“Did Borya do that?” he demanded.
“No, I don’t think so,” Tsarovich replied, turned around in his seat to look back down the hill, “it looks like all of the Center’s lights are out. Must be another power failure.”
The two men look at each other, their unease apparent.
“Let’s go back,” Tsarovich said. “I don’t like this. The creatures here frighten me.”
“No, it’s all right,” Draganov said firmly. “They are all tightly contained, and we must check on Borya.”
The two men stepped out of the Sno-Cat with powerful torch lights in their shaking hands. Tsarovich nervously swept the fence line with his light beam as Draganov fumbled with the heavy gate padlock. After unlocking the door padlock, the two men cautiously entered the shed.
Inside the MAX structure, the torch beams revealed a wide gravel walkway with nine six-foot-high, metal-barred and concrete-walled cages on the left, and three wider, triple-height cages on the right.
The aggressive rustling sounds of disturbed creatures both large and small began to fill the shed.
“Quick, shut off your torch and activate the emergency lights!” Tsarovich whispered urgently.
The interior lighting of the shed changed to a very dim battery-powered glow, and the rustling sounds ceased.
“Borya, are you here?” Draganov called out.
After a long silence, a deep gravelly voice answered: “Yes, Sergei Arturovich, I am here.”
“Where?” Draganov demanded.
“In the middle cage — number five.”
Draganov and Tsarovich stared at each other in shocked surprise, then cautiously and slowly approached the middle cage on the left. They could see that the metal-bar door was closed and secured like on all of the other cages.
“Don’t turn on your torch,” Borya warned as the two men came up to the cage front.
“No, we won’t,” Draganov replied, trying to sound calming and reassuring. “We won’t. We just wanted to make sure you’re not sick like Tanya.”
“I’m not sick. I’m fine.”
“Yes, I’m sure you are,” Tsarovich agreed, “but as the senior medical officer at the center, I need to see for myself. Please come out so that — ”
“No. Go away. Leave me alone.”
Before he could catch himself, Draganov yelled out in an angry voice: “Borya, why are you in — ?!”
The whimpering sounds of a frightened creature somewhere near Borya — and a very upset big animal in the middle large cage across the way — caused the two men to freeze. They look at each other, wide-eyed.”
“It’s okay, Borya,” Tsarovich said in a gentle, soothing voice. “We’re not angry. We just wanted to make sure you’re okay. We’ll leave now and talk with you later.”
The two research scientists slowly walked back to the shed door.
As Draganov and Tsarovich exited the shed and carefully shut and locked the heavy doors, the emergency interior lights went out. Immediately, ten pairs of bright emerald animal eyes flashed open inside the left-side cages.
In cage five, one of the two eye-pairs was clearly human.
CHAPTER 13
Surat Thani, Thailand
It was nearly ten P.M. by the time Bulatt, Kulawnit, Preithat and the bodyguards finally arrived at Yak’s palatial estate. The rains had mercifully stopped, turning the exquisitely landscaped gardens into a steaming outdoor sauna festooned by dripping lengths of bright yellow scene perimeter tape that provided — among many other things — a safe pathway to the first body.
The scene commander waited patiently for Kulawnit, Preithat and Bulatt to negotiate the designated route, introduced himself, and nodded respectfully as Preithat made the introductions.
“The bodies were discovered by the resident chef’s son who came here looking for his father,” the scene commander — a Lieutenant of the Thai Police Central Investigation Bureau — began. “He entered through the south garden gate, observed this man lying here, ran into the house, and ultimately found three more bodies.”
“Including his father?” Colonel Kulawnit asked softly.
“Yes. He found his father’s body in the walk-in freezer; shot twice, like the others in the house. At that point, he called the police.”
Kulawnit looked down at the body sprawled face-down at his feet, a semi-automatic pistol with an attached silencer lying near the man’s outstretched right hand. There were five widely-scattered bullet holes in the back of the man’s shirt that was bunched together in places by the straps of a shoulder holster, and what looked like five matching holes in the back of a raincoat stretched out beside the body.
“This one was shot several times,” Kulawnit noted. His eyes were focused on the silenced pistol. “Who is he?”
“Boon-Nam, a criminal well known to us in Surat Thani,” the scene commander replied. “He is suspected of killing at least thirty people — mostly drug dealers, couriers, body-guards, thieves, burglars and the like — which is to say, mostly the competitors of the people who employ him.”
“A killer for hire?” Preithat asked. “An assassin?”
“Yes, he was exactly that. We’ve arrested him several times, but he always — please, don’t touch anything!” the scene commander said quickly when Bulatt knelt down to examine the body and weapon more closely.
“No, I won’t; I’m just looking,” Bulatt promised, his eyes sweeping the wet grass around the body, and noting the fourteen bright yellow flags stuck in the grass around the steps leading up to a back door to the house.
“Special Agent Bulatt is an American covert operator for Interpol, and also an experienced homicide crime scene investigator, who will be assisting us with our investigation,” Preithat said firmly. “He is aware of our rules and restrictions, and will honor them implicitly.”
“Excellent. We are happy to have you here, Agent Bulatt,” the scene commander said unconvincingly.
“Thank you, lieutenant,” Bulatt replied, looking up. “I apologize for the interruption, and I certainly will not interfere with your work; but could you tell me something? Did one of your investigators remove this man’s raincoat, or was the scene like this when the officers arrived?”
“One of our crime scene technicians removed it a few minutes ago, at my direction. We wanted a photograph clearly showing Boon-Nam was wearing the shoulder holster, and therefore came here with intent to kill.”
Bulatt nodded as if that was the answer he’d been expecting. “Thank you.”
“I was told that one of our Captains is in the house?” Colonel Kulawnit said, finally turning his gaze away from the silenced pistol.
“Yes, of course. Follow me,” the scene commander said.
As Kulawnit and the scene commander walked toward the door leading into Yak’s den, Preithat held Bulatt back and leaned his head forward. “Did you see something of interest back there?” he whispered.
Bulatt nodded. “Yes. I think this scene’s been rigged.”
Preithat blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I think I should explain when we’re alone.” Bulatt gestured slightly with his head in the direction of the scene commander.
“Yes, I understand,” Preithat acknowledged, and then motioned for Bulatt to follow Kulawnit and the scene commander into the den.
“So this is how a corrupt Ranger Captain ends his career, soiled by his own piss and shit,” Kulawnit said, staring down at the familiar figure lying on his back, still bound tightly to the chair, with his wide-open mouth and eyes frozen in a horrified stare. “He appears to have suffered appropriately. Was he tortured?”
“Not that we can tell,” the scene commander replied. “We’ll know more once we get them to the morgue, but there are no other obvious wounds or bruising; just the two bullet holes you see — heart and forehead.”
“And this man?” Kulawnit nodded down at the second much-scrawnier body lying face up on the floor with a silenced semiautomatic pistol lying a few inches from his outstretched hand.”