Ken Goddard - Chimera

“All in all, an elegant approach to problem-solving.” Younger raised his tea cup in salute, presumably to Preithat and his aggressively responding Ranger force, and then sipped cautiously at the hot tea.

A few minutes later, Major Preithat stepped out of the hanger and called out to the two Interpol investigators. “Gentlemen, I believe Khun Achara has found something.”

The three men hurriedly entered the office area and found Achara typing furiously at a computer keyboard.

“Tell me you found bank records,” Bulatt said hopefully.

“No, better,” Achara responded. “Look at this.”

She turns the computer screen around so that they could all see it.

“What are we looking at?” Younger asked.

“A hidden file for four clients listed as ‘A’, ‘B’, ‘C” and ‘D.’ Our suspect’s recent flights match client ‘A.’”

“Exactly?” Bulatt whispered.

“Yes. The dates are different for each client, but the flights are the same — same locations and five days apart. And all pay in cash.”

“So what are we looking at, a hunting and poaching club?”

“If they are a club,” Prethat said, “why don’t they hunt together? These clients are hunting in synchrony but apart, as if they’re — ”

“Competing?” Bulatt suggested. “Three wealthy clients competing against each other?”

Bulatt and Younger looked at each other and smiled.

“Achara, do you have access to those landing and take-off records?” Younger asked.

“I’m running our dates against the Bangkok landings now, but Singapore International is being difficult.”

Prethat grunted, stepped away from the group, and was soon talking heatedly with someone in Mandarin.

“The same private plane arriving in Bangkok and then departing five days later from Singapore on the right dates. Can we be that lucky?”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Bulatt commented. “Everything about this set-up so far smells of big money and aggressive smarts.”

Prethat rejoined the group and turned to Achara.

“You have access for one hour. The pass-code is Panther.”

“Excellent!”

Achara began typing furiously again, and then paused to watch the computer screen flash through blocks of data.

“Come on, one of you bastards be stupid for once in your bloody lives,” Younger muttered.

Achara’s eyes suddenly widen in amazement.

“Yes, the same private plane — a G-five — matches the last two flight data sets at Bangkok and Singapore for client ‘C.’”

Bulatt smiled. “It looks like somebody got tired of suffering in first-class.

Younger pulled out his Blackberry and moved behind Achara.

“Do we have a registration number?” he asked.

Achara pointed at the screen. “Yes… there.”

Younger began typing on his Blackberry as Achara turned to Bulatt.

“If we get a hit on that plane, you and Pete can track it down while the Chief and I overfly the Khlong Preserve with his new toy.”

“Is that thing really going to work?”

“He thinks so. We’ll have plenty of power from the plane’s engine, but the trees may be — ”

“Well, folks, according to the Interpol computers, it looks like we have a winner in the category of upper-class arrogance and stupidity.”

Prethat, Bulatt and Achara all turn to stare at Younger.

“Our G-five luxury aircraft,” Younger continued, “is registered to a corporation owned by a Mr. Samuel Houston Fogarty.”

“And just what, exactly, do we know about Mr. Fogarty?” Bulatt asked pointedly.

“Not much, at the moment; but that’s about to change.”

“I like the way this is going,” Preithat smiled. “Colonel Kulawnit was correct about the value of your organization; I should have listened more carefully. Perhaps we do have more evidence than I thought.”

“In that regard, Major Prethat,” Bulatt said, “would you mind if I take the remains of those two Clouded Leopards and a few of the items we found at the Tanga Island scene and send them back to our wildlife forensics lab in Oregon? Our scientists may be able to find some additional evidentiary links that we’re not aware of at this point.”

“Of course,” Preithat said. “I’ll have them transferred to you immediately. And while you are doing that, I will have Captain Kulawnit and her Rangers continue their search for additional evidence and information about our illicit hunters and killers here in Thailand.”

“The team approach. Works every time,” Younger smiled broadly.

“Yes, it does,” Bulatt agreed as he brought his palms together in a polite wai, and then extended his right hand to Preithat. “Major, if you’ll please excuse us, and pass on our congratulations and good-byes to Khun Achara, I believe Peter and I have some work to do.”

In the suite of a modest and very remote Phuket hotel

Yawning tiredly, Pete Younger finally looked up from his laptop computer screen, stretched, and then surveyed the darkened living room of their two bedroom suite. There wasn’t much to it. A pair of old desks and chairs — the second set requiring an extra bribe to the maintenance man — a cheap dresser bearing an old CRT television and a desk phone, two additional stuffed chairs, three doors leading to the two small bedrooms and the shared bathroom, and a service cart bearing plates of half-eaten food and four empty coffee pots standing by the locked and bolted door.

They’d been working well into the evening, each digging relentlessly at their available data-sets while intermittently reaching out to the internet.

“Well,” Younger muttered, “I think it’s safe to conclude that our Mr. Fogarty is not a very nice chap.”

Bulatt looked from his computer hopefully. “Find something we can use?”

“No, unfortunately, it’s not illegal to play cut-throat politics in the exporting small arms industries. Pretty much SOP for that group.”

“Any long-standing partnerships?”

“Not so far. Looks like he back-stabs everyone pretty early in his deals. Classic predatory lone wolf behavior. You finding anything?”

“Residence in Bend, Oregon. Current Oregon and Idaho hunting licenses, but no active tags. I’ve got messages in to both fish and game agencies.”

“Any violations on file?”

“Several in Washington State prior to five years ago resulting in a life-time hunting ban,” Bulatt replied. “Nothing after that.”

“Think he learned his lesson?”

“A predatory lone wolf with a taste for blood and money to burn? I doubt it.”

“Sure, why hunt among the riffraff when you can form a competitive killing pack with some like souls?”

“Precisely.”

“Find anything else?”

“I’ve got an interesting lead,” Bulatt said. “The likely manufacturer of those flashers is located in Redmond, Washington. I used to work that area as a field agent, so I’m going to check it out personally.”

“So, at least we’re making some progress.”

“Yeah, but not much. Let’s hope that Achara is having a little better luck at her end.”

In the break room of the Draganov Research Center

Sergei Draganov and Aleksei Tsarovich had returned to the sanctuary of the Center’s lockable break room, and were now back to drinking vodka and arguing passionately. Both men were physically and emotionally exhausted.

“They will be here in one week,” Draganov pointed out for the second time. “We must have everything arranged by then. We have no choice in the matter. None whatsoever.”

“But would you let them come here, on our clinic grounds?”

Draganov’s blurry eyes widened in shock. “No, certainly not! We can never let them see the early mistakes — the creatures at MAX. If word got out to the research community, we would be finished. At best, we would never receive financial support again from anyone… at worst, we would be arrested.”