Chapter 66
They drove into Pattani along a wide stretch of white sand beach. With the windows down, so as not to overtax the old SUV’s air-conditioning, they enjoyed the wind blowing in from the Gulf of Thailand.
Jira explained that everyone was getting ready for next month when the high season would begin. Temperatures would go down and prices would go up.
As far as natural beauty was concerned, the area had a lot going for it. Culturally, however, Harvath had never cared for the tenets of Islam. He doubted he’d be booking a sun-drenched holiday in Pattani anytime soon.
Jira took them to the largest of the three schools first, and even before they reached it, Harvath could see why the original plot made sense. The school wasn’t built like a stronghold.
A low wall marked the perimeter, but the front of the school was wide open, allowing parents to pull up and children to be dropped off or picked up.
There was room for cars, scooters, foot traffic, and all the ordinary chaos that came with getting kids through a school day. What had changed was the security.
Two Thai soldiers stood near the main entrance armed with automatic rifles. A police pickup was parked beneath a tree across the street, and two local beat cops were working their way through passing scooters and delivery vehicles, stopping some, but waving the majority through.
The second school sat in a busier part of town and was also publicly facing. It had not been built with a serious setback from the street. Just a school absorbed by the life around it.
There was a row of food carts not far from the entrance, and at one point, parents and older siblings would have probably mixed there with teachers and other residents from the area.
Now, however, things were markedly different.
Four Thai soldiers stood out front, a military truck sat half on the curb, and local police worked the edge of the drop-off zone, checking bags at random and asking drivers to open their trunks.
To access the third school, they had to park a block out and head in by foot.
Just as the map had revealed, the neighborhood was crisscrossed with side lanes, cut-throughs, and covered walkways.
There were people everywhere. It was exactly the kind of environment where the movement of ordinary life could hide something dangerous until it was too late.
And now, even here, local authorities were making their presence known.
There were uniformed cops and Thai soldiers, but what really stuck out were the plainclothes cops. Even in jeans and T-shirts, they still had a very obvious look to them.
Harvath took it all in. “This was the school that worried them the most?”
Jira nodded.
Morrell scanned their labyrinthine surroundings. “Simply securing the entrance doesn’t solve the problem.”
“Because the whole neighborhood layout is part of the problem,” Harvath replied, glad that they had taken the time to visit all three schools.
Whatever Koebler and the Chinese had hoped to achieve, these targets appeared hardened enough to make them look elsewhere.
If local authorities were smart, and Harvath had no reason to believe they weren’t, they’d be beefing up security at all the other schools as well.
Terrorists were a lot like sharks. They swam in wide circles, gradually shrinking them, as they gathered information. If you could convince them you weren’t worth the risk, they’d go off in search of an easier meal.
And while Harvath was against the loss of any innocent life, at the top of his list were the lives of children. If Koebler and the Chinese had been forced to choose different targets, ones that didn’t involve kids, that was a win, albeit minor, in his book.
Looking farther down the street, Harvath saw a host of brightly colored awnings and umbrellas surrounding an outdoor marketplace. Rows of parked scooters lined the curb and people moved in and out through the breaks between the stalls, carts, and tables. Even from here, the place looked packed.
Jira followed his gaze. “That’s where we’re getting supplies.”
Harvath reached into his pocket and pulled out the list Haney had given him before leaving the safe house.
“What do we need?” Jira asked.
He read off the list and then added Ashby’s caveat written at the very bottom, “And anything edible that’s not noodles.”
Morrell laughed. “Kids these days. They have no idea what safe houses used to be like.”
“I make them listen to all my stories,” Harvath assured him. “Believe me, they know.”
Jira nodded toward the market. “Come.”
The closer they got, the bigger the market became. What had appeared from a distance like a cluster of awnings and umbrellas turned out to be an entire world unto itself stretching for blocks.
There were rows of stalls and tables, produce stacked in crates and baskets, fish laid out on metal trays packed with melting ice, garments hung from cords stretched overhead, plastic tubs, cheap toys, and cookware.
The first thing that hit Harvath was the smell. It was a pungent mix of fish, spice, hot oil, and fruit beginning to turn in the heat. The second was the sound.
Vendors were calling out prices, metal was clanging against metal, and generators were thrumming from somewhere deeper inside. It was a place where everyone was occupied with something.
They passed a woman haggling over limes, a halal butcher working through a side of lamb, and an old man fanning smoke away from a charcoal brazier. At several points, people had to turn sideways to squeeze past each other.
It reminded Harvath of all the busy souks he had seen across the Middle East, and Jira moved through it like a pro. He knew which stalls had the best products and even produced two reusable shopping bags from his back pocket.
As Jira negotiated for oranges, Harvath let his eyes wander. He noted how the aisles fed one another, where the crowd bunched up and where it thinned.
“I don’t like this place,” Morrell remarked.
“Too classy?” Harvath asked.
Morrell subtly rubbed his eye with his middle finger and then got serious again. “It’s a death trap. We’re only a few rows in and if a stampede started in here, we’d be lucky to make it out alive. The bodies would pile up all over the place.”
A woman with a toddler brushed past them and they stepped aside to let her pass.
After she did, Harvath scanned the market again.
Morrell wasn’t wrong. It was definitely crowded.
And to be honest, he wasn’t thrilled by that either.
They were both glad when Jira held up his two bags, announced that he had purchased everything on the list, and they were able to leave the market and head back to his SUV.
Before returning to the safe house, Harvath wanted to see the rest of Pattani and game out other possible targets.
As Jira pointed out other locations that could be attractive—a bus depot, several government buildings, and a crowded commercial strip, Harvath took notes.
Each made sense in its own way and each came with its own set of problems. What was clear, however, was that Pattani was still full of places where Koebler could do an incredible amount of damage.
By the time they turned back toward the safe house, Harvath still didn’t know where or when the man would strike.