Brewer came back on the line. “People are trying to reach my friends now.”
“Good.” Court couldn’t hear any helicopters in the distance, but he knew SAD might be flying in helos with noise reduction technology, so he couldn’t say for certain they weren’t over the Chamroon property right now.
Brewer next said, “The boat you mentioned?”
“The Medusa. Out of Genoa.”
There was a pause while Brewer typed that in. It only took a few seconds for her to say, “Got it, running a check on the ownership.”
Just then, Court heard the unmistakable sound of helicopter rotors, somewhere in the night. As a warning he said, “I hear a helicopter.”
Brewer snapped back, “I’ve done what I can. The message has been passed.”
Court had no idea what was waiting for whoever was the first to breach the Chamroon property, but he was sure whoever entered was not going to swoop in and snatch up Fan Jiang and then skulk away. No, Kulap Chamroon had had two days to prepare a reception for the Chinese.
Now Brewer said, “The boat. Uhh… well… I hope he’s not there.”
Court said, “I’m pretty sure he is.”
“The boat is owned by some gentlemen from the nation of registry.”
Italy? Some gentlemen. Court said, “Any chance these gents would have a business relationship with the people throwing the party on land tonight?”
“There is a significant chance of that. In fact, I’d say it’s a given. Cut from the same cloth, if you know what I’m saying.” Court realized Brewer was telling him the yacht was owned by the Italian mafia. He remembered from his reading on the Chamroon Syndicate that they had ties to the ’Ndrangheta, one of the largest criminal organizations on the planet. They were based in Calabria, in the toe of the Italian boot. It was the poorest region in the nation, but the ’Ndrangheta controlled a large amount of drug trafficking coming into and through Europe, as well as much of the human-trafficking corridors.
“The Italians. Where in Italy?”
“Tip of the boot.”
“Jesus Christ,” Court mumbled into the phone.
Brewer seemed momentarily confounded. “I wish I could just tell my friends they need to drop in on the boat party instead of the other one. Especially since it’s just a couple of minutes away, and they are already dressed for a night out.”
“But?” asked Court. He didn’t want SAD hitting the Italian boat, because he’d lose any chance he had at getting Fan himself.
Brewer replied, “I’ll have to talk to some other people first, and that will take time.”
Court translated this to mean Brewer couldn’t just change the target package for the SAD hit. The kidnapping/rescue of Fan Jiang had been okayed when the ones holding him were Thai gangsters, but now that the target was Italian, men that would be known to most as European businessmen, on a massive yacht no less, she couldn’t just land a couple of helos on the deck and have the CIA gunning down anyone who got in the way.
The helicopter sounds were louder now; there were multiple birds inbound.
In his utter frustration, Court dropped any pretense of a cover. “Jesus Christ! Do I have to find a fucking flare gun?”
Brewer was off the line for several seconds, then came back on. “I’ve just been told our friends are turning around and heading home.”
Court breathed out a long sigh. “Thank you.”
“What about you? Are you where you can stay the night without anybody bugging you?”
“No,” Court said with finality. “I need to go to the party on the boat.”
Brewer’s voice lowered an octave. “Disallowed.”
Court ignored her. “Sorry you and your friends can’t make it. I’ll be sure to send all your love to everyone I see.”
Brewer shouted into the phone. “You listen to me! You are not authorized in any way, shape, or form to—”
Court hung up, partially to save Brewer from continued security breaches over an open line, but mostly because he was tired of getting yelled at.
Above him, the sounds of helicopters began to recede, and he muttered a brief prayer of thanks. He couldn’t help but wonder if he knew any of the guys flying overhead, but he also couldn’t help but wonder what they might be ordered to do to him tomorrow if this plan of his somehow came together tonight.
He was officially off reservation now, and he figured the SAD helos would probably come after him next.
Court met Zoya back at the wooden boat by the dock. She had two scuba rigs as well as flashlights and knives that would strap to their legs, a mesh bag filled with a few tools, duct tape, and other odds and ends she’d picked up in the dive shop. Court was impressed with what she’d accomplished in the past fifteen minutes.
They fired up the boat and took off, probably not too far ahead of the hotel’s security realizing someone had stolen a phone and two sets of scuba gear.
As they raced out into the placid bay and away from the lights of the resort, Court and Zoya both turned to look to their left. There, around the rocky point and up the hill not far inland at all, a large flash of light lit up the green canopy of jungle. Within an instant, a second, similar flash came from near the same location as the first. Smaller firefly-like sparkles erupted in the trees. Both Court and Zoya knew this was gunfire, but neither had a clue what had caused the big flash preceding it.
When the first rumble rolled over the sound of the outboard motor behind them, they both knew a pair of massive explosions and fully automatic gunfire had kicked off the battle at the Chamroon property.
CHAPTER
FIFTY-FIVE
The first explosion confirmed Colonel Dai’s fear that he’d walked his force into a trap, but for the past several minutes other clues had led him inexorably towards this conclusion. His men had made their way into positions around the estate after circumventing the most perfunctory police presence on the rural roads nearby, and then they’d made it over the barbed-wire fences in four different locations without seeing patrols at the perimeter. The attackers moved in teams of five, and the first group had reported that they had reached the back door of the main house on the property without encountering a single sentry during their ingress.
Colonel Dai Longhai himself was nestled with a sniper team and the mission commander in an overwatch position higher on the hillside from the front gate of the property, close enough to see for himself that the building in the center of the estate was well lit and appeared to be occupied on all three floors, so he found it odd there was no security at the fence line or in the large clearings around the buildings, but it wasn’t until his second squad made it to the front doors of the building, having not seen any sign of a guard, a motion detector, or even a dog, that Dai’s level of apprehension reached the point where he articulated his concerns.
He took the radio out of the hand of his ground force commander next to him. “Teams Three and Four? Do you see any movement inside any of the buildings?”
Three and Four were at the edge of the tropical forest that grew in the estate, inside the fence line of the big property, with better vision of the overall scene than the ten men stacked at the doors.
“This is Team Three. We see nothing.”
“Team Four. Lights are on, but no movement. It’s midnight. Maybe they aren’t expecting any trouble.”
Dai shook his head there in the dark foliage above the scene. This didn’t feel right at all. “No. All units egress quietly.”
“This is Team One. We’re at the back door now. Confirm you want us to—”