“Is she legitimate?” Le said.
“Of course,” Phan replied, sounding irritated. They checked her out with National Geographic.” He noticed Crys watching them and moved quickly to join her.
As they retraced their steps to the hotel, they passed a little coffee shop with a few outdoor tables. At one of them was a face Crys recognized—Donald, from End Extinction. As their eyes met, he gave a nod of recognition, but no smile, then returned to reading his newspaper.
A coincidence? Or yet another man keeping track of what she was doing?
Chapter 28
Crys enjoyed a delicious dinner at a small, backstreet restaurant that seated only about a dozen patrons. She soaked in the atmosphere, the tempting aromas, and general hubbub of people enjoying each other’s company. She felt strangely at home, surrounded by people like herself. No one stared at her as though she was out of place as sometimes happened in American restaurants. No one made rude comments that she was meant to overhear.
The shrimp goi cuan was both lovely to look at and delicious. She’d always loved seeing the pink shrimp surrounded with greens through the translucent spring-roll wrap. And she couldn’t resist a pho with pork and extra ginger, just the way her mother’s cousin prepared it at her little restaurant in Duluth. It was exquisite. She even chatted to the waitress, letting down her guard and speaking her language. Eventually she dragged herself away and headed back to the hotel.
When she reached her room, she settled down to catch up on her notes and to write another article for the Duluth newspaper. As she went through the information, she realized that so far her visit had added nothing to what she needed to know for her National Geographic article. She’d also picked up no information of value for Nigel and nothing to help find Michael.
As if he were reading her mind, at that moment Nigel phoned.
“Crys. It’s Nigel. How did things go today?” he asked eagerly.
She filled him in on what had happened and told him she’d learned nothing useful to him.
“Don’t worry about that. Just keep doing your job and keep your eyes and ears open.”
“There is one thing, though. Phan, the translator Dinh arranged for me, behaved very strangely at the meeting today. He actually seemed to persuade Mr. Le to change his mind about something. I’m quite uncomfortable about it.”
“Strange. What was the question?”
Crys told him the story about the email address.
Nigel took a moment to respond. “I’ll have a word with Dinh about it.”
“Also, I asked Phan to try and set up a meeting with a wholesaler—preferably the one Michael saw,” she said, sitting back on the bed. “Is there anything you can do to help?”
“Already taken care of. I spoke to Dinh. Phan will be at your hotel at half past eight.”
She was impressed with Nigel’s ability to make things happen. Perhaps he was just that type of guy. After all, he’d persuaded her to spy for him, against her better judgment.
Crys told him about how comfortable she felt in Ho Chi Minh City on some occasions, such as the casual dinner she’d just enjoyed, and how uncomfortable she felt on others. Nigel said the CITES meeting was going well, but his real focus was her work. They chatted a bit longer, then hung up. Crys was ready for a good night’s sleep, but the reporter side of her brain was mulling over all that had happened at Mr. Le’s shop. She wondered if she’d missed something. It had all seemed so upfront, except for the issue of the email address. She made a mental note to visit Le again on her own and ask him privately. She would leave it for the time being because she’d have to speak to him in Vietnamese.
* * *
Do was waiting for her in the lobby when she went down for breakfast.
“Have eleven o’clock appointment for you in Saigon Port with wholesaler. He is the man Mr. Le tell you about. Mr. Ng. You take taxi with Mr. Phan. I have other work to do.”
“Thank you,” she responded. “What time should we leave?”
“In twenty minutes.”
“But it’s not even nine now.”
“Port is more than thirty miles away. Bad traffic. Also, Mr. Dinh says you must visit another shop this afternoon. Will arrange for four o’clock. Okay?”
Crys nodded. She had the feeling she was on some kind of tour—being pushed from one sight to another. This was very different from her usual carefully thought through legwork.
* * *
Phan was waiting when Crys had finished a quick breakfast.
“We should go,” he said as soon as he saw her. “It takes a long time to get there.” He hustled Crys into the taxi, seating her in the back and joining the driver in front. Crys was distracted by the thousands of scooters, modern and old buildings cheek by jowl, and by the people scurrying here and there, going about their business. Phan stared straight ahead and chatted to the driver.
Crys struggled to keep a straight face as she overheard their conversation. Phan was obviously nervous about the meeting, telling the driver how to avoid the traffic and to take shortcuts. Sometimes he referred to “the important American” being late when they became stuck in a traffic jam. On the whole, the driver just ignored him.
But they arrived in time and the meeting went smoothly until Crys asked about availability of horn. As with Le the previous day, Ng seemed to want to hide the shortage.
Crys tried to keep a blank expression while being surprised that such a simple question was taking so long to answer.
“Mr. Ng sometimes has difficulty to get the amount he wants, but it isn’t too bad—” Phan began, but Ng interrupted and spoke directly to Crys.
When he had finished, Crys looked at Phan. Phan swallowed and then said, “He says it is more difficult to get horns now in Africa. And they’re killing the men that get the horns. It’s a good thing, because prices are going up, and he makes more profit.”
“Tell him that I’ve heard rumors about a big operation next week in South Africa to kill a lot of rhinos. That a lot of money is involved. Ask him if he’s heard anything like that.”
Phan repeated this to Ng in Vietnamese. He shook his head and replied.
“He says he has not heard anything,” Phan translated.
Crys then asked if Ng could arrange for her to meet the men who supplied him, and when Phan translated he shook his head and made a short remark.
Phan said, “He doesn’t know his supplier because everything is done with computers. He’s never met the people with the horns.”
“Please send them a message and explain who I am and why I would like to meet,” Crys replied.
Phan asked Ng if this was possible, but Ng refused. This was private, he said. Phan asked him again, but he was adamant. Eventually he turned to Crys and said that Ng wouldn’t do that.
Finally, Crys asked about Michael. Ng remembered meeting him but had no helpful information. And, although she watched him very carefully, she could detect no reaction when she asked him about the email address.
She gave up, disheartened, and soon afterwards they started the trek back to the hotel.
* * *
When Crys returned to her room, she saw she had a voicemail. She picked up the phone and listened. It was from Nigel.
“This afternoon’s meeting is important because the dealer is affiliated to a different cartel from the first one. We think they might be the ones who are organizing the raid in South Africa. I’ll phone again tonight.”
Crys was beginning to feel pressured. She was getting useful information for her article, but nothing that might help them discover what was planned in South Africa or what had happened to Michael. She was beginning to wonder whether she’d be better off making her own contacts or just sticking to the ones Michael had made.
She met Phan at a quarter to four, and he led the way through the maze of back streets to the next app
ointment, which was with a local man who called himself Joe. When she asked if that was his real name, he laughed and said it was. “My father was in South Vietnamese army. Friends with GI Joe. So, he called me that.” He didn’t offer his family name.
His English was good enough that they didn’t need Phan to interpret.
Crys went through her usual list of questions and received pretty much the same responses about price and clientele as she had in her previous interviews, but Joe said there was no problem obtaining rhino horn, as long as one was willing to pay the asking price. Crys glanced at Phan, but he didn’t seem to be paying any attention. However, when Crys mentioned the potential raid in South Africa, Joe looked startled and switched to speaking in Vietnamese to Phan.
“Where did she find out about this?” he demanded. He glared at Crys as Phan translated.
“There was a rumor in South Africa when I was there,” she answered after Phan had finishing speaking.
“Who told you?” He was beginning to sound aggressive. Crys finally felt she was getting somewhere—rattling someone’s cage.
“The police there had heard rumors,” she replied.
“What do you know?”
“All they told me was there was a story going around about a big rhino kill. Many rhinos. They didn’t know any more than that. It was just a rumor.”
Joe stared at her as though he didn’t believe her answer. Suddenly she realized that if he was involved with the South African operation, then a story may have reached him from South Africa that a Vietnamese woman journalist had stolen a briefcase of money. Now it wouldn’t be too hard for him to figure out the connection.
“You must go now,” he said curtly. “I know nothing about anything in South Africa.”
“Thank you for your time,” she said, backing toward the door, hoping that he’d let them go.
“Which hotel you stay at?”
Crys looked at him inquisitively, wondering why he wanted to know that.
But she told him—he could find out from Phan anyway—and he nodded.
“Goodbye,” he said, turned his back on them and went through a door into the back of his shop.
“Let’s go,” she said to Phan. He nodded, looking relieved, and led the way out into the heat and humidity.
Crys was excited that she was finally onto something now. Her question about South Africa had clearly struck a chord.
“How can I find out more about Joe?” she asked Phan as they negotiated the crowded street outside. “I think he knows things I can use in my article.”
“Not a good idea,” he replied flatly. “He was not happy with you.”
“Because I asked about South Africa?”
He nodded.
She realized she’d made a mistake leaving when Joe had told them to. She’d known this was going to be tough, maybe dangerous, and she’d turned tail as soon as he’d looked threatening.
She stopped and turned back. This was the first lead she had to the upcoming raid. She had to speak to Joe again, right away, before he had a chance to link her to the money in South Africa.
Phan’s eyebrows shot up. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going back to speak to Joe again. He knows more than he’s telling me. I need to find out what that is.”
He shook his head vehemently. “No. You mustn’t do that! It’s not a good idea. He was angry!”
“That’s why we need to go back.”
Phan grabbed her arm. “Don’t go back. It is dangerous. He didn’t like your questions. People disappear in Vietnam, and I’m responsible for you.”
But she ignored his pleas, pulled her arm away and pushed on through the narrow streets, back to the shop. Phan followed hard on her heels, keeping up a constant stream of appeals for her to change my mind.
But she was determined to find out what Joe knew.
When she reached the door of Joe’s shop, she stopped, took a deep breath, and tried to open the door. It was locked. She banged on it. No answer. She banged again. Nothing. She looked for a phone number on display, but there wasn’t one.
“How did you contact him?” she asked Phan, who was standing a few yards behind her, his face flushed and sweaty.
“I didn’t arrange the meeting,” he replied. “I was just told to get you here at four o’clock. You must ask Dinh. I think he arranged it. We must go now.”
She banged on the door again. “Joe,” she called out, “please open the door. I have something important to talk to you about.”
There was no sound from within. Crys realized it was useless and, frustrated, she gave up, to Phan’s obvious relief.
“Dammit!” she said out loud. Her first real lead and she’d blown it by giving up too soon.
“Yes, yes,” Phan said, with a forced smile. “We go now. I take you back to your hotel.” He set off firmly.
By the time she walked into the hotel lobby, though, Crys knew what she had to do. First, contact Dinh and Nigel to see what they could tell her about Joe. Second, go back to Joe’s the next day and surprise him. He wouldn’t expect her to come back. And third, contact the U.S. Embassy, tell them who she was, where she was staying, and what she was doing. If something happened to her, she wanted them to come looking. She’d learned her lesson in South Africa.
* * *
Her call to Dinh wasn’t helpful. He confirmed that Joe was thought to work with a different cartel from Mr. Le, but that he knew nothing else about him. He was just trying to arrange a broad set of contacts for her.
Nigel, on the other hand, was excited at the reaction that her talk with Joe had elicited.
“You’re obviously onto something,” he said. “You should definitely go back to see if you can get more information. But be careful. These are nasty people.”
As if she didn’t know that…
Next, she phoned the U.S. Embassy and was surprised that someone answered her after-hours call and was even willing to take her details. When the woman, who was obviously Vietnamese, heard what she was researching, she also cautioned Crys to be careful.
“It’s a business that involves lots of money and plenty of influential people, Ms. Nguyen,” she said. “That’s not a good combination to get involved with.”
The more people told her that, the more Crys knew she was heading in the right direction. And the more nervous she became.
It was still too early for dinner, so she took a cold shower, followed by half an hour of yoga. By the time she’d finished, her body felt much better. It was not used to days of relative inactivity. Normally, she skied or ran every other day, but on this trip, she’d done very little exercise.
She took the opportunity to call Mabula. He’d promised to let her know if there were any developments with the search for Michael, but she preferred to keep checking with him herself. And, in fact, he did have some news—both good and not so good.
“I think we got close,” he told her. “We spread our house-to-house search to the small holdings around Giyani. There are lots of them, but we had a break. One person told us about a group of Asian men who were using a nearby property. There are Chinese people settling here—same as everywhere in Africa—but not that many, and it seemed worth investigating. Anyway, when we went in it was deserted, but there were signs of someone being held there and of a very hasty departure—food left in the fridge, bedding unmade, even some clothes lying around. We’re going over it with forensics. Hopefully, we’ll turn something up.”
Crys was silent. Were they that close? Michael whisked away just before he was found…
At last she asked, “Do you think they were tipped off?”
“Looks like it. But don’t worry. We’re close now. They know we’re after them. We’ll find him.”
“Yes, thank you, Colonel.”
But she worried that if they were on the run, they m
ight not keep Michael alive.
She needed something to take her mind off the hollow feeling in her chest, so she caught up on her notes, backed up everything she had to a thumb drive and also to the cloud, even though the connection was slow. She definitely didn’t want to lose any of the material she had for her article.
It was after eight by the time she walked out of the hotel in search of dinner.
She’d seen an appealing little restaurant a couple of blocks back, so she decided to call it a day and enjoy a quiet meal. As she turned to walk back, she stopped. Donald from End Extinction was standing at the corner of the street, watching her. That was twice now that she’d seen him. No way was that a coincidence.
She walked quickly toward him, her anger rising.
“What’s going on, Donald? You’re following me!”
He nodded. “Mr. Willandsen told me to follow you. He was afraid you’d get into trouble here, running around stirring up the rhino-horn people.”
“He what?” Crys was really angry now.
She was about to tell him to get lost and leave her alone, but she bit it off. She couldn’t trust Phan after the experience with Mr. Le; Nigel was on another continent; and Michael hadn’t been able to take care of himself. With a sinking feeling, she realized she needed all the help she could get—probably a lot more than one man following her at a distance. But it was something, someone who’d know where she was and what had happened to her if she suddenly vanished the way Michael had.
She had to trust someone in Ho Chi Minh City, and she didn’t have many options.
“I see,” she said. “Well, okay. Can we talk?”
Chapter 29
Crys didn’t sleep well. Her brain was racing. She switched between worries about Michael and how his situation might now actually be worse, and how she could persuade Joe to open up. So far, he was her only lead, so he was the one she had to break.
And now she had a new worry: could she trust Donald? She’d told him what she was doing, and why she thought Joe was her best hope. He hadn’t been enthusiastic, but at least he’d promised to help as much as he could. He’d have to keep in the background since it was known that he worked for End Extinction.
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