It was eight o’clock Wednesday morning when Anh Dang arrived at the Hanoi House to start his shift. He was surprised to be met by Vien Ngo who was temporarily in charge while Tom Nguyen was in Hong Kong, but pleased to discover that he was immediately being sent on another mission.
Anh Dang knew his reputation was becoming known. It had been exactly two weeks since he had driven over the woman with the dog. He prided himself as he recalled how calm he remained while the woman screamed as she was dragged under the car down the sidewalk. His passenger, Paul Cong, whose only job was to drop the empty wine bottle, squealed in panic when the woman was stuck under the car.
Anh knew when the car’s back tires finally bounced and spit her out the back that she was dead and had turned to Cong and told him to calm down. He said it was no big deal.
Anh was pleased that the comment was not lost on Cong, who later chatted excitedly to Tom Nguyen as he described every detail, including Anh’s prowess as a driver. Anh purposely added little to the conversation and pretended to brush it off as being hardly worthy of discussion.
Tom Nguyen had praised him on a job well done. It was his first murder, but Anh hid the excitement he felt and hoped his reputation for being cool would soon reach the ears of the truly big bosses.
Today he did his best not to appear excited again when Vien Ngo gave him a .38-calibre Smith & Wesson revolver, along with a rolled-up bundle of cloth that held a plastic bag containing crack cocaine. The details of the murder were simple but deadly. The victim, belonging to a rival gang, was going to be murdered near the border of the territory of yet a third gang. The drugs found in his car would make it look like he was there to sell drugs and subsequently murdered by the third gang.
Anh understood the potential consequences of such an action. The two gangs — living under a tentative peace agreement — might decide to go to war with each other. Will my own gang then step in to pluck what is left when the other two gangs have been weakened?
He glanced at Vien Ngo and solemnly realized the great position of trust in which he had been placed. If word of what really happened ever leaked out, both gangs might decide to unite against his gang. Secrecy was of the utmost importance.
Anh was told to go to an alley behind a strip mall where he would be met by someone who would give him further instructions and supply a stolen car to go to transport him to the victim. The hit, he was told, would be easy. The victim rented a parking stall on a monthly basis and parked his car every day at the same time to start work at noon. He would not be expecting anything and could be shot in the head at close range.
“Who will I be meeting behind the strip mall to get the stolen car?” Anh asked.
“I’m not sure.” Vien frowned. “I was told that for security reasons, it is best I do not know or that you ever say. I only know that it is someone you will know and who knows your car. I must warn you. Be absolutely certain that you are not being followed. The police may have you on their radar. You are supposed to be at the strip mall by nine-thirty, but if there is any suspicion that you are being followed, cancel the plan and return here.”
Anh drove in a manner to detect surveillance. His destination was out in Surrey, but most of the traffic was going into Vancouver at this time of the morning. After speeding down a few alleys and driving through quiet neighbourhoods, he was confident that his assignment would not need to be cancelled.
At nine-thirty, he pulled into an alley behind a small strip mall and parked. Minutes later, he gasped when he recognized the man who walked up to his car. Despite the ball cap and glasses he was wearing, Anh recognized him. It was Hieu, who was one of the personal bodyguards for Dong Tran, the godfather of Vietnamese criminals in Vancouver.
Anh already knew his mission was crucial, but the sight of Hieu made it difficult to remain calm. Dong Tran himself must know I have been selected for this mission …
Anh reached for the door handle, but a gesture from Hieu told him to stay where he was and wind his window down.
“You brought the drugs?” asked Hieu, tersely.
Anh nodded.
“Show me.”
Anh reached under his seat and pulled out the bundle of cloth, which Hieu took from him, cautiously glancing around before unrolling it.
“Good,” Hieu grunted. “And the gun?”
“Also here,” said Anh, reaching under the seat. As he started to pull the gun out, he heard Hieu curse to himself as the plastic bag of rock cocaine fell from the cloth, bouncing off the dash and landing on the floor by Anh’s feet.
“It is okay, it did not spill,” noted Anh. He gave a sideways glance at Hieu as he leaned down to pick it up with his other hand.
In a fraction of a second, Anh realized who the murder victim was to be and his mouth gaped open as the muzzle flashed on the 9mm semi-automatic Glock pistol held by Hieu. It was at point-blank range. The bullet entered Anh’s skull above his left eye and spewed blood, brain matter, and pieces of skull out of the right side of his head.