“You’re so Seth.” Soledad smiled.
He shrugged.
“I guess I need to tell you,” Soledad said. “You remember that I was . . . uh . . . involved.”
“I remember that you’d filed for divorce,” Seth said.
“Things get really clear when you see your husband being hacked to death,” Soledad said. “Crystal clear.”
“I’d bet,” Seth said.
“Rick was an alcoholic, workaholic, awful to be around,” Soledad said. She touched her chest. “He was dead inside. All that death for all that time. He’s not joking when he said he didn’t think the case was a big deal. Disconnected. He didn’t really connect to anything, certainly not me or the kids.”
“And now?”
“He’s a new man,” Soledad said. “Sober. Very sweet. So loving. My grandmother noticed it first. It’s like he was resurrected.”
“And the boy?” Seth asked.
“Rick doesn’t care,” Soledad said. “When he came out of surgery the first time, he told me that I was all he wanted. If I could forgive him . . . Forgive him? Come to find out, he knew about the other guy all along. It wasn’t that he wasn’t thinking of me, didn’t love me . . .”
She cleared her throat and gripped the steering wheel to keep from crying.
“He was filled up with all the awful things people do to each other,” Seth said. “It fills every crevice of your body and soul until you bleed the pus of other people’s troubles.”
“He didn’t say it so poetically,” Soledad smiled. “But, yeah. What do you do?”
“I play the piano,” Seth said.
“And this new wife?”
“She seems to understand my need to play,” Seth said. “She’s viciously independent. She trusts me to take care of myself. In turn, I have to trust that when it’s all too much for her, she’ll tell me.”
Soledad nodded.
“Rick’s a really great dad,” Soledad said. “Even to Emanuel. I feel . . . so lucky.”
Soledad sniffed. They drove in silence for a while.
“You be good to your hot young wife, Seth,” Soledad said.
“I try,” Seth said. “What happened with the boyfriend? Emanuel’s father?”
“No idea,” Soledad said. “We left town and didn’t look back. I haven’t looked him up or seen him since. Should I?”
“No,” Seth said. “I just wondered.”
“See,” Soledad said. “You’re nosey under all that ‘not my business’ crap.”
Seth laughed. Soledad pulled to the side of the road. Seth took a slow look around.
“You sure about this?” Soledad asked.
“Positive,” Seth said.
“You just go down there, cross the railroad tracks, and your hotel’s about a mile down the road,” Soledad said.
“Thanks,” Seth said. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that everything worked out for you.”
“Me, too,” Soledad smiled.
Seth got out of the car, and Soledad took off. He watched her make a U-turn before he started walking. The brisk night air and the steady motion of his feet helped him work through his thoughts.
The bite on Davies’s hand could easily have been from a mink.
Soledad and Rick had confirmed his belief that Davies wasn’t working alone. Rage flushed through him. Davies must have been recruited by Chiến in high school. Seth should have killed the man when he had the chance. But Cotton had protected him.
Caught in his own sullen thoughts, Seth was surprised when his hotel appeared in front of him. He entered through the back and took the stairs to his suite.
His dark mood followed him like a cloud. He pushed the door open and went into the suite. He threw his keys on the desk and walked to the window. Opening the shades, he looked out into the night, hoping to see a liquor store.
He would kill for a bottle of Jack Daniels.
When he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the cool glass window, he caught the scent of light citrus cologne.
Chiến was in the room with him.
TWENTY-FOUR
Seth glanced at the drawer in the table next to the bed where he’d left his handgun. The drawer was open.
“I have your weapon,” an Asian man’s voice came from near the bathroom behind him. Seth put his hand on the chair. “You can hit me with the chair, but I think you’d rather hear me out.”
Seth glanced at the window for a way out. The room was sealed. If he broke the window with his elbow, he might survive a jump from the fifth floor.
“If you jump, you’ll never hear what I have to say,” Chiến said. “I will disappear, and you will always wonder why I was here.”
“Why are you here?” Seth asked.
“You will have to turn around to find out,” Chiến said.
Seth didn’t move.
“I’ll tell you what,” Chiến said. “I’ll give you back your handgun and your clip. I’ll set it on the desk.”
The handgun and clip appeared on the table next to Seth.
“If you can get to the gun and put the clip in before I disappear, you can shoot me,” Chiến said.
“You’re a shadow walker,” Seth said in reference to Viet Cong members who seemed to appear out of nowhere.
“That I am,” Chiến said. “I’m so glad I made such an impression on you.”
“Mitch,” Seth said. “He knew everything there was to know about you.”
“Mitch Delgado,” Chiến chuckled. “I always thought that, if he and I had met under different circumstances, we could have been friends. I liked the man, respected him, even though he caused me so much trouble.”
Seth felt him near him. Chiến touched his arm.
“Turn around so you can see me,” Chiến said. “We will talk, face to face, like the old warriors we are.”
Seth turned around. Chiến nodded and backed away from him. He was five inches shorter than Seth. His hair had turned to grey, but his body was fit and powerful. Seth had no doubt that, when this man wanted to kill him, he would be dead. A noise came from the bathroom.
“I made tea while I waited,” he said. “Will you share tea with me, chiến binh cũ?”
“Old warrior.” Seth translated the Vietnamese in his head, before giving the man a slight nod. Chiến gave him a bright smile and retreated. The man hadn’t taken Seth’s cellphone, nor had he kept Seth from the hotel phone. Seth glanced at the wall. The hotel phone was still plugged in. Seth fingered the cellphone in his pocket.
“I brought some banh tieu,” Chiến said from the bathroom. “Vietnamese Donuts. You’ll like them.”
He came out of the bathroom holding a teapot and two cups. He set them down on the little table near the sofa. Seth moved to the table to check the tea. He was unable to distinguish by smell if the tea had been drugged in any way.
“It’s not drugged or fouled,” Chiến said. “Surely Magic O’Malley knows that I could have killed you at any point in our long relationship.”
“But not sliced me up to your sick satisfaction,” Seth said.
“Yes,” Chiến said.
Chiến gestured to a seat at the table and then sat down himself. He poured the tea into two small cups and looked up. Chiến gestured again for Seth to sit down, which he did.
“I have gone to much trouble to arrange our visit,” Chiến said. He took the golden globes of gloriously fried dough, quaintly called “donuts,” out of a bag.
“Why?”
“I took my wife to your concert last week,” Chiến said. “I was sitting there in the dark of Royal Albert Hall, and I thought, ‘Any man who can make this glorious music will be able to listen to what I have to say.’”
“Listen, sure,” Seth said. “No guarantees what happens next.”
“Fair enough,” Chiến said. “Donut?”
Seth took one but waited for the man to take a bite before he did.
“Wow,” Seth said.
“Now, I knew
you’d say that,” Chiến smiled. “See—we could be friends.”
“Over the years, I’ve resisted the urge to make friends with sadistic killers,” Seth said.
Liễu Chiến gave him a long look. He opened his mouth to speak, but Seth said it first.
“Outside of the US military, that is,” Seth said.
Chiến laughed and took a drink of his tea. Seth put the teacup to his lips. The tea smelled of jasmine, citrus, and something fabulous that he couldn’t place. He took a sip.
“Good, isn’t it?” Chiến asked. “If you asked me, O’Malley, I would leave you some. No one outside my immediate family has this blend of tea.”
“Thank you for sharing,” Seth grudgingly said.
“That was hard,” Chiến grinned at him.
Seth nodded.
“Let’s say it first, and then we can get down to business,” Chiến said.
“Say what?”
“Thank you, Seth O’Malley and Mitchell Delgado, wherever you are, for not killing me in Vietnam,” Chiến said. “I have been grateful for your generosity every time I think of it.”
Chiến smiled, and Seth nodded in acquiescence.
“Thank you, Liễu Chiến, for not killing me when you had a chance in Vietnam,” Seth said.
Chiến gave him a bow.
“You may ask your questions now,” Chiến said.
“Why are you killing people?” Seth asked.
“I’m not,” Chiến said. “I retired my warrior the day I saw you on that path. I haven’t intentionally injured a soul since that day. I’m even a vegetarian.”
Seth blinked.
“I was infected with Chiến Tránh Quỷ when I was Liễu Chiến,” he said. “The war devil made me full of rage and anger. He gave me an insatiable lust for blood. I heard you and Mitch long before we met on the path. You were singing . . .”
He hummed a few bars of music.
“‘A Melody for Amelie,’” Seth said. “We used to sing it in the tunnels.”
“I learned that when you were on the Today Show a few years ago,” Chiến said. “At that time, it was the sound of my enemy singing in the forest. I saw you on the path. You looked like children covered in mud and blood. Easy kill. I moved to kill you, but my weapon jammed. I had my hand on my knife when you smiled at me and said, ‘Mỗi buổi sang.’”
“Good morning,” Seth said. “I did?”
“I don’t think you meant to,” Chiến said. “I think it just came out when I was close. My hand didn’t move to slice your throats. At the edge of the clearing, Chiến Tránh Quỷ slipped away. The devil let me go. Right there in that clearing, the devil let go of me.”
Chiến smiled.
“I felt peace for the first time . . . my entire life,” Chiến said. “Chiến Tránh Quỷ had a hold on me every moment of every day, all of my life. ‘You were born possessed by Chiến Tránh Quỷ,’ my mother used to say. I was mad with the French. Enraged with the Americans. Furious with the whole world. Then I see you and Delgado, and poof. Chiến Tránh Quỷ let go, and I was free.”
“Did you slice up another platoon to celebrate?”
“No, the devil was gone,” Chiến said. “I went to the Buddhists and gave them my life. I thought I’d never see another American, but life had other plans for me. Some years later, I was translating for my elders. American businessmen wanted to make deals. The businessmen brought me back to America with them, and I moved to Arizona to teach school. The rest, I’m sure you know.”
“Why did you start cutting again?” Seth asked.
“I didn’t,” Chiến said. “Never again. Chiến Tránh Quỷ infected someone else.”
“There were scores of mutilations after that day,” Seth said.
“I was not the only one infected with Chiến Tránh Quỷ,” Chiến said.
“Why should I believe you?” Seth asked.
“Because you know the truth when you hear it,” Chiến said. “It’s part of your magic.”
“You want me to believe that you didn’t kill the platoon of Rangers,” Seth said.
“No,” Chiến said. “I killed those soldiers and many, many others like them before that day. I didn’t kill those people in the desert or O’Shaughnessy or Lopez or Cavetti, or threaten Martha Jessep. And I’ve never been to Maine. I’d like to go someday, but it seems cold. Frankly, I’m not fond of the cold. I did not force Eliot to retire. It wasn’t me.”
“Then, who?” Seth asked.
TWENTY-FIVE
“It’s a good question,” Chiến said. “You’ve spent so much time looking into me, you haven’t even bothered to ask that question.”
Seth gave Chiến a sour look and ate another donut.
“They are good,” Chiến said. He popped a donut into his mouth. “My granddaughter owns a restaurant in Ho Chi Minh City. These are not as good as hers are, but I am biased. Do you have grandchildren, O’Malley?”
“One,” Seth said. “Rachel Ann. She’s a little over a year old.”
“Nothing better,” Chiến said.
“Do you know who’s carving people up? Who killed my friend this week?”
“I don’t,” Chiến said. “I would tell you if I did. I don’t know.”
“How is that possible?” Seth asked. “They’re being mutilated in the exact manner that you killed the Rangers. Exactly the same!”
“If that’s true, and I doubt it, it’s Chiến Tránh Quỷ.”
“The Devil of War,” Seth said.
Chiến nodded.
“You believe that?
“I’ve lived Chiến Tránh Quỷ,” Chiến said. “I know the very smell of him.”
“You deny knowing Brent Davies?”
“That’s another question,” Chiến said. “I knew a boy named Brent Davies. He was a gorgeous boy. Dark hair, clear blue eyes. I used to tell him he looked like Superman. I had him in my history class two years in a row.”
“What other contact did you have with him?”
“Outside of what I read in the newspaper?” Chiến shrugged. “None.”
Seth scowled. His mind flipped through the facts.
“How did you kill the Rangers?” Seth asked.
“They were asleep—drunk, probably,” Chiến said. “They had just gone through a nearby village. They had girls they had taken from the village with them.”
Chiến nodded.
“Horrifying,” Chiến said. “I slit their throats. One at a time. They were drunk or high or I don’t know what, but they didn’t notice me. I took souvenirs from their bodies and gave them to the girls they had abused. The girls knew Chiến Tránh Quỷ when they saw him and ran home.”
“And their insides?” Seth asked.
“Their insides?” Chiến shook his head. “What does that mean?”
“They use an animal—I think it’s a mink—to clear out the organs from inside the body,” Seth said.
Chiến shivered in disgust.
“They start with an electric stun to the forehead,” Seth said.
“What did you say?” Chiến asked.
“They hit their victims in the forehead with a stun gun.” Seth gestured with his hand.
“Curious,” Chiến said. “Any Vietnamese person would tell you that is the only way to rid a person of a demon.”
“A stun gun to the forehead?”
“Hitting someone in what you call ‘the third eye,’” Chiến said. “Why do they do this?”
“So they’re alive when he mutilates them,” Seth said.
“No. No. I did not do that,” Chiến shook his head. “No. I slit their throats one at a time. Dead. Took the souvenirs from their bodies for the girls. If the Rangers were . . . ‘cleared out’ as you say, it must have been predators. So much death. The jungles were teeming with animals hungry for human flesh.”
Seth stared at the man.
“You don’t know if they were emptied, do you?” Chiến asked.
“I j
ust assumed,” Seth said.
“So, the great Magic O’Malley is human.” Chiến tipped his head back and laughed. “That’s why you’re going to solve this thing.”
“You don’t think I’ll end up like O’Shaughnessy?” Seth asked.
“Your humanity is your strength. I think you’ll solve this thing,” Chiến said. “First you have to think—who is infected with Chiến Tránh Quỷ?”
Seth wasn’t sure what the man was saying. He tipped his head to the side.
“You want me to figure out who’s infected by the Devil of War?” Seth asked. “Who isn’t? Seems like everyone’s out for blood these days.”
Chiến shook his head.
“Chiến Tránh Quỷ left me that day in the clearing,” Chiến said. “He had to go somewhere.”
“You’re saying that someone else was in that clearing, and she or he became infected with Chiến Tránh Quỷ when the devil let go of you,” Seth said.
Chiến nodded.
“Who?” Seth asked.
“I don’t know,” Chiến said. “I would tell you if I knew, but I don’t. I saw nothing. No one. Did anyone come down the trail after you?”
Seth rubbed his eyes and tried to remember.
“CIA came in by helicopter,” Seth said. “But they could easily be Chiến Tránh Quỷ.”
“That’s the truth,” Chiến laughed.
He filled their teacups. They sat silently drinking their tea while Seth thought it through.
“I can’t come up with anyone,” Seth said. “Brent Davies hadn’t even been even born then.”
“Wasn’t him,” Chiến said. “I have wondered about his stepfather.”
“Stepfather?”
“He was in Vietnam with the Army,” Chiến said. “Brent told me the first day I met him. Was his stepfather there?”
“No idea,” Seth said.
“Brent had this crazy story that he was Ted Bundy’s son,” Chiến said. “Mother met Bundy at a park in Florida one of the times Bundy escaped. She was so terrified by Bundy that she moved to Arizona.”
“Really.”
“That’s what he told the kids,” Chiến said. “I assumed Bundy raped his mother, but Brent never said.”
“Bundy didn’t kill her?”
Carving Knife Page 14