She tapped the table and looked around the concourse that spread out toward the long platforms that split the incoming train tracks. A red-and-silver locomotive was easing into a slot between the platforms; a dozen or more carriages stretched out behind it.
“Okay,” Alex said. “Let me say a few things, and you can nod yes or no. Looking at you, I can tell if I’m warm. There’s something about my assignment that’s hinky . . .”
“There’s that favorite word of yours. Must be a Cleveland thing.”
“Shush. Hinky, and that I should be concerned. I can’t tell you what my assignment is—I have a contract. However, I’ll assume, and for now just nod, that it may have something to do with my assignment and the company I work for.”
Javier nodded.
“Something that you may have an idea about but can’t confirm or even ask me about. You can’t tell me anything more than that; I get that. Based on all this crap, I assume that you’re warning me to be careful.”
He nodded again.
“I can and will do that—but this all sucks. What if I discover something during my assignment, something that’s wrong? How do I know? What do I do?”
“You’ll work it out,” Javier answered. “I know you. It’s a lot better than me losing my job and going to prison.”
“Yeah, there’s that. I get it—this is serious.”
“Yes, extremely serious. People have died.”
“And hypothetically, Agent Castillo, what happens if I find out something? Again, what do I do?”
“You’ll figure out a way to deal with it, I’m sure.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, there’s that too.”
Javier stood, then leaned over and gave Alex a kiss, turned, and walked away.
“You stuck me with the bill?” she called out.
He waved his hand in the air and disappeared around the corner toward the exit.
Alex sat in the terminal for another five minutes, wondering if she had been followed, or whether Javier had been followed. She’d regressed to stakeout mode and undercover cop.
What the hell was all that?
She stood and followed the same route that Javier had taken, her cop eyes and brain working. Now, everything and everyone was suspect, and it pissed her off. At one o’clock in the morning, she was not happy with Mr. CIA agent Javier Castillo for adding to her paranoia.
CHAPTER 22
That afternoon, a sleepy Alex slowly walked through the Lucchese villa, admiring the tapestries and paintings that hung on the stone and stucco walls. Her vision of the Italian countryside was all based on the movie Under the Tuscan Sun. She imagined most Italian buildings as old and shattered, with peeling paint, and exposed brick under the cracked stucco. The Lucchese home was a dramatic mixture of old and new: modern furniture; thick, elegant carpets; gigantic oil paintings of nymphs, goddesses, and armored men with ancient weapons. A few of the paintings were quite revealing, in a Renaissance sort of way.
“Many of these paintings were collected in the last century by my great-great-grandmother,” Ilaria said, joining her. She offered Alex a cup of coffee. “Our family has always had a connection to the arts and literature. We were manufacturers. Nevio’s family is also old, certainly by Italian standards. They come from the guilds and banking. They’re from a bastard line of Medicis, one rumor goes. Then again, half of northern Italy believes they come from the Medicis or some other important fifteenth-century family.”
“You have a remarkable and beautiful home,” Alex answered.
“Thank you. We are just caretakers. I hope that my son will inherit this and carry on the family traditions. We also have a house in the mountains above Turin. That one is in Nevio’s family. The children love to ski there. I spent my winters and many summers in a nearby village as a child. I didn’t meet Nevio until I was much older, and it was after his wife died. He took that hard. They had no children, which was probably a blessing. I think that’s why he dotes on Paolo and Gianna so much. I love him for that.”
The two women walked a long corridor. Alex was surprised that the wall was unadorned; she saw brackets that might hold tapestries, but there were none. They came to a library that smelled of old leather, musty paper, and lilacs. A double door was open to a cloistered garden.
“I could spend the rest of my life in this part of the villa,” Alex said.
“I spend a lot of my time here. The garden is what I’ll miss the most. The roses are coming along, look. I’ll miss their first bloom. And can you smell that? Lilacs. I wish I could bottle it up.”
For the next three days, Alex’s fondness for the Luccheses grew. She and McCorly helped the family finalize everything for their two years in Vietnam. Most of the packing had been completed before she’d arrived in Milan, but the family still managed to fill three large trunks with additional items. McCorly would see to it that the shipment would follow the family in a few weeks.
When Gianna discovered that there was a pony club not far from their Saigon apartment, she wanted to take her saddle. Alex listened in as Ilaria explained to her daughter the need for other things, but that if she were a good girl, she could later send for the saddle. Gianna reluctantly agreed, but it gave Alex a chance to talk to the child about horses and riding. She did not let on, even after her adventure with Campbell in Texas, that the expert was Gianna, not herself.
Paolo was the most economical when it came to packing. He announced that he would not be staying the full two years. He would return to school in the winter, he confidently told Alex, as there was a class ski trip to Switzerland. He was not going to miss it.
Javier had texted her but had mentioned nothing about their early-morning coffee, just that he was called back to Washington, DC, and wished her a good trip. Not an hour went by that she hadn’t thought about their late-night conversation, which had made her even more suspicious than the job required.
Alex and Ilaria spent one afternoon shopping, just the two of them. Alex learned more about style and fashion than she had in the previous thirty years of buying clothes for herself. Ilaria bought her stylish jeans and an expensive blouse woven with gold threads. Alex sensed that Ilaria was not entirely happy about the move, in fact almost nervous. The signs were there: slight tremors in her hands when talking about the relocation, nervous glances at the crowds in the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II. She talked about what they would do when they returned to Milan, never about what they were facing in Ho Chi Minh City.
During a quiet moment, Alex talked with Maria Nguyen. Maria told her that she had never been back to the country her parents fled in 1976 and confided that she was a little afraid. Her father, a government bureaucrat in Hue when the Tet Offensive swept through the city in 1968, was one of the few public officials in the ancient capital not to be summarily executed. After the North’s victory in 1975, her parents fled as soon as they could. Eventually, they found space on an ancient wooden junk. After three weeks drifting in the South China Sea, an Australian destroyer rescued these boat people. Maria was born in a refugee camp near Rome. She considered herself more Italian than Vietnamese.
On the final day in Milan, once they’d finished the last of the packing, Alex was waiting for McCorly to pick her up when Nevio cornered her.
“Do you like automobiles?” he asked.
“As long as they get me where I want to go and don’t cost a lot to run, I’m fine.”
“Let me show you something.”
They walked through the house and a courtyard that extended toward a low building that Alex guessed were the stables at some point. When Nevio opened the door, she was surprised to find a spotless garage and a dozen automobiles displayed like in a museum. Interspersed were more than a dozen motorcycles.
“These are my other children,” he said. “They’re almost as temperamental as Paolo and Gianna. However, they do cost a lot more.” He laughed. “These two are pre–World War II Italian Bugattis, those two are Ferraris, and the bright-yellow one is a
Lamborghini. Those two”—he pointed—“are Alfa Romeos I store for friends. That Ferrari won the Le Mans twenty-four-hour endurance race in the early 1960s. They’re toys, but in my line of work, they do keep you grounded. The coming wave will be electric, sadly. And they don’t get your blood pumping.”
Alex knew little about cars but appreciated their beauty and the style. They were certainly easier on the eyes than Ralph’s Dodge Challenger. Most were from days when mass production did not exist.
“There’s a gap here,” she said, pointing to a spot where there was room for three automobiles.
Nevio paused for a long moment. “Those spaces are for two Ferraris and an elegant Bugatti Type 57SC. They’re out being serviced and tuned. I do that for all my cars once every year. They must be driven, and the garage comes and takes them out. They’ll be returned after we leave.”
Alex believed there was more to the story. However, Nevio did not elaborate, and she didn’t ask.
CHAPTER 23
Dubai, United Arab Emirates
The flight to Dubai was uneventful, and thankfully the children behaved. Once Paolo found the private entertainment service, he disappeared into one of the more recent Star Trek movies starring Chris Pine. Gianna had exhausted herself the day before, riding and saying goodbye to her horse. She slept most of the overnight trip while Maria read.
After clearing customs, Alex recognized Harry Karns standing in the concourse just outside the doors. He held a small sign. Alex reviewed his credentials and asked him three questions provided by Campbell. He answered correctly. The overly cautious formalities complete, two men with pushcarts arrived and collected the luggage.
“I hope you had a pleasant trip,” Karns said. He turned to the Luccheses. “It’s good to see you again.”
“And you,” Nevio answered.
“I didn’t know that you’ve met,” Alex said.
Both men paused, and then Karns said, “It was during Nevio’s earlier trip to Saigon. We met briefly to discuss—”
“Mother, I need a bathroom,” Gianna said.
Nevio took the opportunity to ask, “We are at the Four Seasons Resort?”
“Yes, you’ll be pleased,” Karns said. “You and Signora Lucchese have the large suite, and the children their own rooms. Your plane for Saigon leaves late in the evening tomorrow, more than enough time to become accustomed to the time change. Shall we?”
Signor Lucchese nodded.
“Excellent,” Karns said. He said something in Arabic to the two men. They promptly began to move to the exits. A limousine and a large van sat at the curb.
“Any difficulties I should be aware of?” Alex asked Karns. Later she’d ask about his previous meeting with the Luccheses.
“None. The boss wants you to give him a call. Don’t worry about the time difference.”
Outside, Karns wanted Alex to ride in the van with Maria, but she refused.
“I’m in the limo,” she quietly said. “They’re my responsibility.”
Karns reluctantly agreed.
The drive to the Four Seasons Resort took twenty minutes in the midmorning traffic. Alex was surprised by how wide awake she was. Within an hour of checking in, the two kids had spotted the massive pool and beach behind the hotel. Ilaria agreed to let them use the pool but told them to stay away from the beach.
“Maria, make sure they have sunscreen on,” Ilaria said, and looked at the children. “And I want you both to stay in the shade. I do not want sunburns. The next two days will be long, and if you two are even the least bit sunburned, you won’t be happy. I want you to look out for each other.”
“I’ll go with them, and don’t worry,” Maria said. “I have sunscreen somewhere.”
“You’ll be all right?” Alex asked Maria.
“Yes, in fact, a little sun will be welcome,” Maria said.
“Alex, I’m famished,” Ilaria said. “How about lunch? There is a wonderful restaurant near the Burj Khalifa.”
“The Burj Khalifa?” Alex asked.
“The incredibly tall building we saw on the drive here. There’s some nearby shopping as well. This may be the last civilized meal and shopping we’ll have for a while.” She smiled pleasantly.
“I think that may be an exaggeration,” Alex answered. “Will Signor Lucchese be joining us?”
“No, Nevio has work to catch up on, and he’s stuck here for the afternoon. The kids will collapse after the pool, and Maria can take care of them. I want everyone to get a good night’s sleep. Mr. Karns is with Nevio—he will be just fine.”
Alex thought for a moment. All this was new, so new that she had no idea what to expect. The last six months had been a cultural and geographical hurricane. “Would love to.”
The seafood lunch was delicious. If Alex believed that Venice was a challenge, with its old canals, passages, buildings, and history, the modernity of the Burj and its surrounding retail complex was like going to an alien city in some far-off galaxy. Nothing about the Dubai Mall complex reminded her of anything in Cleveland—mall or otherwise. Ilaria led her through the complex of shops and stores like an expert.
“Friday is Dubai’s Sunday,” Ilaria said on the ride back to the hotel, after Alex commented on the Burj complex’s crowds. “It’s the day for prayer and reflection. Today though, Saturday, everyone is out. But it’s not as congested as the traffic in Rome can be. Tomorrow might be congested, but at least we’re leaving late in the day. I have this surprise for the children tomorrow morning.”
“Surprise?”
“Yes, something no one will expect here in the desert.”
“Hint?”
“That’s all you’re going to get until tomorrow. We leave at ten, just after breakfast.”
When they returned to the hotel, the children were watching a science fiction movie. Alex thought about her nieces and nephews and came to the conclusion that kids were pretty much the same in the United States and Europe. They spent an inordinate amount of time on their phones, watched the same movies, and according to Gianna, liked the same music. When Gianna mentioned a few of the current pop stars, Alex didn’t know a single name.
The kids ordered a pizza. When Ilaria told them about a surprise for the next morning, they pestered her for an hour. Alex had to admire her silent determination. Ilaria declined pizza for herself, saying that lunch had been more than enough for her, and she went to bed early. Nevio was already asleep on the couch in the suite. Karns was reading a magazine on a nearby chair.
Alex walked out onto the suite’s terrace and watched for a few minutes as the sun reached the horizon of the Persian Gulf.
“How long have you been with the boss?” Karns asked, suddenly behind her.
Startled, she said, “This is my first assignment. I think you call it babysitting.”
“My first was a babysitting job as well. A Green Team operation. We went into Yemen to rescue the head of an oil company and his family. My job was to manage a wife and three kids. Why the man brought them, I don’t know. It was a hot zone; we fought our way through al-Qaeda on the way to the airport. We lost one of the local guys.”
“I don’t think this will get that hairy,” Alex said.
“It shouldn’t. TSD does not like surprises; hence all the preparation. I’m here to help on the ground. When we get to HCMC, Jake Dumas will be a good man to follow. Jake has a lot of experience.”
“I’ve met Jake.”
“Good, so when Jake says jump, don’t ask how high—it will be too late. Just jump.”
“No one from Green here to join us?” Alex asked.
“Chris didn’t think it was necessary. We’re just passing through.”
“Do you live in Ho Chi Minh City?”
“No, Hong Kong. Good airport connections and central to Red Team’s piece of the world. Jake lives there too. But the way things are growing in the region, I wouldn’t be surprised if TSD opens an HCMC operation.”
“Would you like that post?” Alex asked.
<
br /> “Wouldn’t be too bad. There are worse spots, I can tell you that. I understand that you’ve never been to Vietnam.”
“Not been many places. This is all new. Intimidating too, to be honest.”
“I get that. Me, this old soldier been just about everywhere—Middle East, Far East, Africa.”
“Chris said you grew up in Los Angeles.”
“Yes. Got out when I could, joined the navy SEALs—ten years. When Chris offered me a job, I jumped at it. And here I am.”
“Your experience sounds a lot like one of those soldier-of-fortune roles in old B movies,” Alex said. “Foreign legion stuff. You like the adventure, the jazz?”
“The boss tells me that you were police, so I could ask you the same question.”
“My story is a lot different,” she answered.
“I know a little of it,” Karns said. “When we have time, we’ll exchange war stories.”
The sun disappeared, leaving a purple haze that gradually faded on the horizon. She looked up and down the beach. A million lights sparkled across the city.
“Care for a drink?” Karns asked.
“I’ll pass for now. I need a few items from the shop downstairs—I forgot toothpaste and some other things. Then bed. Will you be here in the morning?”
“I’m here all night. My room is next door. Sleep well,” he said as he left the terrace.
She found the small twenty-four-hour shop in the hotel’s concourse and collected a few of the articles she needed. The lobby bar beckoned, and she decided, now that everyone was in, to have that nightcap after all.
“Belvedere on the rocks,” she said, taking a seat and looking around. The lounge was dark and quiet and looked out across the nearly empty atrium and the reception area. She finally had a chance to look at her phone and emails. Junk mail, mostly. She was hoping for a short note from Javier—nothing—or from her father. Nothing from him either.
In the mirror behind the bar she spotted movement in the lobby. Where she sat, no one could directly see her. As she sipped her drink, she entertained herself by voyeuristically watching the guests come and go. One couple, clearly just arrived, were in the middle of an intense argument. A small mountain of luggage was stacked on a cart behind them, and the bellman with the cart tried to ignore their conversation. Across the lounge, a woman in a deep leather chair, her phone pressed to her ear, waved one arm about. A businessman in a long white robe—she’d forgotten the garment’s name—stood in the middle of the lobby, also talking into his phone. Three men talked in the corner of the lobby near the doors to the porte cochere. Two looked Chinese and wore dark suits, and the other was vaguely European, dressed casually, and had spiky, almost-white hair.
Saigon Red Page 13
