by J C Ryan
Nope, you’re not going anywhere, asshole.
Curly’s back was turned to Rex, who landed on him in a flying tackle that smashed him face-first into the ground. Digger was there, too, grabbing Curly’s shooting hand in a crushing bite. The gun dropped from Curly’s hand, and he tried to get up to fight. Rex had to hand it to him, despite his small stature and office-looks, this guy was one determined Russian. As he swung around, his jaw met with Rex’s haymaker, which broke his jaw and knocked him out cold for the second time in less than five minutes.
Rex called Digger off, grabbed Brawn’s gun off the ground, and ran to the building to see if he could find Ida.
He found her sitting with her back against the wall. Her gun was about two yards away. She had her hands over her stomach and blood was trickling through her fingers. She was barely conscious and moaning.
Rex knelt in front of her, ripped her blouse open from the bottom, and saw the tiny entrance wound in her lower abdomen. The size of the entry wound belied the severity of the injury.
He turned her over gently to see there was no hope. The exit wound gaped enough for Rex to see that the slight upward trajectory of the round had shredded her liver.
She was dying.
Rex knew he had to get the answers from her quickly, if he was to get them at all. He couldn’t be here when the police arrived, which also meant there was no time to wait around for the two Russian thugs to regain consciousness, so he could question them.
“Ida, tell me why you were following Margot.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and from the widened pupils, Rex knew she was afraid. The look in her eyes was one Rex had seen many times. It was the look of fear of someone who knew death was staring them in the face. “I’ll stay here with you. The ambulance is on its way,” he lied.
“B…blackm…” she faltered.
“Blackmail? Who? The French President?”
She closed her eyes and gave a tiny nod.
“Who’s behind it, Ida?”
“Rus…”
“Your government? Russia?”
A gush of blood erupted from her lips, but she shook her head. “Rus…neft…”
“Russneft, the gas company?”
She gave a small nod.
Rex knew Russneft was a privately owned Russian natural gas company. He also knew that there was a lot of speculation about just how privately owned they really were. Intelligence analysts were of the opinion that it was all just window dressing—trying to show the world that private enterprise was thriving in Russia. But in reality, Russneft’s strings got pulled from inside the Kremlin.
“Why did you want to take Margot?”
“Marg… escaping. Orders, take… her.”
“Has the demand been made already? Is that why you were supposed to take her?”
“mmhm… don’t… le’… esca…”
With her last word unfinished, Ida’s body suddenly relaxed and her head would have lolled to the side if Rex hadn’t been cradling it. She was gone.
As if on cue, Rex heard sirens in the distance. He gently eased Ida’s body to the ground and then signaled Digger to follow. They ran silently between the buildings and back toward the more populated areas. Rex was relieved to get independent confirmation from Ida that Margot was definitely not in cahoots with the Russians. He knew a bit more now, but it only corroborated what he and Margot had speculated. But none of it explained the French presence at all. Before he left Vietnam, he should get those answers as well, and hope it wouldn’t require the mayhem that had happened here tonight.
Chapter 43
En Route to Mumbai, India
WHILE REX HAD been busy with the Russians, Margot had followed his orders. She surprised herself when she found herself in a state of calm and her mind starting to work rationally. She started by urging the taxi driver to hurry her to the airport. Then she extracted a solemn promise from him that he would not go to the police or talk to anyone about what he saw tonight. To seal the deal, she shoved a bundle of US dollar bills, which she only later realized was almost a thousand dollars, into his hand. With that out of the way, she took a moment to think of the next most important thing before she got to the airport.
Makeup! She got her makeup out and touched up her face as best as she could in the back of a speeding taxi and managed to not make a mess of it. She understood instinctively that a disturbed appearance and even small indications of panic would draw attention to her, and then it would be all over. Carrying a forged passport and a disguise to go with it would get her thrown in jail, possibly accused of espionage or suspected terrorism. And with the knowledge she had now, she wasn’t too sure that the French government would do anything to get her out of there if it happened. They’d probably deny that she was even a French citizen.
You’re on your own, Margot. Keep your head on your shoulders and think straight.
She took the next few minutes to practice some deep-breathing techniques she’d learned during the campaign to center herself and release the panicky emotions. The techniques had served her well then, and they served her well tonight. When they arrived at the airport, she felt she was as much in control of her emotions as she could hope to be. She paid the driver the fare, since the money she’d given him before was for his silence, praised him profusely for his help and kindness, and gave his hand a nice squeeze before she got out and made her way into the departure hall.
She even remembered to hunch slightly over her cane as she made her way through customs and to the departure gate.
It was only when she sat down at a small coffee shop close to her departure gate after she had cleared customs that she became aware that she was starting to breathe normally. She didn’t even spare a moment’s thought that ordering a double espresso and a very sweet pastry might actually not be the best food to have for her over-tensed nerves. Enjoying every bit of it, she took small sips of the coffee and tiny bites of the pastry to make the feeling of relief that started washing over her last as long as possible.
When I’m on the plane, I’ll allow myself to worry again.
An hour and twenty minutes later, the plane was in the air, and when it reached cruising altitude and the announcement came that refreshments would be served, she reclined her seat, closed her eyes, and allowed her mind to wander.
What is Rowan doing? Is he safe? Is Digger?
The one thing she was sure of was that Rowan Donnelly was no history teacher or journalist or travel blogger. The things he’d done to those Russians were only possible if he’d been a trained soldier. Not just a normal soldier, a highly trained soldier—Special Forces. In her tomboy days as a teenager, she and her brother had liked to watch action movies, and it was the impossible stunts the action heroes pulled off that entertained her. But she knew, what she saw tonight was not choreographed movie stuff, not put on for her entertainment. It was the real thing—to save her from the claws of the Russians. Rowan had acted from pure instinct, it looked like. The kind that could only come from hours of training and real combat experience. The way he took down that gorilla of a man, twice his size, was something she would not have believed possible if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes. And what surprised her about her emotions was that she felt no revulsion about Rex’s viciousness.
A tiny smile played on her face as she promised herself, Rowan Donnelly, I’m going to find out who you really are.
Before long, the rebound from the adrenaline spike left her drained of all energy, in need of a nap. A smile broke across her face as she could’ve sworn that she’d felt a little fluttering inside her womb. Impossible, it was too early, but it certainly felt like it. She placed her hands on her lap.
Don’t worry little one, you’re going to be safe. No one is going to hurt you.
The drone of the aircraft engines helped her nod off, and she slept for most of the seven-hour flight.
When she woke, unrefreshed as only air travel sleep can produce, her thoughts had returned to Rowan. Did it
really matter who Rowan was, or what his motives were? The fact of the matter was if it hadn’t been for him, she’d now be in the hands of those Russian thugs. She couldn’t imagine that would have had a positive outcome, not for her baby, not for her, not for the French President, and not for France. That much she was sure of, and that Rowan Donnelly was the one who’d prevented it.
That settles it. I promised him I’d do as he said, and that’s what I will do. At least until we unravel this and know what’s really going on.
***
SHE FOLLOWED THE rest of the passengers out of the plane and through the airport to the baggage claim area, where Rowan had told her Rehka would meet her despite her lack of checked luggage.
She spotted the beautiful Indian woman right away. In a country where a preponderance of women Rehka’s age were very attractive, Rehka stood out like a beacon of light. And she was smiling so widely, Margot knew she must have recognized her as well. Her thoughts were confirmed when Rehka immediately started toward her.
As they met, Rehka reached for Margot’s suitcase with one hand, while thrusting the other forward to shake hands. Overcome with gratitude that she’d made it out of Vietnam safely, and the other woman was there to meet her as promised, Margot let go of the handle of her suitcase and threw both arms around Rehka for a hug instead.
She felt Rehka’s hand patting her back as she murmured, “Hey, you’re all right. You’re safe with me, and Ruan will be here soon. Come on, let’s get you to my apartment.”
Margot let go and straightened herself, feeling abashed. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s all right,” Rehka interrupted with a big smile on her face. “Believe me, I know exactly how you feel.”
“Thank you for meeting me, Rehka. You don’t know how much I appreciate it. Have you heard anything from Rowan?”
“Yes. He and Digger are safe, and they’ll be on a plane this way within the next…” she paused and looked at her watch, “three hours.”
Margot sighed in relief. “Dieu merci.”
Rehka didn’t speak French but she understood what Margot just said and nodded, “Thank God, indeed.”
The women made their way out of the airport, Margot once more in character as the old lady shown in her passport, until they reached Rehka’s little car and got in. For the first time in two days—or was it three?—she felt safe.
Chapter 44
Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam
REX MANAGED TO evade the police and start back toward town. He first found a quiet place and had a closer look at Digger’s wound and was relieved to see that it had stopped bleeding and that he was probably more troubled by it than Digger was. He petted Digger saying, “Good boy. Looks like we’re both still fighting-fit. What do you say we go find those Frogs and hear what their story is?”
Digger gave a soft woof in reply.
As the area changed from industrial to light industrial, he began looking for a taxi, but at this time of night, they were few and mostly already in service. One or two refused to stop for him, whether because of Digger being with him or because he looked a little rough and it was late, he couldn’t say.
Rex now had a bit more insight about the Russians’ motive, but the French involvement remained an elusive loose end. Yet, it was important to know what they had in mind to help advise Margot on the best course of action when he got back to Mumbai. The only way to find out was to ask them, and the scrap he’d just had with the Russians had put him in the right frame of mind for getting it from them.
As he was walking back in the direction of the city and trying to wave down a taxi, his thoughts turned to Margot. With no way of checking how she was doing, he could only hope she’d been able to get control of herself and not raise any suspicions at the airport. He was confident her passport would stand up to scrutiny. All she had to do was to be her normal charming self, and she would glide through all the checkpoints without hassles.
“She’ll be all right, mate.” Rex said in his best imitation of the late Trevor’s Aussie accent, while looking at Digger.
Digger just smiled back at him.
“Yeah, thanks buddy. I thought that’s how you’d feel about it.”
At last, a taxi pulled over, and the driver waved for him and Digger to get in. He asked to be taken to the port entrance. He’d seen no sign that the French were involved in tonight’s Russian operation. He had no idea where they were staying, so his only hope of tracking them down was that they would still be keeping a watch on the yacht. He reasoned that they might or might not have realized that Margot had gone missing the last day or so. Notwithstanding, in order to reestablish contact with her, they’d probably be keeping a watch on the yacht in case she returned. If not, he’d have to decide whether he should abandon the idea to talk to them and get on the first plane out to Mumbai or spend more time trying to find them.
I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, he decided.
After being dropped off, he led Digger to the same restaurant, across the street from the yacht where they’d been hiding before, and commanded him to stay. This was going to be a more delicate operation than the one involving the Russian hooligans. He also didn’t want to put Digger through any more trauma, though he was sure the dog was going to be very disappointed if he discovered later on there’d been a fight he was not invited to. Also, he didn’t want the French to see him and Digger together and recognize them in the future.
He explained all this to Digger, as he always did when he needed to talk through his mission plans before going into action. Although he knew the command to stay would be enough for Digger. He just took comfort in the dog’s look of understanding. He grinned at his belief that Digger could understand everything he said. He knew that wasn’t true, but Digger sold his apparent understanding of it well. For the first time since he’d inherited Digger and his night-vision gear, Rex wished the roles could be reversed so that Digger could use the iPad and he the camera. He was about to do a job that Digger could do better, but the circumstances demanded it.
After assuring himself that Digger would stay, leaving his gear except for the night-vision goggles which he took with him, Rex crept toward the stack of shipping containers where he’d seen the Frenchman two nights ago. He reminded himself that the guy might be on his ‘rounds’ and to wait if he didn’t find anyone there at first. That was if it was the same guy as before. He’d previously timed the absences, and they seemed to be random, but usually within a fifteen minute to half hour range. So, if Rex didn’t find him in his usual spot, he’d wait an hour before giving up on it.
It sure would be convenient if they haven’t given up. Finding them again might be a bit of a chore in a city of over eight million. Assuming they’re even still in the city.
His thoughts took less time than his slow progress toward the containers, and he soon was thinking only of his memory of the area. A lot could change in a day in a busy port. The night was clear, and he could easily see that the container stack was still there, but had its configuration changed a bit? Had some been added, or removed? He couldn’t be certain. He crept a little closer and settled into a shadow cast by the stack itself.
Here was where Digger’s superior night vision and the ability to see quicker and smaller movements would have come in handy, not to mention his sense of smell. At first, he could see nothing in the nook where the Frenchman of two nights ago had made his observation post.
Movement from his right alerted Rex. He knew he was all but invisible, dressed as he was in black cargo pants and jersey he’d changed into before leaving the restaurant’s grounds, along with a black balaclava.
He started to move toward the spot where he detected the movement. He hoped to get the information he needed with as little violence as possible, definitely not any killing—if he could help it. But he knew he was dealing with highly trained men, DGSE more than likely, and highly unlikely to be submissive. It was bad enough he’d left behind one confirmed dead
Russian, another probably dead, if he hadn’t received medical attention quickly enough, and another badly injured. They saw his face, and they saw Digger and would be able to give the police a description. Getting out of Vietnam could very soon become extremely difficult if the police acted quickly and launched a full manhunt for him.
He let out a cautious sigh of relief when he caught sight of the Frenchman settling into his nook. It was the same guy as before. Rex thought this guy must have been the junior of their team, hence he pulled all the late-night shifts.
So, the French were not tracking and monitoring Margot’s cellphone. Interesting. I’d have sworn they were better at this than the Russians.
Rex just shrugged. It didn’t matter now. What mattered was to find out why they were watching her. It had to be done quickly so that he could be on his way.
Rex backed away from his place of concealment and took a wide route to circle around behind the Frenchman’s probable field of view, then approached at an angle that would allow the shipping container to conceal him until the last possible moment.
As he approached the point where he’d have to show himself, he realized there was only one way to do it—surprise and overwhelming force. A tactic that’d been drilled into him during his CRC training, and it worked exceedingly well when applied correctly at the right time.
This was one of those situations that called for it.
From about three yards away, Rex exploded into a full run. He saw the Frenchman jump to his feet in the last split second before impact. Rex hit him with his shoulder in the solar plexus with so much force it lifted him off his feet and dropped him on his back into the narrow space between the containers. Rex followed through with his momentum and landed on top of the man in a sitting position with both his knees pressing into the man’s abdomen. The space was so narrow, the Frenchman’s shoulders and arms were pretty much pinned down by the container walls. Rex realized there was no room for him to throw a proper punch. So, he grabbed the man by the front of his shirt, pulled his upper body up, and hit him in the face with his head. It wasn’t a major blow, but powerful enough to break the Frenchman’s nose, tear up his eyes, and send his head back to the ground with an audible thud. His body went still.
