Fury (30 page)

              It’d grown exceptionally dark by the time we’d arrived and the club was thriving. Expensive-looking motorcycles lined the street outside the club’s doors and seemingly stretched for miles.

              Having become familiar with Vietnam’s government, I knew regular citizens weren’t its patrons. A regular Vietnamese couldn’t have afforded them. Those motorcycles belonged to high government officials, their children, expats, and tourists.

              “Ah, I see,” I told no one, but Dai answered anyway.

              “Yes.”

              I thought of something when he spoke. “Do you have children, Dai?”

              “Yes, I do,” he said.

              “How old are they?”

              “They are adults now with children of their own.”

              “Do you love your children? Your grandchildren?”

              “Yes,” he answered.

              “Then how could you do this line of work?”

              “I was very poor. I could not afford to eat, to feed my family. One day, one of Khanh’s men approached me, told me he could help me. I knew what he did, so I refused him. The next day he came. Again, I told him no. I told him no for three weeks straight until one day my wife needed medicine so I gave in. I agreed to run errands for Khanh himself.

              “It was easy at first. I never saw any of the girls he sold. I never saw anything but the pretty clubs. Gradually, I was introduced to
other
jobs, darker jobs. I became used to the sights, the sounds. Soon I did not notice any injustice. I was given a house, a car, a chance to make more money, so I took it.”

              “You have regrets?” I asked.

              “Many.”

              “Do you regret this life? What you’ve done?”

              “Yes.”

              “How do I know if you’re lying?”

              “I cannot prove it to you, but if helps you understand, I will tell you a story. My wife died last year. My children loved her very much. I would see them so often because of her. I only knew them because she alone brought them to our house. I did not know this until she had died. When she died, my children stopped showing up, they stopped knowing me. I would call them repeatedly, try to gift them money, but they refused me.”

              “Why?”

              “Because they knew what I had become. They knew who I’d become to get our house, our car, our money. And they hated me for it.”

              “Then why continue?”

              “It’s too late for me,” he said, reminding me of someone.
But who?

              It’s never too late
, I thought instinctively.
No, he’s right. It is too late. For both of us.

“If I let you go,” I said, curious, “what would you do?”

“I would run to Khanh. I would tell him you were coming.”

“And if I prevented you from doing that?”

“Nothing would prevent me other than death.”

“Why, Dai?”

“Because I’m entrenched and I like it.”

“Then you will die by my hand tonight, Dai. I will steal your soul.”

He turned his head and smiled, the smile of the devil himself. “You can’t steal something that’s already been stolen.”

              Breathe.

              We walked to the front of the club and inside without any trouble. I figured this was either because they recognized Dai and thought nothing of it or they recognized Dai and played it cool until they could get to the hooded guy behind him. I was betting on the latter.

              I let Dai move ahead before sinking into the crowd of people near the bar, pushing down my hoodie, and crouching to blend in better. I noticed Dai looked behind him to see if I was there. The look on his face was one of shock. He looked around him, searching for me. After a minute, he gave up and raced through the crowd to a pair of elevator doors at the back of the club.

              I noticed he placed his thumb on a fingerprint reader and the doors opened for him.

             
Breathe.

I had no idea how I was going to follow him at that point. I watched the lit numbers above the elevator doors. Floor six. The top floor. I made a break for the elevator doors, raising my hood one more time. I unzipped my jacket, making sure the flaps still covered the knives.

              There was a line of ten or so scantily clad women sitting at the bar wearing too much makeup and sporting way too much skin. The prostitutes.

             
Breathe.

              I looked around for someone who looked like they belonged at the club and spotted a waitress with a very short skirt carrying a tray.

              “You,” I said, catching her attention.

              “Drink?” she asked.

              I shook my head and held up a folded fifty. “Open the elevator.”

              She casually walked forward toward the doors and placed her thumb on the pad. When the doors opened, I handed her the fifty and she left without another word.

             
Too easy
.

              I knew she would be notifying Khanh, but it was a moot point. Dai had beat her to it. I hit the button for the fifth floor, not wanting to risk an automatic sixth floor attack. Although I had no idea what was on five, I did know for a fact what was on six.

             
Breathe.

              When the elevator car reached the fifth floor, I tucked myself against the button panel, laying flat against the wall.

             
Breathe.

              The doors opened but nothing came barrelling toward me. I placed my left foot in front of the door and looked out. There was nothing but a large room with doors lining walls. I stuck my head out farther, left and right. It looked like some sort of spa. All white with wood accents. There was a comfortable-looking waiting area as well as an attractive woman sitting at a reception desk, which shocked me.

              She got up with a smile on her face, ready to greet me. When she saw I came unaccompanied, though, her expression twisted into confusion.

              “How did you get up here?” she asked, unafraid.

              “I’m looking for Khanh,” I told her.

Her eyes widened and she screamed something in Vietnamese, running toward her desk, no doubt to alert Khanh and his men.

             
Breathe.

              I ran to her before she could, swooping an arm around her waist and tossing her away from her desk. She yelped and landed on the white marble floor.

              “No, no,” I told her. She opened her mouth to scream but abruptly closed it when I raised Dai’s gun at her. “Stay,” I ordered as I went around to each of the seven doors and opened them, keeping my gun trained on her at all times. They were all empty except for a bed and a bathroom in each. I decided they were private rooms for the girls from downstairs. They all had such a Western feel, I knew they were reserved for the high-dollar tourists. I walked back to her.

“Now, tell me everything you know about him. How tall he is, what he weighs, how many men he keeps around, what are his skill sets. I want to know
everything
. Now talk.”

             
Breathe.

              Her lips trembled. “He is a big man.”

              “How tall?”

              “He would reach your shoulders.”

              “His weight?”

              “Seventy-five kilograms. Give or take.”

Okay, I’ve got about twenty-five pounds on him.

             
“How many men in the building work for him?”

              She started crying. “Seventeen in security for Khanh, another eighty or so that come and go. They run his cells and drop off cash throughout the night.”

              “Does he keep a gun on him? Any weapons?”

              “No, he keeps nothing on him.”

Yeah, right
.

              “What else should I know about him?”

              “He’s going to kill you,” she said without feeling.

              “Thank you,” I told her.

I walked to her desk and ripped the telephone cord and wire from the wall and phone. I walked back over to her as she began to whimper. I wrapped the cord around her ankles several times, hogtying her. With one swift movement, I lifted her up and carried her to the bed of the first room nearest the elevator. I ripped a piece of cloth from the sheet on it and stuffed it in her mouth.

“Go ahead and scream if you want.”

She screamed a muffled sound but enough to gain someone’s attention if they entered the fifth floor. Just what I’d wanted. I walked over to her desk and examined it until I discovered the silent alarm. Before pressing it, I checked for weapons and stumbled upon a loaded gun attached to velcro beneath the underside. I removed it from its holster and checked the clip. Full.

Absently whistling “Tighten Up” by The Black Keys, I triggered the silent alarm, closed every open door besides the girl’s, and made my way to the room on the opposite side near the receptionist desk. I cracked open the door and pressed myself against the jamb.

             
Breathe.
             

              I heard the ding of the elevator door. My jaw clamped.

Breathe.

             
Breathe.

             
Breathe.

Footsteps rang out, too many to count. The room I’d chosen was well hidden but also constricted my view.

             
Breathe.

They ran to the receptionist’s room when they heard her struggle. They screamed in Vietnamese and I took advantage of their distraction, creeping out of my door and setting up shop behind the desk. Seven men that I could see.  

             
Breathe.

              One shot. Down. Two shots. Down. Three shots. Down. They came running out, a look of complete surprise on each of their faces right before I fell them where they stood. Before long, no one else came out and the only sound was the receptionist’s muffled bawling.

             
Breathe.

              Whistling “Tighten Up” again, I hopscotched over the men’s dead bodies and stuck my head through the door. “Try to stay calm.”

              I made my way toward the elevator but remembered something and turned back around. I gathered as many handguns as I could, shoving them inside the waistband of my jeans. I strapped two automatics around my chest. I unsheathed one of my short swords and bent down. I chopped off one of the men’s thumbs and stuck it in my pocket. I needed a way to access the elevator.

              “Sit tight,” I told the girl. “Not much longer.”

She screamed into the sheet gagging her mouth.

              When I got to the elevator, I pulled out the severed thumb and placed it against the electronic reader. The pad beeped and the doors opened.

              I stepped inside, dropping the thumb at my feet by accident. I picked it back up and stuck it in my pocket.

              I hit the button for floor two, intending to work my way back up.

             
Breathe.

I balanced the automatics on my hips, keeping both my hands on the triggers. The doors wouldn’t open. They required electronic access through the thumb pad. I let go of one of the automatics and retrieved the thumb again, placing it on the access pad near the button panel. It beeped. I picked up the automatic again. The doors opened.

             
Breathe.

              A holding room. At least twenty-five children, girls
and
boys, between the ages of five and fifteen sat wide-eyed on the floor of an open room, drinking broth from bowls. I set the guns down then looked around the doors and took in their guards. Three men. Far right corner. No children near them. Eating at a table.

             
Breathe.

              “Khanh sent me to fetch you,” I said.

             
Breathe.

              They looked at one another, confused. “He’s pissed! Come on! Get up there!” I yelled.

They scrambled up, convinced my presence had to be legitimate, despite the fact that I spoke in English. How else would I have gotten in their elevator? Why else would I be there?

             
Breathe.

              They scurried onto the elevator and as the doors closed, I winked at them, stuck my handgun near the barely there opening and shot three times, killing all three. Not a single child screamed, shocking me.