He was more horrified to see a pistol in Pops’s hand with the end of the barrel stuck in Linh’s ear.

“You have a choice now,” said Pops, calmly. “You can put the knife down or hold it and watch me shoot your daughter ... and then you. Although I must admit, I may do it in the reverse order.”

“No! You put the gun down or I will kill Dúc,” replied Bien, quickly putting the knife back to Dúc’s throat.

Pops started laughing and said, “I was going to kill him anyway for bringing you here. Please ... go ahead. You can kill him now and I will not even try and stop you. I would consider it a favour.”

Bien jerked his arm, as if he were going to cut Dúc’s throat. Dúc cried out in fear and Bien saw the disappointment flash across Pops’s face at the ruse.

“Okay,” sighed Pops. “I’ll tell you what I am going to do. I am sure that someone probably knows that you came here with Ducky Boy. If I stay, I know that it is just a matter of time before I am found. Put the knife down and let Dúc chain you up at the other end of the room. Do that and I will not hurt you or your daughter. Dúc and I will leave and when we are safe, we will call someone so that you are found—if you have not been found already.”

Bien looked at Linh, who shook her head before yelling at him in Vietnamese, telling him to escape fast.

Bien knew that he could not do that—no more than he could get to Pops before his daughter was killed.

Pops smiled when Bien threw his knife down on the floor.

“Chain him up,” ordered Pops, “then bring me the key.”

Dúc led Bien over to the far side of the room and picked up the length of chain. A padlock with a key in it hung from one of the links in the chain. He fastened the chain tightly around Bien’s ankle, nervously approached Pops, and handed him the key.

“What’s wrong?” asked Pops. He chuckled and added, “You didn’t really believe that I meant to harm you, did you?”

Dúc didn’t reply.

“I meant to fool him,” said Pops, gesturing toward Bien with the barrel of his pistol. “It worked. I didn’t think you would believe it!” he chortled, patting Dúc on the back.

Dúc smiled nervously.

“Do you think anyone knows he is here?” asked Pops.

Dúc shook his head.

“I didn’t think so,” replied Pops. “How is your neck? Do you need stitches?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“It is not deep,” said Dúc.“I think it has stopped bleeding, but it is painful.”

Pops nodded and said, “I think we should extract a certain amount of revenge on this man for what he has done to you. Don’t you agree?”

Dúc was no longer afraid and his face showed his anger as he turned and looked at Bien. “Yes. Very much so.”

Pops smiled and said, “Good. I think you will find this amusing.” He walked over and ordered Bien to lie on his back on the floor in front of him. Bien hesitated and Pops said, “If you do not want your daughter hurt, you will obey me completely!”

Bien did as ordered. He closed his eyes but his mind could not block out his daughter’s crying as Pops urinated on his face.

“Okay, you pathetic excuse for a father—a father who would allow his own daughters to be sold and raped! Get on your knees and look at me!”

Bien did as instructed.

“Take one last look at your daughter. I wonder what will happen to her?”

“Please, Mister Pops,” begged Bien. “You must be a man of your word. You promised not to hurt us. Please! I will not tell anyone. All I want is to go back to my own country.”

Pops said, “Really? Oh, okay,” he said, turning away, but laughed and spun around and said, “It is time for you to say goodbye to your daughter. Is there anything you wish to say to her?”

Bien looked up as Pops stepped back a short distance before aiming the pistol at his face. His mouth opened to yell to Linh that he loved her as his mind reeled with what he could possibly say to make Pops change his mind.

“Too late,” said Pops. He smiled and said, “Pop,” and squeezed the trigger.

A bright red dot instantly appeared on Bien’s forehead and the blood ran down the side of his nose as he slumped sideways onto the floor.

chapter thirty-six

Laura found a bush-filled entrance to a farmer’s field, pulled in, and parked the car. The fear on the Russians’ faces showed that they were now acutely aware of their new surroundings.

Fat Man was sweating profusely and his lips had taken on a bluish hue. He looked at Jack and gasped, “Please ... my chest ... the pain, it has gone to my neck, shoulder ... arm. I think I am having ...” He stopped talking and started panting heavily.

Don’t die on me now, you fat bastard!

Jack saw the concern flicker across Laura’s face. Not now, Laura! You’re supposed to act like you want them dead!

Laura looked at Jack and said, “I think he’s—”

“Yeah!” said Jack loudly, interrupting her. “Fat Man looks like he is about to have a heart attack. Good! One less cell needed at Guantanamo.” Jack’s voice returned to a normal level and he added, “He probably wouldn’t survive the interrogations anyway. As long as Petya here is healthy, who cares?”

Laura momentarily turned away from the Russians. Oh, man—

“Cut to the chase,” said Jack. “What is this nonsense about two girls?”

Moustache Pete’s eyes betrayed his fear as they flickered between the Fat Man and Jack. “The business we are in,” said Moustache Pete quickly, “it is only importing women to work in hotels. Illegal as far as immigration goes, but nothing to do with terrorism.”

“Yeah, sure,” said Jack. “What does the hotel business have to do with Puget Sound and meeting with al-Qaeda?”

“I did not know the Arab was connected to al-Qaeda. He told us he wanted some young women to work in a hotel. Our interest in navigational charts was purely a matter of interest as to where we could bring people in.”

“So this Arab killed some girl?”

“No! Not him. Someone who lives here, in Vancouver. We heard, through a business associate here, that he sold two young girls to a monster of a man who killed one of the girls and is holding the other girl in chains. They are sisters. One of them, her body has recently been found by the police.”

“I would have heard of it,” said Laura.

“No, my mistake,” muttered Moustache Pete. “It is not Vancouver police. It is the RCMP in Surrey. Please check, you will see that I am telling the truth.”

“This story,” said Jack, “it will not take us long to find out the truth. If you are lying, it will go very hard on you.”

“We are not lying. If we prove this, will you let us go?”

“Of course I would, if it was true. It would still take time to sort things out. I won’t be able to stop my office from arresting you, but you’ll have about a fourteen-hour head start.”

“We would still be arrested?”

“I can’t guarantee anything that the Americans would ... or would not do. You know how they operate. The secret prisons they have all over the world. Still, if you are telling the truth, you would not be detained forever.” He pointed his finger at the Fat Man and added, “So you, fat boy, if you are lying to us, you may as well continue with your heart attack. If you’re not lying ... then relax, because I will let you go.”

“We are not lying,” panted the Fat Man.

“Then you have nothing to fear from the two of us,” said Jack. “I can assure you that I will let you go tonight. You might want to take the opportunity to try and find a place to hide until your story is checked out by my friends down south. Although hiding may prove difficult. The Americans have most of the holiday spots on the globe well covered.”

“We are telling you the truth,” said Moustache Pete.

Jack glanced at his watch and looked at Laura and said, “I never did confirm with my friends waiting at the border that we picked them up. We can delay for a little while. I can’t see why these two would make up such an absurd story. They’re cuffed and can’t escape. If they’re lying, I’ll definitely make sure that their interrogators are told about it. It would cost them dearly, they must know that.”