Ryan interrupted her, "You may have important information on a case we are working on, that may stop a killer from making another attack."
Leanne's eyes were like saucers. "Then you had better come in."
Ryan's direct questioning went on for an hour, before he finally wrapped it up. Dulcet remained silent intently listening.
"Do you have any further questions for Miss Bates, Dulcet?"
Dulcet nodded. "So, just to confirm, it was a dark coloured sedan, with two figures walking towards you?"
"Yes, that's right," Leanne confirmed.
"And they hastily got into the back of the sedan when you screamed?"
"Yeah, I think so. It all happened so fast."
"You first noticed the sedan when you left your house?"
"No, when I walked up the driveway. It was parked across the street," Leanne explained.
"You didn't see any occupants?"
"No, the windows were dark," Leanne remembered.
"Then it followed you slowly up the street."
"I didn't notice it until I was seated at the bench, then the two figures got out and started walking toward me. Mr Henderson startled me and I screamed. The two figures raced back to the car, jumped in and the car raced off at high speed up the street."
Leanne was scrutinizing the ceiling, trying to remember the exact details. Satisfied Dulcet had finished, Ryan closed the interview and Leanne saw them to the door.
"I don't mean to frighten you, Miss Bates, but I am sure they will try again. I will arrange for a patrol car to drive by at different times, to keep an eye on things."
Ryan handed her a business card. "If you remember anything else or you need assistance, give me a call. In the meantime, please make sure you are secure at all times and don't walk out alone."
Ryan and Dulcet sat for a moment in the police car, staring at the front of Leanne Bates’ duplex, while neither spoke.
After a while, Ryan broke the silence. "Yeah, I know. It doesn't sound like the work of the Magician."
"Then you believe me?" Dulcet replied.
"Let's just say, you’ve made a point that needs to be investigated. It may be a copy cat," Ryan conceded.
"So, can you tell me anything more about Gracie's disappearance?" Dulcet played his trump card.
Ryan stared Dulcet down for a few seconds and then reluctantly filled him in.
*~*~*~*
Back in his barracks, Dulcet added the new information to his outline. That's when he noticed a disturbing new trend starting to appear. He closely studied the victim profiles, then the attacks: now he was certain he was on the right track.
*~*~*~*
Chapter 28
An-Dung's moonlight rendezvous hadn't gone unnoticed. A concealed figure, hidden in the darkness and out of the sight of prying eyes, followed An-Dung’s progress. He watched An-Dung stow his sampan and then climb up onto the landing, leading up to his mansion. The unmistakable silhouette of An-Dung's body soon shuffled up the landing and disappeared into his lavish, waterfront home. It was fast approaching 3 am and An-Dung was exhausted, too tired to notice anything unusual. The cold eyes of a hardened criminal locked onto the door where An-Dung entered, calculating his next move.
The desperate fugitive had followed An-Dung to Grandma's, but at a respectable distance and in stealth. While completely hidden in the long shadows, he intently listened to the whispered conversation and then pushed off back into the darkness, before he could be detected, following just beyond the reach of recognition.
Later today, the guard would meet and there, he would expose An-Dung's treachery and challenge his leadership. For a guard leader to show this kind of weakness was unforgivable. That’s when he determined to exploit An-Dung’s folly to its full extent and strike with a crushing fist, ripping the leadership from under him and endowing his own worthy shoulders with the desiderated position. He had coveted the leadership ever since they had chosen An-Dung over him, and now it was time to regain what was rightfully his and punish those who stood against him.
There would be no mercy and his justice would be swift and brutal.
It was well known that An-Dung was protecting Mot Lang Quen. Even the guard respected Mot Lang Quen and his bravery among their people, but now, they couldn’t turn a blind eye anymore. Mot Lang Quen's raids on their factories and the loss of valuable sassafras oil, needed to make ecstasy, had cost them dearly.
He gave An-Dung’s mansion and more particularly, the entrance door, another quick glance. Assured he wouldn’t be detected, he quietly slipped off the landing into his sampan and pulled hard against his paddle, across the open water and back to the forests.
*~*~*~*
An-Dung slid the strap of the canvas bag over his shoulder and headed out the front door, into the street from his home. The bright sunshine assaulted his eyes and made him squint, while his head ached at the sudden heat. It didn't help having only three hours sleep. A strange foreboding gnawed at his stomach and the familiar tension gripped him, sending a wave of agony tearing through his abdomen, doubling over in pain and making breathing difficult, while he waited for the episode to pass.
An-Dung knew his stomach complaints were closely related to Mot Lang Quen’s attacks on their ecstasy production, causing the guard to meet later this morning, to discuss the actions they would pursue. Somehow, this meeting would be a watershed and after last night’s rendezvous with Grandma, An-Dung was fearful.
The streets were crowded with motorbikes, bicycles and carts, all busy bustling up and down, it seemed, going nowhere. The bag was full of money, a bribe to get Mot Lang Quen and Grandma out of Vietnam and out of his hair, forever.
A half closed in boat was heading for Western Australia and he was about to pay a lot of money to get them aboard and to safety. Refugee boats were making for the Australian coast every day and whilst the ineffective government of that country were arguing about trivia, more and more boats were slipping under the radar and disappearing into the community and a new life. Forged official papers had been arranged and all was ready to go.
The only hurdle was his stubborn Grandma and getting her and Mot Lang Quen aboard.
He would think of something.
*~*~*~*
An-Dung knocked twice and then three times on the door to a seedy looking building. A small, makeshift partition, the size of a man's face, opened and a rough looking man scrutinised An-Dung. Satisfying himself of the identity at the door, the man swung the door open and greeted An-Dung, his demeanour showing great respect. The door closed behind him with an accentuated bang. He crossed the closed in courtyard and disappeared into a building. Seated on the floor around a low table, were the eight members of the guard, all waiting for his arrival.
"Sorry for being late. I am sure we all have much to do, so I will make this meeting brief," An-Dung began.
"Not so fast, An-Dung," Cong interrupted. "There is still the matter of the raids on the factories and the loss of earnings through Mot Lang Quen."
"I am glad you brought that up, Cong. I have arranged for Mot Lang Quen to be taken care of and removed, from causing any more losses for us," An-Dung retorted.
Cong's eyebrows raised. "Ah, a new plan and how do you intend to get Grandma and Mot Lang Quen to move?"
An-Dung's face revealed a flicker of surprise. He had not said anything about Grandma.
"I intend to put him aboard a boat bound for Australia. Forcefully, if necessary," An-Dung emphasized.
"You underestimate the skill and stealth of Mot Lang Quen, An-Dung. He will not go along with your plan, even if you force him," Cong retorted.
The faces around the table appeared sceptical at his plan. They knew Mot Lang Quen was not someone to play with.
"In fact, I know of your secret meetings with Mot Lang Quen. I followed you there last night, at midnight. It is our leader, members of the guard, who betrays our operations and protects the one who destroys our profits," Cong proudly announced.
An-Dung challenged Cong with a stare, shocked at his revelation.
"As for your plan to move Mot Lang Quen, I also know he will not go without Grandma and she refuses to go. I heard this with my own ears, at Grandma's hut," Cong boasted, giving An-Dung the undeniable facts.
An-Dung met Cong's cold eyes. He knew he had just walked into a clever trap.
"I do not deny your story, Cong, but if not for Mot Lang Quen, most of us around this table would not be here today."
"We cannot live in the past, An-Dung. The very one you protect, destroys our means to rid ourselves of poverty. You will not be able to guarantee Mot Lang Quen's removal and in this light, you are not fit to be our leader."
An-Dung knew what was coming. They would vote and if Cong had convinced the other guard, he would be removed and probably killed, to stop him from talking.
"Members of the guard, I challenge An-Dung's fitness as leader and ask for your wisdom on this, in a vote."
A small circle, 12 inches across, embedded in the middle of the wooden table, acted as a voting card. Each member would remove his dagger from his belt and stab the table with the point, leaving the dagger standing upright. If a member agreed with the vote, his dagger would stab the table top inside the circle. If he disagreed, his dagger would stick into the table, outside the circle. The hard faces around the table took to the vote. One at a time. Each member in turn voted, while the circle began to fill with daggers. An-Dung knew his fate was sealed. Fearing for his life, he spun around and ran for the courtyard and the guarded door.
"Stop him!" Cong yelled to the sentry.
But it was too late. An-Dung had slipped past and disappeared into the busy street.
Cong turned to the guard. "As you have voted and I am now the leader, we must waste no time in ridding our business of Mot Lang Quen, while An-Dung will not be hard to find.“ Cong boasted, “Our eyes are everywhere and he will meet with the same fate as Mot Lang Quen. I am expecting we will find An-Dung and Mot Lang Quen together and if I am right, he will try to carry out his ridiculous plan."
*~*~*~*
Grandma scrutinized the small sampan heading directly for her hut. She squinted through the open window, trying to identify its driver. Something told her this was not going to be a pleasant visit and the bearer of bad tidings was its captain.
The impassioned voice of An-Dung drowned out the sound of the little motor and the boat crashed heavily into Grandma's landing. He raced up into her hut, sweating profusely in the midday humidity.
"Grandma...! We must go! Quickly! They are coming for Mot Lang Quen and for me, to kill us and if they find you, they will kill you, too. Where is Mot Lang Quen?"
It took awhile for An-Dung's story to sink in. Grandma just pointed to his hut and started gathering some of her belongings.
"You are the only one he will listen to. You need to convince him to come with us, now! We must hurry!"
*~*~*~*
Confusion stabbed at Mot Lang Quen. The old woman was gibbering wildly and the panic in her eyes worried him.
"Come! Come!" she beckoned.
He had never seen the old woman so panicked and he followed her instinctively. He stopped in mid stride, as he saw a man sitting in a sampan with the motor running. A face he recognised, but from where?
The old woman urged him on, pulling at his arm, towards the boat and the waiting man.
"Quickly!" she urged.
The sampan sped along the Mekong River, splashing up water over the three occupants. An-Dung kept turning around to see if they were being followed. As they rounded a bend in the river, a large wooden boat appeared in the distance, tied up to a makeshift dock. An-Dung gunned the little engine and headed straight for the vessel. As they came alongside the larger vessel, An-Dung secured the sampan, then grabbed hold of a rope mat dangling over the side and jumped aboard.
"Wait here. I will be back in a few minutes."
Within minutes, he was back. He helped Grandma aboard and then Mot Lang Quen.
"We have to hide until they are ready to sail in the morning. They have a false bottom in the boat and we will be able to lie down and keep out of sight, protected by the floorboards. If I am right, Cong will search every boat along the river, to find us."
By mid evening, a boarding party had come aboard and was madly turning over cargo. When the ruckus died down, An-Dung carefully lifted the floorboard covering him, climbed out of the bilge and slowly walked toward the open rear of the vessel. He ducked suddenly, when he saw a sentry stationed on the dock. They hadn't found any clues, but they were expecting An-Dung to make a move. He crept back inside and waited in the dark.
An-Dung whispered to Grandma and Mot Lang Quen, "You can come out now, but don't talk. There is a guard on the dock."
When Grandma could finally straighten herself, her eyes met An-Dung's in the half light. Even in the semi dark, An-Dung could see her displeasure and her piercing stare, asking a multitude of questions.
"I will explain when we are safely underway," An-Dung pleaded.
*~*~*~*
"It won't matter if we don't find them," Cong espoused to the guard, revelling in his successful coup. "They are attempting an impossible journey and will more than likely die when their boat sinks out in the open ocean. If they make it to Australia, the authorities will imprison them in their detention centres for years. Either way, we win. We have rid ourselves of our enemy."
The lust filled eyes of the pirate leader glanced from one member to the other, threatening them with his callous glare, while revelling in his new found authority and soon, he would take revenge on those who had opposed him in the past.
No one was ever going to snatch his kingdom away again.
*~*~*~*
Chapter 29
Leanne Bates rubbed the humidity from the bathroom mirror and checked her appearance. She fidgeted with her hair, trying to settle a frizzy lock that just wouldn't behave.
She hated doctors digging and prodding at her and today was going to be a full day of tests and scans. The only thing that brought any comfort, was the ladies' names on her appointment schedule. Doctor Keller was an astute man. The last thing any woman wants is a strange man, no matter how qualified they are, messing with her body. He’d handpicked the female specialists and made the appointments for her.
Leanne poured a hot cup of coffee, checked the kitchen clock and settled down in a kitchen chair for a quick respite before her busy schedule. Lord Nelson rubbed around her feet with his thick, ginger fur and his mewing demanded the feed bowl be filled before she set out. She opened the food cupboard and reached for the cat biscuits, while the empty spaces reminded her that she needed to go shopping. If she finished her appointments early, she would make her way to the food market, completing a perfectly wasted day on frivolous activity. She hated the food market almost as much as going to the doctor.
While Lord Nelson was busy crunching down cat biscuits, she made sure the duplex was secure and as she headed for the front door, she grabbed up the shopping list from the table.
*~*~*~*
By the time she’d finished her rounds of humiliation with the specialists, she was tired and ready for home. Surveying the shopping list in her hand, she argued with herself, should she just go home and forget about shopping? She didn't want another trip into town though, so logical Leanne won the debate.
Her stomach was still retching from the taste of barium dye. It wasn’t good enough for just a small taste; it seemed the doctor wanted her to swallow buckets of the stuff, revelling in her discomfort, while the thought of food just made her feel ill. Adding to her humiliation, she had to drink a litre of water, then sit and wait for what seemed like hours, busting to relieve the water stored in her bladder and not being allowed to until the scan had been done, and then running full tilt for the bathroom to relieve the pressure, straight after.
It's no wonder people hate doctors, she thought.
The bright lights of the food market made her feel
lightheaded as she pushed her trolley up and down aisles collecting food items. As if it had been designed by a man, the trolley had a mind of its own and would quite often wander into the path of an oncoming shopper, or crash into a product display, teetering precariously, and threatening to bring the exhibit down. She pulled hard on the trolley handle, scalding it and trying to bring it back into line like a naughty child, then apologising to the injured shopper.
Leanne was nearing the end of her debacle and had just picked up a two litre orange juice and placed it into her trolley, when another trolley ran into hers. A large man and a small woman apologised profusely and in the confusion of apologies, a crowd of people seemed to come from everywhere around her, making her feel dizzy. In an attempt to break free of an unwelcome situation, and heightening her biliousness and anxiety, she waved off the offence, said there was no harm done and made her way swiftly to the checkout... and freedom.
By the time Leanne had made it home; put the shopping away; fed and cuddled Lord Nelson; fixed a small bite to eat; tidied up the duplex and showered for bed, she was exhausted. The clock in the kitchen said 8 pm, but it felt like midnight.
One small consolation: tonight was her favourite show on TV, but after her day, she even considered giving that a miss and going straight to bed. In a moment of exhaustion, she collapsed into her favourite chair and absentmindedly pointed the remote at the TV, while she waited for her programme to start. All the lights were out except for a solitary side lamp and as she settled down with her electronic companion, fully decked out in her glamorous dressing gown and slippers, she could feel the weariness aching through her tired body. Just as the programme credits began, a knock came at the front door. She sighed heavily, and it took a moment for her body to obey the instructions of her mind, and then she wriggled out of her easy chair and ambled over to the door.
"Who is it?"
"Just ol' Tom Henderson, Leanne. Hadn't seen you for a while and was a bit worried."
Leanne's agitation quickly turned to delight. She opened the door and was greeted by a shaky woof from Jessup.