by J C Ryan
“What now?” Margot asked.
“Now we wait for a telephone call, then we get your new passport, and then we get on a plane out of here.”
“Where are we going?”
“Mumbai. We’ll stay a few days to sort things out, and then we’ll get you on your way to a place where you can wait for your baby in peace.”
***
HALF AN HOUR later, Rehka called with the name and address of a forger and told Rex they had an appointment with him in an hour. When they left the hotel, Rex went first and hailed a taxi. Margot followed a few minutes later so she wouldn’t have to wait on the street for the taxi or for Rex, and risk someone noticing the disconnect between her elderly-looking face and her youthful clothing.
Along the way, they had time to stop at a second-hand shop and pick up a suitcase for Margot’s meager possessions. She’d look more like the older Eurasian lady she was pretending to be without a designer backpack slung over a shoulder. While they were there, Rex decided a cane would help, and instructed Margot to hunch over it as she walked.
When they arrived at the forger’s address, Rex dismissed the taxi and went in with Margot to negotiate a rush job and payment. They wouldn’t need a complete legend, he explained to the man, just the Vietnamese passport. Rex impressed on the forger that the passport must have a number that would pass database parameters.
For a premium of fifteen percent over his regular fee, a price Rex thought very reasonable, the man promised to have the passport ready later that afternoon. Rex paid the required ten percent deposit and said they’d return for it, and the transaction was complete except for the photo, which the man took himself.
In the meanwhile, Rehka had sent a text with a list of flights that had side-by-side seating for two from early in the afternoon to mid-day the next day. Rex selected one leaving at nine p.m. that night and texted the choice back to Rehka.
The three of them had a late lunch at a sidewalk café, a test of sorts for Margot’s disguise. Not even the server did a double-take. Even in the light of day, the makeup was so expertly applied that it passed muster. Margot seemed to be having a ball playing the old woman. She’d added a slight limp to her gait.
Digger seemed to think their walk was for his benefit. On the leash, he trotted forward as far as Rex would let him, then fell back to heel for a while, greeted children with a happy smile, and behaved politely when adults tried to approach him. The latter was rare, but sometimes people would coo at him and try to pet him. He was aloof but didn’t snap at them. He seemed to understand he was to act like a normal dog.
Late that afternoon, after returning Margot to the hotel for a nap and leaving Digger with her, he returned to the forger’s place and picked up the passport. It was an excellent job. The man had used an existing valid Vietnamese passport and very craftily only replaced the photo. Rex had been trained in the art of forging passports—not how to do it, but how to spot the fake ones. On this one, even under the magnifying glass he couldn’t find any flaws. Margot was now Suong Gould, mother Vietnamese and father from the UK, and according to the customs stamps she’d traveled to quite a few different countries around Europe and Asia, including India.
In the few hours they had left before leaving for the airport, Rex refreshed Margot’s makeup and outlined the rest of the plan over a room-service dinner.
As planned, Rex left the hotel room first and went down to check out. Margot, in her disguise, followed a few minutes later, walked past Rex and Digger, paying them only cursory attention on her way to the lobby, where she looked at her watch and then out the front door as if she were waiting for someone to turn up.
Although Rex was busy with the clerk, he was fully aware of where Margot was and what she was doing. Fortunately, the clerk on duty this evening wasn’t the same one who’d seen Margot enter with him in the early morning hours.
The plan worked perfectly, though Rex noted Digger looking after Margot with a tilt to his head, as if to say, “Where’s she going without us?”
As soon as Rex finished paying, Margot stepped out and hailed a taxi.
Rex followed short on her heels, got into the next taxi waiting in line, and told the driver to follow the one that had just left but to make sure he was not too close. He greased the driver’s palm with two twenty-dollar bills to ensure he had the man’s full cooperation.
Chapter 42
Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam
ABOUT FIFTEEN MINUTES into the trip, Rex had begun to relax and think they’d get away clean, when a bold move in the traffic ahead caught his attention. A taxi had careened out of a side street and was now between his and Margot’s. His driver didn’t seem concerned, but as they kept going, making several turns, the interloper taxi made the same turns.
“Can you get next to that taxi that almost cut you off?” Rex asked.
“Sure.”
“Please do. I think it might be friends of mine,” Rex explained.
The driver worked his way into the next lane while Rex kept an eye on the target. It took several more lane changes, but within a few minutes, they were parallel with the other car. Rex ventured a direct look at the passengers. He’d have recognized the one nearest him anywhere. Brawn—one of Margot’s Russian followers.
How the hell did the Russians pick up the trail?
His mind went into overdrive. It could have been any number of ways. Maybe Henri had betrayed her. Maybe there were bugs in her cabin or the yacht lounge, so they’d known all along. But then they would’ve turned up much earlier, wouldn’t they?
Nope, can’t be any of that... Damn! Must be that cursed cellphone of hers again. Shit! I should’ve destroyed it last night already.
I need to get rid of these Russians before we get to the airport.
They’d come to a spot where there were few streetlights and the buildings appeared to be industrial, maybe warehouses. He was about to ask the driver to get ahead and cut off Brawn’s taxi when it sped up, flanked Margot’s taxi, and began crowding it to the side of the road.
“Shit!” he yelled, startling the driver and causing him to swerve. “Quick! Catch up to them!” He’d had the presence of mind to switch to French after his decidedly Anglo-Saxon outburst, but the driver had already increased their speed. Seconds later, the driver slammed on his brakes and Rex was out the door, just steps from where Brawn’s taxi had performed an expert PIT maneuver, causing Margot’s taxi to fishtail and reverse directions before coming to a stop. Rex was one step behind Brawn, but Digger was two steps ahead, engaging Curly, who’d also been in the taxi but concealed from Rex’s view by Brawn’s bulk and was getting out on the opposite side.
Behind him, his taxi driver twisted around and grabbed his backpack, threw it out of the car, and sped away, evidently preferring to lose his fare than stick around and get involved in scrap. Seconds later, another car sped away, but Rex couldn’t take the time to determine whether it was Margot’s taxi or the Russians’.
Leaving Digger to take care of Curly, Rex tackled Brawn from behind, expecting to knock him down, but that didn’t pan out. Brawn stayed on his feet and whirled with Rex clinging on. It was an untenable position.
As Brawn blundered about, Rex worked his left arm up under the Russian’s chin and squeezed, cutting of his airway. With his right fist, he began punching the Russian in the kidneys. Brawn staggered and began to fall backward, clearly an attempt to pin Rex down below him. Rex pushed off the giant and sprang lightly to his feet, poised for a takedown maneuver.
The Russian roared and turned to rush at his assailant, but Rex easily avoided the lumbering beast and danced around him, getting in kicks and jabs where he could. But it had little effect on him. If he let the Russian get a hand on him, it would be all over. The man could probably crush him like an eggshell. The Russian charged toward him, roaring with rage. Rex took a step to the side at the last moment and kicked him in the side of his right knee. He heard the snap followed by the Russian yelling out in pain, but to Re
x’s surprise he remained on his feet, turned, and stormed in again. Just then he heard a gunshot and Digger yelping.
“Digger!” He screamed at the top of his lungs.
It was enough of a distraction to Rex to allow Brawn to hit Rex with a swinging fist in the side of his head. Fortunately, at the very last moment, Rex was able to get most of his head out of the way. Nonetheless, the residual part of the blow was powerful enough to make him see stars and send him reeling backward.
Brawn growled and snarled in Russian “I’m going to take you apart boy, in small pieces, and feed it to the fish.” He dropped his head, extended his arms, and plunged toward Rex.
Digger’s yap had put Rex in a murderous mood. He shook his head, danced back, and when Brawn was within striking distance, he twisted to the side and landed a vicious kick to the Russian’s throat. The jar to his extended leg sent a shock-wave all the way to his hip.
That had the desired effect. Brawn fell like a rotten tree in a high wind, clutching his throat and gasping for breath. Rex quickly moved in, kicked him once in the groin which folded him over, and followed it up with a sleep-inducing kick to the side of his face that broke the Russian’s jaw in two places. Brawn’s body went limp. He was going to have liquid meals for a long while.
Rex immediately turned his attention to Curly and murmured while he was running toward the other end of the taxi, “If you’ve injured my dog, you’re dead.”
Rex was relieved to see Digger had Curly by the arm, worrying it to keep Curly off balance. In the hand of the same arm in Digger’s jaws was a snub-nosed pistol Rex recognized as a Russian-made PSS-2, the modernized version of the MSS ‘vul’ silent pistol. With its short barrel and wide handle, it looked like a child’s drawing of a gangster’s gun. But it was no less deadly than any other gun. Digger had no doubt saved his life by keeping Curly from firing it while Rex was busy with Brawn.
Rex rushed at the struggling pair and swept Curly’s feet. He was in no mood to be nice. He took out his anger on Curly by kicking him in the side, taking the wind out of his lungs and breaking more than a few ribs in the process. While Digger continued to hamper his shooting arm, Rex kicked Curly in the face, leaving his nose a shattered, blood-spurting mess. He was lining up another kick when Curly sighed once. Then his eyes rolled back, and he stopped moving—lights out.
Rex caught his breath, took one step to get to Digger, and dropped to his knees next to him. He was bleeding. “Come here, boy. What…” He stopped speaking and had to swallow a lump in his throat as he saw that Digger had only been grazed by the bullet. He got up and kicked the pistol away from the Russian’s limp hand and made sure the scumbag was not in need of another kick, but he was unmoving. Further examination of Digger’s wound gave him the relief that it was not much more than a skin-deep gash on the upper part of his right hind leg. It would no doubt heal with a bit of antiseptic salve—no need for medical intervention.
He still had his arms around Digger, talking to him when he became aware that Margot was kneeling in front of him, crying hysterically and trying to hug him.
“Margot, get back in the taxi, hurry! Before he drives off.”
She shook her head and reassured him she’d given her driver a large sum to hand her his keys, so he couldn’t speed away as the other two had as soon as the fight started. Rex couldn’t blame them. There’d be consequences soon, though. He needed Margot to get away and catch that flight. It was more important that she got on the flight than for him to get on it.
“Okay, let me up,” she said.
He stood and pulled her to her feet, then gave her the hug she so clearly needed. “You have to make that flight, and I have to hang back and question these punks when they wake up, and maybe I’ll have to deal with the police, as well. You must get out, Margot.”
He pulled out his satphone and opened it to find a picture of Rehka. “This is my assistant. Her name is Rehka. She’ll meet you in Mumbai. Go with her, you can trust her with your life. She knows all about you, she knows what you look like, and she’ll keep you safe until I can join you. Go on, hurry now, or you’ll miss your flight.”
Margot started protesting, but Rex had no time for that. He swept her off her feet into his arms and carried her to the taxi. She kept on screaming and kicking, and he kept on telling her to shut up and calm down. After what felt to Rex like eternity, he got her to the taxi. Mercifully, she had stopped opposing him and started listening. He helped her to get inside the taxi, kissed her on the top of her head, and said, “Remember Margot, you promised me you’ll do exactly as I tell you to do. Now is the time to do it.”
She nodded through the tears.
Rex closed the door and tapped on the roof for the driver to go. Just as the taxi started to move, though, he snatched the door open again and the driver slammed on the brakes.
“Give me your phone.”
“What? But I might…”
“Margot, that’s how they knew where to get you. They’ve been tracking you through that phone. Did you switch it on when you got into the taxi?”
She nodded. “I’m… I... didn’t… sorry…”
“Okay, not time for that now, just give it to me.” He held out his hand and snapped his fingers a few times.
With manifest reluctance, she extended it, and he took it quickly before she could change her mind and waste more time. With the seconds ticking by, he dropped the phone on the pavement and ground it under his heel.
A small squeak of dismay from Margot was all the protest she made.
“I’ll see you in a day or two. Margot, there is no one that will follow you now. All you have to do now is execute our plan, but without me. You’ve got your boarding pass, your suitcase is hand luggage, so you don’t have to check in, go straight to customs and go through. Go to your departure gate and wait for your flight to board. That’s all you have to do, it’s easy. Just do it.”
Her white face looking back at him with concern was the last he saw of her. He thought she might be crying again. But it was too late to remind her to refresh her makeup when she got to the airport. With luck, airport security wouldn’t notice that the bags under her eyes were dripping down her cheeks or smeared as she’d wiped her tears.
Have a safe flight, Margot.
Rex assumed the police would be there soon, since both his and the Russians’ drivers had sped away, and would no doubt report the incident, or maybe they won’t. They’d probably want to have nothing to do with it. However, before the police arrived, if they arrived, he hoped to revive at least one of them for questioning. When he turned back, he saw Digger sitting with his front paws on the pistol Rex had kicked away, staring at Curly, who was beginning to come around. Brawn was breathing, but barely. Rex suspected he had a crushed larynx, broken jaw, and crushed nuts, and would need medical attention soon if he was to live.
He shrugged. Nothing he could do about that at the moment, that’s if he even wanted to do something about it. Maybe the police would be there in time to save him. Meanwhile, he’d get what he could out of Curly, who seemed to be the more intelligent of the two anyway.
“Why were you following my friend?” he asked.
Curly only moaned. A few minutes later, he hadn’t gotten much more out of the injured man when a car pulled up. Expecting it to be cops, he stayed where he was and only looked up when a pair of 4-inch spiked heels entered his view. He looked up.
Ida.
The look of shock and bewilderment of recognizing Rex and Digger was unmistakable on her face. The few seconds it took her to process seeing him and pull her gun, gave him the time he needed to grab the one from between Digger’s feet and scramble for cover behind her car, yelling for Digger to hide, too. Despite his injured leg, Digger was already on his feet and running toward the car as Rex told him.
Gunshots rang out as Ida recovered her wits. Fortunately, those first few shots were fired wildly and gave both Rex and Digger time to reach the vehicle. Rex took up position behind the engine b
lock. Digger was at his feet behind the front tire, safe for the moment.
When it came to killing women, Rex was a sexist. He’d never killed a woman and hoped he’d never have to, not even tonight when one was shooting at him. However, he couldn’t let her continue shooting at him and Digger, she might just get a lucky hit. He needed to scare her.
He got up in a crouch, rested his hands on the hood and fired off two shots into the ground a few yards in front of Ida, which made her cease firing and start backwards. Two more shots over her head and Ida got the message. She fired one more round in Rex’s general direction, turned, and took off for the building whose parking lot they’d come to rest in when the Russians’ taxi had run Margot’s off the road.
Rex was about to follow Ida when he noticed Curly had regained consciousness, had crawled over to Brawn’s position, and was searching his unconscious body. No doubt, looking for a gun.
The next moment, to Rex’s surprise, Curly, from his prone position, started shooting at the shadows of the building concealing Ida, instead of shooting at him behind the car.
That kick in the face must have scrambled his brains. Suits me just fine, if he’s not shooting at Digger and me.
Rex quickly saw the opportunity presented by Curly’s confusion. Therefore, he also fired a few shots in the direction of the building, keeping it high. This obviously emboldened Curly who started firing more rapidly at the building.
Another two shots fired in quick succession by Curly elicited a high-pitched scream. Then he stopped shooting, probably realizing that scream came from a woman.
Rex grinned when he heard a few Russian expletives emanating from Curly’s position. The next moment, he saw the Russian stagger up and lurch toward the building.
