We'll rent a car and drive straight to Fairfax. We'll have something for you by late this evening."
Ramona patted his back and winked at Ashley as she walked to the door. "Please keep your eye on him for me. He has a tendency to wander into trouble when not under adult supervision."
Ashley forced a smile. "Don't worry, Dr. Valez, I won't let him out of my sight. See you tomorrow when we return."
Once in the hallway, Ashley gave her partner a side glance.
"Does that batting of the eyes and that touchy stuff she does always work with you men?'
Eli thought a moment before he nodded. "To be honest, yes.
Something to do with our egos or testosterone, I can't remember which. Why are you asking?"
"Just wondering."
"Agent Sutton, don't even think about it. You're not the type that can get away with it"
"What type is that, Tanner?' she snapped.
"You know."
"No, I don't know. Enlighten me."
Eli slowed his steps and faced her. "Agent Sutton, you're different. You wear your emotions for everybody to see, and your eyes won't lie. Ramona can deceive anyone and make you believe anything she says. You're not a deceiver . . . you're a `here I am, this is what you get' type of person."
"I'm not sure, but I believe that was a compliment, Agent Tanner."
"No, it was honesty, Agent Sutton," he said and began walking down the hall again. "I like the aisle seat," he said over his shoulder. "You want the window for the flight?"
"I like the aisle, too. You take the window."
Eli stopped, reached in his pocket and took out a quarter.
"Heads I get the aisle. Tails you get the aisle." He flipped the coin, caught it and slapped it on the back of his hand. He looked at it. "Two out of three?"
.
4:30 P. M.
The SAC was about to leave for the evening when his deputy, George Polous, knocked and entered the office holding a piece of paper. "We've got it, boss, John Elder's address. It came in a few minutes ago from the IRS."
"Where is he?"
"It took so long because he's moved twice in the past year, but now he lives in Charleston, South Carolina. I contacted the resident office there and they're sending out a team to get him covered. Our people are leaving now and should be there tonight. That's it, sir, we'll soon have both team members protected and have traps set for our killer."
Farrel grinned. "Soon the good Dr. Valez will be eating crow. I want to see her face when our people nab Robert Anderson. I still can't believe she brought up the possibility of an assassination team as a theory at the three o'clock meeting. Keep me informed, George. I want this case closed by tomorrow."
"No problem, sir," Polous said confidently.
.
4:36 P. M. Charleston Bay, South Carolina.
John Elder steered his small craft well clear of the wake made from the big tourist boat heading for Fort Sumter. He never could figure out why the tourists visited the place; the original fort was destroyed in the first battle of the Civil War, and what the tourists saw was nothing but a scaled-down version that wasn't even close to what the old fort looked like.
Dumb, he thought, they're all dumb. He put the tourists out of his mind and looked out again, searching the bay. Seeing the blue-striped bayliner laying off to port, he nodded to himself as he steered toward the small cruiser. Yep, that's her, The Mackeral. Dumb sonofabitch rents it but doesn't know a damn thing about how to run her. Dumb, they're all dumb.
A minute later Elder cut the motor and glided alongside the sleek craft. "Ahoy on board, you radioed for help?' he barked loudly.
He heard a voice from the cabin. "Yes, please come on board. The engine died and won't start."
"Dumb bastard," Elder mumbled aloud. He quickly secured a line and picked up his toolbox. He climbed up the ladder, stepped onto the deck, and immediately felt as if he'd been stabbed in the chest with a red hot fork. Pain seemed to explode, sending searing lightning bolts from his chest to the rest of his body. He staggered and fell forward, knowing he was about to meet his maker.
His facial muscles involuntarily twitched and John Elder let out a moan. He opened his eyes and saw blue sky. Afraid to move and start the pain again, he lay perfectly still. He was overjoyed that he was alive, but fearful of what had happened to him. Was it a heart attack? Did I pass out? He wondered. He felt a gentle rocking motion and remembered he'd just stepped on board the cruiser and had thought he had seen a . . . Oh God!
He moved his eyes right then left and froze, seeing a man seated on the pleasure deck's cushions. The man was holding a pistol and was looking at him with eyes totally absent of emotion.
Elder knew then he had not suffered a horrible nightmare or a heart attack. In the instant before the pain had overcome him, he'd seen the man and seen something coming toward him in a blur. No! This can't be happening. Sweet Jesus, no!
Elder blinked. An ugly brown-skinned man was still there, holding his expressionless stare on him. A Cambodian, he thought. He had to be a Cambodian. Vietnamese were slightly lighter in color and their cheekbones more prominent The gold chain, yes, that tells me for sure he's a Cambodian. But why here? What is he doing here and why is he trying to kill me?
"Very good. I see you have regained consciousness."
Elder shifted his eyes toward the voice and felt hope. He saw a handsome Eurasian man with dark brown hair, approaching him and holding two cans of Coke. Thank God, he thought, they made a mistake of some kind. They were druggies and thought he was the police or something.
Elder lifted his head and was about to try and sit up when he felt a quick stab of pain again. The man with the drinks shook his head. "No, Sergeant Elder, please remain still. My colleague, Hu Nim, will only increase the voltage and give you more distress if you try to move. Please, lie still. We have much to talk about"
Tears ran down the sides of Elder's face as the tremor subsided. He looked up at the good-looking man, whom he judged to be in his mid-thirties, and stammered, "Wh-what do you wa-want?"
The man handed a Coke to the Cambodian, brought up a deck chair and sat down. He looked into Elder's eyes and said, "I want you, of course. Do you not remember me, Sergeant Elder?
You taught me how to fire a rifle and arm a claymore mine. You even allowed me to browse through your Playboy magazines.
Come now, Sergeant, surely you remember Camp 147?"
Elder's eyes widened in disbelief. "No, you're . . ."
"Dead? No, Sergeant, as you can see for yourself, I am quite the contrary. Yes, most did perish, but I and sixteen others survived. An old friend of yours is also alive. You would recognize him, I am sure. Lieutenant Quan Tram. Yes, I see you remember him. He is the one responsible for my living, Sergeant Elder. He tended my wounds, and along with the others we made our way into Vietnam to seek refuge. We found instead only more suffering. The Vietnamese hated us, you see. They cast stones at us, and drove us away like dogs from every village we came upon. The three young children with us died, and four of the badly wounded. We had to return to our country, Sergeant. It was a very long journey and we lost more of us. Only seven reached Phnom Penh. We found no hope there, Sergeant, only more suffering. It is a sad story .. . very sad, and makes my heart heavy . . . very heavy."
Trembling, Elder spoke in a whisper. "I . . . I . . . didn't know. God, I swear I didn't know. We tried to reinforce the camp. We tried, but . . ."
"Yes, I know, Sergeant," the man said, nodding. "I have heard the story many times from the others. . . . I know about Colonel Stroud and the general who made the decisions."
"Oth-Others?"
"Yes, Sergeant, I have spoken to the others on the team, but circumstances did not allow me much time for conversation.
You are different, you see, I owe you a debt of gratitude. You were the one who befriended me first and you gave me my name, remember? You called me Frenchy."
Elder nodded his head slightly and closed his t
earing eyes.
"Why are you doing this to me?'
"My name was Jean Paul Devoe, Sergeant. My father was French, remember? I lost my name and my grandfather and grandmother. I lost my uncles and aunts and nieces and nephews. I lost my village, Sergeant, because we believed in you and the others who pledged their word of honor that you would help us. You ask 'why,' Sergeant? You know the answer. You lied to us. I have waited for well over twenty years to fulfill my solemn duty to find you. And I have done so, Sergeant. I am here to ensure justice is done. I have come to help you . . . help you regain what you lost . . . your honor."
"I . . . I am so sorry, Mr. Devoe. I have . . ."
"Yes, I'm sure you are sorry, the guilt has been a heavy burden on you. I, too, carry guilt, Sergeant" Jean Paul stood.
He turned and looked out over the bay with a vacant stare.
"Lieutenant Tram led myself and the seven other survivors to a small village just outside Phnom Penh. . . . It was a very difficult time, Sergeant Elder. My country was at war and food was scarce. Tram taught me English during the nights, and during the day we fished to live. Then in April 1975 the Khmer Rouge came and the butchery began. Tram and I were at the river using fish nets when it began. We could hear the screams and gunshots. Once again we had no choice but to try and escape. We traveled to the coast and boarded a fishing trawler filled with others like us, human refuse cast out by war.
"Twenty-two days, Sergeant Elder. Twenty-two days and nights we fought to stay alive on that leaking boat. Half died of starvation. Thai pirates attacked twice, killing more, and the want of water killed others. When the Hong Kong patrol boat finally found us off shore, there were only nine of us left. Hu Nim here is one of those, and I will not tell you how we survived, Sergeant. But I can tell you the guilt I carry makes eating meat impossible for me.
"We three found Hong Kong no better than the Vietnamese villages that had cast stones. The people despised us, and we despised them, Sergeant Elder. There were large camps filled with refugees. Vietnamese and Cambodian, all of us were considered as nothing but refuse. We lived on the garbage of others-it was fitting, garbage for garbage. It was Lieutenant Tram who once again saved me. He and Hu Nim found others like ourselves who were willing to fight to stay alive. Tram organized a unit, and no longer did we starve. We took what we wanted and killed who got in our way. We rose from the garbage piles called camps and moved into the slums of Chow Won District and soon were competing with the Chinese gangs for dominance. We were better prepared than they, Sergeant; we were willing to die. We knew suffering far more than they and we struck faster and harder and gave no quarter. As a result of our fighting we gained the one thing we desired most respect. Within six months Chinese gangs worked for us, and our services were in demand in other districts. We killed, Sergeant, we killed for money and respect. It is all the Chinese understand, you see. In order to survive, we did what we had to do and we became the best."
Jean Paul sighed and broke his distant stare. "Yes, I know guilt, Sergeant, I !mow it very well. But it is not for those we have killed, it is for those who died fighting along our side. Thirty-nine men, Sergeant, thirty-nine men who left their homeland as we did, suffered as we did, and struggled as we did. Them, I feel guilt for. Their efforts and their sacrifice gave us the victory we thought not possible. They are the reason I am here, Sergeant Elder. They have given me the opportunity to fulfill my duty."
Jean Paul sat in his chair and looked into the former sergeant's eyes. "You understand little of what I am saying, I know. But know this, Sergeant I am employed by very powerful men. It is not a government, but rather an old organization known only to a few. I have been in your country a year, providing services that benefit their businesses. They respect my work and have allowed me to use their intelligence assets to find you and all the others. My duty is almost done, Sergeant Myself, Tram, Hu Nim, and ten others have traveled far, and finally our work is about to end. Once my duty is complete, we will leave your country and go our separate ways to find peace and happiness. Our suffering and our guilt will finally be over."
Jean Paul took a gold chain from his shirt pocket and leaned over. "And now, Sergeant, I give you your opportunity for peace. This is my gift to you. My grandfather gave a cross to Captain Anderson before the team departed our village for the last time. He gave it to the captain to ensure a safe journey to Pleiku. This cross is for your journey. . . . Perhaps your God is a forgiving God."
Elder looked into Devoe's eyes. "Are you going to kill me?"
Devoe placed the chain around Elder's neck. "Come, Sergeant, it is now time for you to rise. Nim will cause you much pain should you try anything foolish. Sit up slowly. Very good. Now I want you to get on your knees."
Elder clenched his jaw and hissed, "Fuck you."
Devoe dipped his chin toward Hu Nim.
Elder closed his eyes knowing what was going to happen, but was still not prepared for the sudden jolting pain that tore through his body. Urine seeped through his work trousers and blood poured from his lower lip where he had bitten through.
The pain suddenly ended and he shook uncontrollably, his eyelids involuntarily twitching as Devoe leaned over again and spoke in a whisper.
"Get on your knees, Sergeant Elder, regain your honor. I will give you peace."
Sitting on the pier, Kenny Chun held a Kool cigarette in the corner of his mouth as he tried to rewind a cassette tape that somehow had become entangled in the heads of his Walkman.
He ran his fingers down the thin brown tape and soon found a break and angrily tossed the tape into the water. As he looked up he saw the bayliner approaching and slowly got to his feet, took the cigarette from his lips, and tossed it to a watery grave.
Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he put his hands in the back pockets of his blue jeans and rocked up and back in his rattlesnake boots until the cruiser nestled against the tires hanging from the pylons. Hu Nim stepped onto the pier first, then his superior, Jean Paul Devoe.
Giving a slight bow, Kenny removed one hand from his back pocket and motioned to the cell phone hanging from his wide leather western belt. "Sir, second squad leader called five minutes ago and reported number eight is located in a motel in Greenville. It is a city in this state, but to the north. The squad leader says number eight was visited only a short time ago by two men who drove a vehicle with government license plates."
Devoe exchanged glances with Hu Nim and nodded. "FBI, no doubt. They have finally made the connection. We will have to leave immediately."
Kenny grinned. "Sir, I took the liberty of notifying the air crew, and they are making flight plans now. By the time I drive you to the airport, they will be ready to depart. You will be in Greenville in a little more than an hour."
Devoe smiled and patted the young man's shoulder. "The cowboy hat not only makes you taller, it makes you smarter.
Good thinking, little brother. Nun will drive me to the airport.
The sergeant's craft is secured to the aft cleat. Take the cruiser upriver to a secluded inlet and burn it. Use the small craft and return here and sink it farther down the bank. Nim will return and pick you up, and then the both of you will return to the airport and fly to our home base and begin phase two. Go now, and be careful not to get your boots wet."
Kenny gave a head bow and climbed aboard the cruiser.
Jean Paul took Hu Nim by the arm and walked him toward the Mazda van parked at the end of the pier. "It is almost over, my friend. Once you return to base, check on the old one for me.
Ensure the doctor is doing all he can to ease his pain. Tell him of your preparations for phase two. It will please him."
Hu Nim looked at his superior with concern. "It will be different with the authorities protecting the sergeant. Let me come with you, Jean Paul."
Devoe squeezed the Cambodian's arm. "They are not prepared for us. It will not be a problem. The FBI can be no better than the Triad's dragons we took out in 'eighty-six at that restaurant, remember?"
<
br /> Hu Nim kept his concerned look. "Yes, but I was with you, Jean Paul. This time you have only the men of second squad, and they are young."
Smiling, Jean Paul motioned behind him toward the departing cruiser. "They are like Chun, wanting to please. Just as we tried to please the old one when we were young. Don't worry, my friend. It will be done quickly-I will see to it. Now, please, give me your cell phone, I have a call to make to an old friend."
.
5:35 P. M. Manassas, Virginia.
In the basement of a renovated old stone farmhouse, Robert Anderson sat on the carpeted floor in a locked, unfurnished, windowless room. With ten days growth of beard and wearing only underwear, he slowly panned the room, as he had a thousand times, looking for a way out. A single light fixture hung from the plaster ceiling, and in the far corner attached to the ceiling, a security camera whirred as it panned back and forth.
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