See You in Saigon (5 page)

“Scorpion was
killed by the Vigilante in 1996,” Dave added. “His throat was slashed. I saw
the body, Jon. He was dead.”

“It wasn’t him,”
Jonathan replied. “It was his brother, Bradley, sitting in as a body double.”

“Jon, his identity
was confirmed with dental records,” Dave argued. “I saw the reports.”

“It appears the
dental records were switched,” said Jonathan, “And neither man had ever been
arrested so you had no prints. In addition, the brothers had no other family.
Listen, Nick Sharp has some people looking into this as we speak but it all
makes sense. You’ll read the detailed version in this report but let me give
you a summary.

“Back in the
mid-nineties, the word on the street was there was a lot of turmoil within the
Devil’s Delight this side of the border, specifically relating to a power
struggle between Scorpion and the gang’s Canadian grand chief, Keg Keegan, out
of Toronto. Do you remember that?”

“Oh yeah,” Dave
replied. “Different chapters of the gang were taking each other out with drive
by shootings and car bombs. They even blew up a couple of clubhouses. This went
on for a while then it all died down and the Delight eventually dwindled to
nothing.”

“That
is
what happened,” Jonathan agreed, “And now we know what, or rather, who was
behind the power struggle between Scorpion and Keegan – Jazz Kovac, the
Delight’s founder out of Chicago. Kovac had a vision of a much more discreet
criminal organization which Scorpion agreed with. However, Keegan didn’t and
that’s where the clashing started.

“Kovac liked what
he saw in Scorpion – smart, logical, tough – and asked him to Chicago to assist
in the further planning of his projects. Scorpion agreed and headed over under
an assumed identity, leaving his brother in his place. Tensions within the gang
were far from over and Kovac and Scorpion didn’t want Keegan to be aware of
their plans. Bradley Roy, who bore an uncanny resemblance to his brother and
was only thirteen months older, was happy to play the role of Scorpion,
especially since all he had to do was laze around and drink under the watchful
eye of some bodyguards.”

“Not so watchful
as it turned out,” Dave commented. “The Vigilante killed him then blew up the
house killing four other men inside.”

“Which, oddly
enough, played to Scorpion’s advantage,” Jonathan replied.

“Yep, being dead
is an excellent alibi,” said Dave before turning to Chris and Leslie. “You two
are suddenly quiet. Is it something I said?”

“Not at all,
silly,” Leslie replied with a smile. “I simply don’t know much about the
subject so I had nothing to say.”

Chris stood and
walked over to the monitor which still displayed a close-up photo of Scorpion.

“I’m still digesting
the fact this animal is still alive seventeen years after he supposedly died,”
he said, the vehemence clear in his tone. “He should have been dead even before
then.”

Dave gave him a
puzzled looked. “Why are you taking this so personally, buddy? Did you have a
beef with this guy?”

Chris gazed at
Dave for a moment before replying. “Mid-afternoon on June 14, 1996, a car
parked on Lafond Street in Rosemont exploded. Giovanni ‘Gigi’ Galeone of the
Aces of Death, the owner of the vehicle, didn’t die because he was nowhere near
the car when the bomb went off prematurely.”

“However, nine
kids and two teachers were killed,” said Dave, continuing the story. “Another
twenty-four children were injured. That case was never solved.”

“Dennis ‘Scorpion’
Roy ordered the hit on Galeone,” said Chris. “Eleven innocent people lost their
lives and multiple others received permanent injuries because of this bastard.”

“How do you know
this?” asked Dave. “We never found anything substantive to pin that on anybody.
Of course, there were rumours and we had our suspicions but we never found
anything close to proof and Roy’s name never came up in the investigation.”

“If I may,”
Jonathan stepped in. “Dave, though you are aware this organization employs
methods which are not always available to conventional law enforcement
agencies, you haven’t actually experienced it yet. Among other practices, we
sometimes access information in ways which would certainly not be considered
acceptable by the courts. As a result, we often end up with answers to
questions and evidence proving how events took place which, in your previous
life, would be useless.

“In the case of
that car bombing, I remember it as well and, without going into detail, I have
to agree with Chris. Scorpion was behind it. This was confirmed during, shall
we say, conversations with a few people acquainted with Scorpion at the time.”

“Okay, wait a
minute,” said Dave. “Are you telling me
you
were behind Scorpion’s
killing back in 1996?”

Jonathan shook his
head. “No. Scorpion was of interest to us but the Vigilante got to him, or
rather, his brother, first.”

He glanced at
Chris with a small smile and added, “We wouldn’t have hit the wrong guy.”

“Well, we’re
certainly going to make up for the Vigilante’s error,” said Chris as he stared at
the photo on the monitor. “See you in Saigon, Scorpion.”

Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon),
Vietnam, mid-morning

The days which had
followed the initial briefing of the Discreet Activities team had been a
whirlwind of activity as data was absorbed, more was sought, plans were made
and travel and accommodations dealt with. Following some discussion, it had
been decided to have the team members’ spouses accompany them, a vacationing
couples’ concept offering excellent cover. However, Leslie would be going solo
as Dominique, her partner, had professional obligations in Paris where she
spent half her time as the R&D director of a pharmaceutical firm.

Working for the
government, particularly in a position such as Jonathan’s, had its advantages
including the right connections which resulted in appropriate visas for their
trip to Vietnam being acquired without issue or delay. To save valuable time, a
private jet had been chartered, leaving Montreal just before midnight on the
Wednesday, delivering its seven passengers in Paris before noon, local time, on
Thursday to catch a 12:30 flight to Ho Chi Minh City.

Business-class
comfort had allowed them to get some sleep during the twelve hour flight and
arrive relatively rested early Friday morning. Transportation requested from
the hotel awaited them once they had cleared immigration and they had quickly
been taken to the Park Hyatt where early check-in arrangements had been made.
The rest of their first day in Saigon had flown by as the seven
tourists
had wandered about, familiarizing themselves with the area and visiting nearby
landmarks such as Notre-Dame Cathedral, Saigon Central Post Office and Ben
Thanh Market. All had turned in early following dinner to further adjust to the
time zone change.

It was now ten
o’clock on the Saturday morning and they stood amongst numerous other visitors
by the monkey cages at the Saigon Zoo. As they watched several of the lively
beasts performing their antics, a Vietnamese gentleman, likely in his late
fifties, approached with two boys, aged perhaps five and seven.

Stopping at
Leslie’s side, the man urged the boys closer to the cage then said, “My
grandsons love the apes so much I call them
ít con khỉ
. Do you
know what that means?”

Leslie nodded and
replied, “Little monkey.”

“That is correct,”
said the man with a smile. “Could I trouble you to take a photograph of me with
my grandsons in front of the monkey cage?”

“It’s no trouble
at all,” replied Leslie.

She waited a
moment while he removed a compact digital camera from a carrying case affixed
to his belt and handed it to her before fussing over his grandsons to arrange
the pose for the photograph. A couple of snapshots later, Leslie and her party
moved on to continue their visit of the zoo, leaving the man and his grandsons
behind with the monkeys.

Following another
fifteen minutes of leisurely strolling, Leslie held up the memory card which
had been affixed to the back of the camera with adhesive putty and said, “I
think it’s time to head back to the hotel and see what the General has given us
to work with.”

* * * *

Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon),
Vietnam, late morning

“So, that’s what
we have to work with,” said Jonathan as he switched off the forty inch LCD
monitor in the living room of his suite. “I’m definitely open to suggestions.”

He, along with
Leslie, Chris and Dave had viewed the images found on the memory card which
Quang had supplied them with at the zoo. Nick Sharp had organized their
rendezvous a couple of days earlier and asked the general to supply any
information he could obtain relating to the late Cao Van Minh’s criminal
organization.

Quang had come
through with names, addresses and photos of a number of people and locales as a
starting point for Jonathan’s team to work with. He had also supplied his
contact information as well as the names and personal mobile numbers of three
of his men he deemed trustworthy. However, he had specified they be contacted
only in the case of extreme emergency as they currently were not aware of any
foreign involvement. Introductions would be made as soon as feasibly possible.

“Well, it’s more
than we had,” said Chris. “We now have people we can chat with who know
Scorpion or, at least, some of his buddies.”

“But if we start
talking to these people, word will get back to him,” said Dave, “Unless we
intend to get rid of them as we go along.”

“There may be the
occasional casualty along the way,” Chris replied, “But Scorpion’s learning of
people looking for him may draw him out. If we start interfering with his
plans, I doubt he’ll let us do so without a fight. The more threatened he
feels, the more careless he’ll likely become.”

“He
does
have limited backup here,” said Jonathan. “I doubt Cao’s men are truly devoted
to Scorpion. Greed and fear is what’s keeping them in line.”

“Anyhow, I’m not
suggesting a street fight,” Chris added. “I’m talking about dropping in on some
people here and there for a chat then disappearing. We’ll use his own network
to rattle the bastard’s cage until he comes out in the open looking for us.”

“We may also find
some people who are actually willing to help us,” said Leslie. “As Jon said,
loyalty to Scorpion is probably low.”

“We might if we
play our cards right,” Jonathan agreed. “Let’s think about this for a bit. The
team from the States will be showing up sometime today so we’ll get their
thoughts as well but, even with them aboard, we’ll have limited resources and
not much time. Once the North American crackdown starts on the Devil’s Delight,
Scorpion will likely throw in the towel so getting his attention quickly is
probably our best bet.”

“That being the
case,” said Chris, “I’d suggest we rejoin our wives and spend the afternoon
walking around looking touristy while we scope out some of these addresses the
General supplied to us.”

* * * *

Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon),
Vietnam, late night

“Looks like your
guys are heading out,” Sandy murmured to her husband from where they sat
outside at the Chill Skybar on the rooftop of the twenty-seven storey AB Tower.

“Yep,” Chris
replied, gazing at the two young Vietnamese men a few tables away before
glancing at Jonathan. “I believe it’s show time.”

Turning his head
casually, Jonathan looked toward the men, now standing as they finished their
drinks while bidding their friends goodnight.

“And they seem to
be leaving unaccompanied which is fine by me,” he said as he pulled out his
mobile.

He speed dialed a
number and his call was answered in seconds.

“Get ready. We’re
on our way,” he said then cut the connection as he turned to his wife. “We shouldn’t
be too long. You ladies are okay with getting back to the hotel on your own?”

“Girls?” asked
Josée, looking at Sandy and Cathy across the table. “Can we make it without our
big, strong men to protect us?”

“Oh, Lawdy,
Lawdy,” Cathy exclaimed in her best southern accent, raising a hand to her
forehead in a theatrical pose. “I just don’t know.”

“It
is
one-thirty in the morning,” Jonathan replied with a grin. “I’m only looking out
for you. Be careful.”

“We’ll be fine,
guys,” said Sandy. “Be careful yourself and we’ll see you back at the hotel in
a bit. Now, your buddies are leaving so, get going.”

Weaving their way
through the crowd, Chris and Jonathan followed the two retreating men to the
elevators. The doors to one car were opening as they arrived and, once the new
batch of partygoers had spilled out, they entered along with the two men and
another couple and were swiftly whisked to the ground floor.

As they exited
onto the sidewalk, the two men immediately found their attention drawn to a
striking Caucasian redhead standing by the open door of a sleek, black minibus,
particularly because she was smiling at them and beckoning them over.
Intrigued, they hurried to her, curious about what she might want from them and
oblivious of Chris, Jon and a huge black man closing in behind them.

“Hello,” said Pham
Hung, instinctively reaching out for Leslie’s outstretched hand. “How can I
help you?”

Grasping his hand,
Leslie yanked him forward past her and through the bus’ open door, twisting his
arm behind his back and propelling him inside where Dave waited to ‘escort’ him
to a seat further down the aisle.

“What is going
on?” Pham Tuan cried, a split second before being lifted off the sidewalk and
literally carried into the bus.

“Shut up, little
buddy,” growled the black icebox before tossing Tuan into the seat across the
aisle from his brother.

The Caucasian two
men from the elevator climbed in and the minibus pulled away from the curb as
the door hissed shut. As one approached, the second paused to close a curtain
at the front, effectively blocking the view through the windshield and the
brothers realized all the windows were covered.

“Who are you?”
Tuan demanded. “Where are you taking us?”

“I told you to
shut up,” said Jeremiah Washington as he towered over Tuan. “Are either you
carrying any weapons? Guns, knives, anything?”

“That is stupid,”
Hung replied. “Guns are illegal in our country.”

Washington smiled
and said, “Let me tell you what’s stupid. Real soon, we’re going to check to
see if you’re hiding anything. For each weapon you or your brother tried to
keep from us, I will break a bone in your body. Now, weapons. You first,
stupid. Stand up and move slowly.”

Eying the group
which surrounded him and his brother, Hung slowly stood and soon produced two
switchblades, brass knuckles and a garrote.

“Aren’t you a
nasty little bastard?” Washington muttered before glancing at Dave who stood
behind Hung. “Frisk him.”

“He’s clean,” said
Dave a moment later.

“Damn, I wanted to
hurt the man,” Washington replied, shoving Hung back into his seat before
turning to Tuan. “You’re up, buddy and, to show you I’m fair, if you try to
hide anything I’ll hurt both you
and
your brother. Give me what you’ve
got.”

Tuan’s weapon
inventory consisted of a switchblade, a butterfly knife and a leather sap with
nothing more coming to light when frisked.

“Okay, these tough
guys aren’t any fun at all,” Washington muttered as he turned to Jonathan.
“They’re all yours.”

He moved into the
seat in front of Hung to let Jonathan approach but knelt rather than sat,
facing the rear to continue glaring at their captives.

“Good evening,
gentlemen,” said Jonathan, smiling at the two men. “How are you doing?”

Both men remained
silent which quickly earned them simultaneous knuckle raps on the side of the
head from Dave who stood in the aisle behind their seats.

“My friend asked
you a question,” he said quietly.

Rubbing his
temple, Tuan looked up at Jonathan and said, “I don’t know who you are but you
are not the police and we have nothing to say to you, not even our names.”

Jonathan sighed
and recited, “Pham Hung, twenty-eight, Pham Tuan, twenty-nine, brothers,
nineteen months apart, until recently the bodyguards of Cao Van Minh and
obviously doing a real crappy job since he was murdered in broad daylight. But
anyhow, we’re not here to ask you questions because we probably know more than
the two of you put together. What we want to do is give you some information
which could change your lives because, right now, you two are in something way
over your heads and probably won’t be living much longer. We’re here to help
you.”

“I don’t know what
you are talking about,” said Hung, “But we are able to look after ourselves and
do not need help from a gang of kidnappers.”

“Be quiet, Hung,”
Tuan ordered before turning back to Jonathan. “Who are you and what is this
life saving information you have for us?”

“We represent a
group which was negotiating with Cao before his untimely passing,” Jonathan
replied. “In fact, we found his death to be rather disappointing because we had
reached an agreement with him and had already started investments. So, you see
–”

“I have never
heard of Mr. Minh making deals with anyone like you,” Hung interrupted with a
sneer. “I do not believe what you are saying.”

Jonathan chuckled
as he gazed at the young hoodlum. “I seriously doubt Cao shared important
business matters with punks like you. The bottom line is, we aren’t pleased
with recent events which are now affecting our affairs but we’re fully
convinced that, with your help, we can quickly get everything fixed and back on
track.”

Tuan glared at his
younger brother then turned back to Jonathan. “I’m not sure I understand what
you are saying. What did you agree to with Cao and what do you expect from us?”