As Captain Jack spoke, Crocker grew progressively excited. The leads the Thais had developed sounded promising. He knew from a previous trip to Thailand that Kanchanaburi was only a two-hour drive northwest of Bangkok.
With the arrival of dessert, Petsut started to discuss parameters. Because the violence had been directed at American officials and the perpetrators appeared to have arrived from a third country, he said he was willing to allow Crocker and his team to deal with the situation. Ideally, the four foreigners would be detained and quickly flown out of Thailand, and nobody in his country would notice.
He asked that violence and gunfire, especially, be kept to the minimum, only what was required to subdue the suspects. He pointed out that local Royal Thai Police would be forced to respond to any gun battle or loud explosion.
“Can you ask them to respond slowly?” Anderson asked.
“Of course,” Petsut replied. “We can do that.” Then turning to Crocker, he ran a finger along the scar on his face and asked, “Mr. Mansfield, when are you planning to execute your raid?”
“As soon as possible,” Crocker answered, looking around the room to find the source of the terrible stink that had suddenly reached his nostrils. It smelled like an overflowing toilet or broken sewage pipe. Petsut, Captain Jack, and Anderson ate the pastries, pastes, and fruits as though nothing were wrong.
Anderson noticed Crocker’s unease and whispered, “It’s the durian you’re smelling.”
“What’s that?”
Anderson pointed to a plate of light-green melon sections in the middle of the table. “Taste it, it’s delicious.”
Crocker did his best to get past the smell and put a piece in his mouth. The durian tasted creamy and bittersweet. To his surprise, he actually liked it.
“Is there a problem?” Colonel Petsut asked with a very slight smile.
“Not at all,” Crocker answered. “I was thinking about how much time my men and I will need. By end of the day tomorrow I think our mission will be completed.”
“Excellent,” Petsut said. “I wish you success.”
After the meal concluded with coffee, tea, and brandy, the Americans were asked whether they wanted a relaxing massage from one of several pretty and strong-looking women who arrived at their table dressed in white pants and T-shirts.
The offer was enticing, but Crocker declined.
“Work before pleasure,” Colonel Petsut commented.
“That’s correct.”
Chapter Six
We have forty million reasons for failure, but not a single excuse.
—Rudyard Kipling
Forty minutes later Crocker, Anderson, and Mancini sat in Crocker’s room at the Viengtai Hotel, examining a map of Thailand with three of the other four SEALs and Anderson’s assistant Daw, a former sergeant in the antiterrorism unit of the Royal Malaysia Police. Akil was the only one missing.
“Where is he?” Crocker asked.
“Chatting up some Thai babe in the lobby,” Ritchie responded. “Hopefully, it isn’t a dude. I’ve heard some of the best-looking girls here are really guys.”
“Tell him to get his ass up here.”
Daw was pointing out the location of the farm in Kanchanaburi when Akil entered quietly.
“Sorry, boss,” Akil said.
“You’re going to have to stop thinking about pussy until this op is over.”
“I was in the lobby. I didn’t know you were back.”
With a hand missing two fingers Daw traced Route 323 to the farm, which was a few miles east of Kanchanaburi, a rural town and popular tourist destination of roughly thirty thousand people located at the base of the western mountains.
Transportation wasn’t a problem, thanks to the two Lexus SUVs Anderson had at his disposal. Mancini made a quick list of supplies, including automatic rifles and pistols with silencers, stun and tear-gas grenades, explosive material for breaching doors and windows, tie-ties, rope, axes, KA-BAR knives, and blowout patches.
Crocker and his men had raided dozens of buildings, houses, and apartments before, but the logistics and restrictions regarding this particular mission were unique. Turning to Anderson, he said, “We generally attack in quadrants. So if we hit the front first, we have men stationed at angles to cover any escape from windows or the back door.”
Anderson said, “I don’t see that as a problem.”
“No, the problems are twofold. One, subduing the terrorists without a prolonged gunfight. And two, dealing with possible booby traps on doors and windows.”
“Why’s that a problem?” Ritchie asked. “As long as I can get my hands on some C-4, I’ll blow right through them.”