Now in the shadows and darkness of the storage area, he waited. Just a few more hours and night would fall over the embassy, a few more hours until he could kill Hatcher. The thought immediately buoyed him. It raised his spirits, set the forces of a dark, malignant evil working within him. The feeling swelled and bubbled over inside him like boiling water. It touched his soul. It left him feeling breathless.
As he waited, he stared out into the dimness of his surroundings. The light caught his eyes just right and his face took on the sleek predatory look of a black jaguar.
* * * *
The landing gear whined as the Lear’s wheels locked into position under the fuselage. Up front in the privacy of the cockpit, the pilot lifted the nose of the aircraft slightly and the compression of tires on the runway was clear and immediate. A rubbery screech and a thin wisp of gray smoke filled the air as the plane touched down, slowed and then taxied over to the terminal.
Tory and Seabury got out and climbed down the ladder onto the tarmac. Robert Hong followed, leaving his daughter alone inside the plane. Tory stood back from the two men, allowing them a few minutes of privacy.
“I’m trying to forget what happened up there,” Robert Hong said. His mood had suddenly changed, surprising Seabury. “I see the cuts, the bruises. I’m not blind. I know what he did to her.”
Hong’s tired face reflected a look of bitterness. Seabury stepped back and took a deep breath in stunned silence.
“They were on a college break, for God’s sake,” Hong said. “Schoolgirls on holiday in Vientiane. Victoria went back to meet Greta in the hotel when this guy, this Hyde Greer was in the room. He killed Greta and kidnapped Victoria. I got this much out of her—through the dead wall of silence and guilt and shame which surrounds her. I’m afraid I’m lost, not knowing what to do now. I got this much out of her. Now I’m thinking it was a mistake not listening to you. She shouldn’t have gone up here. Laos is a very dangerous place. And I feel responsible. I’m her father. I should be protecting her.”
“Try not to blame yourself,” Seabury said.
“I’m not blaming myself. You’ve got it all wrong.”
“She was targeted.” Seabury explained, trying to console him. “Greer knew what he was doing.”
“Yes. But that’s what I want to talk to you about—this man, Hyde Greer.”
It was as if the door to one side of Hong’s personality closed and another one opened. Seabury noticed a harsh, bitter, vengeful side he’d hadn’t seen before.
“I’m not a vindictive man,” Hong said. “I want Hyde Greer caught and punished. I won’t stop until I see him rotting in a prison cell. He violated my daughter. He abused her. He stripped her of her honor. He damaged her reputation and the reputation of my family. What man will look at her now and not see what others see. He needs to pay. I won’t forget. I have a long memory.”
Seabury said nothing. An awkward moment passed between them. Seabury’s eyes steadied on the elderly man, staring at him through the harsh bands of sunlight streaming down on the tarmac. It was not Hong’s face he saw but the face of another man, an angry, bitter, hostile man and that disturbed him. He turned around and saw Tory checking her watch.
“I’m sorry, Robert,” he said. “I have to go. The police are waiting. I’ll let you know what happens.”
“Yes. Keep me posted.” Hong said. He turned around and climbed the ladder and got back into the plane.
Seabury shrugged his shoulders and said to Tory, “He’s taking it bad.”
“I noticed the change too,” she said. “But how can we know exactly how he feels. If you had a daughter and this happened to her. How would you feel?”
“The same way. Maybe worse.”
“It’s sad, really,” Tory said. “But then she’s lucky to be alive.”
“Yes. Very lucky,” Seabury said.
They raced across the tarmac toward the terminal and went inside. They cleared customs on the strength of Hong’s political connections and left the airport free of the APB that had been posted on them earlier. They could now move unrestrained about the city and were given clearance to provide security for Howard Hatcher at his party at the embassy that night.
“Tell me something,” Seabury said once they were inside the taxi.
She smiled. “I know what you’re going to ask.”
“How long?”
“Twelve years.”
She was still looking at him, studying his eyes, gauging his reaction. Seabury didn’t respond.
“There’s a re-instatement clause in the contract,” she said. “I can return to duty in San Francisco with full benefits in nine months if I decide to be a cop again. I left the Force thinking I’d marry Bill Wheatley and become a diplomat’s wife. But, well, things don’t always work out the way you want them to.”
Seabury said nothing.
She said, “I’m staying for a while in Vientiane. When this is all over, promise you’ll drop by for a visit.”
Promises of get-togethers, holiday dinners, weekend romance, moonlight strolls along the beach. Until now he’d been unable to think of his life beyond the present moment. Over the last three years since his fiancé Dao Suttikul had died, he’d gone through brief encounters with a few women. There were holiday picnics, romantic interludes and promises of more to come. But nothing ever seemed to work out. Mostly because of him. So the relationships came and they died as quickly as they had begun, fading back into his memory as idle promises and remembrances of things to come. When it came right down to it, he was afraid. He was afraid of being committed and tied down.
He could see that the breakup with Bill Wheatley was troubling her. She seemed lost and lonely now, maybe trying a bit too hard to regain her self-confidence. Seabury didn’t want to hurt her. Yet at the same time he didn’t want to encourage her either.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve always been a solitary guy. Like I said before, I don’t get involved.”
“Oh,” she said. She turned back to the window inside the taxi and stared outside. Tiny fissures cut at the corners of her mouth and there was a look of disappointment in her eyes.
“It’s the nature of the business—being a merchant seaman,” Seabury said, trying to let her down gracefully. “Long trips out to sea and not a lot of time left to build a strong relationship. For me, it’s always been that way. Difficult to get involved.”
She stayed quiet for a long time, staring out the window. Seabury looked at her, with quick fleeting glances over his shoulder. He felt terrible but he didn’t want to harbor any false hopes nor would he make promises he knew he couldn’t keep. They weren’t out of danger yet. His thoughts slid back to Hyde Greer. He was out there now, somewhere in the late afternoon, watching, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The sun flickered in a jagged red star and then disappeared below the flat gray roof of the U.S. Embassy Building. It was 6: 15 p.m. Hyde Greer got up from the cushioned chair he’d been sitting on for hours, checked his watch, and went back outside. Across the yard long sleek limos had pulled up inside the driveway outside the embassy. Dark-suited U.S. diplomats, high ranking politicians, uniformed military officers and their wives wearing long sequined gowns, stepped from the vehicles. They were escorted along a strip of red carpet and into the building by a trio of solemn, grim-faced U.S. Marines. They wore white gloves and blue dress-uniforms and looked military and efficient.
Greer crossed the driveway and stopped at a door marked Press Area. He showed his press-pass to a guard posted there. The guard looked at the pass and then looked at Hyde Greer. To complete the disguise, Greer wore a fake moustache and dark horn-rimmed glasses. He was dressed in a white shirt and blue tie and a beige sport coat. His black oxfords were shined to a high gloss. The guard glanced at the pass, then at him, then nodded his head and allowed him to enter.
Lights were on everywhere on the lower floor. Orchestra music filled the air. A crowd stood milling around,
drinking, talking. Hyde Greer saw glasses clinked together, saw champagne corks being popped open in the bar across the room, heard sporadic bursts of laughter.
A gala occasion, he thought bitterly. I’ll show them how to crash a party.
Moving behind a wall of guests, he positioned himself at the edge of the crowd. He went into the front pocket of his suit coat and took out his notebook and began writing.
As he removed his hand from the pocket, he felt the slender thread of piano wire hidden there in the lining. It was easy to rip open and get at. Now that he was inside. The press pass had allowed him entrance into the building without the scrutiny of electronic security. The guard’s incompetency had also missed detecting the wire.
He liked the stealth and the immediacy of using a wire. Come up from behind. Get close. Wrap the wire around the victim’s throat and pull straight back. It was over quickly.
In his mind he saw Hatcher squirming, kicking and struggling, choking to death under the strength of his powerful hands. Revenge! Sweet revenge!
A young plain-looking brunette, with a long red, over-the-shoulder gown saw him writing in his notebook. She smiled and started to walk over. He saw that she was alone and he didn’t want to start up a conversation. He smiled back and then slipped past her, to the back of the room and upstairs.
Greer had studied the diagrams furnished by friends inside the embassy. He knew every nook and cranny of the building. There was a private bathroom on second floor. It was down at the end of the hall. Hatcher would go there eventually, after his boring, long-winded speech, after the cocktails and the dinner wine and the blue-ribbon steaks, potatoes, salad, and crepes for dessert—he’d go upstairs to relieve himself.
I’ve got your number, Hatcher. I’m dialing it up tonight. So long, Asshole! Hyde Greer moved up the stairs unnoticed and entered the hall on second floor.
* * * *
Across the room inside the door to the banquet hall, Seabury saw her at the podium. Shoulder-length honey wheat hair, almost white, face aglow, eyes alert and shining. Secretary of State, Rita Renner.
“Dear friends, honored guests, Ambassador Hatcher. It gives me great pleasure to be here tonight…”
She went on, her speech not overly long, not short. Just the right length to inform and impress her audience. She finished and left the stage with a round of applause.
Howard Hatcher climbed the steps after her and walked across the stage toward the podium. The ovation was thunderous rocking the hall as the crowd stood up to cheer. Hatcher stood for a moment, beaming.
Outside in the lobby Tory Kwan switched on her walkie-talkie and checked in with Seabury. “No luck,” she said. “I don’t see anyone who even remotely resembles him. Think I’ll head upstairs. Have you been up there yet?”
“No,” Seabury said. “Most of its already sealed off. There’s a guard up there.”
“Okay. I’ll wander up and check it out. Then get back to you.”
“Okay,” Seabury said. “See you later.”
She rang off.
* * * *
Seabury’s eyes switched back to the podium. He used the time before Hatcher began to speak to study the man and to draw his own conclusions about him. He noticed Hatcher’s blue eyes and the shock of white coiffed hair. Then the few errant strands dangling down from his broad forehead. They gave his face a youthful look, a look of strength and vitality even for a man in his mid-sixties.
There was also his military rank and the war record—he’d served honorably—to appeal to the audience. Seabury guessed he could see it. The allure. The attraction. Yet Hatcher’s public persona was a fabrication compared to the dark secret buried in his past. A secret that if exposed could lay him open to public scrutiny, and destroy forever his burgeoning political career.
Now Hatcher’s pink cheeks flushed and his steel blue eyes glinted in joy under the lights. He was dressed in a dark pin-striped suit with a white shirt and plain yellow tie. He had a file card in his hand with a few notes written on it. He held his hands up in front of his chest, palms out, smiling, pleading for silence from the crowd.
“Thank you. Oh, my. Thank you….thank you.” A few moments later the crowd settled down and the room got quiet. Hatcher began in a voice filled with humility.
“I feel privileged to be here tonight,” he said, “among such honored and gracious and distinguished guests. I’m pleased to see my long-time friend Rita Wharton Renner here tonight. And I’m thankful for her kind words and her warm introduction. She has such a busy schedule, yet she chose to be here tonight on this occasion, and for her kindness I am most grateful.
Rita Renner sat at a table near the front of the stage. He smiled at her. She smiled back.
Hatcher continued. “I see this night as an opportunity, not just for the great country of Laos, but an opportunity for all of Southeast Asia. I will be gone, but my replacement Malcolm Frost will continue the work that we’ve done here for so many years with a sense of energy, pride, and dedication.” There was a quick round of applause, and Hatcher continued. “As I see it, I’m merely changing hats and following orders as any good soldier would do when called on by his President to assume a new leadership role. I see it as both an honor and a duty to serve. And for this privilege, I stand here tonight and say to our President and to all of you, in the most humble and contrite way, thank you.”
He went on and on and on, while the crowd listened patiently. While Rita Renner listened patiently Seabury wondered why she was stepping down.
Mrs. Renner had over three more years left to serve as Secretary of State in President Barack Obama’s second-term administration. Some said she needed more time to spend with her family. Some, more knowledgeable, said she was stepping down because she needed time to strategize her plan to make a run for the White House
during the next presidential election. She was a proud and determined person, who hoped to become the first woman elected President of the United States. Seabury left it go at that.
Half hour later Hatcher finished talking and left the stage. Mingling easily with his guests now, smiling, shaking hands, working the room with the skill of a seasoned politician, Hatcher then slipped away from the crowd and went upstairs to the bathroom on second floor.
Seabury hadn’t heard from Tory in a while. Near the door to the banquet hall, he dialed her number. She didn’t answer because she was lying dead on the floor in a tiny office upstairs, next to a burly U.S. Marine. They’d both been strangled to death by Hyde Greer.
Chapter Forty
Greer waited alone in the bathroom. There were two stalls inside. He waited in the one near the front door, thinking about the Marine and at the same time thinking about the woman.
The big dumb burly Marine bastard almost ripped his arm half out of the socket. They wrestled. They banged and crashed off the edge of the desk onto the floor, rolling over and over, fighting like dogs in a dog fight.
Earlier he had acted like he was drunk and needed to use the bathroom upstairs. In a hurry, annoyed, the Marine told him to use the one downstairs. Okay. He snapped a little finger salute that annoyed the guard as he backed off and stood near the landing at the top of the stairs.
Then the phone rang and the Marine went back inside the office. Probably someone was calling from downstairs. The Marine’s back was turned when Greer crept into the office and got the wire around him. He crushed the marine’s larynx and severed his trachea as they went at it on the floor.
Then this woman, this cat-like bitch Tory Kwan, the one he’d captured earlier at the Plain of Jars, showed up from out of the blue, catching him completely off guard, surprising and shocking him like he’d opened the door to a room and someone was in there staring out at him. He thought she was dead, back at the cabin, like he’d told Tony Sun and Lea his girlfriend to do. Kill ‘em. Grind ‘em up in the wood chipper. A simple fucking thing to ask. But no, no, Lea and Tony must’ve somehow fucked up.
He remembered hearing someone coming up
the stairs. He peeked out, saw her in the hall, saw her moving toward the open door. He waited inside. She entered. Cradling the gun in both hands, swaying it back and forth inside the door, going all macho on him like a rookie cop, until he kicked the gun out of her hands and used the wire on her, taking her out the same way he’d taken the Marine out. He dragged both of them into a closet and closed the door. Then he went back down the hall and into the bathroom to wait for Hatcher. Hyde Greer checked his watch now. He thought he heard someone coming down the hall.
* * * *
When Hatcher entered the bathroom he went directly to one of the urinals, in a small alcove near the edge of the stall where Greer waited. Greer removed the wire from his suit coat. He heard the urinal flush and light footsteps on the tile floor. He heard the soap dispenser being pumped, heard the faucet running.
Outside, beyond the door to the stall, Hatcher washed and rinsed his face. The harsh watery sound of a sustained burble followed by a slow, easy sigh shot up from Hatcher’s lungs into the air. The Ambassador used a paper towel to pat his face dry. In the mirror above the sink his white skin turned rosy.
Across the room Greer cracked the door to the stall open. When Greer pounced on him, Hatcher’s eyes shot back into the mirror with a look of surprise and shock. As his head jerked back, he stood straight up, the wire looped easily around his neck and bit deep into his flesh.
With his powerful hands Greer lay back hard on the wire. He turned and twisted, his arms and shoulders locked in a strong, vigorous, wrenching motion. Hatcher was unusually strong for a man his age. He ground the soles of his feet into the tile. He kicked out and thrust his body back hard in a sudden lunge that caught Greer by surprise as the back of Hatcher’s head slammed against his chest. Hatcher kept going backward at an angle. In Greer’s grasp he sank lower and lower toward the floor, until finally Greer felt the strength going out of him. Suddenly the door burst open.
Ransom Drop Page 19
