Jack used all his concentration to dart amongst the tangle of pedestrians and traffic as he followed the car onto a busy thoroughfare through the heart of Hanoi and an area that did not sleep at night.
He skidded to a sideways stop to avoid hitting a woman who was carrying two large baskets balanced on each end of a pole as she crossed the street. The woman uttered harsh words at them in Vietnamese. Seconds later, he was once more weaving, twisting, and turning until he was in a position to keep only a couple of vehicles between him and the car they were following.
Eventually the car left the crowded streets and entered an area where homes, apartments, and businesses were in darkness. Jack slowed, dropping farther behind ... and the farther behind he was the more tense he felt. It was a delicate balancing act. Too close and you are spotted. Too far and you lose them.
The car’s brake lights came on and it slowed to a crawl. Jack looked for a place to turn off, but there was none and he knew he would have to drive past. Just as he neared the car it turned into a narrow lane.
Jack continued past the lane and was about to make a turn to come back when Laura said, “I saw the flash of the brake lights in the lane. They may be stopping.”
Jack parked the scooter and both he and Laura hurried to the entrance to the lane and peeked around the corner. The street was in complete darkness but they could see the silhouette of a car parked halfway down the lane.
“You going to try Sonny again?” whispered Laura.
Jack looked around and did not see any street signs. “Do you know where we are?” he asked.
“Not a clue.”
“Likewise. Come on,” said Jack, shutting off the phone. They entered the lane, slinking close to the buildings as they moved toward the car. When they got close, Jack whispered, “That’s the car, but nobody is inside.”
Laura scribbled the car’s licence plate on the inside of her forearm. That way, the information was out of sight and perspiration would not make it illegible later.
Jack glanced around and saw several apartment buildings were crammed into the area where the car was parked.
“Not after all this,” lamented Laura. “You don’t happen to have a spare street light in your pocket, do you?”
Jack held his breath and listened. Let me hear a voice ... footsteps ... the sound of a lock ... anything! His eyes searched the darkness to no avail.
“Let’s try the closest apartment building,” whispered Laura. “If we hurry, it might not be too late to hear a door or something.”
They started toward the apartment as the moon appeared for the first time that night. Jack felt his pulse quicken and he grabbed Laura by the shoulder. “Over there,” he whispered. “Two—no, three people walking.”
Laura looked where Jack pointed. She saw the targets briefly outlined in the moonlight just before they disappeared inside another apartment building.
Jack and Laura followed and entered the dilapidated building. It was five stories high and built of cement blocks that had never been painted, inside or out. They heard the sound of the Fat Man’s voice muttering in Russian from the stairwell leading up.
They crept up the stairwell after them. The scrape of the men’s shoes echoed on the steps from above. Jack saw that the stairwell was open to the corridors, with only a single overhead light giving a dim glow from the middle of each corridor.
Jack motioned for Laura to pause and they heard the sound of the Fat Man panting as he slowly climbed upwards. They allowed a little more space between them before continuing. On the fourth level, they heard the men leave the stairwell and walk down the open corridor.
Seconds later, Jack heard the sound of a knock on a door. He peered around the corner and saw the men being let into an apartment part way down the hall.
“I’m going to give you the cell,” he whispered to Laura. “Go back out and try to figure out where we are and call Sonny. Make sure you’re far enough away when you do. I don’t want anyone hearing an English voice.”
Laura nodded and took the phone and started to descend the stairs. Seconds later, she returned and grabbed Jack’s sleeve. “Come on, hurry,” she said. “Someone is coming up the steps behind us.”
Jack and Laura went up another level and listened to the sound of two people approaching from below. Their footsteps indicated that they also headed down the same corridor as the Russians.
Jack and Laura went back down to watch and saw the figures of a woman and a child venturing down the hall. The child pointed to the apartment door that the Russians had entered. The woman bent over and whispered to the child who then scurried back toward the stairwell.
Jack and Laura quickly retreated once more and heard the child running down the stairwell toward the exit before returning to their position to watch.
The woman knocked on the apartment door. It opened a crack and a short conversation in Vietnamese took place. The door closed with the woman remaining in the hall.
Seconds later, the solitude of the apartment building came to an abrupt end. The woman screamed in Vietnamese and the door rattled with the pounding of her fists. Voices shouted out from nearby apartments.
Another explosion of voices came from inside that apartment, with a man yelling in Vietnamese while the Fat Man yelled in Russian. Jack heard Moustache Pete say, “Make that bitch shut up!”
“Fuck you!” yelled the woman in the hall. “Give me Chi ... or I’ll stand here and yell all night!”
“She sounds like an American!” whispered Laura.
The woman turned and Jack saw her face and said, “She’s Caucasian all right. Looks like she’s only in her early twenties. Whoever she is, she’s liable to get herself killed if she keeps this up.”
“Just love foreign travel, don’t you?” said Laura.
Jack caught her meaning and replied, “Yeah, especially the part where we’re not allowed to carry guns.”
The apartment door opened again and another heated exchange took place in Vietnamese between the woman and a man in the apartment. A neighbouring apartment door opened and another man stuck his head out to see the commotion.
Seconds later, Moustache Pete appeared holding a girl by the wrist. He flung her into the hall and stepped back inside, slamming the door shut behind him.
The girl started yelling and Jack guessed she was about eleven or twelve years old. The young woman grabbed her by the wrist and started for the stairwell, but the girl was crying and dragging her feet as she tried to return to the apartment.
The woman ignored her demands and spoke harshly in Vietnamese as she dragged the girl down the hall.
Jack and Laura stepped back before following the woman and girl down the stairwell. They stopped at the exit and watched as the woman argued with her just outside the door. The woman cursed in English, but continued to speak Vietnamese.
“What do you want to do?” asked Laura.
Jack shook his head in wonderment and said, “I don’t know who this young lady is, but I think we should talk to her and explain who we are.”
“Could blow our whole case if this gets back to the guys upstairs.”
“She has guts trying to save this kid. I think we can trust her—let’s hope we can do it quietly.”
Jack and Laura stepped out onto the sidewalk and Jack took off the green helmet he had been wearing.
The woman and girl quit talking and stared at the new arrivals.
“Excuse me,” said Jack quietly. “Does this girl speak any English?”
“Not really,” the woman replied,” looking at them suspiciously. “Her name is Chi. She only knows the basic manners and to say hello. Who are you?”
“We are both police officers from Canada.”
“From Canada!” the woman said in amazement.
“Yes. We are what are sometimes referred to as Mounties. My name is Jack Taggart and this is my partner, Laura Secord.”
“I know what the RCMP is,” she replied. “I was born in Calgary. My name is Tarah Mulligan.”
“You’re Canadian!” It was Jack’s turn to be amazed. “What the hell are you doing in Hanoi?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing, but first, do you have any identification?” she asked.
Jack stepped closer to discreetly show his badge. Chi knocked Tarah’s arm out of the way and saw the badge.
“Công an!” the child gasped.
Jack knew it was Vietnamese for police and put his finger to his lips, but Chi immediately started yelling and broke free and ran back toward the apartment.
“Laura,” said Jack. “Grab her and shut her up!”
Laura grabbed her around the waist with one hand and put her other hand over her mouth.
Chi kicked and flailed her arms and started yelling again.
“She bit me!” said Laura.
“Slap a sleeper on her!” ordered Jack.
“We’re not allowed to use—Oh, man ...”
Laura wrapped an arm around Chi’s neck, while using her other arm in a pincer-like move to restrict the flow of blood to the carotid arteries in her neck.
“You sons of bitches!” yelled Tarah. “You’re killing her!” she said, making a grab for Laura as the child went limp.
“Jesus, not you too,” muttered Jack, moving toward Tarah.