Saigon Red

by Gregory C. Randall

  Then she saw Karns and Lucchese. They crossed the lobby and walked up to the three men. They didn’t shake hands, just slightly bowed to each other. Karns pointed to each of the men, then to Lucchese. A conversation began. Karns looked furtively around the lobby.

  Alex raised her phone and clicked a series of photos.

  The five men crossed the lobby and exited through the automatic door.

  Alex turned to the bartender and pointed to the drink. “I’ll be right back.”

  She walked to the glass doors and saw a black Mercedes limousine under the awning outside, the overhead lights reflecting off its polished finish. The three unknown men climbed into the back seat, along with Nevio. Karns closed the door behind them, then took the front passenger seat. As soon as the door closed, the driver, hidden behind black glass, accelerated and left the courtyard. Alex walked out into the one-hundred-degree night air and quickly took a few more photos before the car turned right and disappeared into traffic.

  A taxi idled nearby. Should she follow? Karns was with Lucchese. Her charge was Ilaria and the family.

  Son of a bitch.

  She returned to the bar, downed her drink, and walked back to the suite, furiously texting Chris the whole time.

  CHAPTER 24

  After the family, including Nevio, had breakfast in the suite, Alex tilted her head toward the terrace, looking at Karns. She wanted an answer. He followed her out.

  “Where did you go last night? I need to know everything that happens with this family.”

  Karns looked stunned. He turned and stared out at the glassy surface of the Persian Gulf.

  “Karns, you may have rank on me here, but this family is my assignment. So, where did you go?”

  After a pause, he said, “Signor Lucchese received a phone call from a Como Motor client. They learned that he was in Dubai. They asked for a meeting. He reluctantly agreed; that was all there was to it.”

  “You came back at two o’clock, hardly an hour for a business meeting. What was it about?”

  “I don’t know. I remained in the car with the driver. Signor Lucchese was gone about twenty minutes. He returned alone to the limo. He didn’t tell me what the meeting was about, and I didn’t ask.”

  “You let him out of your sight for twenty minutes?” Alex said, her voice rising.

  “Nevio said he knew them,” Karns said.

  “I assume that Chris knew about this meeting?”

  Another pause as Karns tried to come up with an answer. She’d used this caught-with-your-hand-in-the-cookie-jar confrontation approach before.

  “It can’t be that difficult to answer,” she said. “Did Chris know or not?”

  “It was a last-minute thing. They were here in Dubai until this afternoon. I made a judgment call.”

  She made him stew for a minute. “I get it. Just business, no problem. And we are here at the pleasure of Signor Lucchese and Como Motors.” She paused. Karns seemed to squirm a little. “We leave for Ho Chi Minh City tonight. Signora Lucchese wants to take the children out for something special this morning. Something they will always remember. Can you have the driver ready for us in an hour?”

  She watched Karns visibly relax. “Yes, he will be ready.”

  “The whole family is going, including Signor Lucchese. I can handle the oversight. There’s no reason for you to go. You have, I’m sure, other things to do. When we get back we’ll head for the airport. You’ll handle the final packing and get the luggage to the lobby. Maria will help. The kids are getting their bags together.”

  Karns started to object, then stopped. He was obviously trying to get the cookies back into the jar. “No problem, we’ll be ready.”

  “Thank you, Harry. That will be a big help.” She checked her phone. Still no reply to the text she had sent Chris the night before.

  “Alex,” Paolo said from the door. Gianna stood next to him. “We’re all packed. I was hoping to spend a few more hours on the beach.”

  “Paolo, Gianna, your mother has something special planned for just the two of you. Mr. Karns will remain here with Maria and get the bags together. So, it will just be you kids, your folks, and me. So, Numbers One and Two, let’s find your mother and get this adventure under way.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Gianna said with a smile, and took the hand of her brother and went back into the suite.

  The traffic was light as they drove southwest on Jumeirah Street. They turned south and crossed over a wide freeway. Paolo was the first to see the signs.

  “The Mall of the Emirates,” he said. “We’re going to a mall? I’d have rather stayed at the beach.”

  “Be patient, Paolo,” his father said.

  The driver threaded his way among the cars heading into the massive complex whose facade filled the left side of the road for what seemed like a thousand meters. Seconds later they drove into a parking garage. The driver wound his way through the labyrinth and eventually stopped at a drop-off, where attendants stood waiting to valet cars.

  Ilaria turned to the children. “There are ground rules. Paolo, I do not want you to lose sight of your sister for one minute. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Mother, but—”

  “And Gianna, the same goes for you. I want you to stay near your brother.”

  The signs over the doorway read in both Arabic and in English “Ski Dubai.”

  “We’re going skiing?” Paolo said excitedly.

  “Yes, but it’s inside the mall,” Nevio said. “If you’d rather go back to the beach, the driver can take you to the hotel.”

  “This is so cool,” Paolo said.

  “Skiing in the middle of the desert?” Gianna said. “Really?”

  “Yes, really,” Ilaria said. “It will be a long time before you get a chance to ski again, and we thought this would be fun. They have all the equipment you need inside. Alex, the children are excellent skiers. Gianna has been on skis since she was two years old. Paolo almost as long. Do you ski?”

  “Once, when I was about Paolo’s age. I swore never to do it again. I can ice-skate, but I leave skiing to the professionals,” Alex answered, and smiled at the children. “Is there a place to watch?”

  “Yes, and they serve lunch. Are you two ready?” Ilaria asked.

  Thirty minutes later the children were dressed in comfortable ski clothes, boots, and skis. Paolo decided to ski and not snowboard. Alex wished she’d been warned. She stood on the terrace that looked out over one of the weirdest architectural setups she had ever seen or even imagined. She was freezing. Climbing up and away from the restaurant and shops were two brilliant white ski slopes with real snow, ski lifts, and a couple of hundred skiers. Nevio and Ilaria stood side by side just inside the doors of the restaurant, watching.

  Alex took Gianna’s gloved hand in hers. “You got this?”

  “I never even thought about doing something like this in the middle of the desert,” Paolo said. “Wait until I tell everyone at school.”

  “Gianna?”

  “Absolutely, we ski in the Alps every winter. These hills aren’t as tall or as difficult, but it’s also not as cold.”

  “You two remember what your mother said. Do I have your promises?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Paolo said. “We will watch out for each other. You ready?”

  Gianna quickly pushed away and left Paolo standing next to Alex. “She’s going to beat you to the lift,” Alex said.

  “Not a chance.”

  Alex watched Paolo’s strong young legs push off and glide effortlessly to his sister. They skied up to the chairlift and expertly dropped themselves into the chair. In seconds, they were looking over the edge of the lift and down onto the skiers schussing down the slope.

  Alex hurriedly made her way back through the glass doors and into the restaurant. Nevio and Ilaria were having coffee at a table with a view up the slopes.

  “They are so excited,” Alex said, rubbing her hands together as she sat. “This couldn’t have been more of a s
urprise—and the middle of the desert.”

  “It is strange,” Nevio said. “But it’s like this here. Dubai is where money from all over the world collides. As conservative as the Arabic nations are, they are also extremely capitalistic. There is nothing like this city in the whole world.”

  Alex ordered coffee, and just as it arrived, the two children raced by and back to the ski lift. Paolo raised his arm in salutation, Gianna a ski’s length behind him. Her smile stretched from ear to ear.

  “They’re very good,” Alex said. “Not that I’m any expert.”

  “He’s a lot better than I am,” Nevio said. “No fear.”

  “That makes a big difference,” Alex said. “All I imagine is tumbling down the slope into a pile of broken skis and bones. My favorite part of skiing is the après-ski lounge.”

  “I agree,” Ilaria said.

  “Alex, don’t let Ilaria sell herself short,” Nevio said. “Years before we met, she skied on her university’s biathlon team—almost made the Italian national team. Or that’s what her friends told me.”

  “Biathlon?” Alex asked.

  “That’s where you ski cross-country and shoot at targets,” Ilaria said. “I was very good, even if I say so myself. Father made sure we children know our way around guns. I’m also a good shot during duck season.” She smiled.

  “She’s too modest; she is very good,” Nevio said.

  The three watched the children make run after run down the slopes. Alex was amazed at their agility and skill, especially Gianna’s. Eventually Alex looked at her watch.

  “Yes, I know, it’s getting near the time,” Ilaria said. “We’ll have a late lunch back at the hotel. The children should have a nap. In fact, I think I’ll lie down for a while.”

  “I’ll go get the kids,” Alex said.

  Alex steeled herself for the blast of cold air and walked out to the edge of the terrace. It was wet and slippery. She thought about Cleveland winters. This was so different.

  “Where’s your brother?” Alex said to Gianna. The girl, in her pink parka, was standing next to a low fence that separated the skiing areas. “Gianna?”

  The girl turned around, but it wasn’t Gianna. Startled, Alex looked around. Off to one side, near where the equipment rentals were, stood another child in a pink parka. “Gianna?” Alex said loudly.

  Gianna turned, a strange look on her face. She then looked back to a door that led out of the rental area and the complex. Alex carefully slipped and slid over to her.

  “Where’s your brother?” The girl was fixed on the doorway. “What’s the matter? Where is your brother?”

  “He’s coming. He said he was going to make one more run. I’m waiting.”

  “What happened?”

  “A man.”

  Alex dropped to one knee and gently took Gianna’s arm. “What man?”

  “A man. He went that way.” She pointed at the door.

  “What did he do?” She instinctively looked for a security officer.

  “Nothing. He came up and told me to tell Father that they’re watching, and to remind him of his promise.”

  Paolo slid up to the two with a spray of snow. Alex held up her hand to him.

  “What promise?”

  “That’s all he said. He was scary looking.”

  Alex turned to Paolo. “You were supposed to never let your sister out of your sight.”

  “It was just one more run. No big deal.”

  “No big deal? Someone came up to your sister and said something to her. It was your job to watch her.”

  Paolo, stunned, stepped out of his skis. “Are you okay, Gianna? I’m sorry, Alex. It was just one more run.”

  Alex was more upset with herself than the boy. She should have stayed out here watching. She looked at the two children. They were fine, but she was spooked.

  “What did the man look like? What was he wearing?”

  “He was very strange,” Gianna said. “He was thin, had blue eyes like yours and white spiky hair. He wore a motorcycle jacket and a black hood.”

  “And he said nothing else?”

  “No, just to remind Father of the promise he made.”

  As Alex led the children back into the lodge, the first thing that came to her was they had been followed. Whoever this man was, he’d been watching them, and he’d followed them from the Four Seasons Resort. She would be much more observant from now on.

  CHAPTER 25

  Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam

  The small screen secured to the back of the airline seat showed that they were over the Bay of Bengal. All Alex saw out the window was water to the horizon. The Lucchese children were asleep in the row ahead of her. The parents were forward in first class, like they were for the first leg of the journey. Karns was in the back, in economy. She had switched seats with Maria—who wanted the aisle—but she still couldn’t sleep.

  Between Javier’s late-night espresso session, the mysterious trip from the Four Seasons by Signor Lucchese and Karns, no response from Chris, and now this man at Ski Dubai, her head was in turmoil. And this man, based on Gianna’s scared account, fit the description of one of the men that attended that meeting. After the late-night adventure, her detective brain had clicked on and run scenarios that surprised even her. Clandestine meetings, foreign agents, or customers out for a drink? The list was endless, and some of the things on the list were not nice. They twisted into strange events that she couldn’t shake. She felt like she was outside watching a strange movie.

  After they had returned to the hotel from Ski Dubai, she’d told Nevio and Ilaria about the man. They were both shocked and wanted to ask Gianna about what happened.

  “They’re both all right,” Alex had said. “I suggest we not make more of it than what it is. No reason to get them upset. Signor Lucchese, do you have any idea what the man meant about your promise?” She included the part about the man and what he looked like, and that she’d seen him with Nevio.

  Ilaria turned to Nevio. “What is she talking about?”

  “I had a late meeting last night. You were asleep. Some customers. It was nothing.”

  “You should have wakened me. You should have told me.”

  Nevio paused, thinking. “There’re some contracts to put together, but I’ll do that in Saigon. I don’t know why the man followed us. I’ll tell them that it was unacceptable.”

  “It was more than that,” Ilaria said. “They crossed the line. I will not have my children approached like this, never. Do you hear me, Nevio?”

  “I said I will take care of it.” He turned away. “I need to finish packing.”

  Ilaria turned back to Alex. “Thank you for being there. This was unprofessional of these people. I will make sure Nevio tells them.”

  “The kids will be just fine,” Alex said. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye open.”

  She did not tell Karns about the strange man at Ski Dubai. If Karns were a part of this—if he was the kind of TSD employee Chris had warned her about—she would find out soon enough. When she landed in Saigon, thirty-five hundred miles from this, she would call Campbell and find out what he knew. His lack of response to her text message was baffling. Did he just want her to mind her own business or something? No, it couldn’t be; he’d asked her to keep a lookout for weird shit like this, after all. Regardless, it was what Javier had told her—or hadn’t told her—that was the real issue. Something fishy was going on, and these latest events only added to it.

  She recalled something about NATO she’d read in the laptop’s Como Motors folder. Javier had said that he was working on something with NATO too—coincidence? Were TSD and Como and the CIA working together on something? If so, this was big—she knew that. It could be a hundred other things, yet the thoughts just kept churning.

  Maria left for the bathroom. Alex slid the blind to the window down and closed her eyes. A few seconds later she felt a tap on her arm.

  “Alex, I’m not feeling well,” Gianna said.

&n
bsp; “Sit here and tell me what’s the matter.” Alex was certain that her and her brother’s chaotic eating schedule hadn’t helped. And even though the meal on the plane wasn’t bad, it might not have settled well.

  “My stomach just hurts, and so does my head.”

  “Are you going to be sick?”

  “I don’t know. I think so.”

  Maria returned from the bathroom and talked to Gianna in Italian. She then rummaged through a cloth bag that she took down from the overhead. She removed two pills from a small plastic container and retrieved a bottle of water.

  Gianna took the pills and water and gave Alex a weak smile. Maria said something else in Italian, and Gianna returned to her seat.

  “What were the pills you gave her?” Alex asked, concerned.

  Maria held up the small white bottle, which read “Midol.”

  “This is her second, and she is so young. And now she has to go through all this travel on top of it. Poor girl.”

  “Ah, the joys of becoming a woman,” Alex said.

  Entering the Jetway at HCMC’s Tan Son Nhat International Airport felt like being slapped with a wet sock—the humidity was that thick. And Alex couldn’t place the smells. They walked through the morning craziness of the modern concourse. Tourists and business people filled the aisles. The direction signs were in both English and Vietnamese. She was prepared for an ordeal at customs, but it was surprisingly uneventful.