Gemini Series Boxset

by Ty Patterson

  He went to Minneapolis, to find himself, and looked up a lawyer and an accountant.

  They helped him incorporate a company whose business was to import Vietnamese art and export American luxury goods to that country.

  That would be his and Dang’s front.

  The accountant rolled up their bank account under this umbrella.

  Dang was ecstatic. He was now a part owner in an American business.

  ‘Like I told you, podner,’ Billy said, putting on a mock-Western accent when next they spoke, ‘you leave the management to me. Grow your end of the business and I’ll take care of everything else.’

  ‘My coming to America…’

  ‘That will happen too.’

  Billy felt adrift, however. He was maintaining a façade, of the returned war veteran. The surviving Tunnel Rat. A man who didn’t have much more to him than his Army pension. Who was deeply in love with his wife, Rachel, who was now pregnant.

  Only when he was alone, did the mask drop.

  He missed the action. The danger. He missed the illicitness of his meetings with Dang.

  His partner seemed to have coped better. But then, he’s still running the main part of the business.

  Pete and Leroy visited him. Billy laughed and drank with them, and toasted lost friends. But deep inside, he knew he was no longer like them.

  He thought both his friends suspected something was different, but neither brought it up.

  And then he read about the failing mine in Chisholm.

  It was on the market for five million dollars. A cheap price, he found out after extensive research. The owners were desperate for cash and had lowered their price.

  However, there weren’t many takers even at that price.

  ‘What do you know about mining, Billy?’ Rachel asked him.

  ‘Nothing.’ He gave her the winsome smile that had won her over. ‘But what did I know of fighting? Or of tunnels?’

  ‘That’s a lot of money, honey. We don’t have anything close to it. We just have your pension and my teacher’s salary.’

  ‘I’ve thought about that too. I’ll approach your father for a loan. I’ll go to night school. Learn about business. Study mining. You’ll see. It’ll work out.’

  Rachel’s father was a stern-looking individual who smiled only at his wife and daughters. He had grey eyes, and they flashed fire when Billy approached him.

  ‘You want to buy a mine? With my money?’ He couldn’t keep the derision out of his voice.

  ‘A loan, sir. And I’ll build a business out of it.’

  ‘What do you know about steel and mining?’

  ‘Nothing, sir. But I’ve signed up to go to college. I’m studying everything I need to know about the business.’

  ‘I don’t have that kind of money, and even if I did, I wouldn’t give it to you.’

  ‘You do, sir,’ Billy stated boldly. ‘Happy Stay has been posting healthy profits for the last several years. You have virtually no debt. The salaries you pay out are low. Your repeat business is high.’

  He rattled off balance sheet figures and knew he had impressed his father-in-law even though the man showed no expression.

  ‘As to why you’ll lend me the money, sir, I’ve taken out a large loan against my house. I’ve put a down payment on the mine. Just enough to put me in prime position. Rachel’s your daughter. You wanted her to have a better life, not be married to me. This mine will give her the good life you wanted for her.’

  He didn’t need to say any more. If he didn’t make good on the loan, he would lose the house. He and Rachel would be homeless.

  The father’s jaw clenched. ‘Let me think about it.’

  ‘I’ll give you three million,’ was his father-in-law’s response a week later. ‘If you’re so confident about it, you’ll raise the rest of it yourself.’

  Billy grabbed the offer with both hands.

  He was walking through the mine two weeks later when he met Valentine Gorbunov.

  ‘I am Valentine Gorbunov. One of the richest men in Russia. I heard you have right of first refusal on the mine. I have money. We can be partners.’

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Billy stared at him in amazement.

  The Russian had come from behind as Billy was walking to the mine’s exit.

  He was tall, with thick hair and had a hooked nose.

  Billy had to look up to meet his eyes.

  ‘How did you hear about that?’ he asked weakly as his brain struggled to catch up and take stock.

  ‘Come. Let’s discuss it over a drink.’ Gorbunov shepherded him to a waiting Mercedes before Billy could resist.

  ‘There’s nothing to discuss,’ Billy managed to get out as he sank into the soft leather seats and heaved an inward sigh of relief as the car’s aircon cooled him.

  ‘There’s always something to discuss,’ the Russian stated enigmatically.

  The day turned into evening. Alcohol flowed endlessly, waiters snapping to attention whenever Gorbunov raised his head or a hand.

  They were at a private table in the most upmarket hotel that Chisholm had to offer.

  The Russian was urbane, spoke well, and easily sensed Billy’s dark side.

  ‘Some of us have it. The others’—he flicked a careless hand in the direction of other patrons—‘they are the sheep. They follow people like us. No?’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘I know a lot, Billy. You and I. We are fighters. Survivors. You fought in Vietnam. You were a Tunnel Rat. Here you are, a genuine hero. I fought in the streets of Russia. I am a self-made man, like you. Together we can be great. We can rebuild this mine.’

  ‘Why should I trust you? Believe you? Why should I even deal with you?’

  Gorbunov looked around. There was no one within earshot.

  ‘Tell me something, Billy. How did you feel when you killed your first man? Did you puke? Did you have nightmares?’

  Billy didn’t answer for a moment. He looked into the depths of his glass, at the liquid swirling inside it.

  ‘Nothing. I felt nothing,’ he breathed.

  ‘I killed my first man when I was eleven, Billy. Know what I felt? Nothing. Just like you. He was standing in my way. He had to be removed. I did it. Isn’t that how you looked at it?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Billy gasped hoarsely, the image of the NVA soldier, his first kill, coming to his mind.

  ‘Da, I thought so.’ Gorbunov rose, a king signaling that his court was closed. ‘Come tomorrow, Billy. Let us talk about our future. You are drunk now. Tomorrow, you will see I am right.’

  Gorbunov spent a week in Chisholm, during which Billy met him each day.

  He had discovered a kindred spirit in the Russian. Someone who could easily read him.

  Billy knew the Russian had a mafia background. Gorbunov had dropped enough hints about it, which were verified by Billy’s research.

  ‘Money is no problem, Billy. One million? Two? Cost is not an issue. I don’t think you have all the money, do you? To buy the mine?’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘If you had, you would have bought it by now.’ The Russian winked. ‘You are in a dangerous situation, Billy. You have taken that loan out on your house… yeah, I know about that too. You will lose the deposit, the house, everything, if you don’t complete the purchase and turn the mine around.

  ‘I can help. We will be equal partners.’ He clicked his fingers and an aide sprang forward with a thick folder.

  ‘Those are my accounts. I know you have studied accounting. And mining. And are also learning about business management. Those figures will tell you my story.’

  Billy was impressed. Gorbunov had presented him with the five-year balance sheet and profit-and-loss account of Salaluga, the holding company.

  There was an auditor’s report, from a well-known worldwide firm.

  Gorbunov had funds.

  ‘Why do you want this mine?’

  ‘It will be my first steel i
nvestment in America. The cornerstone of my empire I will build here. You can be part of that too, or you and I can be partners only in the mine. The choice is yours. Like you, I have studied that mine. I know it has potential. It is bad management that ruined it. Its current owners didn’t think big. Don’t have imagination.

  ‘You and I, Billy’—he tapped his temple—‘we are smart. We can take this business places.’

  Billy shook hands with him, signaling a partnership, on Gorbunov’s last day in the city.

  They worked out the details. How the arrangement would work. How much money each one would pour into the mine. Equal shares, they agreed. Billy would raise two and a half mil, Gorbunov would send an equal amount, and Billy would complete the deal on behalf of the Russian.

  I’ll still have enough left over from Rachel’s dad’s loan to pay back the bank and secure my house.

  And then Dang called and reality struck.

  Billy was in Vietnam on the third day after Gorbunov’s departure.

  ‘Going to Minneapolis to talk to some investors,’ he lied to Rachel.

  ‘What will we do with a steel mine?’ Dang looked at him, aghast, when Billy told him everything.

  His Vietnamese partner showed few signs of aging. He had a few wrinkles on his face, but that was all.

  His body was still lean, wiry, and his glasses were the same.

  His restaurant, their restaurant, was doing well. Dang had a nice home, and several mistresses.

  After running through the accounts and recounting war stories, Billy had launched into the Chisholm story.

  ‘We’re criminals, Dang. We’ve been smart and lucky, but we can’t count on things always being like that. This is our opportunity to start a proper business. A respectable business.’

  ‘What’s wrong with a restaurant business? And why steel, Billy?’

  Billy spoke long into the night, turning on his charm, launching into the sales pitch he had prepared.

  ‘This will make it easy for you to come to America,’ he said, producing his trump card. ‘As a shareholder and joint owner of a steel business, you’ll get your papers easily.’

  ‘How much?’ Dang gave in, and Billy knew he had won.

  ‘Why do you need to route that two mil through me?’ Rachel’s father frowned when Billy met him on his return.

  ‘Sir, this export-import business,’ Billy said, citing the name of the front he had established on his return, ‘they’ll lend to you. Not to me. They like the idea of the steel mine, its prospects, but lending to you is like a surety.’

  ‘I won’t be a guarantor to your business. And I’ll need to study their accounts and meet them.’

  ‘No guarantees are needed, sir. I’ll arrange the accounts and the call with their director.’

  The accounts were good, because they had been designed to look good.

  The call with Dang went exactly the way Billy had expected it to, because he had prepped his Vietnamese partner.

  In 1970, as Rachel gave birth to twins, Cole and Josh Patten, Billy became the proud owner of Chisholm.

  As he became involved in the running of the mine, Billy’s relationship with Dang soured.

  He had avoided all contact with Valentine Gorbunov after a few heated calls.

  He didn’t need Gorbunov anymore and had tried explaining that to the Russian, who hadn’t taken it well. He had threatened Billy.

  ‘I survived Vietnam. I can live through whatever you throw at me,’ Billy had replied and hung up forever on Gorbunov.

  He didn’t deliberately ignore Dang. It was just that he no longer felt the urgency of keeping his partner informed about all that was happening in the steel business.

  Then there was the small matter that Dang was never a shareholder in the business. Billy had sole authority to act on his partner’s behalf and had structured the corporation such that he was the sole owner.

  Dang was incensed when he learned about it. He felt cheated.

  ‘You will not get a single dollar from the Vietnamese business,’ he screamed from across the ocean.

  ‘I don’t need anything from you,’ Billy snapped. And he didn’t.

  ‘I should have killed you in the tunnels.’

  ‘You’re forgetting. It was me who had the drop on you. You’re alive because of me.’

  ‘You lied to me about everything.’

  ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘You are lying even now,’ Dang yelled, and Billy couldn’t resist a smile at the image of the small, red-faced man screaming into his phone, cords bulging on his neck.

  ‘If you come to Vietnam again,’ Dang said, his voice dropping to an ominous whisper, ‘you will never leave.’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Present day

  ‘How would we get Dang to come to us?’ Beth ran her fingers through her hair. ‘And, why would he?’

  ‘Because that’s what we would do,’ Meghan replied patiently. Most times, her sister connected the dots before they were formed. And then there were times like this. ‘If we knew someone was investigating us.’

  ‘Oh, you mean that…’

  ‘Yeah, that. Took you all day to figure it out.’

  ‘An Khoi may not go for it. He’ll have to get authorization.’

  ‘We won’t involve him.’

  ‘What about Farrell and Patten?’

  ‘Yeah, we’ll tell them.’

  ‘Tell, not ask?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘If the Vietnamese police don’t know who Dang is, those babes won’t find out either,’ Gorbunov told Kirilov.

  He had listened in satisfaction when his killer told him about Cham’s interrogation. That his man had destroyed the farmer’s life didn’t matter. He had liked it even more when he’d learned the Vietnamese gangbanger was now turning into organic compost

  That was Kirilov. He left no loose ends.

  Still, there were times when his shooter surprised him. Like when he told his boss that he had bugged the Petersens’ office.

  ‘The New York one? What good is that when they are in Vietnam?’ Gorbunov had harangued him.

  ‘Not that one. I couldn’t get close to that. Too much security. The one they have in Ho Chi Minh City. In the police headquarters.’

  ‘You bugged the police offices?’ Gorbunov’s feet slipped off his desk.

  He tried to imagine the logistics involved, the sheer gall, and then gave up. If there was anyone in his outfit who could enter a police building, plant a surveillance device, and walk out unscathed, it was his top shooter.

  Kirilov didn’t answer. He was like that, too. He didn’t like using too many words.

  ‘So, what will they do now?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ his man answered. ‘They moved out of their room. I haven’t wired the whole building.’

  Gorbunov drummed his fingers on his desk as he thought back to the several sheets he had read on the twins.

  Lateral thinking. Imagination. MIT kind of smart. He recalled the criminals and terrorists they had put away.

  ‘They’ll dangle some bait. Get this drug dealer to come out of cover.’

  ‘Yes. It’s what I would do.’

  ‘And when he does, you will capture him. Squeeze everything out of him.’

  ‘What about those sisters?’

  ‘They are not coming back. You will take care of them. That older one, Meghan, she assaulted me. No one does that to Gorbunov and lives.’

  ‘I thought you deliberately antagonized them.’

  ‘Yes. But I do that to many people. Only these two dared to raise a hand to me.’

  The sisters made all the arrangements. They contacted Colonel General Lanh, who didn’t ask any questions when they told him what they wanted.

  He must wonder why we didn’t ask An Khoi. ‘Your contacts will be senior, sir. That’s why we came to you,’ Meghan explained after she noted the names the official mentioned.

  She twisted around to watch her sister, who was on another phone, spe
aking intensely, one finger curling through her hair.

  ‘Yes, sir. I’m here. We want to place an ad,’ she told the colonel and suppressed an untimely giggle at the silence on the other end.

  ‘They want to run an ad,’ Farrell briefed Cole Patten in the latter’s office. ‘I greenlighted it.’

  A fleeting expression crossed the billionaire’s face as he heard out his lawyer.

  ‘What? I thought you wanted to find out who you were.’

  ‘I did.’ Patten crossed his arms. ‘But are you sure an ad is the right way to go? They’ll get crank calls. A zillion of them. How will they sift through all those?’

  ‘I think it’s a great idea. Someone will know something. They’ll also run another ad, about Dang. As to the crank calls…’ Farrell shrugged. ‘I’m sure they’ll hire people to weed those out.’

  ‘That could be dangerous.’

  ‘I think you’ll find the Petersen twins can take care of themselves.’

  Farrell was troubled when he left his client’s office. He and his firm had been advising Patten and Chisholm for several years, and over time, he had gotten to know his client well.

  They weren’t friends; they didn’t go golfing or fishing or watch ball games together. However, they were reasonably close. Farrell thought he knew his client well, knew everything about him.

  And yet…Why did he cross his arms? That’s a defensive posture.

  Beth had arranged for a Vietnamese call center to deal with the incoming flood of calls.

  It had been recommended by Lanh for being discreet and competent. The sisters inspected it, met all the agents and got the staff to sign confidentiality agreements, and then went to the newspapers.

  The ads ran in ten Vietnamese papers, in both the local language and the English editions.

  There were two advertisements. One sought information on the accident involving Billy Patten and his sons. It offered a reward for the correct information.

  The twins, knowing that there could be several false calls, had written a verification script for the agents. Each caller had to confirm the exact tunnel that had collapsed.