“What do I do in the meantime, seeing as you’re excluding me from all the action?”
She gestured with her head at the black case she had given him earlier. “Practice with that. You’ll want to be good with it by the time I get back.”
He grunted noncommittally.
Jet sheathed her combat knife, slid two throwing knives into her web belt, checked her Beretta to ensure the silencer was screwed tightly in place, and then slid the strap of the P90 over her shoulder.
“Let’s hope I don’t need to use any of this,” she said and then disappeared into the brush in the direction of the trail that led straight to where Pu’s transmitter was signaling from.
It took forty-five minutes to get to the camp’s perimeter, the intermittent rain making the path slippery as it wound through the mountains. She halted at an area overlooking a ragged clearing next to a small stream and nestled herself into a hollow spot between two large plants and peered through her binoculars at the rustic dwellings below.
~ ~ ~
Six hours later, Jet reappeared soundlessly near the cave.
“What did you find?” Rob asked.
“Pu’s there. So’s the target. He’s unmistakable, although he’s got a beard now. The bad news is, I counted twenty armed men. They look like hill tribesmen. Shan.”
“What kind of arms?”
“Kalashnikovs. AK-47s.”
“That figures. Probably made in China. Knockoffs, but still deadly. Plentifully available around here, and a big favorite with the hill people as well as the heroin traffickers.”
“They looked like they know how to use them. Those are the same weapons carried by the gunmen who were after us in Bangkok.”
“Could mean something, or not. There are so many of those floating around, they’re practically the national gun of the Golden Triangle. A lot of them make their way to Thailand, too. Although the ones that are sold legally there are.22 caliber.”
“The ones the gunmen had were the standard 7.62mm.”
“Not surprising they have illegal weapons,” Rob observed, “given that they murdered the doctor with them and then tried to kill us. So, what else do you have?”
“I took some photos. Here, take a look. There are five buildings, huts, really. A central fire pit, what looks like a primitive cooking area, and a latrine. I saw a few solar panels by one of the huts, so I’m guessing that’s the target — Hawker’s. The rest are probably the guards’.”
Rob peered at the tiny camera’s screen and nodded.
Jet knelt down, picked up a branch, and brushed away some dead leaves before sketching a rough diagram in the muddy dirt. The rain had lightened up to a steady drizzle, punctuated by occasional half-hour dry spells; they were in one of the lulls between showers. She had quickly become accustomed to the perpetual moisture, and now didn’t even register that she was soaked through.
“There’s a stream here. The target’s hut is here. These are the others. Firepit here.”
Rob studied the outline, then crouched beside her. “How far across would you say it is? How many yards from this point to the stream?” He tapped a finger on one of the squares she’d drawn.
“No more than fifty.”
He stood and wiped his forehead. “So what’s next?”
“We’ll wait until nightfall. It looked to me like Pu was planning on staying at least overnight. His guide has tied the horses up and taken the saddles off.”
“Wonder why he comes out here every few weeks?”
“I have no idea. But there were no children or females, so it’s not to get slaves.” She checked the time. “We have about six hours before it gets dark. Let’s make the most of it. Rest for five hours, then we’ll get into position while we can still see.”
“I presume you have some ideas about how to take on twenty heavily armed men?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter 22
“Shit. He’s moving,” Jet muttered, forcing herself to stand. The rain was still pelting them whenever a gust blew a sheet into the meager shelter of the cave, and it was coming down in torrents, limiting visibility and making for a miserable afternoon. She stared at the blip on her screen, now crawling steadily away from their position. They had been planning to get under way in another hour, but Pu heading out changed everything.
“We have to go after him. What if he’s with the target?” Rob whispered, frustration evident in his tone.
“Looks like they’re moving east now.”
“On horseback?”
“Hard to tell. But I think we have to assume so. Let’s get going. Mount up.”
They hurriedly repacked their saddlebags, Jet processing furiously. This was the last thing she wanted — a moving target, no time to formulate a plan, and nightfall rapidly approaching. If the stakes had been anything besides her daughter, she would have aborted the operation at this point and simply watched and waited for a good opportunity. Unfortunately, she didn’t have that luxury, so instead she brushed water from her horse’s face and patted his neck. “Come on, boy. Time to put you to work again.”
She swung herself into the saddle and waited for Rob, whose horse was less cooperative. After another minute of struggling with the reluctant beast, he was ready. Jet pulled the rein to the right and nudged her horse into motion, and soon they were trotting down the path, checking the tracking screen every few minutes.
“We need to pick up the pace. They’re heading at a right angle from the camp. Let’s hope that we can find a route that parallels their path, or we’re screwed,” she said, eyeing the vegetation for any promising signs.
Ten minutes later, they came across a game trail that led off in the rough direction of their quarry. Jet ducked and urged her steed forward. Branches scratched at them as they fought their way through the brush, and then the undergrowth became sparser, and they could move more easily. A brook burbled just ahead of them, and they saw another trail paralleling it. Jet was operating purely on instinct now, trying to close the distance so they could engage. It hadn’t looked like the camp was getting ready to move, so this was probably only a portion of the gunmen accompanying Pu, and possibly, the target. That was the only good news in all of this.
“How far now?” Rob whispered, pulling alongside her as the horses instinctively followed the creek.
“Less than half a mile.”
“Then what?”
“If Hawker’s with Pu, then obviously we take him alive. The rest of them I don’t care about.”
“So shoot first and ask questions later?”
“But spare Hawker. He’s the priority.”
A bird took flight from a tree ahead of them, flapping its wings noisily. Jet stopped and held up a hand, head cocked to the side, listening. She craned her neck, trying to see ahead of them, but the rain made it almost impossible. After checking the screen again, she turned to face Rob.
“Dismount,” she hissed, already in motion.
“Why?” Rob whispered, dropping to the ground.
“Something’s wrong. I don’t like this.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.” She clutched the P90 in her right hand as she held the reins with her left. “Follow me.”
They inched forward through the tangle of vegetation, Jet’s senses tingling, her horse’s hooves squishing in the mud behind her. The stream veered to the left, and they crept along it, the water bubbling as it passed over the smooth round rocks beneath.
The trees parted, and the outline of a building shrouded in mist loomed in the near distance, its roof curved at the corners in a highly stylized fashion. They could see that the structure was an old Buddhist temple, now fallen on hard times and in an obvious state of neglect. The disrepair became obvious as they approached it; what must have been, at one time, a remote outpost for the devout long abandoned to the elements, the faithful having moved on to less ethereal pursuits.
Rob’s horse snorted, a percussive sound that broke the eerie silence. Jet’s gelding pulled against the reins, stopping her, and then gunfire shattered the dusk.