Bulatt had spent five years as a police homicide detective in southern California before joining the federal government, so he wasn’t jarred by the sight of four blood- and mud-stained Forestry Division Ranger uniforms lying on the morgue floor — on lengths of white butcher paper — next to three morgue carts bearing bodies draped with white sheets. A fourth body, naked and partially dissected out, lay on the nearest of the three autopsy tables in the room.
“They were found in their jeep, by the ocean near Khuraburi, yesterday morning,” Major Preithat said as he motioned for the pathologist to pull back the first sheet.
Colonel Kulawnit’s only reaction as the sight of his son’s partially-decomposed corpse was to walk over to the front end of cart and stand there, staring down with his hands clenched behind his back.
The pathologist hesitated, glanced questioningly at the Major, received a curt nod, and began his presentation.
“As you can see, Lieutenant Kulawnit was struck in the right side of his head by two bullets. His wounds are similar to those of Sergeant Tongproh and the other two Rangers. All head shots, no other wounds on the bodies. If it is of any consolation, Colonel,” the white-coated pathologist added, turning to face the grim-faced Kulawnit, “death appears to have been instantaneous for all four men.”
As the pathologist continued to recite his initial findings, Bulatt knelt down beside the blood- and mud-stained uniforms, closely examined the four uniform shirts, and then stood up and walked over to the stainless steel table where Sergeant Tongproh’s body was in the final stages of the autopsy process.
He nodded silently to the white-coated technician standing guard beside the table, and then bent forward to examine the entry wounds through the left side of Tongproh’s exposed and empty lower skull. The upper half of the sergeant’s skull and his brain were lying in a tray hovering over his dissected-out chest cavity. Next to the skull top was a small stainless steel bowl containing two partially-mushroomed bullets lying in a bloodied wad of gauze.
“Do you see something of interest, Khun Ged?” Colonel Kulawnit asked quietly as he walked up beside Bulatt.
For reasons that were completely beyond Bulatt’s comprehension, the Colonel now seemed calm, almost at peace with himself. But beneath that calm exterior, Bulatt sensed a vengeful presence waiting patiently to be released.
“The uniform shirts belonging to the sergeant, the corporal and the constable,” Bulatt replied, still staring at the pair of bullets in the bowl. “The blood-splatter patterns suggest all three men had their heads turned sharply to the left when they were shot from the left side. It also appears that your son’s head was turned sharply to his left when he was shot from the right side.” Bulatt hesitated. “Do we know if any of them managed to fire a shot of their own?”
Colonel Kulawnit and Bulatt both turned to look at Major Preithat who had joined them beside Sergeant Tongproh’s body.
“It appears not,” Preithat said. “All of their pistols and rifles were found fully loaded, as were all of their extra magazines and ammo pouches.”
“Was there anything about their jeep that tells you something about the direction of the fired shots?” Bulatt asked.
“Not that I’m aware of.” Preithat shook his head. “The jeep appears untouched by gunfire, externally and internally. There were some blood spatterings on the left front and rear seats, and perhaps some on the right passenger seat, but that’s all. Our crime scene team is now examining the jeep and searching the area where it was found. I will take you there, once we are finished here.”
“Would Lieutenant Kulawnit have been sitting in the front passenger seat?” Bulatt asked.
“Yes, that would be normal procedure. And Sergeant Tongproh would have been driving.”
“So Lieutenant Kulawnit could have been standing outside the jeep, on the right side, and the others could have been standing outside the jeep on the left side, or perhaps behind the jeep, when the shooting occurred?”
“Yes, that could be consistent with our procedures; especially if they were confronting someone,” Preithat said.
“And could have been surprised by a second person — someone they didn’t know was there?”
Preithat nodded silently, the expression on his face slowly shifting from controlled rage to thoughtfulness. Finally, he said: “I have known Sergeant Tongproh for many years. He was a very professional police officer, and very careful in the field; easily my best non-commissioned officer. I still find it difficult to believe that anyone could have surprised him like this.”
“Surprise being the key word,” Bulatt said. “Which is interesting, given the condition of these bullets — ” Bulatt nodded his head at the stainless steel bowl, “- which, I assume were removed from Sergeant Tongproh’s head?”
The pathologist — who was now standing beside Major Preithat — nodded silently.
“Why do you say that?” Preithat asked.
“They didn’t mushroom very much.”
“Is that significant?”
Bulatt shrugged. “Perhaps not; but nine-millimeter hollow-point rounds are usually high-velocity and do a good job of expanding after they hit a solid target. The fact that these didn’t suggest a number of possible situations: long-distance shots, reduced powder-loads, old ammo, or — perhaps more likely in this case — a silenced pistol; which could explain how Sergeant Tongproh and the others were all caught by surprise.”
“You’re suggesting Sergeant Tongproh, the corporal and the constable were shot by someone who came up behind them, to their left, by surprise,” Preithat said, “and Lieutenant Kulawnit — ?”
“- by the person he was interrogating,” Bulatt finished.
“Which would mean — ” Preithat started to say when a uniformed constable stepped into the mortuary, winced, and motioned for his attention.
“What is it?” Preithat demanded.
“You have a call, sir,” the young constable said, trying not to look at Tongproh’s body on the table. “The captain said it was important.”
Preithat excused himself and went outside with the constable. As he did so, Colonel Kulawnit turned to Bulatt.
“If I understood you correctly, you’re suggesting this might have been an ambush conducted by at least two people, at least one of whom may have been armed with a silenced pistol? Not poachers, but professional killers?” Kulawnit’s voice expressed his disbelief.
“It doesn’t make sense to me, either, Khun Prathun,” Bulatt said softly. “I’m sure your crime lab staff will be able to tell us much more, once they’ve examined the evidence; but — ”
“Excuse me, Colonel,” Preithat interrupted as he quickly re-entered the morgue room. “That was the police commander of the Surat Thani district. They’ve located Captain Choonhavan.”
CHAPTER 12
The Maximum Containment Facilities (MAX) at the Draganov Research Center
Although it hardly seemed possible, the raging storm outside had actually gotten worse. Nearly blinded by high-velocity ice particles, Draganov and Tsarovich staggered toward the nearby parked Sno-Cat, guided in good part by the noise of its idling engine.
Once inside the cab, the two men continued to shiver as Draganov carefully drove the treaded vehicle slowly up a long snow-covered gravel road toward a distant dimly-lit structure barely visible in the storm that was known by everyone at the research center simply as MAX.
“How can Borya stand to be up there in this cold?” Tsarovich whispered through chattering teeth.
“With his vodka.” Draganov snorted. “How else?”
As the Sno-Cat approached the top of the hill, all of the MAX lights suddenly went out. Draganov quickly brought the Sno-Cat up to the high metal shed structure that comprised MAX, headlights reflecting off the thick metal bars of the padlocked gate and surrounding fence, set the brakes, and then swung his head around, staring out into the whirling blizzard.