Solemn Duty (1997) (27 page)

Ramona stepped ahead of Eli, opened an office door and barked. "Charlie, you ready?'

A young, portly Asian-American immediately appeared. He was carrying a computer case. "Yes. Dr. Valez. I've been waiting for you."

Ramona took hold of the young man's arm, marched him into the hall, motioned over her shoulder, and continued walking. "Charlie, meet Agent Eli Tanner and Agent Ashley Sutton. Gang, this is Charlie Lee, the FBI's leading expert on organized crime and, more specifically, the Chinese syndicates."

Eli clapped the young man on the shoulder. "Agent Lee and I met at this morning's scene. Good to see you again, Charlie."

"Same to you, Eli. A pleasure, Agent Sutton. Dr. Valez, would you mind telling me where I'm going in such a hurry?

All I got was a call from the deputy director's office saying you would be picking me up and that I was to consider myself part of your team. Please remember I have been up all night at the scene and-"

Ramona didn't slow her blistering pace. "We'll explain all that once we're in the car."

"Dr. Valez, I respect your work greatly, but I must insist you tell me where we are going. I'm not particularly fond of surprises. And could you please slow down."

Ramona winked. "Charlie, I hope you'll still respect me in the morning. . . . Hey, lighten up, will you, that was a joke.

We're going to interview Colonel Robert Anderson, and you'll meet the suspect Eli apprehended last night. Happy now?"

Charlie smiled and picked up his pace.

.

11:06 A. M. The Greens Country Club, Silver Spring, Maryland.

Retired Major General Richard Stroud placed a golf bag in the trunk of his new Cadillac then lifted his right foot up to the bumper to untie a spiked golf shoe. He heard someone walking up behind him and turned his head to see who it was.

Jean Paul Devoe smiled and extended his hand. "General Stroud, I thought it was you. How nice to see you again."

Stroud lowered his foot to the pavement and seemed confused as he shook the good-looking stranger's hand. "Eh, yes, good to see you again, too-you'll have to excuse me but I don't recall when we met."

A red van pulled in beside the Cadillac and the driver's door opened. Stroud's eyes widened as the small brown-skinned driver in western clothing and snakeskin boots stepped out of the van holding a pistol and walked around to the passenger side. Then the van's side door slid back, revealing an emaciated man dressed in a Cambodian Special Forces uniform. He, too, was holding a pistol. And it was leveled at Stroud.

Jean Paul grabbed the startled general's arm. "Please get into the van. Do it now or my mentor will shoot you in the face."

.

Washington, D. C.

Seated in the front passenger seat, Eli turned and looked over his shoulder at Agent Charlie Lee. ". . . so you're saying we have no informants, or inside people in their organization?"

Charlie nodded. "'That's what I'm saying. You can't think of their organization as you would the mafia, or Russian mafia, or even the drug cartels. The Triad organization's leaders and first two layers of high-level workers are from just three families. I mean that in the literal sense: they are all related by blood.

Granted, it is a very extended family, but nevertheless it is a family. Penetration is impossible. Please understand: there are many Chinese syndicates in the United States, but most are localized in the major cities-New York, Seattle, and San Francisco. Most are nothing but glorified gangs led by thugs.

The Triad organization, however, is very large, very old, very powerful, and very, very smart. The principal family leaders are in Hong Kong, but over the past ten years they have expanded by using promising young family members to run their new offices. Three years ago their U. S. corporate headquarters opened here in the Washington area, at Baileys Crossroads, to be exact. All legit. At least they appear to be legit.

They act like a conglomerate, much like Proctor and Gamble.

Except they don't sell soap, cereal, or food. They are into importing-toys, sporting goods, electronics, and computer parts, just to name a few of their products. Computer clones are their biggest seller. They now have offices throughout the major cities in the U. S. and Canada. Last count, they were outright owners of nineteen companies, own majority stock in seventeen more, and have major stock holdings in twenty-odd others. We are talking major bucks."

Seated beside Charlie, Ashley leaned closer to him. "You said they appear to be legitimate. You found something on them?"

"Yes and no. Yes, in that more than several of their major competitors have in the past year experienced major catastrophes. We're talking plant and office building fires, chemical explosions, and more than their fair share of key personnel dying or having terrible accidents. In one case just six months ago, a computer scientist and his entire staff were killed by CO2 poisoning in their lab. No, in that we can't link a single incident to the Triad. I have been working on them for three years, and it wasn't until last night that I finally found something solid.

The bodies of the four Chinese men are our first break."

Eli canted his head. "Break? In the meeting this morning there was no mention of a break."

Charlie nodded apologetically. "Yes, but for good reason.

There's a leak within Bureau headquarters. You must understand that we're not dealing with get-rich-quick hoods. The Triad planned its move to the States many years ago and sent many of their young family members here to the States to school. Many are now American citizens, married, and have children. They look and act like John Q. Public, but their allegiance is to the organization first. The director is aware of this infiltration not only in the FBI, but also in almost every department of the legal and criminal justice system. I head up a secret task force that for all intents and purposes is a genealogy unit.

In cooperation with the British, I have been constructing a genealogy chart of the Hong Kong families."

"And the break you're talking about has something to do with your genealogy chart?" Ashley asked.

"Yes. Although you were told that the dead suspects had not been identified, in fact they have been-four of them, anyway.

One was too badly disfigured in the explosion. You see, my task force has been constructing files on every Chinese employee who works for the organization. Agents have secretly taken pictures, collected basic background information, and surreptitiously collected fingerprints. We found out early it was not as large an undertaking as we thought the number of family members here in the States is only between fifty and fifty-five people. Most of the people who work for the organization are Caucasian. Think of their business as Honda or Toyota here in the States. You don't see Japanese selling their cars, do you? The organization works the same way. The family stays in the corporate offices and makes all the major decisions. We did find, however, that the family brings in many workers from Hong Kong to be staff assistants, secretaries, maids, cooks, gardeners, etcetera. We expanded our files to include these people. INS helps us in this regard by reporting all Chinese who come into the States on work permits. Before they will accept and grant an application, the INS requires that each applicant have a sponsor company. It has actually been very simple. We have a list of Triad's companies, and cross-reference them with those people granted work visas. Once the workers arrive, we take their pictures and add them to our book. This morning the pictures paid off. We now know for sure that four of the five men in the morgue came here to work for the organization."

Ramona grinned and patted the steering wheel. "Hey, is Charlie something or what?'

Eli nodded as he turned farther in his seat and looked at Ashley. "This explains why the killer was able to move so fast and knew so much about the team members. Their organization provided the killer with people who watched the victims.

My guess is the killer would fly in, be met by a surveillance team member who brought him up to speed then drove him to where he would find the victim. The team would play lookout.

When the killer was finished, they'd take him back to the airport. The killer could have used as few as two teams, who leapfrogged each other in advance of him from one city or town to the next. It would reduce the number who knew what he was doing."

Ramona bobbed her head as she watched the road. "Bingo!

Eli, I think you're right. It all fits into place now. We now know how the killer accomplished his murders, and all we have to figure out is who and why. Maybe the colonel can help us.

Charlie, can you show the colonel the pictures of the Chinese family and workers? Maybe he can ID one of them."

Charlie tapped his computer case. "Sure, I can let the colonel scroll through them on my laptop."

"We need to talk to the colonel about other possible targets first," Eli said. "Last night he wasn't all that coherent. He barely stayed conscious long enough to give directions to the house."

Ashley lifted her briefcase and took out a stack of papers.

"I brought these along with me. Maybe they'll help him remember who else was involved with Camp 147. They're color copies of the pictures the two victims from Columbus took while in Vietnam. I also have a blow-up copy of the team photograph. . . . I thought he'd probably like to have it."

Eli leaned back in his seat and shook his head. "I don't want to see it again. It's sickening that they're all dead. Maybe it's not such a good idea to give him the picture, at least not until we're done with the interview. Seeing their faces is bound to upset him."

Charlie leaned over to look at the team picture. "Who are the people kneeling in front of the team?"

"Cambodian Special Forces," Ashley said. "Eli believes Anderson's team trained them."

"Cambodian? I thought Anderson and his team were in Vietnam?' Charlie said, his face flushing.

Ramona glanced in the rearview mirror. "Charlie, didn't you read the background folder?'

Lee shook his head as he hurriedly reached for his computer.

"No, I just assumed the team was in Vietnam. Damnit, I should have read the damn thing. We might have your killer right there on that photograph."

Eli spun around in his seat "What are you talking about?

What in the hell are you doing?'

Charlie had already pulled his laptop from its case and set it on his knees. "Cambodians! Damnit! Cambodians are working for the organization. I think I have a breakdown on my hard drive . . . yes, here we go. Number of Cambodians working for the organization is five. At least that's all we're aware of."

Ramona pulled the car to the side of the road and turned in her seat. "Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. I thought you said the organization brought over Chinese workers from Hong Kong? What's this about Cambodians?"

Charlie motioned to his small screen. "I was talking in general terms. One hundred and forty-three work permits have been granted to Chinese workers associated with the organization, and there have also been four Thais, six Filipinos, one Indonesian, and five Cambodians."

Ramona threw up her hands. "Great, Charlie, next time, read the damn background material and don't talk in generalities.

How many Cambodians are in that picture?'

"Twelve," Ashley said.

Ramona turned back around, dropped the gearshift into drive and stomped on the accelerator. "And the only person who knows those people is Colonel Anderson. Okay, let's stay calm and figure out the best way to approach this. Charlie, do you have pictures of the five Cambodians?'

"Yes. As soon as we arrive at the hospital I'll go straight to their administrative office and use their fax. I'll have the pictures in less than five minutes."

Ramona looked at Eli with a smile. "I smell a break here."

.

Mount Vernon, Virginia.

Sixty-three-year-old, retired, Lieutenant General Douglas Gradd took a screwdriver out of his toolbox and leaned over to unscrew the air filter on his John Deere riding mower.

His wife stepped out the back door. "There you are. I was looking for you. You have a visitor, hon."

Gradd had placed the tip of the screwdriver on the head of the screw. He glanced up at his wife. "Who is it?"

"A Mr. Sary, he's a writer from Time-Life books. He says he wants to talk to you about an article he's writing about the Vietnam War."

"Shit," Gradd said, tossing down the screwdriver. "Bring him on out here, hon. We'll talk by the pool. Bring us out some cold drinks, will you, please?" Wiping his hands on the back of his work pants, he looked once more at the mower and kicked its rear tire. "Runs like a Deere, my ass. I'm tradin' you in on a Honda."

The back door opened again and Jean Paul Devoe stepped out wearing a Redskins baseball cap and aviator sunglasses.

He smiled and extended his hand as he approached. "I'm very glad you have agreed to see me, General."

As soon as Gradd took his hand, Jean Paul spoke in a soft voice as he pulled back his shirt, exposing the pistol in his belt.

"You will now walk in front of me to the side gate. If you yell or try to escape, I will shoot you dead and then I will also have to kill your wife. Move, General, I have a van waiting for us in the driveway."

Gradd looked at the pistol then raised his eyes to the younger man's face. "Is this a joke of some--"