The Riddle (A James Acton Thriller, Book #11) (12 page)

Fortunately,
or unfortunately, depending on the point of view, Asita’s son would never do
such a thing and seemed content to let his father take the bulk of the
criticism while defending him fiercely.

Asita
leaned back and looked up at the canopy of tree leaves overhead, the sun
occasionally making its presence known. The warmth, though brief, was welcome
on his face, and he closed his eyes to enjoy himself, making a game of whether
or not he could sense when the sun was bearing down on him.

His face
felt warm.

Consistently
warm.

He
opened his eyes and found the canopy overhead gone, instead a brilliant blue
sky shining down on him with the occasional wisps of clouds in a long, slightly
curved line overhead.

His
heart leapt.

He
pushed himself up onto his elbows, the procession still marching forward, and
he looked to his side, instantly recognizing flowers in full bloom along the
edge of the clearing as those he had seen a thousand times before from the
imagination of an artist unknown to him, painting a ring of flowers never
before seen by anyone in his village.

“Stop!”
he shouted, his strength suddenly returning. His chair was lowered to the
ground and he stepped forward, Channa immediately at his side along with his
son, Alara. “Get me the bowl!”

The bowl
was quickly produced and Asita pointed to one of the bands that ringed it,
second from the top. It was blue, with white circles. He pointed at the sky.
“Look!” The others gathered as they looked from the bowl to the sky and back.
Then he pointed to the strange flowers nearby, then at the final ring at the
top of the bowl.

And they
all gasped.

For they
were a match.

He shook
off the helping hands and plodded forward, toward the sound of running water,
looking about him. It was a wide clearing, easily large enough for a village.
The river was of a good size, but not so large it would pose a danger, and the
embankments suggested a steady height, not one prone to surges during spring.

He
dropped to his knees, dipping the bowl into the water, then looked inside.

And he
saw his reflection.

And
smiled.

He drank
from the bowl and raised it to the heavens.

“Father!
We have found our home!”

Daewoo Hanoi Hotel, Hanoi, Vietnam
Present Day

James Acton looked at his wife, not sure what to do. Dawson had just
left and Mai was about to. But it didn’t feel right. Dawson wanted them to stay
put but that wasn’t his style. Unfortunately his style quite often got them
into trouble, but he couldn’t in good conscience let Mai leave alone.

Laura
grabbed her handbag.

“What
are you doing?” he asked.

“Going
with Mai. What are you doing?”

Acton
grinned. “I knew there was a reason I married you other than your money.”

Mai
stood by the door. “You shouldn’t come with me, it’s too dangerous.”

“Which
is exactly why we’re coming with you,” replied Acton. “If you’re with us you’re
less likely to get hassled on your way there.”

Laura
put her hand on the doorknob. “What about when we get there? Surely they’ll get
suspicious if we try to go in.”

Mai
shook her head. “No no no, you mustn’t come in with me.” She pulled a piece of
paper from her purse and quickly wrote down a phone number. She handed it to
Laura. “This is the number for my brother Cadeo. If anything happens to me, let
him know so he can tell my family.”

Laura
took the paper and placed it in her purse. “Nothing will go wrong. Just get in,
get the footage, get out. We’ll come straight back here.”

Mai forced
a smile, looking unconvinced as Laura pulled the door open. They headed for the
elevator, there now several uniformed police on their floor. They showed their
ID and were allowed on the elevator with little hassle. The ride down was in
silence, Acton’s mind going a mile a minute as he weighed the pros and cons of
getting themselves in even deeper. But he could see little choice. Sure, going
with Mai was near idiotic, but it was the right thing to do. Sticking up for
Niner was also the right thing to do. It would have been easier to just say he
saw nothing and couldn’t confirm or deny that Niner was the shooter. It would
probably have allowed them to get on a plane today but it would have been wrong.
Niner had saved their lives on numerous occasions and leaving him hanging, to
possibly literally hang, wasn’t an option Acton could even contemplate.

It just
wasn’t him.

A friend
was in trouble and he was honor-bound to help.

And
there would be no keeping Laura away for the same reasons.

Which
was one of the many reasons he loved her so much.

Their
relationship had been tumultuous, dangerous, terrifying, as well as exciting,
passionate and stimulating. He wouldn’t change a thing despite the fact they had
both been through hell on too many occasions.

It had
forged a relationship that had been tested under fire, creating a bond as
strong as those shared by soldiers in combat, a bond so strong he was certain
it could survive any challenge.

And they
had been challenged.

And now,
once again, they were leaping into the thick of things, boldly going where no
sane married couple would dare.

The
doors opened and as they crossed the opulent lobby for the main entrance, the
dozens of police officers ignored them completely.

Which
Acton found extremely odd.

The
doors were held open and Acton spotted the museum’s car with the same driver
from earlier. They made a beeline for it, this time Acton climbing in the front
seat, the two women in the back. Mai said something in Vietnamese and the
driver pulled away. Acton lowered himself slightly in the seat and looked out
the side view mirror, frowning as he spotted what he assumed was an unmarked
police car pulling out after them.

He
turned back to look at Laura and Mai. “How are you two doing back there?
Comfy?” He motioned with his eyes toward the car following them.

Laura
immediately caught on, resisting the urge to turn around, but Mai wasn’t as
quick on the uptake, her life not one normally filled with intrigue. Laura held
a finger up and pressed it against Mai’s cheek as she turned to look, pushing
it back forward.

“We’re
okay. Just looking forward to getting this errand out of the way then having a
nice dinner tonight at the hotel.”

“Sounds
like a good idea.” He looked at a confused Mai. “You should join us, I insist.”

She
nodded, fear in her eyes as she eventually realized that their actions must
have meant they were being followed. “I w-would be honored.”

“Fantastic!”
grinned Acton. “We’ll take the opportunity to go over those files you’re
getting us. We barely saw half the museum so we’ll have to settle for the paper
version!”

Mai
seemed to catch on, she now having a reason for returning with them, something
the driver could no doubt report to the police that might actually sound
legitimate.

“It’s
unfortunate your visit was cut off. Unavoidable, obviously, but my government
would want you to at least read the catalog. I’ll try to get an electronic
version for you so that you can browse it a little easier.”

“That
would be even better. Paper is so passé!” Acton said with a wink, turning back
in his seat and facing the front again as they pulled up to the museum,
hundreds of security personnel everywhere including a fairly impressive foreign
press brigade. He turned to the driver. “My wife and I are fairly well known.
Perhaps it’s best if we stayed in the car so the press doesn’t see us.”

“No
problem,” said the man as they pulled through the throng, the police making a
hole. Their ID’s were checked and Acton noticed the senior officer look behind
them then nod as if he had just received instructions.

He waved
them through.

And the
pit that formed in Acton’s stomach almost made him nauseous. He looked back and
saw the car that had been following them parked on the side of the road,
outside the ring of security, no doubt waiting for their exit.

But were
they just watching them out of curiosity, or did they know what they were up
to?

This
is too dangerous.

He
turned to tell Mai but before he could say anything she had opened her door and
jumped out. Instead he was forced to make eye contact with Laura and try to
convey his concerns.

She
seemed to already be sharing them.

They
watched as Mai disappeared through the front entrance, her ID inspected, but
not very closely.

As if
she was simply being led deeper into the flytrap.

Leaving
Acton to wonder if he would ever see her again.

Valley of the Red River, Vietnam
June 17
^th
, 1974

Phong shook like the leaves around him, the stiff breeze blowing
through the village causing them to flutter, the gentle white noise generated
not enough to drown out the horror he was witnessing.

The war
had arrived.

His
village had tried to stay out of the conflict, its location in a small valley
with only a few trails leading to other communities allowing them to enjoy
relative peace over the years of conflict, though the sound of planes screaming
overhead and helicopters thundering on the other side of the surrounding hills
was a constant reminder that the war was close.

Too
close.

And
today it was here.

He had
been in the forest looking for herbs, his future duties as companion to the
eldest son of their leader demanding he be able to heal him should he become
sick.

But
there would be no healing from this.

Screams
had sent him running toward the village, his duties forgotten. Orders were
barked in unfamiliar voices and as he neared he skidded to a halt, dropping
quietly to his belly at the edge of the village.

Men with
guns were herding the villagers around the shrine where the holy vessel sat on
a covered pedestal, protected from the elements. Oral history taught that it
had been drunk from by the great Buddha himself before his death and had been a
gift to the village leader on the night of the Buddha’s death. The leader Cunda
had died, but his son, Asita, had saved the bowl and the wisdom imparted with
it, and moved their entire community from what was now near India to Vietnam.

The
great Asita had died within days of the establishment of their new community,
but they had flourished exactly as he had said, with their numbers growing so
much over the years that they had spread throughout these hills, there now
dozens of villages that could trace their lineage back to this one, spreading
the word of the great Buddha to those already living here. Some said that the
great Asita had brought Buddhism to this part of the world so long ago.

And the
vessel, a simple clay bowl with faded artwork encircling it, had been
preserved, lovingly, the ashes of the village’s founder, Asita, contained
within, gathered from his funeral pyre.

A man in
a uniform stepped into view, a uniform that Phong didn’t recognize, though he
would admit to anyone he wouldn’t recognize any uniform, he having seen so few.
All he knew was it was quite different from those he had seen while trading in
the bigger towns.

But this
man was white, whiter than any he had seen before. He had seen pale faces fly
overhead in helicopters, quite often accompanied by faces darker than any he
had ever witnessed. He had found it remarkable. And now one of these “white
people” as he had heard them referred to was in his village, directing the
activities in a language he didn’t recognize, his translator crying out his
orders with gusto.

“Any man
who joins us to fight will live!”