Chris rushed to Ilaria, put his hand on the gun, and pulled it from her hand. “Enough, the child,” he said.
Ilaria looked at Karns on the floor, her daughter wrapped in Alex’s arms, then Nevio. “We have destroyed everything,” she said.
“We’re nothing,” Nevio said.
The device, lying on the floor, began to smolder. The smell of burning plastic began to fill the room. It ignited. Alex grabbed the corner of the device and dropped it in the metal wastebasket. She took a bottle of water from the small refrigerator and poured it on the device. It continued to sizzle and smoke.
Javier went to the computer and opened some files. He looked closely at the screen, then at Nevio.
“You didn’t send everything, did you?” Javier asked.
“No.”
CHAPTER 43
Phan and one of his detectives strolled through the open door of the apartment. A policeman remained just outside.
Alex met him halfway down the apartment’s hallway.
“Nice, very nice, and you live here?” Phan said to Alex as they entered the living quarters. Another policeman moved toward the closed door of Nevio’s office. The three Luccheses sat on the couch, Ilaria and Gianna at one end, Nevio at the other. Neither parent looked at each other. Maria was in the kitchen; the smell of coffee was in the humid air. Chris and Javier stood in the open doorway to the terrace.
“The body is in there,” Alex said, pointing toward the office.
“American?”
“Yes.”
“That makes it easier. Less paperwork. Who shot him?”
Alex looked at the couch. “He was found in the office when Mr. Campbell returned with Mrs. Lucchese and the child. We don’t know who shot him.”
He looked at Alex. “I knew you having a gun was going to be a problem.” Phan pointed to the policeman and said something in Vietnamese, and the officer opened the office door. “You stay here. My associate will take all your statements,” he said to Alex, and disappeared into the office.
After five minutes, they realized that Phan’s fellow detective spoke little English, and other than Maria, no one spoke Vietnamese. Alex, Javier, and Chris spun a tale in English for Maria to tell the officer, as did the Luccheses in Italian, but the confused detective eventually threw up his hands.
Phan had heard some of what was said through the open door. He signaled to Chris to join him. “I know that man. He was your employee. Is this correct, Mr. Campbell?”
“Yes,” Chris answered. “Harry Karns.”
“You lose a lot of your employees this way?” the detective asked. “By my count that’s three dead in just a few months. Must be hard during recruitment when you tell prospective employees about the dangers of working for you.”
Chris didn’t reply.
“The man was a traitor to his country,” Alex said.
Phan looked at Javier. “Is this so?”
“Maybe,” Javier answered.
Phan looked at Alex. “How so? And is that why one of you shot him?”
For the next half hour, they told Phan almost everything that happened. Chris and Javier conveniently left out the meat of the story—parts about the data, NATO, the Chinese, and Nevio’s role in the transfer of the files. When Phan asked again about the shooter, no one stepped up.
“I want all your pistols,” the detective said. “One, or all of you, is lying.” He pointed to a policeman. “Collect any weapons you can find. Make sure you assign a name to each of them.”
“You can’t do that,” Chris said.
“Of course I can, Mr. Campbell. I can do anything. Would you like to learn Vietnamese while waiting for trial here in Ho Chi Minh City? I can and will arrange it.”
Chris put his hands up and removed his weapon from behind his back.
“And you too, Ms. Polonia,” the detective continued. “I believe this has something to do with the kidnapping of the young Lucchese boy?”
Ilaria again broke down when Phan mentioned her son. “What are you doing to find him?” she asked. “What do you know?”
Chris looked at Alex and shook his head.
The detective looked at his half sister and said, “There’s more, isn’t there? I can hold you all for murder, manslaughter, justifiable homicide, accidental death, or being material witnesses in that guy’s suicide—I have many options. However, and rightly so, Mrs. Lucchese is more concerned about her son. Mr. Lucchese, I’m not sure—he seems to have a lot on his mind. I believe that Ms. Polonia has a role in this escapade. So, Mr. Campbell, Mr. CIA, and my whatever you are will join me outside and talk. It’s a little stuffy in here. I expect the coroner anytime, and he will remove the body.” He looked at Chris. “I also saw a burnt piece of electronics in the wastebasket. It looked remarkably like the one I found in a vase at your client’s facility a few months ago. Can I guess this might be the same type of device?”
“Yes, I believe that it’s similar,” Chris answered. “What its use is, I don’t know.”
Phan smiled. “I believe that you do. The terrace—I need a smoke, and the view should be nice.”
As they walked to the terrace doorway, a commotion began in the hallway. Two Vietnamese men in white paper hazmat suits walked into the living room, and Phan approached one of them.
Alex watched what she assumed to be pleasantries between the two officials, one of whom she believed was the assistant coroner. Phan pointed to the office door, and the two men disappeared inside. She thought something was off about them. One kept glancing at Javier.
Phan walked onto the terrace, lit his cigarette, and blew a thick haze out into the evening. “The whole night is a mess. I can’t even get my guys to remove the body. They sent another crew from another district. Ms. Polonia, please start from the beginning, and leave nothing out. I will know. You and I are detectives. We can tell, can’t we?”
CHAPTER 44
Lin Phan flew low, almost silently, over the warehouse rooftops. Only the whirring of his cycle-drone’s blades filled the air immediately around him.
“Have you found the address?” he asked.
“Yes, Con Ma, I have it,” the voice in the helmet responded. “It is the middle building in a complex two-point-five kilometers from here, bearing zero eight five.”
“Pick a suitable nearby building rooftop, and land the vehicle. I’ll walk in from there.”
“Understood.”
The drone flew just a meter above the surface of the Saigon River. In the darkness, he was almost invisible. The night-vision screen, displayed on the helmet’s faceplate, provided a wide-angle view of his surroundings. So much better than the limited equipment used by militaries around the world.
He slipped between a large freighter and a long row of houseboats. Through the frequency-canceling speaker of the helmet, he heard a dog bark as he passed. Maybe the noise of the blades had caused the pooch to react. No matter—in seconds, he was hundreds of meters past.
The cycle-drone was addicting. Before going to Vietnam, he’d spent a month training with the vehicle in the research laboratories of Dark Star in a western Chinese province. He’d reassembled it in HCMC from the parts shipped in from Guangdong. Only a dozen prototypes of this two-seat cycle-drone existed, he’d been told. One of the Chairwoman’s partners was looking to produce the vehicle commercially, which would be a success; he could only imagine what a battalion of soldiers could do with tactical vehicles such as these. A “game changer,” the Americans would call it. A force multiplier.
The illuminated facilities of the port were ahead. Massive stacks of shipping containers covered more than three kilometers of the waterfront. Beyond it, and disappearing into the darkness, were the rooftops of hundreds of buildings.
“Are we near?”
“Yes, Con Ma. On your screen.”
To the right side of the visor, a green rooftop was highlighted with an address floating over it.
“Thank you, and a suitable landing zone?”
“Immediately to the north. Would you like for me to take control?”
“Yes.”
Lin released the grip on the handlebars and allowed the AI to take over. The cycle-drone slowed, then rose high over the stacks of shipping containers. Three streets beyond the last containers, the drone slowed to a hover.
“It is immediately below us, Con Ma. Do you wish to land?”
“Yes.”
The drone dropped until it was three feet above the flat roof of the warehouse.
“Landing.”
The drone settled on the roof.
“Drone stop,” Lin said. Immediately the six double blades stopped. “Lockout.”
“I am locked. Was the landing satisfactory?”
“You are never satisfied, always looking for compliments.”
“I aim to please. The target warehouse is one building to the south. Satellite sensors identify three heat signatures in the building, two of which have moved during the last ten minutes. Do you wish continued updates?”
“Yes, continue updates. When asked, display on my screen.”
He climbed off the cycle-drone, checked his weapons and gear. He removed a coil of rope and grappling hook from the storage compartment. In seconds he was in the alley that separated the landing roof and the target warehouse. Halfway along the passageway, he saw the blue Mercedes van that he’d last seen at the mall. Near the van’s rear was a door to the warehouse. He checked the door. Locked. He clicked off his weapon’s safety, attached a small box over the lock, and stepped back.
“Ignite charge one,” he said. A half second later the lock exploded and the door flew open from the recoil. He stepped into the warehouse.
“Target, fifteen meters to the right,” the helmet said.
He swung his weapon to a door that was opening. A small man appeared, a pistol in his hand. Lin fired, and the man collapsed. “Next?”
“Second target, behind you.”
Lin spun on his heels and dropped to one knee. A man appeared on a catwalk above. Lin fired again, and the explosive round sheared off part of the iron walkway and knocked the man to the steel grating. Lin fired again just as the man raised his weapon. The man, cut in half, did not get the shot off.
He checked both bodies—neither was the American male from Cleveland.
“Are there any other heat signatures?” Lin asked his helmet.
“Only one, twenty meters to the right.”
He scanned the open warehouse floor. A shipping container sat in the middle of the room. He walked to the double doors, threw open the latch assembly, and pulled one of the doors open. Inside, duct-taped to a steel chair, sat a boy shaking with fear, his mouth taped shut.
Lin holstered his weapon. He’d seen the same child climb into the minivan that afternoon at the apartment building, along with the Alex woman and the Lucchese family.
“Are you okay?” he asked in English. “Just nod your head.”
The boy nodded.
“Good, I’m going to remove the tape. We are alone, and no one can hear you. We are then going to leave this building. You will say nothing. If you do, I will bring you back here and tie you up in this chair. Do you understand?”
The boy nodded again. Lin removed the tape.
“Who are—”
“Say nothing—do you understand?”
The boy nodded.
They walked past the body of the first man he shot. The boy covered his mouth and gasped.
In the alley, Lin spoke into his microphone. “Please bring the drone to me. I’m below you in the alley.”
“Coming, Con Ma.”
From above, he heard the drone’s blades begin to whir, and in seconds it had lowered itself into the alley and had landed behind the blue van.
The boy looked at the machine, turned to Lin, and began to say something, but seemed to think better of it.
“Speak,” Lin said.
“What is that?” the boy asked.
“Your ride.”
CHAPTER 45
Detective Phan leaned back against the plaster wall of the interview room in the district’s police station. Sitting opposite, at the center of the steel table, were Nevio and Ilaria Lucchese. Nevio’s wallet and phone were on the table; Ilaria’s phone was next to her husband’s. Nevio’s head rested despondently on his arms next to the phone. Ilaria glared at the detective. To the Luccheses’ right sat Chris Campbell, and to their left, Javier Castillo. At the far end of the room, resting her butt on the edge of the windowsill, sat Alex. The window was dark.
“Why do you Americans drag your shit into my country?” Phan asked as he lit a cigarette and looked directly at Javier. He then noticed Alex’s disapproving look; he smiled and took another drag. “My house, my rules,” he said, waving the cigarette. “Let me get this straight. Mr. Lucchese is the manager of the new Como Motors plant that employs more than two thousand Vietnamese citizens. Agent Castillo, you tell me that Mr. Lucchese may have provided top-secret information to a foreign power, most probably China. And you cannot, or will not, tell me why he’s doing that or what that information is. Correct?”
“I’m as shocked by this as you are,” Javier said.
“I really doubt that,” Phan said, inhaling again. “These are games that all you big boys play, and for more than one hundred years Vietnam has been your playground. And my people have died in this proxy war. If there is one good thing about this current little adventure of yours, it’s that no Vietnamese have died. I intend to keep it this way.”
“Detective Phan—” Chris started to say.
“Stop. You will wait until I’m done asking my questions. Now, Mr. Lucchese appears to have completely fallen apart, and I cannot verify the CIA’s accusations. Mrs. Lucchese looks upset, and it seems she’s pissed at all of you. For argument’s sake, let’s assume you’re telling me the truth. Agent Castillo, I’m not going to involve my country’s security forces in this situation. However, there is a child at risk. Does the kidnapping of the boy have something to do with this? I’m not sure. However, Ms. Polonia—my alleged half sister—” At that Ilaria looked up at Alex with a death stare that a Medici would have approved of. She started to say something.
“Mrs. Lucchese, there will be time for that later.” He looked back at Alex. “She tells me that the kidnapping of the boy may have something to do with her ex-husband, a man called Ralph Cierzinski. I’ve checked customs and border control, and they have no record of a Ralph Cierzinski entering Vietnam.” He looked at Alex, who started to say something. “Hold that thought—I completely understand this can easily be circumvented with false documents. Nonetheless, why would a man come thousands of kilometers, risking arrest, just to kidnap a boy that he has no connection to? Do you have an answer to that, Ms. Polonia?”
“To piss me off,” Alex replied.
“You must have really pissed him off. I’ve just met you, and from what I’ve found—it’s entirely possible. We shall see.”
“You don’t know my ex.”
“Yes, I’m doubtless glad I don’t. Ms. Polonia, you have been given directions to deliver a package of money later this morning to this Cierzinski fellow. He says that he will then return the boy, Paolo. Is this correct?”
At the mention of his son’s name, Nevio looked up.
“Yes,” Alex answered. “Ten o’clock at Me Linh Square. Two hundred thousand dollars or euros.”
“You Americans certainly throw your money about, don’t you?”
“Detective Phan, I’m insulted that you would say that,” Chris said, and started to stand.
“Sit. You and your government will get over it.” He turned to Javier. “And you, Mr. Castillo, as an agent of the Central Intelligence Agency, you’re on board with this, I assume? Is it your money that’s being used?”
Ilaria jerked her head around and looked at Javier, then again at Alex.
“No, I’m just an observer. My interest in this is over. I’m here as a friend to Alex and Chris.”
/> “You two are so lucky to have such friends.” He looked at the Italians. “Mr. and Mrs. Lucchese are witnesses to a homicide, a homicide that no one will admit to.” Phan continued, “They’re here for no other reason. If they’ve performed other illegal activities, I’m not aware of them. I am solely concerned about what happens in Vietnam.”
“I want to make sure that our good relations with the Ho Chi Minh City Police are maintained,” Javier said.
Phan crushed his cigarette and immediately lit another. “Phooey, my guess is you’re the containment guy to make sure everything stays in the box. It will be interesting to see how the late Mr. Harry Karns fits into that box.” Phan looked at Campbell. “The killing was executed well. I have three people in this room who obviously know their way around a firearm, so my assumption is one of you fired the shots. Care to volunteer?”
Chris glared at the detective.
Nevio’s phone began to vibrate. Phan looked at the screen; it read Anonymous.
“Now who would be calling you at five o’clock in the morning, Mr. Lucchese? Please answer the phone and put it on speaker, and I want the rest of you to be quiet.”
“Lucchese here.”
“It took you long enough to answer, Nevio. Where are you?”
The detective cocked his head; the voice was familiar.
“I’m at home, in my office. My son was kidnapped; we’re trying to find him. If you had anything to do with—”
“Calm down, old man, your son is safe. I took him from the man who kidnapped him at the mall. I saw it all. My employer says that you sent files earlier this evening to the secured server. They were sent using the transmitter Mr. Karns had. I haven’t been able to reach Mr. Karns to confirm this. They want to know why it was just one file and not the remaining two. Mr. Lucchese, they are not amused. We have an agreement. I would hate to take out my displeasure on your son.”
Saigon Red Page 24
