludge which is scooped out and reheated and then they add ammonium
chloride. After that it is filtered again and dried into a coffee-colored
powder morphine base.”

Culler
said, “But the bricks we saw were white, not coffee colored.”

“Yes,
you are right. There is another step in the process. It is a bit more
complicated and done at the warehouse with more sophisticated equipment, not in
the movable jungle refineries. I do not know exactly how it is done. But I know
they dissolve the morphine base in acid and then add charcoal and heat it again
before filtering it through fine cloth several times until they have a fine,
white powder. The powder is then pressed into one kilogram bricks. That is what
you saw.”

“And
that’s the end of it? That’s pure heroin?” asked Culler.

Vanquish
smiled. “No, not at all. The final refining process is much more complicated.
It takes real chemists for that part.” 

Charly
explained. “He takes over after the bricks are pressed at the Mae Sai
warehouse. It’s his job to get the bricks from Mae Sai down to the Mae Chan
warehouse. The bricks are loaded onto donkeys, and he guides them down by
caravan through the jungle. That’s his job.”