Born to Kill (40 page)

“Yeah,” answered
Anh hai
. “All the places we went, we were followed.”

David Thai's comments were disturbing to Kumor and the other investigators. For the first time, Thai was attributing the bungled robbery to something more than just bad luck. Now that the specter of police surveillance had taken root in his imagination, Kumor feared it would be a relatively short distance to the realization that, for the police to be onto the gang, somebody on the inside must be feeding them information.

Early the following afternoon, Kumor beeped Tinh Ngo. Tinh stepped over numerous gang members watching TV in the front room of the Sunset Park safe house and walked down the street to the AK&Y Laundromat.

“Timmy,” said Kumor. “We need to see you over here right away.”

Sitting on the subway as it rumbled across the bridge into Manhattan, it dawned on Tinh that he'd heard something unusual in Kumor's voice, a gravity that he couldn't recall ever hearing before.

Once he arrived at the ATF building, Tinh made his way to the room on the tenth floor that served as the investigation's main head-quarters. For a while, surrounded by the familiar charts, maps, and mugshot displays that had piled up over the course of the investigation, Tinh waited alone, wondering,
What next? What do Dan and Bill and Albert and the rest have in store for me now?

Kumor and Oldham finally came into the room looking glum.

“Timmy, we've got some bad news,” Kumor announced. “We hear from a source of ours that Blackeyes has put a contract out on your life. We hear he thinks you gave him up, so he wants to have you killed.”

Tinh froze for a second, struck dumb by the idea that someone would put out a contract on his life. The way Kumor said it, the words alone sounded chilling.

“We're gonna have to take you off the street,” Oldham added gravely. “You understand? We don't want anything bad to happen to you, so we're gonna have to hide you away for a while.”

Tinh was still trying to swallow the information. “Oh. Okay” was all he could finally say.

Kumor grabbed a nearby telephone and handed it to Tinh. “We want you to put in a call to David Thai. Tell him you're going to have to hide out for a few days. Tell him about Blackeyes. Tell him Blackeyes ratted you out to the police. Tell him the police are out looking for you, and you have to stay away from Chinatown.”

“What if he don't believe me?” Tinh asked.

“He'll believe,” Kumor answered reassuringly.

To Tinh, something seemed strange. This business about Blackeyes taking out a contract on his life didn't ring true. Who were these sources Dan and Bill were talking about? Why hadn't Tinh heard anything about this out on the street?

“Go ahead, Tim,” said Oldham, nodding toward the phone. “Beep David.”

Tinh did as he was told. A few minutes later, David Thai called.

“Hello, who is this?” asked Thai.

“This is Tinh,
Anh hai
.”

“Oh, Tinh, where are you at?”

“I am in Chinatown today,” answered Tinh, clearing his throat. “
Anh
hai
, the police are looking for me. I think it's Blackeyes. I don't know what's up with him, but he thinks I reported him to the police to be arrested.”

“What?” exclaimed Thai. “Why would he say such a weird thing?”

Tinh explained how there were many crimes he and Blackeyes had participated in together over the years. For some reason, Blackeyes
had come to believe that Tinh had betrayed him. So now Blackeyes had implicated him in criminal activities, maybe even the computer-chip robbery in Florida for which Blackeyes himself had been busted.

Thai was concerned. He told Tinh to stay away from Chinatown and get back to him if he heard anything new.

The next day, Kumor and Oldham spent the afternoon walking up and down Canal Street with a mug shot of Tinh Ngo. “You know this kid? You ever seen his face?” they asked merchants and gang members in the area, flashing Tinh's photo. Of course, everyone shook their heads no. In the most serious voices they could muster, the cops warned, “Well, this guy's wanted by the police. Here's my card. If you see him, give us a call right away.”

Meanwhile, Tinh was stashed away high in a Manhattan hotel suite, with two ATF agents on guard around the clock. Late that evening, he spoke with David Thai on the phone. “Damn,
Anh hai
, the police are really looking for me,” Tinh said, sounding more urgent by the minute.

“I know,” answered Thai. “I heard about them. So stay cool. Don't appear anywhere foolishly.”

Anh hai
and Tinh cursed Blackeyes for a few minutes. Then the conversation turned to the best course of action for Tinh to take, now that he was wanted by the law.

“You know, Tim,” said David. “I could bring you to Texas for a while.”

“Texas?” asked Tinh. “Who is there?”

“Oh, there are people there to accept you…. It is just our own brothers over there, that's all. There are some brothers from here who went over there.”

“Yeah?” asked Tinh. “But is living there comfortable?”

“Living there is not too hard. There is some suffering, like here, but there's enough to eat and drink. The main thing, you will feel some relief.”

Tinh paused, as if he were giving the offer deep consideration. David Thai was once again fulfilling his role as
Anh hai
, and, frankly, Tinh was touched. He knew of no one else in his life who would see it as a duty to be concerned about his welfare now that he was supposedly wanted by the cops.

“Here,” Thai interjected suddenly, “talk to Uncle Lan for a little bit.” Tinh could hear a rustling sound as the receiver was handed over to Lan Tran.

“So, what is the decision now?” barked Lan, in his familiar rapidfire delivery.

“Let me think about it,” answered Tinh.

Uncle Lan echoed
Anh hai
's concerns about Tinh's predicament, and offered reassurances about life in Texas. “There is a lot of money down there,” said Lan, who had himself lived in Texas once while on the run. “Just go there and relax, and our brothers will show you around. Mention to them our name; then they don't dare bother you.”

“Okay.”

“You go there, then I will go there later.”

“You and me go there?” Tinh asked excitedly, impressed at the idea of traveling together with the BTK's most revered gangster.

“You and me go there?” repeated Lan, gently mocking Tinh's question with a chuckle. “Hey, why you always demand for me to follow you? Let me take care of
Anh hai
also.”

Tinh let out a hearty laugh. Talking with
Anh hai
and Uncle Lan like this reminded him of what had drawn him to the gang in the first place. This was the part that meant the most: brotherhood. Looking out for each other in the midst of a cruel, hostile world. Being able to count on one another. Before the killings had started and Tinh began to see his life as a hopeless trap, this was the part that meant more than anything else in the world.

Tinh asked Lan if there were any “jobs” he could do for
Anh hai
before leaving town.

Again, Lan chuckled. “Here we are trying to take care of you and you keep on wanting to do [robberies].”

Tinh laughed. “I just want to help, you know?”

“Ahhh, now that the law has appeared, the feeling between you and me is alive,” noted Lan, his voice crackling with emotion. Lan was acknowledging a truism of the underworld: Kinship between outcasts grows stronger in the face of adversity.

For thirty minutes more, Uncle Lan rambled on, seeking to reassure Tinh of the unbreakable bond that existed between members of the Vietnamese underworld, whether in New York, Texas, or anywhere else
in the United States. Eventually, the conversation came around to the subject of Blackeyes and Lan's voice lowered. “There is an evil guy,” he hissed. “Remember, Tinh, if anyone should get killed, you have to leave his address so I can take revenge. You remember. If anything happens, then I won't let him live. I'll tell you that straight.”

Lan handed the phone back to David Thai, who offered Tinh some closing words of reassurance. “Go down there [to Texas] and you can live for a while in peace. Whenever you want to go, let me know and I will buy the ticket for you.”

“Do you want me to do anything, any job, before I go?” asked Tinh.

“Well, now,”
Anh hai
advised paternalistically, “one thing is that I want you to stay in one place so I will have less to worry about, you see?”

“Yes,
Anh hai
.”

“Because deep down inside, it doesn't feel safe.”

“Yes,
Anh hai
.”

“You take care. And don't go out there. I just called out there. They are still showing pictures and looking for you.”

“Okay,
Anh hai
. Bye.” Tinh hung up the phone.

After that, the investigators seemed chipper as hell. But Tinh was strangely depressed. After all this time, after numerous failed robberies and a long streak of bad fortune for the BTK, David Thai still had no idea that Tinh was a government informant.
Anh hai
still trusted him.

Cooped up in a hotel suite just a few blocks from the ATF building, Tinh knew damn well what Dan and Bill and all the others had up their sleeves. They were about to make their arrests. They were going to lock up David Thai, Lan Tran, and other members of the BTK.

When Tinh asked the agents about this, he got nothing. “Why should we tell you something you don't need to know?” they said, making it sound more like a statement than a question. Even Albert Trinh clammed up, assuming the role of dutiful federal agent over that of confidant and fellow Vietnamese.

The investigators were so wrapped up in their work that none of them noticed how much Tinh seethed with frustration. Being left in the dark like this reminded Tinh of all the times he'd gone on BTK robberies, not knowing what the hell was happening until he found himself
standing in the middle of a jewelry store or a restaurant or a massage parlor with a bag in one hand and a gun in the other.

Yes, Dan and Bill and Albert were the good guys—Tinh had long since figured out that much. But when it came to dealing with them, sometimes their methods were not all that different from those of his former boss, Tho Hoang “David” Thai.

Chapter 16

C
lad in a dark-blue windbreaker with ATF emblazoned across the back, Dan Kumor stood in a small flower bed at the side of David Thai's house and peeked around a corner toward the front door. Behind him, nine more similarly dressed agents and cops were pressed up against the house, waiting for his signal.

It was approximately 7:00
A.M
., and the pleasant, suburban neighborhood of Melville, Long Island, was as peaceful as a graveyard. The only sign of movement was a sprinkler swaying gently back and forth on the front lawn of a house across the street. Occasionally, some unseen bird chirped a few bars of an early morning melody. If any of David Thai's neighbors had looked out their windows at that moment, they would have thought it was a typical summer morning—except, of course, for the heavily armed SWAT team in David's yard, bristling with handguns, rifles, battering rams, and ominous looking “bunkers,” portable protective shields used most commonly during riots and prison uprisings.

Although the lawmen really weren't expecting armed resistance from the inhabitants of 12 Davis Street, you never knew what might happen. During previous surveillances, they'd established there were at least five occupants inside the house—David Thai, his wife, Lan Tran, LV Hong, and Number Ten. They knew there were guns inside, but they didn't know how many or where. Besides Kumor's crew, another team of ten agents and cops had been assigned to watch the perimeter of the house. But once the entry team burst through that front door, they were on their own.

As the designated “seizing agent,” Kumor was the lead man on an entry team that included Agent Tisdale, Detectives Oldham and Sabo, and a number of the ATF agents who'd played an ancillary role in the investigation. Kumor glanced over his shoulder at the group and almost smiled.

The last five months had been some ride, culminating in the sudden decision to move in and make the arrests. Alan Vinegrad still wasn't ready to move for a RICO indictment, but even he agreed that the arrests had to be made. Given the dangers facing their confidential informant, they could wait no longer. Warrants were issued for violations under the Hobbs Act, a federal statute pertaining to the interstate sale and transfer of guns. The plan was to hold the BTK members in prison on these and various New York State charges until the RICO indictment could be secured.

Though it was easily the most exciting investigation of his career, Kumor could not say he was unhappy to see it finally come to a head. The personality conflicts between some of the investigators had never really gone away, creating a level of tension that generally fell to Kumor to sort out, making his role as case agent a thankless task. The nature of the investigation itself, with Tinh supplying a steady flow of information that often called for immediate action, put everyone in a constant state of anxiety.

Of course, given the matter at hand, all of that seemed amazingly insignificant. Right now, with their weapons drawn and sense of mortality heightened, the investigators had become one—a true testament to just how far a little righteous police action can go toward establishing a feeling of camaraderie.

“Danny, this is Rossero. Do you read me?”

Kumor had the volume on his two-way radio turned so low he almost missed the transmission from his group supervisor. John Rossero was stationed in a command car inconspicuously parked half a block away.

“Roger, John,” he whispered into his radio. “We're set and ready to go.”

“Okay,” replied Rossero. “Security team in place?”