Saigon Red

by Gregory C. Randall

  “You told me that this was a safe job. When your mother finds out—”

  “Don’t say anything. I’ll tell her when the time is right.”

  “She’ll know before then. You know her.”

  “She’ll have to wait.” Alex stopped and thought for a long moment.

  “You still there, honey? What does all this have to do with Yvette?”

  “A man, an Amerasian man, is the prime suspect in the killings. He fled after he stole the data. He was injured and left a blood trail. My boss had the blood tested, hoping to connect to someone in the international database of criminals. He found a match, or at least a close match.”

  “It can’t be Yvette. She’s not a criminal. There was no way they could have made a connection to her.”

  “No, Dad, it wasn’t to Yvette. My boss sampled my blood as part of my training. And the DNA match was to me. This man, this killer, this criminal they call Con Ma, the Ghost, is my nephew . . . your grandson.”

  CHAPTER 29

  After the conversation with her father, Alex was restless. She flashed on the thought of chucking it all and going home. What her father must be going through—all the anguish, the lost years, the questions with no answers. She stood at the window and watched the lights of Saigon. Even at three in the morning, hundreds of motorbikes wove in and out of traffic over the bridges of the Saigon River. Sometime around five, she fell asleep, then woke an hour later with a start. She showered, dressed, and went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and was surprised to see Ilaria sitting at the table, a cup in her hand.

  “Buongiorno, Signora.”

  “Good morning, Alex. I couldn’t sleep either. Nevio won’t be up for an hour or more. The reception and dinner went late.”

  Alex sat in a chair. “Are you okay?”

  “As good as I can be so far away from everything I know. Thank you for taking care of the kids—they like you a lot.”

  “I’m more concerned about you. What’s going on?”

  “Lonely, a little depressed, bored . . . the usual.”

  “Usual?”

  “I got wrapped up in the excitement of the move, the packing, the organization—I even told myself that this one would be different. They never are. I could be in the most glamorous place in the world and still feel this way. It’s just the way I’m wired. I’ll get through it—takes a few weeks. A little depression. I’ll be fine.”

  “Maybe we can get away for a day or so. Maria can take care of the kids while you and I do something.”

  Ilaria smiled. “I’d like that.”

  A few hours later, Gianna offered her plan for the day.

  “I found a market we can all go to,” Gianna said. “I watched a video, and Paolo helped me find it on the map. Food and all sorts of interesting clothes. What do you think, maybe later today?”

  “Where is it?” Alex asked.

  “It’s called the Ben Thanh Market. According to the internet, they have the best street food, and clothing, and so many other things—they’re nothing like our markets in Italy. Even Father said he would go. The whole family.”

  “That sounds nice,” Alex answered. “Since you’re the travel director, what are your orders?”

  Gianna told her about getting the limo, and that Mr. Karns would do the driving. They would leave at 11:00 a.m. It would be the family’s first big adventure together in Ho Chi Minh City. She had even checked the weather. “They say absolutely no rain.”

  At eleven o’clock, Gianna mustered everyone together, and in one group they headed down to the lobby. Maria begged off. She said a few hours of peace and quiet would be all the therapy she needed. She would go next time. Karns was waiting with the limousine at the front door; all five managed to fit comfortably.

  Ben Thanh Market was in the center of the old part of Saigon, almost a direct shot south from their apartment. Gianna, guidebook in hand, pointed out buildings and museums along the boulevard as they approached the massive, two-block-square, red-roofed complex. At its entry, a clock tower faced a traffic roundabout filled with hundreds of motorbikes that circled like a swarm of bees looking for somewhere to land.

  “I’ll find a place to park,” Karns said as everyone climbed out. “I’ll wait with the car. Text me when you’re ready to leave. If anything happens, call.”

  “Don’t be far,” Alex said.

  The market, a rabbit warren of narrow walks and paths, was crammed with T-shirt dealers, lacquerware shops, kitchenware—to stay in business, these vendors sold almost everything. Most of the shoppers were Vietnamese, but the place was obviously aimed at the tourist trade. At each food vendor, someone would walk out and shove a laminated card in their faces with photos of dishes, yelling, “Best food, best food. Best price!”

  “Isn’t this cool?” Gianna said. She took Paolo’s hand, and when they passed a DVD dealer with thousands of pirated copies stacked six feet high, she pointed. “See, there’s a Star Trek Beyond in Vietnamese; I’ll bet no one at home has one of those.”

  After a short negotiation with the dealer, Paolo walked away with the DVD for one euro. “I hope it works in the DVD player,” he said to Alex.

  As they neared the fish and meat stands, the crowds thickened. Alex was a little above average height for an American woman, yet she towered over the Vietnamese women and many of the men. The Americans and other Westerners wandering the passageways were often a head taller than the Vietnamese; they stood out.

  Everywhere Alex looked there was something new and different. Great slabs of meat—she assumed they were beef and pork carcasses—hung from racks to her left. To her right, long, ice-filled displays of fish extended for hundreds of feet. Uncountable varieties of fish, shrimp, and shellfish were stacked and neatly displayed in the trays.

  With his camera, Nevio took close-ups and wide-angled photos of the fish. A woman behind one overfilled tray raised a huge fish to show him—she smiled, and he took her picture. Afterward he continued along the fish counters, clicking away.

  The crowd pressed in, and Alex spotted a man that was easily a foot taller than anyone around him. His hair was bleached white and stiff, almost bristly, and a hoodie covered the back of his head. The man bumped into Nevio, whose free hand passed something—it flashed in the overhead glare of lights—into the hand of the hooded man. In that split second the drop had been made. Nevio then went back to taking more photos.

  The hooded head of the man moved toward the exit. There was something familiar about him—something strange. As he reached the end of the fish counter, he turned his head; it was Con Ma.

  Alex leaned down to Gianna, whose hand she was holding. “I’ll be right back. Go to Paolo, okay?”

  Without waiting for a response, Alex pushed her way through the crowd, trying to keep the man in sight. She saw his head for a moment, and then it disappeared out an exit. Reaching the street, she scanned left, then right, while a hundred motorbikes buzzed by. On the far side of the traffic circle, the white-haired man climbed aboard a blue motorbike and sped away.

  “Everything all right?” Karns said from behind.

  “Yes, everything is fine,” she said, her eyes never leaving the Ghost as he disappeared toward the river. “There was a man inside. I thought he dropped something. I followed to tell him. But now he’s gone. Are you parked near here?”

  “I’m over there.” He pointed to a taxi stand. “A few of the locals are pissed about my taking up so much space. I bought them a few beers. We’re fine now.”

  “I’m going back in. It was close in there, stuffy—good to get a little fresh air.”

  Alex returned to the family. Paolo and Gianna had purchased T-shirts that read “Ciao Saigon.”

  “Where did you find that?” Alex asked Paolo.

  “They made them for us.” He pointed to a booth. “Just a few euros. I had one made for my girlfriend. I’m going to send it to her.”

  Alex smiled. She didn’t know that Paolo had a girlfriend. “I think she’ll like it
.”

  She was positive that Con Ma hadn’t seen her follow him out. His movements next to Nevio had shown skill and patience, and a practiced sleight of hand to take from Nevio what she assumed to be a thumb drive and then leave. He never looked back—a professional drop.

  Nevio’s expression never changed. The exchange was obviously planned. Once Gianna had decided where they were going, Nevio must have gotten the word to Con Ma. The Ghost was still in Saigon, waiting.

  Ilaria found a table at a noodle shop, and the family ordered.

  “I need to use the restroom,” Alex said, and headed toward a sign. The place was as evil smelling as any restroom she had ever been in. She just needed a few minutes to send Chris a text:

  Con Ma at Ben Thanh Market, a data drop by Nevio. Too strange.

  She returned to the family and leaned into Ilaria. “The bathrooms are disgusting. I suggest we wait until we leave here if you or Gianna need to use them.”

  Nevio never said a word other than to point to things for the kids. He continued taking photos.

  “He’s very good,” Ilaria said, seeing Alex watch her husband. “He has an eye for the interesting.”

  “Second stop today is the zoo,” Gianna said. “That will be enough for today.”

  Alex was not a fan of zoos. Something about them reminded her of police work. While some people needed to be in jail, animals didn’t belong in cages. Most animals looked contented, but being locked behind bars made some people crazy. She could only imagine what it did to an animal once free.

  Her phone pinged. Chris: Meet me 8:00 at Me Linh Square.

  “Can I borrow your map?” Alex asked Gianna, who was studying her guidebook. She found the half-round public square along the Saigon River; it was not too far from Chris’s hotel.

  By the time they left the zoo, it was late in the afternoon. The rain, contrary to the forecast, began in earnest. They hopped into the limo and made it back to the apartment just as the sky opened up.

  Nevio was more involved with the children than Alex had seen since they left Italy. He asked what they were doing, wanted to see their schoolbooks, the latest video games they were playing. The day ended with the best Italian dinner Alex had ever had. The cook helped serve. Alex complimented her and Maria a dozen times. Each course was a treat. Nevio said it was in celebration of Gianna and Paolo’s successful adventure.

  After dinner, Karns left and Alex told the family she was going for a walk. The rain had stopped and cleared. She would be back in an hour. Nevio told her to be careful, and she said she would be fine. She returned to her room, slipped both phones into her pockets, and secured the Glock at the small of her back under a fresh silk shirt.

  She walked out of the apartment building and looked out over the roadway for a taxi. A warm, humid breeze ripe with the smells of gasoline exhaust and the Saigon River filled the air. A seagull squawked and dipped low over the river.

  “Need a ride?” a voice said from behind. Javier straddled an old motorbike. “Chris has changed the venue.”

  CHAPTER 30

  “Why am I not surprised?” Alex lifted her leg over the ripped seat and settled in behind Javier. He lurched off onto the frontage road. In a few minutes, they were crossing Cau Thu Bridge.

  “A little rusty, aren’t you?” she said into Javier’s ear as he jerked the shift up and down.

  “Been a while, and this toy has a lot less get-up-and-go than my brother’s BMW.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “The scene of the crime.”

  They drove through the new developments along the Saigon River in District 2 and then crossed Cau Phu My Bridge. Javier then turned into the port area of District 7, and ten minutes later they pulled up in front of a row of nondescript warehouses. A ten-foot block wall surrounded the buildings. The iron gate was open, and parked in the alley was a pale-blue Hyundai. Chris was standing by the rental car. Javier stopped next to him.

  “Not what I had planned,” Alex said. “I can be away an hour, no more. They may get concerned.”

  “Won’t take that long,” Chris said. “I wanted you to see the facility where the Ghost broke in. I want your opinion.”

  Thirty minutes later, Alex was sure it was all a charade set up by Chris. “There’s nothing here. It was months ago. Why am I here? What’s going on?”

  Chris turned to Javier. “Tell her.”

  “We needed to see if someone was watching the apartment. To see if somebody would follow you.”

  “And?” Alex said.

  “Jake says no.”

  “Jake Dumas is here?”

  “Trust is a hard commodity to find these days,” Chris said.

  Alex’s eyes flashed. “Is that a dig at me?” She took a deep breath, calmed herself. “I haven’t seen anyone watching the apartment either.”

  “It was Javier and me in Milan,” Chris said. “When you were in Dubai, it was supposed to be Karns.”

  “That didn’t work out so well, did it?” Alex said.

  “I know that, now. Since no one here, other than Karns, knows Jake, he’ll also keep an eye on Lucchese.”

  “But you don’t trust Nevio either.”

  “And that’s why you’re here,” Chris said. “Sometimes the watchers need to be watched.”

  “I thought you didn’t trust me.” Alex looked at the door of the office, which hung on a single twisted hinge. “I talked with my father. He was shocked that he may have a child here in Vietnam, and even more astonished that he may have another grandchild.”

  “We thought that you would talk with your father; that’s okay. A lot of GIs left children here,” Chris said.

  “Yes, but he may be the only one whose grandchild is an assassin and spy for the Chinese,” she added. “He’ll have a tough time with all this. This is so against his sense of right and wrong. It will eat him alive.”

  “I understand,” Chris said.

  “I don’t think you do. I don’t think either of you do. Something like this is so unbelievably traumatic, especially for my father, who went through years of PTSD. No one can understand. You spend two-thirds of your life believing one thing, and with one phone call, it goes all upside down. My father, the greatest man in my life, thinks he’s walked away from his responsibility—a woman he loved and a child he didn’t know. How would that make you feel? Then to learn that his grandchild is a psychotic killer. It’s way too much—too much for both of us.”

  “You had nothing to do with any of this,” Javier said.

  “Small consolation—and that’s not what you thought earlier. I’m up to my ass in it now.” She turned to Chris. “Anything more on the DNA?”

  “No.”

  “Anything from the police?”

  “No.”

  “Why should they, I guess? You certainly haven’t been forthcoming. They haven’t seen all the files, the photo of Con Ma. Maybe they took DNA or not. So, if you haven’t helped them, why should they help you?”

  “We can handle this.”

  “Really? It’s a fucking disaster, Chris. You think you’ve got this bait dangling out there in front of the Chinese, but how do we know they aren’t playing us? Hell, we could unwittingly be providing security for them,” she said, looking at Javier.

  “Not fair, Alex,” Javier said.

  “Be careful, Jave,” she said. “Life isn’t fair when it comes to things like this—you know that. I may have been a cop, but I saw things that were exactly like this during turf wars and gang fights. The battles are the same. International politics is just a difference in scale. Tomorrow, I’ll contact this detective, Tran Phan, and find out what he knows. Where can I find him?”

  “The District 1 police office,” Chris said. “Just a few blocks from the market you were at today. I told you I met him briefly with Karns.” He handed her Phan’s card.

  She took the card from Chris and stared at him. “I only told you afterward about where we were. Were we being followed?”

  Chri
s glanced at Javier.

  “Really? You were following me? Has it gotten this bad? And if you were following me, why didn’t you go after the Ghost?”

  “No,” Javier answered. “I was following Nevio. He’s the man on our radar, not you. I lost you in the market. And it seems our fears were justified.”

  “And good job on following Con Ma,” Alex said. “I spook him out of the bushes, and you lose him.”

  She looked at the business card. “I’ll call Phan and set up a meeting—just me. I’ll find out what I can. He doesn’t know me from anyone; I’ll cook up some cover story. Then we’ll see. I’m trying to understand whether you want to find out what happened or are just hoping that you can keep a lid on all this. I can go either way.” She looked at both men. “You said there are five parts. They have three now, right? Keep them on edge about the last two. Maybe it will draw them out. And I need to keep the rest of the Lucchese family out of this looming disaster. Chris, if you want me to investigate, then stay out of my way.”

  Alex climbed on the motorbike. With luck she would be at the apartment in less than a half hour. She wrapped her arms around Javier’s waist and couldn’t help but breathe in his aftershave. It was one of the first intimate things she’d learned about the man that first night in Venice. His was a muskiness mingled with a touch of lime—exotic as the streets they were weaving through. After they crossed back into the old city of Saigon, Javier slowed the motorbike and pulled off to the side into a small park, where a statue stood. They both got off.

  “The DNA, the Chinese, my job, you,” Javier said. “It got all twisted up. I’m sorry. I know you can’t be a part of this.”

  “Do you have any idea where this is leading?” she asked.

  “I’m trying to stop the Chinese from creating systems that can defeat—”

  “Not Nevio and the Chinese. Us, Javier, us! Do you have any idea where this is taking us?”

  “No, I don’t know where this is taking us,” he said, then paused. “I have my duty—a sworn duty—that I’m trying hard to fulfill without getting my ass thrown into a federal penitentiary. I have my friendship with Campbell that goes back years. And I have my mother nagging me about whether you’re the right person for me.”