The Riddle (A James Acton Thriller, Book #11) (26 page)

He
looked behind as he was dragged through the gates and saw a cordon of Marines,
their weapons aimed at the Russian attackers and police, covering his rescue as
the entire procession quickly retreated behind the safety of the Embassy
perimeter. As he felt his feet drag over the speed bump he cried a gasp of
relief, knowing that at least for the moment he was safe, that he wasn’t going
to die. He was placed gently on his knees and he collapsed in pain, rolling
over onto his back, the cold pavement slowly biting into his skin through his
jacket. The gates rumbled closed as Sarah dropped to his side and began to hug
him, crying uncontrollably, her sob filled words incoherent.

He just
reached up and hugged her, his ribs aching in protest.

But he
didn’t care.

They
were alive.

They
were together.

And they’d
never be coming back to Russia again.

Daewoo Hanoi Hotel, Hanoi, Vietnam

“It is my understanding that you have allowed the assassin to
escape.”

Dimitri
Yashkin seemed nothing if not direct. Dawson could sense Secretary Atwater was
already bristling at his presence, his figure imposing and the Russian
arrogance almost unbearable under the circumstances.

To
Atwater’s credit, however, she stood her ground and refused to be intimidated
by the man, at least from all outward appearances. Inside she might be quaking,
but Dawson doubted it. He had no doubt she felt safe at this very moment, there
half a dozen security with guns within twenty feet, including himself.

He could
drop Yashkin in two seconds if it became necessary.

But it
wouldn’t.

This was
a “diplomatic” visit.

“I
wasn’t aware of that until a few minutes ago,” replied Atwater.

“You
should have better control of your security detail. If one of my men did what
your man did”—he nodded toward Dawson—“he would be in prison before the day was
out.”

Atwater
smiled. “In America we have due process. I thought Russia had the same?”

Yashkin’s
turn to bristle.

“We do,
of course. It was merely a figure of speech.”

“Of
course. And since Russia has due process, where someone is innocent until
proven guilty, I would have to assume that Agent Green would be given the same
consideration.”

Good
one, Madame Secretary!

Yashkin’s
fake smile eased slightly. “We are interested in the truth, of course. But—”

“Excellent!”
interrupted Atwater, motioning toward a nearby chair as she sat down. “Since we
are both interested in the truth, I suggest you rein in your Vietnamese allies.
Clearly they do not have due process like our two democracies have, and they
don’t seem interested in the truth.”

Yashkin
was about to say something when Atwater held up a finger, cutting him off
again.

“Our
Agent is innocent. We intend to prove that. In order to diffuse the situation,
my head of security ordered him to leave the premises and make his way to our
embassy. I’m sure he will be there shortly if he is not already. In the
meantime, as our Vietnamese hosts clearly have terminated the approved schedule
for our visit, we will be departing immediately. You are welcome to visually ID
each of our personnel as we leave to confirm that Agent Green is not among
them.” Atwater leaned forward. “Now, since we’re both agreed we all want the
truth and that both our countries believe in due process and the concept of
innocent until proven guilty, and since no demands have been made for access to
any of our other personnel, I assume you will be encouraging your Vietnamese
allies to obey international law and let us leave freely, immediately.”

Yashkin
smiled, opening his clasped fingers in a dismissive manner. “Unfortunately the
Vietnamese are beyond my control in these matters. While I agree with you on
every point you mentioned, my government seems to have little influence with
the Vietnamese anymore, at least where today’s events are concerned.” He leaned
forward, lowering his voice slightly. “I’m afraid they are very embarrassed at
the lapse in security, and perhaps fear retaliation on my country’s part.” He
sat back upright, smiling. “Of course retaliation is something from our past. A
democracy never attacks its neighbors.”

Dawson
had to hold back his laugh.

Umm,
Georgia? Ukraine?

But he
was right. A democracy never attacks its neighbors. And a democracy never
attacks another democracy, no matter where it is. Which was just further
evidence Russia wasn’t a democracy.

Atwater
held her tongue, something Dawson might not have been able to do if he were in
her position.

Further
evidence I’m no diplomat.

“I’m
certain your neighbors would be happy to hear that.” Atwater rose, signaling
the end of the conversation. “Embarrassment or not, the Vietnamese government
must respect international law. We are a diplomatic mission and are entitled to
leave freely. I expect you to deliver that message to our hosts.”

“Of
course,” said Yashkin as he rose, extending a hand. “I am pleased we had this
discussion.”

Atwater
shook the man’s hand, looking up at him. “As am I.” She nodded to Dawson.
“Please show our guest to the elevator.”

“Yes,
ma’am.”

Dawson
held his hand out as Spock opened the door to the hallway. Yashkin walked
toward the elevator, it already opened by one of the DSS agents. Yashkin
stepped aboard and turned back toward Dawson.

“Until
we meet again,” he said, his smile suddenly disappearing. “Sergeant Major.”

The
doors closed, Dawson saying nothing, careful not to reveal any emotions. He
felt no surprise, he had no doubt the Russians had a pretty good file on him.
And he was also quite sure they now knew exactly who Niner was.

And he
was also positive this had nothing to do with justice, and everything to do
with the Vietnamese saving face, and the Russians taking advantage of the
situation.

He
walked toward Atwater’s suite as the lights went out.

“Détente
didn’t last very long,” observed Spock.

“Nope. I
don’t think they have any intention of letting us leave.”

They
entered the suite and found Atwater sitting again, sipping from a bottle of
water. “Recommendations?” she asked the room.

Nobody
wanted to say the obvious.

They
were screwed.

Especially
if they did nothing.

Her eyes
rested on Dawson. “You look like you want to say something.”

“Ma’am,
there’s no way we’re fighting our way out of here, and we can only hold off so
many assaults. If they really want to take us, there’s no stopping them, just
delaying them. Diplomacy just failed, but may eventually succeed. It all
depends on whose will wins out—the Russians or the Vietnamese.” He nodded
toward a battery powered television showing CNN. “Right now they’re controlling
the message. Beyond our denials, we are the guilty party. They have a copy of
Agent Green’s photo ID, bullshit eyewitnesses and a dead Russian Prime Minister
who was speaking to you at the moment of the assassination.
We
look bad.
We need to make
them
look bad.”

“What
are you saying?”

“Take
back control of the message. Set up a direct feed with CNN and talk live to
them. The Vietnamese wouldn’t dare risk killing you on live television for the
world to see. As long as you are on the air, we are all safe.”

An
explosion rocked the room, the windows rattling.

“They
just breached the eighth floor!” came Jimmy’s voice over the comm. “Probably
cord explosives on the seventh floor ceiling!”

“This is
White. Reinforcements to the eighth floor. Shoot anything that shows itself,
conserve your ammo. Use the grenades we confiscated if necessary, over.”

“What’s
going on?” asked Atwater, fear showing itself as she jumped to her feet.

“They
just blasted through the ceiling on the seventh. They now have access to the
eighth. We don’t have enough personnel to hold them back, ma’am. If they take
the eighth floor, they can put explosives directly below us and take this
entire room out.”

Atwater
snapped her fingers. “Set up the camera, get me CNN now!”

Dawson
left the room, her entourage, desperate for something to do other than worry,
bursting into a flurry of activity.

Now
let’s just hope CNN takes her call.

Dong Mac Ward, Hanoi, Vietnam

James Acton sat on a none-too-comfortable chair, Laura beside him at
a table on one side of the rather smallish “gang” hangout belonging to Mai’s
brother, Cadeo. Mai sat across from them, as did a reluctant Cadeo. CNN
International was playing on the television nearby, it having been turned so
everyone at the table could see it.

He
pulled the phone out of his pocket and pressed the button out of habit.

His eyes
narrowed.

He held
his finger on the sensor and brought up the text message.

this
is niner. contact me asap.

He
showed the message to Laura and her eyebrows jumped. “How old is that?”

Acton
looked. “Almost fifteen minutes.” He typed a message.

This
is jim. We r safe. R u?

They
waited, Mai rising and rounding the table, curious.

Cadeo
simply glared.

The
phone vibrated.

Confirm
identity. How did we meet?

Acton
winked at Laura.

You
tried to kill me.

LOL.
Good thing I failed. Are you secure?

For
now.

Give
me location, I will try to make it to you.

Acton
texted him the GPS coordinates, Mai supplying the address.

They
waited.

ETA
one hour.

Acton
sighed. “If he can make it here then he should be safe.”

“I don’t
want any more Americans here.”

They all
turned to Cadeo. “I’m British,” said Laura with a smile.

“It all
same.”

Acton
was about to make a quick quip but decided against it, Cadeo’s Beretta sitting
on the table.

Mai
spoke instead. “They are my friends and they need help. If they are not welcome
here, then neither am I.”

Cadeo growled
and jumped from his chair, kicking it to the floor with the back of his knees.
He spat something in Vietnamese and walked away, disappearing through a door to
the outside.

“I must
apologize for my brother.”

“No
need. He’s just scared,” replied Laura. “We all are.”

“And
he’s right to be,” added Acton. “We’re all wanted fugitives and now he is too
for rescuing you. He has the advantage for the moment of not being known to the
authorities.”

“They
will figure it out. They know he’s my brother.”

“But
they don’t know he’s the one who rescued you. At least not yet.”

Mai shook
her head. “It won’t matter. They will just assume because they know he is a
criminal.” She dropped back into her chair. “At least for now they don’t know
where he is. But from now on he’ll always be connected to the murder.”

Laura
leaned forward, reaching out to Mai with a hand. “Unless we can get the truth
out.”

“But
what
is
the truth?” asked Acton. And that was the most important
question. They had no proof of their side of the story, just their word, which
meant little to nothing here in Vietnam. “It’s too bad you weren’t able to get
that footage.”

Mai’s
jaw dropped. “Oh my God, I forgot!” She reached into her shirt, fishing in her
bra for a few seconds, then smiled triumphantly as she produced a memory stick.
“I made a second copy, just in case!”

Acton
wanted to kiss her. “Good thinking!”

Mai
grinned. “They did not search me. They took my purse but that was all. I guess
they were going to search me at the police station.”