by Ty Patterson
‘You are his aunt, ma’am? Rachel Patten’s sister?’
‘Yes. Her elder sister. Our folks had just the two of us.’
‘And you weren’t close to her?’
‘Nope. Not after her marriage. Billy Patten kept us apart. He had no time for us. Except when he needed our money. And there were my views.
‘I have no interest in helping Cole Patten. Or whoever he is,’ she declared before either sister could question her last comment.
‘Neither do we, ma’am.’
Ginny Davis looked at Beth sharply. ‘What do you mean?’
‘We want to find out who he is. Cole or Josh. We aren’t the least bit interested in his company’s problems.’
‘Why do you care?’
‘I too suffer from amnesia, ma’am. I don’t remember an entire part of my life.’
Ginny Davis opened up after that. She went into how Rachel Patten had grown increasingly distant from her family.
‘I don’t know if he had anything to do with it. He was a charmer, and of course, once he returned from Vietnam, there was this hero thing about him. My sister didn’t speak much about him. About Billy Patten, the person.’
She served them cookies and made coffee for them as she spoke.
‘The few times I met him, he was polite. Gentlemanly.’
‘You didn’t seem to trust him.’ Beth grabbed another cookie and bit into it. Cookies. They made the world go round.
‘I didn’t. There was something about him.’
‘What about your husband? What was his reaction to Billy Patten?’
‘I never married, my dear.’ She chuckled on seeing their expressions. ‘I was the talk of the town. In those days, it was expected that women would find husbands. Have a few children. Keep the home and bring up the kids. I wanted none of it. I taught in the local school. Was a feminist. Went on marches, protests. I didn’t like the war. Maybe that was a reason why Billy and I didn’t get along well.’
That’s what she meant by views. Beth eyed another sweet treat on the plate and pulled her hand back when Meghan gave her an icy look.
‘He asked your father for money. How did that happen?’
‘He didn’t. He sent my sister for it. My folks did well for themselves with Happy Stay.’
‘Happy Stay?’
‘The hotel chain they had.’
Beth glared at Meghan when her sister made a curious choking sound.
She’s laughing at that cheesy name. That was the sixties, though. Cheesy was in.
‘Dad didn’t quibble. He just said he hoped Billy would put it to good use. He didn’t expect it back, either. But Billy Patten returned it. With interest.’
‘That mine must have been a few million, even in those days?’ Beth ventured.
‘Five,’ Ginny said, confirming what they had discovered in their research.
‘Your family lent him all of it?’
‘Three. Billy made arrangements for the rest of it.’
‘Three?’ The sisters leaned forward at the same time.
‘Not five?’ Beth asked.
‘No. Three million. Why do you ask?’
‘That mine cost five million, ma’am. Cole Patten and Ken Farrell told us all the money came from the family. If your father lent him only three million, why would they lie?’
‘They weren’t lying. My dad lent him three. Billy raised two, but routed the balance of that money through my father.’
‘Why, ma’am? Why did your father agree? And where did those other funds come from?’
Ginny shrugged. ‘I don’t know. He made arrangements. That’s what Rachel said. Why Dad agreed, I don’t know. He didn’t talk business with us.’
‘Did your sister say anything about where the two mil came from, ma’am?’
‘Nope. We used to talk very casually. She didn’t like my stance on the war. She thought it was a betrayal.’
Beth sat back, having exhausted her questions.
‘Ma’am, you heard about Leroy Duhan?’ Meghan filled the silence.
‘Yes.’ Ginny’s eyes flashed. ‘That was your doing? Finding him?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘You should be ashamed of yourselves.’
‘We are, ma’am.’
Ginny brushed aside her apology. ‘I didn’t support the war. Doesn’t mean I had no respect for our soldiers. What those two lawyers did to Leroy was despicable.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Meghan’s eyes didn’t waver from Ginny’s face. She wouldn’t make excuses. She wouldn’t duck away. She would face whatever was thrown at her.
Ginny Davis stared at both of them, and then her gaze softened. ‘I guess you aren’t entirely at fault.’
‘We are, ma’am. We shouldn’t have told Patten’s lawyer about him.’
Ginny nodded absently. ‘It’s done. And no. I don’t know of any scar.’
They spent a couple of hours more with Ginny Davis and left with no more information than when they had arrived.
A picture of Billy Patten was emerging. A man who seemed to wear many masks. A war hero for sure, but no one seemed to know who was underneath that.
A man who had raised two million on his own, from sources no one knew of.
They hung around town and went to the location where the community bank had once been. In its place was a convenience store.
The manager didn’t know of any bank. He was a recent arrival to the town and didn’t have much time for them.
Beth brought up a list of names on her screen. Friends, neighbors, people the Pattens had hung out with.
They went to the residential parts of the city and spent several hours interviewing the people.
Most of those remembered Billy Patten and the twins. None of them could distinguish the two, however.
They drew blank faces when they asked about Patten’s source of funds.
‘Rachel’s family helped him,’ was a common refrain.
They trudged to a diner when evening fell. Swirled their straws in their drinks, and it was only then that Meghan remembered.
She brought out her cell and turned the screen towards her sister.
Dang? Sounds like something dirty. Never heard of it or him. Cole hasn’t either.
‘That’s from Farrell?’ Beth asked.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Now what?’
‘We set Werner on the money trail.’
‘Werner didn’t find anything before. In fact, it didn’t find the discrepancy. That two mil came from somewhere else.’
‘Ginny Davis could be wrong. It was a long time back.’
‘You really think so, sis?’
‘No.’ Meghan sighed and smiled wryly. ‘I don’t think Ginny Davis could be wrong about anything.’
‘Where does that leave us?’
‘We go to Cu Chi.’
Chapter Seventeen
On their return the following day, they briefed Farrell and Patten in the lawyer’s midtown office.
‘I don’t remember Aunt Ginny. I mean, I’m sure I knew her…’ The billionaire trailed off.
The takeover and his troubles were showing on him. There were hollows underneath his eyes, and stubble on his chin.
Didn’t stop him from hanging out with that Hollywood actress, Meghan thought.
The media had camped outside Patten’s residence and office. They watched his every move. Every social event he went to was covered.
In contrast, there was no coverage of Salaluga or Gorbunov. There had been just one piece in a newspaper about the Russian’s origins and his links to the mafia.
I guess American billionaire with his back to the wall makes for better ratings.
They had discussed the mysterious two million at length, but neither Farrell nor Patten had any answers.
It was news to them, and neither had any ready explanation.
‘As far as the money and paper trail show, the funds came from Rachel’s father,’ Farrell answered stoutly. ‘If there was anything i
llegal about it, it would have come to light by now.’
The sisters didn’t let up. They questioned the two men, but inwardly, they knew neither had any answers.
If Werner couldn’t find anything, that means there’s nothing to be found, Meghan transmitted to her sister with her eyes.
There was no connection between the mysterious funds and Cole Patten’s identity. They would park the money angle temporarily.
‘Dang?’ she prompted the men.
Farrell shrugged. ‘I went through all the records I have. Correspondence. Got Cole to go through any papers he has. No idea who this is. Or what, if it’s a thing.’
‘Sounds like an illegal substance,’ Patten offered.
‘You have any other leads?’ Farrell asked them.
‘You don’t find it suspicious? That there’s no record of the two million?’ Meghan asked.
‘We’ve been through this before,’ the lawyer said exasperatedly. He crossed his feet and jiggled a leg impatiently.
‘Maybe Rachel’s father had a change of heart. Who knows?’
‘And Ginny Davis’s statement? You don’t find that unusual?’
‘That’s just one person’s account. We are audited. We’re a public company, now.’ Farrell cast his arms wide in a gesture of helplessness. ‘Everything’s above board. What do you want us to do?’
‘It’s hard to believe that a lawyer of your reputation wouldn’t look into that two million.’
‘Today is the first time I’m hearing of it,’ Farrell exploded. ‘I went through every sheet of paper, every email, when I took over this firm. Know what I found? Zip. The origin of the funds is clear. Chisholm is clean. My firm is clean. We aren’t even representing Chisholm anymore. Conflict of interest, the board said.
‘You won’t know this, but I told Cole a long while back that if it turned out that any of his dealings were illegal, I would drop him.’ He strode to his desk, grabbed a file and riffled through several pages.
He found what he was looking for and thrust it under Meghan’s nose.
‘There.’ He pointed with a perfectly manicured finger.
Meghan read swiftly and passed the file on to her sister. It was a condition, couched in legalese, under which Farrell could sever ties with Patten and Chisholm. It stated that if Patten or anyone from his family, or Chisholm Corporation, had indulged in any illegal activity, Ken Farrell would walk away.
‘Satisfied?’ he snarled.
‘Is your conscience satisfied?’ she shot back.
The lawyer snatched the file away and turned his back on them.
‘What will you do now?’ Cole Patten inquired quietly, in an attempt to soothe his lawyer.
‘We’re going to where all this started. Vietnam.’
Farrell spun around. ‘What do you think is there?’
‘We’ll know when we find out.’
Meghan called Clare after leaving Farrell’s office.
She held up a finger to silence her sister, who was about to burst out in anger.
‘Ma’am, it’s Meg. We returned from Chisholm yesterday.’
She broke it down rapidly for her boss.
‘Yes, ma’am. She said the family lent Billy Patten only three mil. You said the IRS had investigated him?’
Relax. Take deep breaths. Farrell isn’t our enemy, she whispered to her sister, and got a scowl in return.
‘I’m here, ma’am.’ She listened intently, then thanked Clare and hung up.
‘She says there’s a statement by the agents who interviewed Billy Patten. He provided proof that the five mil came from Rachel’s dad. They interviewed the father. He confirmed it. End of their investigation.’
‘We have only Ginny’s word about the three million.’ Beth frowned. ‘I don’t want to believe that she lied to us.’
‘She repeated what she was told. Nothing in it for her to lie. Let’s see if Werner can sniff anything out. But let’s also get to Vietnam.’
Zeb was watching them from a distance, from his tired-looking Toyota. He had spotted Bwana and Roger in their vehicle.
This time, there were no other watchers.
However, he was uneasy. His radar was quiet, but that didn’t mean anything.
If Kirilov can control his chi like I can, I won’t sense him.
He climbed out of his vehicle and followed the sisters as they made their way to a restaurant.
Bwana and Roger rolled to a stop closer to the establishment, but stayed inside their vehicle.
Zeb window-shopped for an hour until the sisters emerged.
He fell in behind them, and then he spotted Kirilov.
The Russian seemed to come from nowhere, walking fast, quicker than those around him.
He was heading towards the sisters.
A hundred yards behind them.
Zeb crossed the street, careful to stay away from the edges of Kirilov’s vision.
He fell in behind the killer.
A snatched glance. Bwana climbing out. Purpose on his face. He was fifty yards behind the Russian, Zeb well behind him.
Kirilov didn’t look to his left or to his right. He cut the distance down.
Twenty-five yards from the Petersens.
Zeb jogged lightly, wondering what the Russian was up to.
Then Kirilov reached inside his jacket.
Bwana burst into a sprint, as did Zeb.
The sisters were unaware of what was happening behind them. They were conversing intently, their shades on their faces.
Zeb opened his mouth to yell out a warning.
It died on his lips when the killer veered past the twins. His right hand came out. A pair of sunglasses flashed in the light.
He placed them over his eyes, spun on his heels, and caught Zeb’s eyes.
He raised his left hand, made the shape of a gun with his fingers, and aimed it at Zeb.
Got you, his mocking smile seemed to say, and then he vanished into a crowd of tourists.
‘He made us.’ Bwana wiped sweat off his face and flicked it off his fingers angrily.
He and Roger knew about Kirilov. Zeb had briefed them. They hadn’t spotted him until then.
‘He wanted to draw us out.’ Zeb scanned the pavement futilely, knowing the Russian had disappeared. ‘He wants us to know that he knows.’
‘You didn’t detect him?’
Zeb shook his head. ‘I spoke to Levin yesterday. He says Kirilov is unlike any other killer we’ve gone up against.’
He’s as good as you, Zeb. Maybe better, the Mossad head had warned him.
‘He could have killed the sisters.’
‘Yeah. Way I figure it, killing isn’t on the table. Not yet. He and his boss, Gorbunov, want to know what the sisters are up to.’
‘Good.’ A wide smile split Bwana’s face when Zeb looked quizzically at him. ‘Rog and I, we were getting bored. We have a worthy opponent, at last.’
Nothing fazed Bwana. Not even someone like Kirilov. A nuclear weapon could have exploded over him, and he would still be smiling.
Zeb punched him lightly on the shoulder and walked away.
His crew. They were the best.
Gorbunov can throw whoever he wants at the sisters. Kirilov. Other thugs. Anyone. Not one of them will get to the twins. Not again.
He was thrown that evening when Roger called him.
‘Vietnam?’ he asked in disbelief.
‘Yeah. That’s what Meghan said. They’re going to Cu Chi. They want to trace Billy Patten’s movements. Talk to people there.’
‘They have a starting point? Anyone ready to talk to them?’
‘You know Beth and Meg. There aren’t many people who will refuse to speak with them.’
Zeb nodded unconsciously. ‘You should follow.’
‘We were planning to. You coming?’
‘Nope. I have a Russian killer to attend to.’
Chapter Eighteen
Vietnam, 1967
‘We got to go into the tunnels.’ The speake
r was tall, a shade over six feet, swarthy, and bare-chested. He smoked a cigar as he addressed the ten men ranged in front of him.
Staff Sergeant Bob Templeman was a legend. He was on his third tour of the country and had the scars to prove it. His right shoulder bore the marks of a badly healed gunshot, when a VC sniper had attacked him.
The skin on his left fingers had whitened. He’d never said why, and rumors abounded.
He never asked his men to do something that he wouldn’t do himself.
He was a fierce fighter, a patient leader, and it was no surprise he commanded the loyalty of the ten men facing him.
He hadn’t lost a man in his third tour. It was an enviable record, but deep inside, he knew it wouldn’t last. Heck, he didn’t know if he would leave the country alive.
It was 1967. Templeton and his men were near Saigon. It was the second year since American troops had been committed to the region, to support South Vietnam in their war against North Vietnam.
The war had started as conflicts often did. North Vietnam, a communist state, wished to unify Vietnam by force and went to war with South Vietnam.
The north was backed by the Soviet Union, China, North Korea, and the Khmer Rouge.
South Vietnam had the support of the US, which sought to contain the growth of communism in the region. Australia, New Zealand, the Philippines, South Korea, Taiwan, the Khmer Republic, and the Kingdom of Laos were the south’s other allies.
North Vietnam’s war was supported by the VC, Viet Cong, in the south. The VC, or Charlie, was the military arm of the National Liberation Front and had the same goal as North Vietnam: unification of the north and south, and the establishment of communism.
The US forces had B-52s, Hueys, Agent Orange, artillery, and tanks. The NVA, North Vietnamese Army, couldn’t match the Americans in terms of firepower, but they had numbers. They were close to half a million strong, and the Viet Cong had another three hundred thousand.
The NVA and the VC waged guerilla warfare against their better-equipped opponents.
They hit and ran, hiding in villages.
When the Americans followed them there, in seek-and-destroy missions, they took to the jungles.
The anticommunist forces used napalm and Agent Orange to destroy vegetation.