'Is this the right address?' Minh said.
'Sure,' Tuấn sniffed, 'just wait.'
A six-foot-high wall secured the property. The upper floors of the villa were visible from the street; cream walls with long narrow windows under a brown roof. It stood out among the shops, office blocks and private businesses.
'Buzz again,' Lâm said.
A creaking of wood and clunk of iron caught their attention as the gate was unlocked and pulled open with a squeak of protest from the hinges. A small, portly man in sunglasses and a Hawaiian-style shirt beamed a greeting smile.
'Ahhh, my guests, I presume?'
Tuấn nodded. 'Yes, anh.'
'Come inside. There's plenty of room for your motorbikes.'
They walked the bikes in single file. The lawn was neatly mowed, the house looked freshly painted like a show home. Tuấn thought it would be more at home among the rich homes of District 2 than the bustling business area of District 3.
'Your bikes are safe here in the garden,' their host opened his arms magnanimously, 'my name is Tam.'
'We're sharing names?' Minh scowled.
Tam shrugged. 'Why not? I'm your alibi. Not a good one if we don't know each other’s names.'
They each gave their name, addressing the older Tam respectfully as anh. He nodded at each introduction, repeating the name to himself.
'What do you do here?' said Lâm.
'Oh, I'm a music teacher, and you're my students. We'll say you've come to practice singing. I do hope you have good voices.'
Thuỳ giggled. Minh frowned at her.
'Thank you, Mister Tam.' Tuấn bowed his head, 'we'll go to our task and return promptly.'
'Excellent,' Tam grinned, 'now, be safe my dear students. When you return we will sing Minh Tuyet's Tro Ve Pho Cu.'
Tuấn smiled and nodded. Minh turned away shaking his head.
'Anything you need?' Tam said.
'No, thank you,' Tuấn opened his bike’s storage compartment. All four weapons and the spare ammunition were stored within. They each picked a weapon, checking the safety catch as Tuấn had instructed.
'Look at you. The four musketeers!' Tam chuckled.
'Three,' grumbled Minh, 'there were three musketeers.'
Tam smiled politely. 'And so I am corrected, my youthful friend.'
The sound of a gunshot made them all jump. It echoed between the buildings, but it wasn't so far away.
'An exhaust backfiring,' said Minh.
Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam!
Up to ten shots fired in quick succession. The youths looked at each other, perplexed and afraid. Tuấn frowned. It sounded like pistol shots. Phượng's group had pistols.
'We need to go. Now,' Tuấn urged, 'everyone ready?'
Minh raised his pistol. Lâm smirked. Thuỳ regarded him with sad eyes.
'Good fortune to you all,' Tam said, 'I salute you brave Viet Cong.'
'Just don't lock that gate,' Tuấn said as he headed to the gate.
They marched out of the garden and continued up the street. Tuấn imagined it as about a minute's walk at a brisk pace. The street looked clear. If they acted quickly they might be able to pull it off before anyone drove by.
The Department of Justice building was an office tower of seven floors. The frontage all windows. A five-foot-high metal fence surrounded the courtyard, with an electric gate and a small guard post with room for one security guard. A soldier in combat uniform paced outside the gate, craning his neck as if he could look over the buildings to locate the sound of gunfire which crackled somewhere in the distance. He paid no attention the group's approach.
Another shot rang out, making them all flinch.
'Maybe we should abort,' Minh whispered.
'No.' Tuấn quickened his pace. The gruff rattle of an approaching motorbike gave him a start. He gripped the handle of the pistol tucked into his ribs under cover of his blazer. Two men drove a scooter past with barely a glance at the group on foot.
Sweat trickled down Tuấn’s right temple. He quickened his pace to a power walk. The guard was still distracted. Three steps behind him, Tuấn whipped up his pistol. Pointing it at the back of the soldier’s skull, he pulled the hammer back with his thumb.
A scream startled him. Both he and the soldier turned to a young man in the guard booth; his back pinned against the far wall, mouth open in terror. A half second later the soldier noticed Tuấn. He let out a startled cry, the machine gun twitched his hands.
Snarling, Tuấn thrust his pistol barrel into the soldier's face. 'Drop it!'
The soldier's jaw stammered. He blinked, then froze. He might not understand Vietnamese but Tuấn knew he understood the intent.
'I said drop it!' He stabbed the barrel toward the soldier's face again.
The soldier slowly extended his visibly shaking arms, offering the weapon. 'Someone take it,' Tuấn snapped.
Lâm stepped forward, snatched the weapon, and turned it on its previous owner. Minh trained his gun on the guard in the booth; holding the man petrified in fear for his life.
'Open the gate!' Minh shouted.
'He doesn't speak Vietnamese!' Lâm snarled.
'Yes he does!' Minh screamed. Gripping his pistol with both hands, the barrel still wavered.
Tuấn worried that Minh would let loose the entire clip into to the booth. 'Don't you dare shoot!' he barked.
The wire gate looked easy to climb. Tuấn scrambled over it in just a few seconds. Dropping to the other side he swung the door to the booth open and dragged the guard outside.
The guard wore the green boiler suit with the red armband of the volunteer police. He whimpered. His hands raised feebly above his head, his back bent in an almost foetal surrender. Tuấn pushed him to the ground. He lay trembling with his hands shielding the back of his head.
'Stay there, bastard,' Tuấn spat.
Minh scaled the gate, then pushing open the door to the booth he hit the button to open the gate. Lâm and Thuỳ marched the Chinese prisoner inside. Lâm indicated him to lay beside the guard.
'Minh, stay and cover them. If they move, shoot them,' Tuấn said.
'What?' Minh cried out, 'What if someone drives by?'
'From behind the booth you're obscured from the road. Just look casual.'
Ignoring Minh's protests, he rushed the steps to the entrance with Thuỳ and Lâm close behind. The secretary, smartly dressed in a traditional Vietnamese Ao-dai, stood in shock behind her desk. Belatedly, she tried to make a dash; stopping with a squeal as weapons were levelled at her.
'Sister, don't be afraid!' Tuấn panted, 'We're not here to hurt you. How many staff are in the building?'
The girl cringed as if expecting to be hit. She looked at Tuấn with one eye, too startled to speak.
'Sister, please! How many staff?'
'F-five.'
'Where?'
'Just the third floor only.'
'Armed?'
'What? N-no. Just the Chinese lady.'
Tuấn smiled. 'Thank you. Wait in the courtyard with our friend. Don't try to flee and you won't get hurt.'
He hit the elevator button. While waiting for the elevator, uncertainty returned. He felt an urge to pee. His legs trembled. ‘It’s ok,’ he mumbled, ‘just one left.’
'It's okay, boss. We're doing okay.' Grinning, Lâm nudged him.
They trained their weapons on the elevator door as it slid open; empty. Moving inside, Lâm stabbed the 3rd floor button. A few more minutes and it would be over.
They all watched the floor counter as it slowly counted up to three. The doors slid open to a flash like that of a camera, and the pop of gunfire and metallic thud of a bullet slamming into the rear wall of the elevator somewhere to the right of Tuấn's head.
A second bullet blasted into the wall. Lurching left, he shoved Thuỳ aside from the door. Lâm pinned himself to the right side. A third bullet slammed into the wall.
Either side of the doorway provided a small a
lcove into which they compressed themselves as tightly into the corners as they could.
Lâm repeatedly jabbed the door button. Another bullet ripped through the lift before the doors could slide shut. Another burst through the door the moment after it closed, showering tiny silvery splinters.
'Idiot!' Tuấn screamed, 'open the door! It's not bullet proof. How will we shoot back?'
'Like this!' Lâm roared, springing to his feet he held the machine gun at waist level; gritting his teeth in anticipation of the hellfire he was about to unleash. Nothing happened. He looked down at the weapon, shaking it.
A hole erupted through the door. The now familiar crash of high speed lead piercing the rear wall resounded throughout the elevator.
'Get down!' Tuấn screeched.
Thuỳ squirmed on the floor, pressing herself against Tuấn; trying to find a position to take maximum cover from him. Her eyes squeezed closed and her teeth gritted.
Lâm ducked back into his corner. Struggling with his weapon he turned it one way then the other. 'Stupid Chinese-made crap!'
'The safety!' Tuấn shouted.
'I know!'
'Fix it!'
'I can't find it! Shit!'
Tuấn ducked as three holes blasted through the door. Thuỳ screamed. Her weapon discarded, she clung onto Tuấn with both arms.
'We can't stay here,' Tuấn hissed.
He picked up Thuỳ's pistol. Prising her grip from his shirt he pressed the weapon into her palm. Her other hand remained latched onto his shirt, he twisted her wrist. She let out a wail. He pushed her head away from him.
'Get off, or I'll shoot you!'
She didn't let go. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her face contorted as if in agony. She clung desperately, her legs kicking wild in panic.
Another hole burst through the door barely two inches from Tuấn's ear. The metallic ping of the ricochet seemed to say 'dammit! Get you next time!' Thuỳ screamed. Flailing, she rolled away from him. Tucking her legs into her chest and her forehead to her knees she whimpered.
'Open the damn doors!' Tuấn snarled.
Lâm hit the door release button. As soon as the gap between the doors was wide enough, Tuấn darted through, staying as low as he could. Seeing the cover of a wooden desk a few metres away he dove for it. He caught a glimpse of someone at the end of a row of desks some ten metres away.
The shots came with a fury. The shooter had switched to full-auto. Tuấn pressed his cheek to the carpet. Impacts thudded into desks, monitors and stacks of paper and slapped into the walls.
He jolted at seeing a patch of carpet near his left foot erupt. Looking toward the shooter he gasped. His dive had been short; half his body lay in the aisle between desks in clear line of sight for the shooter. He rolled into cover as another burst resounded through the office.
He rose to a kneeling position; making sure to keep his head under the desk. There was a bullet hole through the front panel of the desk- he was still a sitting duck. He raised his pistol over the desktop and pulled the trigger five times; firing blindly. He waited. There was no sound other than a pitiful whimpering from the elevator and his own breathing. He dared to look through the bullet hole in the desk and saw no sign of the shooter. Maybe he was that lucky.
The machine gun roared. Instinctively he dropped to the floor. The devastation pulverized the office. Objects shattered and crashed. His enemy fired wildly. Perhaps that was how he managed to survive so far.
He dared to pop his head over the desk to scan the room. He caught sight of a face and a mop of black hair. Pointing his gun, he squeezed the trigger releasing two shots. He screwed his eyes shut each time he fired. The force of the shot wrenched the barrel upwards with each discharge.
He ducked back behind the desk. Holding the pistol with both hands. Waiting; resisting the temptation to glance around the desk. The shooter might be ready to shoot him squarely in his face as soon as he presented it. He touched his gun barrel against his lip and winced- it was burning hot.
He jerked at the sound of gunshots. crumbs of debris showered onto him. The shooter was taking more care with their aim. It was getting too close. He pushed himself onto one knee. Steeling himself with a deep breath, preparing to charge. Then hell broke out.
The sudden ferocity and proximity of the onslaught sent him again sprawling. Squeezing his eyelids shut in expectation of the inevitable evisceration of his body. The chorus of machine gunfire was accompanied by a crescendo of shattering glass and crashing furniture. Walls and everything else in its path being torn asunder.
The firing stopped. He sat up. Splinters of wood fell from his hair but he was unhurt. Lâm stood in the doorway of the lift with the machine gun poised.
'I got her,' Lâm said.
'Sure?'
Lâm lowered the weapon. He pointed to the far side of the room, then looked down at the floor, his expression sullen. Tuấn used the desk to steady himself as he stood. His legs trembled.
'She's dead?' Tuấn said.
'I think so. Best check.'
'Troi oi!' Tuấn gasped, 'I've pissed myself!'
'Me too.' Lâm's voice was a sad whisper. He slumped against the wall. On his grey cargo trousers, a dark, wet patch had spread from his groin and down his inner left leg. Thuỳ sat upright, clinging to the elevator door. She looked like a beat dog awaiting the harsh hand of its master. Tuấn looked away from her.
A sob caught his attention. At first he'd thought it was Thuỳ. Raising his pistol, he scanned the room. The sob came again, followed by an urgent whispering. It was coming through the open door to the next office. He crept forward keeping his pistol trained on the door. He heard Lâm's steps behind him.
A pair of feet stuck out from behind the desk where the shooter fell, reminding Tuấn of the house landing on the witch in 'The wizard of Oz'. He rounded the desk, looking down on the body. She wore a smart dark green uniform with a tie, gold insignia on her lapels, and a military ribbon on her chest. The assault rifle lay across her stomach. Her tunic was dark where she'd been shot. She was undoubtedly dead. He was glad that her face was turned away; half covered by her black hair.
Moving past the body he came to the doorway. He leant against the wall to the right of the door. Lâm pressed his back against the left side. Tuấn peaked around the doorway. Beyond were rows of filing cabinets; a pretty good place for an ambush.
He stepped through the doorway- keeping his back against the wall. He beckoned Lâm to follow. Moving down the length of the room they could look down each lane of filing cabinets. He passed the first four rows; nothing. Bracing himself for last row before the wall. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, holding the weapon ready to fire, his finger slippery on the trigger.
Someone screamed. He squeezed the trigger. Immediately he knew it was a mistake. He winced and jerked the weapon up. Cowering behind the last row of cabinets were two girls and a man. They buried their heads together, sobbing. Fortunately, his shot struck the wall.
Lâm leaned against Tuấn’s back, aiming his weapon over his shoulder. Irritated, Tuấn shrugged the older boy off. He trained his weapon on the trembling trio. They wore office attire. He nudged the nearest with his foot.
'Get up. All of you.'
Unmoving, they whimpered. A widened eye pleaded from behind a black fringe.
'Get up! I mean it!'
One of the girls began to rise. The other cried out and clung to her. Tuấn shoved her with his foot. Slowly they rose with trembling hands raised. They were unarmed. The boy and one of the girls were young- in their 20's. The other- the first to stand, was perhaps in her 40's. All wore the red armband with the yellow star over their office attire.
'What are you doing here?' Tuấn snarled.
They each shrank back when he looked into their eyes. He pressed his pistol barrel against the boy's forehead. The boy cried out. His short hair was beaded with sweat. His eyebrows knitted together and his face contorted. He emitted a pleading whine. Saliv
a dripped from his lower lip.
'Tell me why you're here.'
'We worked here before.' It was the older woman who answered. Her jaw trembling as she spoke.
'Why the arm bands?' he demanded, turning his weapon on her.
She swallowed. 'We're forced to wear them. This was our workplace before the war. We had no choice.'
'You're wearing the traitor’s armband. That's a death sentence.' Tuấn growled.
Lâm put his hand over Tuấn's pistol; forcing him to lower it.
'Okay, elder sister,' Lâm soothed, 'what are the Chinese doing with this place?'
She pouted; reluctant to reply. Tuấn hardened his gaze and ground his teeth.
'They just ask us to pull details on residents of interest. We only do as we're told.'
'Now you'll do I say. I want you to empty all the filing cabinets contents onto the floor as quickly as you can.'
They remained fixed in place, looking at him with blank expressions.
'Go!' he shouted.
The office staff went about their task with desperate speed. Pulling open filing drawers and tossing the papers into the aisles.
'Lâm, go smash all the computers then take Thuỳ down to reception. Leave me your zippo.'
Lâm nodded, tossed his zippo lighter, and went about his task with gleeful earnest; kicking monitors, throwing down the I-gel hard drives and crushing them underfoot.
Tuấn moved to the nearest window. He could see Minh below with the prisoners. He watched the street for a moment. There was no apparent movement.
'Ok that's enough,' Tuấn waved the staff aside. Picking up a handful of paper he twisted it until it was tightly rolled. Lighting it from the zippo, he tossed the torch onto the pile. The flame quickly spread.
'There's a sprinkler system,' the elder staff member warned.
Tuấn frowned. 'Doesn't matter. Sprinklers will destroy the papers.'
He waved the staff toward the elevator. The younger girl cried out- covering her face as they passed the corpse of the Chinese girl. Lâm held the elevator door as they approached, his face etched with worry.
'Go,' Tuấn pushed his prisoners into the elevator. The two younger staff clung to their elder.
The March of the Dragons Page 18