Angel in the Full Moon

by Don Easton

  Bien looked at Linh, who shook her head before yelling at him in Vietnamese, telling him to escape fast.

  Bien knew that he could not do that—no more than he could get to Pops before his daughter was killed.

  Pops smiled when Bien threw his knife down on the floor.

  “Chain him up,” ordered Pops, “then bring me the key.”

  Dúc led Bien over to the far side of the room and picked up the length of chain. A padlock with a key in it hung from one of the links in the chain. He fastened the chain tightly around Bien’s ankle, nervously approached Pops, and handed him the key.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Pops. He chuckled and added, “You didn’t really believe that I meant to harm you, did you?”

  Dúc didn’t reply.

  “I meant to fool him,” said Pops, gesturing toward Bien with the barrel of his pistol. “It worked. I didn’t think you would believe it!” he chortled, patting Dúc on the back.

  Dúc smiled nervously.

  “Do you think anyone knows he is here?” asked Pops.

  Dúc shook his head.

  “I didn’t think so,” replied Pops. “How is your neck? Do you need stitches?” he asked, sounding concerned.

  “It is not deep,” said Dúc.“I think it has stopped bleeding, but it is painful.”

  Pops nodded and said, “I think we should extract a certain amount of revenge on this man for what he has done to you. Don’t you agree?”

  Dúc was no longer afraid and his face showed his anger as he turned and looked at Bien. “Yes. Very much so.”

  Pops smiled and said, “Good. I think you will find this amusing.” He walked over and ordered Bien to lie on his back on the floor in front of him. Bien hesitated and Pops said, “If you do not want your daughter hurt, you will obey me completely!”

  Bien did as ordered. He closed his eyes but his mind could not block out his daughter’s crying as Pops urinated on his face.

  “Okay, you pathetic excuse for a father—a father who would allow his own daughters to be sold and raped! Get on your knees and look at me!”

  Bien did as instructed.

  “Take one last look at your daughter. I wonder what will happen to her?”

  “Please, Mister Pops,” begged Bien. “You must be a man of your word. You promised not to hurt us. Please! I will not tell anyone. All I want is to go back to my own country.”

  Pops said, “Really? Oh, okay,” he said, turning away, but laughed and spun around and said, “It is time for you to say goodbye to your daughter. Is there anything you wish to say to her?”

  Bien looked up as Pops stepped back a short distance before aiming the pistol at his face. His mouth opened to yell to Linh that he loved her as his mind reeled with what he could possibly say to make Pops change his mind.

  “Too late,” said Pops. He smiled and said, “Pop,” and squeezed the trigger.

  A bright red dot instantly appeared on Bien’s forehead and the blood ran down the side of his nose as he slumped sideways onto the floor.

  chapter thirty-six

  Laura found a bush-filled entrance to a farmer’s field, pulled in, and parked the car. The fear on the Russians’ faces showed that they were now acutely aware of their new surroundings.

  Fat Man was sweating profusely and his lips had taken on a bluish hue. He looked at Jack and gasped, “Please ... my chest ... the pain, it has gone to my neck, shoulder ... arm. I think I am having ...” He stopped talking and started panting heavily.

  Don’t die on me now, you fat bastard!

  Jack saw the concern flicker across Laura’s face. Not now, Laura! You’re supposed to act like you want them dead!

  Laura looked at Jack and said, “I think he’s—”

  “Yeah!” said Jack loudly, interrupting her. “Fat Man looks like he is about to have a heart attack. Good! One less cell needed at Guantanamo.” Jack’s voice returned to a normal level and he added, “He probably wouldn’t survive the interrogations anyway. As long as Petya here is healthy, who cares?”

  Laura momentarily turned away from the Russians. Oh, man—

  “Cut to the chase,” said Jack. “What is this nonsense about two girls?”

  Moustache Pete’s eyes betrayed his fear as they flickered between the Fat Man and Jack. “The business we are in,” said Moustache Pete quickly, “it is only importing women to work in hotels. Illegal as far as immigration goes, but nothing to do with terrorism.”

  “Yeah, sure,” said Jack. “What does the hotel business have to do with Puget Sound and meeting with al-Qaeda?”

  “I did not know the Arab was connected to al-Qaeda. He told us he wanted some young women to work in a hotel. Our interest in navigational charts was purely a matter of interest as to where we could bring people in.”

  “So this Arab killed some girl?”

  “No! Not him. Someone who lives here, in Vancouver. We heard, through a business associate here, that he sold two young girls to a monster of a man who killed one of the girls and is holding the other girl in chains. They are sisters. One of them, her body has recently been found by the police.”

  “I would have heard of it,” said Laura.

  “No, my mistake,” muttered Moustache Pete. “It is not Vancouver police. It is the RCMP in Surrey. Please check, you will see that I am telling the truth.”

  “This story,” said Jack, “it will not take us long to find out the truth. If you are lying, it will go very hard on you.”

  “We are not lying. If we prove this, will you let us go?”

  “Of course I would, if it was true. It would still take time to sort things out. I won’t be able to stop my office from arresting you, but you’ll have about a fourteen-hour head start.”

  “We would still be arrested?”

  “I can’t guarantee anything that the Americans would ... or would not do. You know how they operate. The secret prisons they have all over the world. Still, if you are telling the truth, you would not be detained forever.” He pointed his finger at the Fat Man and added, “So you, fat boy, if you are lying to us, you may as well continue with your heart attack. If you’re not lying ... then relax, because I will let you go.”

  “We are not lying,” panted the Fat Man.

  “Then you have nothing to fear from the two of us,” said Jack. “I can assure you that I will let you go tonight. You might want to take the opportunity to try and find a place to hide until your story is checked out by my friends down south. Although hiding may prove difficult. The Americans have most of the holiday spots on the globe well covered.”

  “We are telling you the truth,” said Moustache Pete.

  Jack glanced at his watch and looked at Laura and said, “I never did confirm with my friends waiting at the border that we picked them up. We can delay for a little while. I can’t see why these two would make up such an absurd story. They’re cuffed and can’t escape. If they’re lying, I’ll definitely make sure that their interrogators are told about it. It would cost them dearly, they must know that.”

  “Yes, we would not lie about such a thing,” said Moustache Pete. “It will be easy for you to discover we are telling the truth. This place, where the monster lives, it is even close to the border.”

  “We don’t have anything to lose,” said Jack, looking at Laura. “Let’s just sit quietly for a moment and let me figure out all the angles. If they are being truthful, I will let them go.”

  A few minutes passed and the natural colour returned to Fat Man’s face and his breathing became normal. Laura caught the slight nod of Jack’s head and she resumed her role. “Come on,” she said, looking at Jack. “Let’s drive them to the border. This is bull.”

  The Fat Man gasped.

  Jack held up his hand as if to stop Laura from talking and looked at Moustache Pete and asked, “What is the name of your alleged business associate?”

  “Dúc,” he replied immediately. “He owns a massage parlour in Surrey called the Orient Pleasure. He has two brothers.
They own another massage parlour in Vancouver called The Asian Touch.”

  “I have heard of that place,” said Laura. “We busted it yesterday.”

  “See!” said Moustache Pete, giving a worried look at the Fat Man who was beginning to take shallow breaths again. “We are telling the truth.”

  “Yeah, right,” said Laura. “It was in the news. You probably read about it.”

  “No! I did not—well, I did, but that has nothing to do with the two young sisters. Call the police in Surrey. You will see.”

  “Why don’t you do it, sweetie?” said Jack. “What if he is telling the truth?”

  “Yeah, I guess that won’t hurt,” she grumbled, getting out of the car.

  The men watched intently as Laura got out and walked around the car with her cellphone at her ear. She got back inside and said, “A girl’s body was found. Unidentified. There is nothing about any sister.”

  “That is her,” said Moustache Pete. “She is Vietnamese, right?”

  “I was told Asian,” said Laura.

  “See? I am right. The police do not know about the sister, but I do.”

  Laura glanced at Jack and said, “Maybe they are telling the truth. Could your office be wrong about these guys?”

  “CSIS ... make a mistake? I can’t see that happening. If we did, it was because of something the Americans told us.” Jack saw the glare that Laura gave him. Sorry ... getting into my role too much ...

  Jack pretended to cough and said, “There is no doubt about the Arab they met. He was confirmed by multiple independent sources—”

  “Not about the Arabs, about these two? You told me you had two bona fide terrorists here!”

  “Well,” Jack paused, “the investigation is still continuing, but their contacts and affiliation with the Arab was confirmed. This could still be a delay tactic,” he said, glancing suspiciously at the men in the back seat. “Perhaps trying to put us off while the police run around playing footsy with this Dúc character. Maybe trying to find some house with a kidnapped girl that may not even exist.”

  “No, it does exist!” said Moustache Pete.

  Laura glared at him.“I suppose you are going to tell us that we just have to go ask Dúc and he’ll tell us where she is,” said Laura.

  “I know the house,” said Moustache Pete. “We were there once and waited in the car while Dúc went inside.”

  “What’s the address,” Jack snapped at him. “Quick!”

  “I ... I do not know.”

  “It’s all bull,” said Laura.

  “No. It is no bull,” replied Moustache Pete. “I know it to see it, but I just don’t know the address.”

  “How do we get to it?” asked Jack.

  “You keep driving toward the border on Highway 99, but you take the last exit. It is 8th Avenue. You turn right. From there, I can take you to the house.”

  “What street is it on?” asked Jack.

  “I don’t know. If you drive, I will recognize it.”

  Twenty minutes later, Laura turned on 8th Avenue as directed.

  “Go straight,” said Moustache Pete, “but slow down—I need to look.”

  Moments later he argued briefly with Fat Man before speaking English and saying, “Yes, turn right here.”

  “It’s on this street?” asked Laura.

  “No, farther yet. Keep driving. I remember it is on the side of a hill.”

  “We’re in White Rock,” commented Laura.

  “Please ... keep driving. I think you turn here.”

  Jack felt the tension in his body increase with every turn the car made. He realized he was holding his breath and wiped the sweat off the palms of his hands on his pants.

  “No, this is wrong,” said Moustache Pete. “Go back. Maybe it was the next street ....”

  Jack glanced at Laura and saw that her body was rigid and the frustration was evident in her face as she slammed on the brakes to turn around.

  Bien felt stunned as he blinked his eyes. He felt the painful mark on his forehead as Pops and Dúc roared with laughter.

  He looked up at Pops who pointed the CO2 pistol at him again and said, “Pop,” before firing another pellet. Bien cringed and felt the pellet ricochet off the side of his head.

  “You shouldn’t flinch,” yelled Pops. “That is how Hang lost her eye!”

  Bien screamed out in rage and leapt forward, clawing at the air like a madman as Pops stepped back out of reach.

  “How ferocious,” said Pops, “I should take you to a taxidermist after and have you stuffed. You would look good standing near my fireplace.” He smiled and said, “Maybe now you know why I am called Pops!” Again he said, “Pop,” and fired another pellet, striking Bien on the back of his hand as he covered his face.

  Bien cringed but he lowered his hands as he heard Pops moving away.

  Pops tossed the pistol into a box and looked at Bien and said, “You are fortunate that you arrived today.” He pointed at a calendar and said, “It is a red-circle day. A day of surprises for Linh. Actually,” he said, glancing at Dúc, “a day of surprises for all of us.”

  “Please,” begged Bien.

  Pops waved his hand, gesturing for Bien to be silent.

  “Unfortunately,” continued Pops, “because of your arrival, all her surprises will be today. You will watch. If you do not watch ...,” Pops gestured to the steak knife on the floor, “I will start by cutting off your daughter’s ears ... then other parts of her body.”

  Bien watched in horror and revulsion as Pops slowly took off his clothes, flexing his muscles as he did so.

  Dúc stood with his back to the wall, watching intently.

  “Please, sir, please don’t,” begged Bien.

  “Keep asking politely,” said Pops. “If you ask enough, maybe you will convince me to stop. But if I see you looking away—if you even blink, I will toss you one piece of your daughter each time.”

  Linh screamed as Pops grabbed her. He shook her by the arm and said, “And you, my little fighter. You will do everything I say or I will cut your father to pieces before your eyes!”

  chapter thirty-seven

  “That’s it!” said Moustache Pete, gesturing with his head toward a house that Laura was driving past. “The place with the hedge and the driveway that goes to the rear.”

  “You are certain?” asked Jack. “The place we are driving past now—the house in darkness?”

  “Yes,” both men said from the back seat.

  “Maybe he’s not home from work yet,” suggested Laura.

  “Maybe,” replied Jack. “Turn around and park a few houses down on the opposite side. Time for you and me to have a private talk.”

  Moments later, Jack and Laura stood outside the car. “Now what?” she asked.

  “I’d like to scoop a licence plate or something. Figure out who really lives here. With what this guy has done, if it’s him, he’ll definitely have a history.”

  “Like setting pets on fire when he was a kid,” said Laura with disgust.

  “If that is the case,” continued Jack, “I’ll call Connie and she can send in the troops and we’ll sit back with these two. If it’s confirmed, we’ll let them go as promised.”

  “How do you explain that we found this place?” asked Laura, gesturing with her thumb at the two Russians. “If anyone finds out what we did with these two, we’re finished. Not to mention that a judge will probably rule that we put the administration of justice into disrepute and toss the evidence.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, these two fine gentlemen in the back of the car are our informants. There is no need to get into how they were ... cultivated.”

  Laura nodded. “And as informants, we keep their identity secret.”

  “It’s not like I expect them to stay once we release them anyway. They’ll be running for the airport.”

  Laura looked toward the house and said, “Do you think they’re telling the truth?”

  Jack looked up at the night sky as the
full moon momentarily shone through a break in the clouds. That’s eerie ...

  He glanced at Laura and said, “Yeah, I think they’re telling the truth. Looks like the driveway might lead to a garage out back. I’m going to grab my flashlight and picks out of the trunk.”

  “You’re not going inside the—”

  “No. I’ll check the mailbox, if there is one, and then the garage for a plate. If I’m lucky, the garage will have a window. If it doesn’t, or I can’t see in, I’ll pick the lock if there’s no alarm system.”

  Laura opened the trunk and Jack reached for his briefcase, removing a penlight flashlight and a small leather case from it and put them in his pocket. He looked at her and said, “If there aren’t any cars, I’ll come back and we’ll wait here. Tap the horn twice if a car arrives and I’ll take off through the back. I’ll have my phone, but I’m shutting it off.”

  “Good luck.”

  Jack casually sauntered down the sidewalk while glancing at neighbouring houses. The ones with lights on made it easy to see that nobody was looking out. He turned into the driveway and walked toward the house. He could see a slot in the front door for mail. So much for that idea ...

  He followed the driveway to the rear and peeked around the corner at the back of the house. The back porch light was on, as well as a light from inside the kitchen. Another light shone out from the ground behind some bushes close to his feet. It came from a sunken window well and he tried to peer inside, but blinds blocked his view.

  The garage extended out on the far side of the back door. The overhead garage door faced him, but he could not see the far side of the garage or the rear, where he hoped to find a window to look in—or a door where he could pick the lock unobserved.

  He quickly surveyed the situation. The light from the porch did not extend to the back fence, where an ample supply of bushes would provide cover.