Stolen Angels by William Johnstone Taylor

Author:William Johnstone Taylor [William Johnstone Taylor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: William Johnstone Taylor
Published: 2019-07-17T00:00:00+00:00

We descended toward a large field. I could see a good-sized airstrip about a mile or so long with a few small buildings lining the field. I also saw Mubane’s small aircraft—the one we had seen earlier in videos—parked next to the field. There were two other small, multi-passenger aircraft parked next to it.

Our pilot circled the field, made a few comments on her headset we couldn’t hear, and then landed about halfway down the strip. She turned and looked at the Smith and Jones team, and one of them motioned for her to hover to the right, away from the other aircraft and Mubane’s security force.

I looked over to the Mubane guys and saw they were paying a little too much attention to us and gripping their rifles as if they thought we would steal them. I hooked one of the black bags with my toe and dragged it toward me so I could get to the rifle if needed.

We all watched the security men watch us as our pilot landed and began the procedure of shutting down. Our lieutenants didn’t seem overly concerned about the drama going on across the field and jumped from the bird to the ground. One of them looked across the tarmac and yelled something in Thai to the soldiers, and they appeared to relax their bodies a little. At least they were mostly pointing the muzzles of their rifle upward rather than at us.

I didn’t relax much and kept them in my peripheral vision as I grabbed one of the black rifle bags and my backpack.

Sorensen was totally engrossed in a conversation with the pilot—I’m sure exchanging numbers and picking out names for their children. I cleared my throat a couple of times until he looked up, said something pleasant to the pilot, and quickly stepped over to me, grinning that What? grin. I just shook my head and asked him if he remembered why we were here. He smiled and said we may need a quick pick-up out there and he was attempting to seal a relationship that would keep her from hesitating if we called. That was a really good one, and I told him so. I glanced over to her and, for the first time, saw her standing upright on the ground. Even in her flight suit, I could see most of the curves. She was all but perfect. Sorensen had a good eye and imagination.

Jones or Smith walked over and said we needed to follow them and check in at the Ranger shack. We picked up our gear and hobbled over to the shack. There we had to sign a couple of forms relinquishing the reservation from any responsibility if we got injured, and another form relating to next of kin and where our remains could be sent if there was anything left of us. I wrote down Benz Mubane, care of Bangkok State Prison. I doubted anyone there read or spoke English. In fact, from the looks of the rangers, I was surprised they could talk.

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