McCabe did not wait for a reply before he went on.
“Let me see,” he said, pulling a slim black appointment book from a jacket pocket and flicking through its pages. “Here we go… this year, Easter’s April the twelfth, more’n two months away. So I suggest you think awhile on what I said. When you figure something out that can suit both our purposes, come and tell me about it. If I like what I hear, I’ll pay whatever it costs to make it happen.”
As he showed Vermulen to the door, McCabe said, “We’re gonna work well together, General, I can feel it. That Sheikh’s about to find out he ain’t the only dog in this fight.”
McCabe had said his final words with a grin, and ended them with a wheezing cackle, but as he closed the door behind Vermulen, his good humor vanished as if it had never been.
Alone in the room, with nothing and no one else there to distract him, the darkness fell on him again. His mind was filled with a secret terror as powerful as anything he had experienced as his plane fell from the Canadian sky.
Just a few weeks before, unable to shake the cough that had dogged him all winter, he had finally gone to see his doctor. Within hours he’d been referred to an oncologist at the M. D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston. By the end of the week he’d got a second opinion, just to make sure, from the top man at Sloan-Kettering in New York.
Both said the same thing. McCabe had two inoperable tumors on his lungs. The cancer had also spread to his brain. The doctors weren’t certain, but they thought the cancer might have been caused by the chemicals he’d inhaled inside that burning plane. McCabe could see the bitter irony in that: His assassin had got him after all. He had only months to live, nine at the outside, but he’d be hospitalized in six. He was heading downhill toward a yawning grave. And so the fear that gripped McCabe’s heart and ate away at his mind was that he might pass before the great day came.
Of course, he believed in the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting. He reaffirmed that faith every week in church. But his faith was no defense when the thought of his own nonexistence gripped him in the darkest hours of the night. Despite the comforting words of the creed, he could not be certain of being woken from that last, great sleep. He wanted, more than anything else, to be alive, with his eyes wide open, on that great day when the Lord returned to His people. He longed to see the holocaust of which the Reverend Ezekiel Ray had spoken, when Christ would crush the grapes of wrath and the blood of His enemies would fill the valleys of Israel to the brim.
If that holocaust wasn’t going to happen of its own accord, well, Waylon McCabe was damn well going to make it happen, even if it cost him every last dime he had. And Lieutenant General Kurt Vermulen, whose passionate conviction and desperate need to be believed had left him hopelessly vulnerable to McCabe’s manipulation, was just the man to help him do it.
19
Mission Date: September 25, 1995
Location: Riverview Towers, Charoen Nakorn, Bangkok, Thailand Target: Wu Chiu Wai, alias Tony Wu
Mission Statement: To eliminate a major drug trafficker, with established ties to U.K. and European heroin trade
Operative: Samuel Carver (Fee: US $350K)
Report: The target was known to play a regular weekly mah-jongg game with three of his closest associates, gambling for significant sums of money, with US $1m or more regularly changing hands in a single night. The participants also laid six- and seven-figure bets with one another on the results of soccer matches in Asia and the English Premier League, and horse races in Bangkok, Macao, and Hong Kong. It can reasonably be inferred that both match- and race-fixing took place as a direct result of these wagers.
The location of the game was a luxury penthouse apartment, on the twenty-fifth floor of a newly built apartment complex overlooking the Chao Phraya River, chosen by Wu for security purposes. It was the sole property on the top floor of the complex. The only internal access to the apartment was provided by a non-stop express elevator, with armed guards at both the ground and top floors. The apartment also possessed its own private water, power, and air-conditioning facilities, separate from those of the complex as a whole.
Freelance operative Carver determined that these security measures in fact made the apartment more, not less, vulnerable. He made his assault via the roof of the building, at approximately 1:45 A.M. on the morning of September 25. The weather conditions that night were severe, with thunderstorms and torrential downpours. These made the initial stages of the operation far more hazardous, but also provided useful cover.
Carver made his initial approach via helicopter (see separate accounts sheet for detailed cost breakdown of this and other expenses). It hovered over the Riverview Towers for less than five seconds. Using an SBS-standard two-inch hemp rope affixed to the roof of the helicopter, Carver descended to the roof at high speed, braking with his hands, clad in heavy-duty leather gloves, immediately before impact. Donning protective equipment, he then proceeded to the rooftop vent used to feed the apartment’s air-conditioning system and inserted a canister of fentanyl gas, a fast-acting opium-based sedative.
Allowing five minutes for the gas to take effect, Carver climbed down to the external terrace running along one side of the penthouse and, having checked that Wu and his associates were sedated, used a glass cutter to break in through the plateglass doors leading from the main living area, where the men had been gambling.
The only armed men on the premises were Wu, who carried a Glock 22 pistol, and his bodyguard, who was armed with a Steyr MPi69 submachine gun. All the other players had been searched prior to being allowed into the apartment.
Carver first ensured that all four gamblers were sitting upright around the gaming table. He then proceeded into the apartment’s entrance hall and dragged the bodyguard, who was also unconscious, into the living area.
Next, Carver extracted Wu’s Glock pistol from his shoulder holster, placed it in Wu’s hand, and fired three shots: two into the wall directly behind the bodyguard’s unconscious body, and one into the bodyguard’s skull, where, being a low-caliber round, it lodged, killing the bodyguard instantly.
Using the bodyguard’s submachine gun, Carver then fired a series of short bursts around the mah-jongg table, terminating all four men. He also ensured that a number of rounds missed their apparent targets and hit the plateglass doors, thereby destroying any trace of the hole he had made to gain access.
Having signaled to the helicopter that he was ready to make his exit, Carver then used the gamblers’ cigarettes (all four had been smoking heavily) to start a fire in the apartment. He retraced his steps back onto the terrace and up to the roof. He had been winched back up into the helicopter before the fire alarm sounded in the apartment, triggering automatic sprinklers, which drenched the living area with water, greatly impeding the subsequent work of forensic investigators.
When police detectives were called to the scene, they concluded that the bodyguard had been hired to carry out Wu’s assassination, but had been killed in the attempt. One zealous forensics officer has attempted to point out various anomalies in the blood-spray patterns and body positions of the victims, but his observations have been ignored. Local police authorities and politicians have been far too busy gloating over the death of a major gangster to worry about the finer details of his demise.
Conclusion: This was a daring plan, executed with exemplary resolve and thoroughness by an operative who acts calmly and with extreme ruthlessness in high-pressure situations. My judgment is that Samuel Carver can be trusted with our most important and sensitive operations, and I would not hesitate to call upon his services in future.