It's Personal

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Disclaimer:  I do not own either of the Mission: Impossible series or any of the characters therein.  I receive no compensation or any other tangible benefit from this story.  I am just a fan who enjoys taking the team out for an adventure every now and then.  

Summary: Max comes face-to-face with his painful past during what they thought was a routine mission.

Prologue

The black limousine pulled up in front of the sprawling complex, its brown-and-yellow pillars home to the country’s entire government headquarters. The leader bid goodbye to his driver, exited the vehicle, and walked toward the front door of the palace.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted the guard who was standing sentry at the door.

“Mister President,” the guard returned, as he stood aside and allowed the leader to pass.

He walked toward his private quarters located far on the west end. He took out his key to unlock the entry door; despite the complex being guarded at all times, he felt extra secure knowing that his own door was locked when no one was there.

As he opened the door and walked inside, his right foot stepped on something hard. Instinctively, he reached down and picked it up with his right hand.

“What’s this?” he asked out loud. Only then did he realize that it was a small-caliber handgun, equipped with a silencer.

“What the hell?” he cried out in surprise, dropping the gun as if it were hot to the touch, and then a moment later sighing in relief that it hadn’t discharged. He felt something gritty on his hand, and he looked down to discover that his right hand was now covered in black powder where it had touched the gun.

As he studied his hand intently, trying to figure out what had just happened, he heard the sound of sirens in the distance. It sounded as if they were getting closer and absently he wondered what could be going on in the city.

Suddenly, his eyes fell on a still form lying on the floor in front of him. He gasped in shock, rushed over to it, and knelt down. It was a young girl – she couldn’t have been more than twenty or so. And from the pool of blood still seeping from her left chest and the glassy, vacant appearance of her still-open eyes, she was unmistakably dead.

For a moment, he was lost in himself, with no awareness of anything that was going on around him. How could this have happened? In his quarters? Who was she? Who could have done this?

He didn’t even hear the sirens as they got closer and then stopped outside the complex. He heard nothing at all until the police burst through the still-open front door.

“Freeze, Mister President! You’re under arrest!” the policeman shouted in his native tongue.

The man offered little physical resistance as his hands were restrained and cuffed behind him.  He was too confused to protest.

“No!” he cried out. “You don’t understand! I didn’t do this! I don’t even know who she is!”

But his verbal protests fell on deaf ears as the officers forced him to the car and sped away.

 

Chapter 1

The black Escalade pulled off the side of the road near a large field where  half a dozen men were busy gathering a harvest. Jim Phelps exited the vehicle and was immediately aware of the brisk wind, which whipped at the sleeves of his faint blue shirt and prompted a thin sheen of gooseflesh on his exposed forearms.

Jim searched until his eyes fell upon the man wearing the red baseball cap. This was the one he’d been instructed to find.

Jim walked up to the unnamed man, who was holding a freshly harvested pineapple in his hand.

“I hear that it takes three years for a pineapple to fully mature,” Jim said, beginning the conversational codespeak.

The man in the red hat smiled. “That’s true,” he replied, “but the finished product is well worth the wait. We’ve harvested some beauties today. They’re over there in the back of that white pickup, if you want to take a look.”

Jim returned his smile and nodded his head, then he walked to the truck that the man had indicated. In the tailgate of the trunk were several banana boxes, each containing a handful of robust pineapples. Nestled among them was a single banana box that was lighter than the others, for it contained only the familiar black DVD player.

A quick glance around to make sure that no one was watching, then Jim scanned his thumbprint, entered the three-digit code, inserted the disc, and waited for the familiar voice to begin.

“Good morning, Jim,” began the voice. “Vietnamese President Nguyen Sang was arrested two days ago and charged with the murder of a Chinese university student who was found shot to death in his private quarters.”

Jim gazed at the split video screen. On the left side was a photograph of the President; on the right side a crime scene photo of the dead girl.

“Gunshot residue was found on Nguyen’s hand and his prints were found on the murder weapon; however, we believe he is being framed.”

The screen cut to video footage of a middle-aged, graying man addressing a group of people, as the voice continued. “The most likely suspect is this man, Tran Quang, Vietnam’s Prime Minister. He has openly expressed opposition to the comprehensive reforms and improved international relations that have taken place since the end of the war. Tran would like to end the diplomatic association with other countries that Nguyen has worked tirelessly to cultivate. Now that the President is behind bars, we believe Tran has plans to work towards this goal, though we have not yet been able to figure out what those plans are.

“Your mission, Jim, should you choose to accept it, is to determine whether President Nguyen was framed by Tran. And if Tran is guilty, to uncover and thwart his illicit plans and bring him to justice, thereby clearing the President’s name and restoring him to power.”

Jim’s mind was already racing as the voice ended with the familiar disclaimer.

“As always, should you or any of your IM Force be caught or killed, the Secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions. This disk will self-destruct in five seconds. Good luck, Jim.”

This time, Jim’s mind was not moving forward in time, contemplating what strategies he would use to complete the latest mission. No, this time, his mind was on one of his own, and the phone call he would be making momentarily.

He turned away from the black box just as the puff of smoke billowed from it.

*******

It was mid-morning. Max hadn’t been awake long; he was standing on the balcony, breathing in the crisp morning air, when he heard the telephone ringing in the adjacent room.

“This is Max,” he answered, his voice low.

“Good morning, Max.”

“Hey, Jim,” Max greeted as he recognized his leader’s voice. “Another mission?”

“Yes,” came the simple answer.

“All right. I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Max, wait.” Jim held up his hand as if Max could see it through the phone. “I wanted to let you know…the mission’s in Vietnam.”

There was a lengthy pause on the other end of the line as Max recalled the last time he’d been in Vietnam. He’d been only seventeen then, and almost singlehandedly had launched a successful quest to bring his brother back safely from the War.

“Max?” came Jim’s voice again, interrupting his reverie.

Max felt his blood pressure rising, but not because of the memories. True, Jim normally called each team member individually to let them know about the newest mission, but they usually had to wait until they gathered together to get all of the details. Max knew that Jim had singled him out with this additional information, and he was surprised to find himself a bit angry about that. Did Jim really think he would bow out of the mission and not be there for his team – his friends – just because of it’s location?

“I’ll be fine, Jim,” Max finally growled.  “Did you think I couldn’t handle it?”

“I know you can handle it.” Jim’s voice was gentle. “I just didn’t want you to be taken by surprise, that’s all.”

Jim waited for a few seconds. Max did not respond further, which in itself told Jim that he understood. “We’ll see you in an hour,” Jim added, and then broke the connection.

Chapter 2

“President Nguyen,” Jim began the briefing as he pulled up a photograph onto the large screen. “A charismatic leader, supportive of reform and diplomacy, and an ally of the United States. But right now, he sits in a Vietnamese jail accused of murder.”

Jim punched another button and the scene switched to a school picture of a young, attractive Oriental female.  “The dead girl is Susie Han,” he continued.

“What’s the connection between her and Nguyen?” Max wanted to know.

“Well, despite intensive interrogation, nobody’s been able to come up with one,” answered Nicholas. “Yet, all the physical evidence points to him.”

“No connection, no motive, a circumstantial case at best,” affirmed Jim. “In this country, it would barely be enough to even justify an arrest. But this is Vietnam,” he said, shooting a quick look at Max, “and the police do things differently here.”

“Yeah, especially when they answer to the Prime Minister, who has his own motive for wanting the President out of the way,” added Grant.

“Yes,” Jim replied, hitting yet another key. “This man.”

The hardened face of a graying man in his late forties zoomed into view.  Max glanced up casually at the man on the screen, and suddenly all of the color drained from his face.

Shannon, sitting across the room, was the first to notice. “What is it, Max?”

Max stood up quickly and bolted for the doorway. Grant and Nicholas half-stood, muscles tensed, ready to go after him. But Jim held up his hand, recalling the conversation they’d had an hour before.

“Wait,” he said quickly. “Give him a minute.”

A moment later, everyone heard a dull thump from the direction Max had gone. The sound frightened Nicholas, and he could bear to wait no longer. He stood and moved swiftly after Max.

“Nicholas!” Jim called to him, but Nicholas ignored him.

The others sat in stunned silence, the mission forgotten for the moment, each of them wondering about their friend but at the same time not wanting to overwhelm him. So they remained where they were, trusting that Nicholas would look after Max.

“Max!” Nicholas yelled to his friend. He went out the door and onto the veranda. Max was facing the wall, and as Nicholas watched, he drew back his fist to punch it a second time.

“Whoa! Easy, Max!” Nicholas said urgently as he grabbed Max’s forearm tightly, catching it in mid-motion.

Max turned around to gaze at Nicholas, fire in his eyes, and for a moment Nicholas was afraid that he might become the brunt of his friend’s anger. But, just as quickly, Nicholas decided that was a chance he was willing to take.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Nicholas felt the taller man’s arm begin to relax in his grasp. Nicholas eased up on his own grip, but did not release his friend.

“Here, sit down, let me look,” Nicholas’ voice was barely above a whisper as he gently guided Max to a deck chair and pulled up one beside him. He studied his friend’s knuckles, red and scraped where they’d made impact with the concrete.

“It’s fine,” Max grunted – the first words he’d spoken since he’d been inside – but he made no effort to pull his arm away.

He was right – it didn’t look as bad as it could have been, especially if he’d hit the concrete a second time.

Nicholas maintained his grasp on Max’s forearm and searched for his eyes with his own. “Max,” he said softly.

Max wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Max, look at me,” Nicholas pleaded.

“You should get back to the mission,” Max said quietly, still not looking at his friend.

Nicholas’ eyes snapped. “I don’t care about the mission!” he said harshly, causing Max’s eyes to rivet toward him. Nicholas shot Max a look which spelled out plainly that all he cared about at this moment was his friend.

Nicholas closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath to regain his composure , then sighed and opened his eyes.

“Max, talk to me,” he coaxed, his voice gentle once again, his hand moving from Max’s forearm to his broad shoulder. “Don’t shut me out. Tell me what’s going on.”

For a split second, Max’s muscles tensed, and Nicholas was afraid he was going to bolt again. But, instead, Max sighed heavily. Still, he said nothing.

“It’s the man in the photograph, isn’t it?” Nicholas ventured quietly.

Max nodded, almost imperceptibly.

“You know him.” That time, it wasn’t a question.

Another nod from Max, and Nicholas waited patiently, leaving the obvious question unasked but prepared to wait as long as it took for his friend to answer.

Max’s eyes met Nicholas’ for the first time since they’d been outside. “Tran was the bastard in charge of the POW camp that held my brother,” he said finally, his voice husky.

For a moment, he was back in ‘Nam, helping his wounded brother climb into the chopper, then turning and staring into the eyes of Tran Quang.

“I swore that I’d kill him if I ever saw him again,” Max continued with a shudder.

“Oh, Max,” Nicholas breathed. He didn’t say anything else, because he didn’t know what else to say.

They sat there in silence for another moment, Nicholas’ hand on Max’s shoulder.  Finally, Max turned to his friend and gave him a ghost of a smile.

“We’d better get back inside,” he advised as he got to his feet. “The others will be wondering what happened to us.”

Nicholas stood up, but hesitated. “Max, are you sure?”

“Thanks for not letting me break my hand,” Max said, squeezing Nicholas’ shoulder as his face curled into his trademark grin.

“Max, the mission…” Nicholas ventured, not really wanting to bring it up but knowing he had to. He needed to let Max know he’d understand if the mission was too personal and he didn’t feel like he could go along. Hell, the two had worked together for so long now that Nicholas wasn’t even sure he could do it without his friend.

Max’s smile faltered slightly. “We have a job to do, Nicholas, and we’ll do it, just like any other mission.”

“Yes, but will you be all right?” he persisted.

“I’ll be okay, buddy,” Max replied, trying to sound reassuring but failing somewhat. “Go let the others know. I…I need a moment. Then I’ll be down.”

He left Nicholas with an affectionate shoulder slap and dashed upstairs to the restroom to compose himself. Nicholas walked back into the briefing room where the others were waiting.

“What’s wrong with Max?” Grant demanded.

“Is he all right?” Shannon asked at the same time.

“Tran is the man who held his brother captive at the POW camp,” Nicholas answered quietly.

Grant cursed softly and Shannon turned pale. Jim dropped his head. He had known the mission was in Vietnam, had even asked Max about it beforehand, but even he had had no idea that the same person involved in his brother’s abduction would be an integral part of the mission at hand. For once, he hadn’t done his homework well enough; if he’d dug deeper into his background, he would have known the connection.

“We have to abort the mission,” Jim vowed. “We can’t put Max through this, and we won’t do it without him.”

Jim leaned over to push a button on his keyboard.

“NO!” Max yelled, having heard Jim’s comment, as he ran down the stairs.

“Max, you don’t have to do this,” Jim raised a hand in the air to emphasize his point.

“You’re wrong, Jim,” replied Max, and the two tall men stood eye to eye. “I do have to do this. We have to stop this guy before he kidnaps or kills someone else.”

“But, Max,” Jim persisted, and Max knew he was referring to his reaction from a few moments earlier – how he’d flown off the handle at seeing the man’s photograph.

“It caught me off guard, Jim, that’s all. I just wasn’t expecting to see the bastard’s face on the screen. I’m okay now.”

“Max.” It was obvious that Jim was treading carefully, trying to keep his voice calm and even and trying not to anger Max again.  “This mission will be dangerous – for all of us, but moreso for you. Are you sure you can handle it?”

Max looked around at his four friends and teammates, and saw the concern and empathy showing on all four faces.  He didn’t have to ask if they had his back; he just knew.

“I’ll be all right,” he answered Jim with a slight grin, “with a little help from my friends.”

Chapter 3

Nguyen Sang sat in his prison cell, dejected.  How could they possibly think that he would be capable of murdering anyone? He’d never even seen that girl before in his life!

The door opened and another uniformed officer entered the cell block. Interpol, he surmised, judging from the uniform. How many more times was he going to be interrogated? Hadn’t he already answered all of their questions?

“Mister President,” Max greeted the prisoner, “I would like you to answer some questions.”

“I have nothing to say to you that I haven’t already said to everyone else,” Nguyen replied.

Max stood nose to nose with him. “Humor me,” he sneered.

“Why does it matter?” he asked. “The others didn’t believe me, and you won’t believe me, either.”

Max pretended to lose his patience, and his blue eyes popped. “It matters because Susie Han’s family deserves to find out why their daughter was murdered!” he said, his voice tight. “So why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me exactly what happened.”

The President sighed. “I was at a meeting in the city,” he began, for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past two days. “Several of my dignitaries saw me there. We finished up around four in the afternoon, and my driver brought me straight back to my quarters so we got here around four-thirty.  That’s when I found the girl. I had never seen her before in my life. Before I could comprehend what had happened, the police were there to arrest me.”

“How did she get into your quarters?” Max asked.

“I don’t know!” the President insisted. “There is a doorman, Van Phan, who guards the front door, but I have the only key to my living area.”

“And you didn’t shoot the gun?”

“Officer, I have never discharged a weapon in my entire life. I wouldn’t even know how!”

Max feigned exasperation. “Then how do you explain your fingerprints on the handgun?”

“It was lying in the floor when I stepped inside my quarters,” Nguyen answered. “I stepped on it, then I picked it up before I realized what it was.”

“And the gunshot residue on your hand?”

“The gun was covered in it and it got on my hand when I picked it up.”

“One last question, for now,” Max sneered. “Can you think of anyone who would want to frame you for murder?”

The President paused for a moment to consider the question, for it was one that none of the previous officers had ever asked.

“I’m a powerful man, officer,” he finally replied, his voice quiet as he considered the implications of his response. “There are many who would like to see me lose that power. It’s impossible to identify all of them. Even my second in command would like to take over the presidency. So if you intend to investigate everyone who might want to frame me, then you’ve got a great deal of work ahead.”

Max nodded slightly. “This isn’t over, Mister President,” he growled. “I will be back.” And he exited the cell block and disappeared.

*******

Through the tiny microphone embedded in Max’s lapel pin, the other four team members listened intently as he interrogated the prisoner. When he was finished, Grant looked up at Jim.

“It’s the same story he’s told every officer who’s questioned him,” he affirmed. “He hasn’t changed one single detail.”

Jim began to pace, as he often did when his mind was racing. “So let’s look at this from the beginning. Nguyen’s presence at the meeting has been corroborated by multiple sources. His alibi is rock-solid until four p.m., and it’s a thirty-minute drive back to his quarters.”

“The girl was still bleeding out when the President arrived,” continued Nicholas, “so she had to have been killed just before he got back home.”

“Yeah, the time of death and his arrival were so close together that the coroner couldn’t say for sure which came first,” Grant agreed.

“And the fingerprints and gunshot residue were all terribly convenient,” Shannon added. “The President ‘s explanation for how it happened is as plausible as anything else.”

“I don’t think he’s lying, Jim,” agreed Max, who by this time had arrived back at base camp. “I think he honestly doesn’t have a clue what happened.”

“Well, we all heard him mention the Prime Minister as being one who’d have a motive to get him out of power,” Grant recalled. “But the one who seems to have the closest access to the President ‘s private living space is the doorman.”

“Van Phan,” Jim mused, and after a moment in thought he turned to his team.

“Max, I think it’s time you and Nicholas pay the doorman a visit.” After the two agents nodded their acknowledgement, Jim turned to Grant and Shannon.

“Shannon, how much of your Secret Service training do you remember?” It was a rhetorical question, and Shannon knew it. She smiled in response.

“Let me make a phone call,” Jim grinned. “I need to let the Prime Minister know that the United States is so concerned about his safety that we are sending two of our best Secret Service agents to offer protection until this investigation is over.”

“Do you think he’ll go for that, as much as he hates the West?” Nicholas asked, his brow furrowing.

“I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse,” Jim winked.

Chapter 4

Thirty minutes later, Nicholas had donned an Interpol uniform similar to Max’s and the two of them set off for the Presidential Palace. Max, who was driving, was unusually quiet on the way over. Nicholas tried a couple of times to make small talk, but Max appeared lost in his own thoughts and did not respond.

“Max?” Nicholas ventured, concern heavy in his voice. “Are you all right?”

After a moment, Max snapped out of his reverie and glanced over at his worried friend. “I was just thinking about Ray,” Max replied quietly.

Nicholas still didn’t know a great deal about Max’s personal life, even after several years of working together. What he did know was that even though Max had rescued his brother from the POW camp years before, Raymond Harte had never been the same. The demons that had first laid claim to him during the War had finally taken him several years earlier, and Nicholas could only imagine how devastated Max had been at the death of his only sibling.

The grief was crippling and quite fresh when Max was approached by the IMF to become a permanent part of Jim Phelps’ current team. In fact, it was the grief that spurred him onward; running missions was Max’s way of helping make things right with the world, after they had gone so wrong for his brother. Max knew that’s what Ray would have wanted.

And Max’s team – Grant, Jim, Shannon, like Casey before her, and Nicholas…so much like his lost brother…had become his friends, in their own way helping Max to move past his sadness and find joy and purpose in life again.  Max often remembered his brother, but not in the same way as before; in fact, the crippling grief hadn’t come to visit in a long time.

But now, being back in the country where Ray had spent so much time as a prisoner, going up against the man Max still blamed for taking his brother from him…this mission had brought it all back.

Nicholas knew this – he could sense it. And he knew there wasn’t much to offer his friend in terms of words of sympathy.  Normally eloquent in speech, it was times like these when words failed him.

Nicholas reached over to place his hand on Max’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Max,” he said sincerely.

Max glanced again at Nicholas and affection shone along with the tiny tears in his eyes.

“Thanks, pal,” he replied warmly. Nicholas hadn’t tried to get him to talk about it, hadn’t given him platitudes about how it was all going to be okay. He had simply let Max know he was there, and Max appreciated that so much.  He knew that if he ever felt like talking about Ray, Nicholas – or any of the others – would be right there to listen.

As Max pulled the car into the parking lot of the Presidential Palace, he once again shoved his feelings into that tiny corner of his heart where they would be safely tucked away for the moment. He had a job to do, a mission to complete.

Nicholas, who was watching him intently, marveled at how quickly and smoothly Max was able to snap back into mission mode. Max flashed him a smile and reached over to slap his friend’s shoulder affectionately. “Let’s do this,” he urged, getting out of the car.

Nicholas smiled. It was game on, again, Max’s mind focused back to the task at hand and his grief set aside for the time being.  Nicholas was pretty sure that before this mission was over, Max would need all of them again, and he would be right there to help. But for now, they had an assignment to finish.

*******

“Who are you and what’s your business here?” The man standing at the front door didn’t even attempt to be friendly.

“We’re from Interpol,” Max answered gruffly. “We’re here to ask you some questions. Is there someplace we can talk?”

“I can’t leave my post,” answered the doorman.

“Then we’ll talk here,” Nicholas responded haughtily. “Let’s start with your name.”

“I have nothing to say to you people,” growled the doorman. “Besides, if you’ve talked to the President, you should already know my name.”

“Mister Van,” Max grunted, recalling the Vietnamese custom of addressing someone by their first name. “Too bad being a wise guy isn’t a crime or I’d lock you up now.”

“Easy, partner,” Nicholas soothed. He flashed Van a wide grin as the teammates settled into their own version of good cop, bad cop. “You’ll have to excuse my partner here. He gets a little excited sometimes. Now, Mister…Van, was it? Why don’t you tell us what you know about the day Susie Han was killed.”

“The President killed her and got arrested,” Van replied vaguely. “What more is there to say?”

“How did she get into his private chambers?” Max questioned. “Did someone let her in?”

Van bristled at the insinuation. “Yes, the President himself. She came home with him after his meeting. Or whatever.”

“The President says he hadn’t seen her before, and his driver says she didn’t come home with him,” Nicholas disagreed.

“Well, then, the President is lying and his driver is lying for him!” Van protested vehemently, as large beads of sweat began to pop out from his forehead.

Nicholas and Max exchanged a glance. The doorman was nervous.

Playing a hunch, Nicholas took advantage. “So, let me get this straight. The President returns from his meeting, with Miss Han in tow, then shoots her shortly after arriving here.”

Van nodded.

“And the police showed up right away?”

Van nodded again as his face flushed; clearly, he could see where this was going.

“Who called them?”

Van was quiet for a moment. “I guess someone heard the gunshot,” he shrugged.

“Wrong answer, pal,” Max sneered. “There was a silencer. Nobody heard anything. Try again.”

“Well…uh…” he stammered, and the agents could tell he was trying frantically to make up a story.

Max grabbed Van by the collar and pinned him up against the door.  “Now would be a good time to start telling the truth,” he growled.

Van cast a wary look toward Nicholas. “He won’t hurt me, will he?” he whined.

Nicholas shrugged and smirked. “It could go either way, depending on the mood he’s in.”

“All right, all right, I called them.”

Max released his grip on Van. “Why would you do that?”

“I didn’t like the way he looked at her,” Van answered, not meeting his eyes.

“I don’t believe you,” said Max, his blue eyes popping.

“Look, we don’t believe you did this by yourself,” Nicholas soothed, trying to sound sympathetic toward the young doorman. “Just tell us who you’re covering for, and my friend there will leave you alone.”

Van cast a wary eye at Max but said nothing.

“Was it the Prime Minister?” Max asked suddenly.

“You’ll get nothing else out of me! I’ve said too much already!” Van said stoically, but the look in his eye said that Max had hit pay dirt.

Max, hoping Van would implicate Tran, leaned heavily on the doorman for a bit longer; however, the latter said nothing more. Finally, Nicholas laid a gently restraining hand on Max’s shoulder.

“Let it go, partner,” he said softly, not wishing to attract any more attention. “We’ve got all we’re going to get out of this one.”

Max felt his muscles relax, but he couldn’t resist giving Van one more intimidating look before following Nicholas back to the car.

Once the door was closed and Max had put the car in drive, Nicholas pulled out his communicator.

“Did you get all that, Jim?”

“Every word,” Jim replied, “and so did Grant and Shannon. Looks like Tran is our guy, all right. Hopefully we can find something to help us take him down.”

Nicholas shot a glance at Max, who was gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white.

“Max, if you want me to drive…”

Max, realizing Nicholas was staring at him worriedly, relaxed his grip on the wheel and smiled at his friend. “I’m fine, Nicholas.”

He knew Nicholas didn’t believe him…for that matter, he didn’t believe himself…but they both pretended it was the truth and rode back to base camp in silence.

Chapter 5

The phone rang.

“Yes?” Tran Quang answered.

“Your Excellency?”

“That’s right. Who is calling?”

“I’m with the United States Government,” Jim replied smoothly.  “We have heard about the unfortunate incident involving your President.  Your country has become a trusted ally of ours, and we would like to send you two of our finest Secret Service agents to assist with your protection.”

“Thank you, sir, but that won’t be necessary,” Tran responded.

“It’s just until the investigation is complete,” insisted Jim.

“But the investigation is complete, sir,” replied Tran. “The President has been arrested for murder and will be sentenced soon.”

“Forgive me,” countered Jim, “but we have heard that there may be more to the incident than first appeared. There are people who believe the President is innocent.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Tran said flippantly, then checked himself. “I still don’t believe it’s necessary to send Secret Service here.”

“It’s for your own protection, Mister Tran. You are the acting President while Nguyen is in custody. If there is more to this incident than meets the eye, you could very well be in danger, too.”

Then Jim paused, allowing his voice to drop a few decibels in pitch. “Unless, of course, you know something about this investigation that you haven’t disclosed.”

“No. Oh, no,” the Prime Minister said – perhaps too hastily, he thought a moment later. He closed his eyes and sighed. There was only one thing left to do.

“Very well, sir. We look forward to their arrival.”

“Good. You can expect them first thing in the morning. I’ll be faxing their credentials later today.”

“What was that all about?” one of Tran’s subordinates demanded when he hung up the phone. “Secret Service agents? Here? From the United States?”

“I had no choice,” Tran hissed. “To refuse their coming would have aroused suspicion.”

“And you don’t think that they will be suspicious when they get here?”

“Maybe,” Tran conceded, “but it would be in their best interest to keep their noses to themselves. Otherwise, they might just meet with a very unfortunate accident.”

*******

As Jim hung up the phone with Tran, Grant grinned and shook his head. Jim was good – very good indeed. He could talk just about anyone into just about anything.

Grant waited for the inkjet printer to print out the dossiers for himself and Shannon, as they prepared to go undercover as Secret Service agents in Tran’s compound.

Later, when Nicholas and Max returned to base camp, the team plotted their next moves over dinner.

“Tomorrow is going to be a busy day,” Jim advised his team as the hour grew late. “We’ll have to be on our guard, and so we should all try to get some rest.”

And with that, the five team members went to their respective rooms within the suite that was base camp and settled down for the night.

Chapter 6

The flamethrower was heavy against his back as he slithered in the tall grass on his stomach like a snake. It seemed like every move took forever and only carried him mere inches. But he would not, could not give up. Ray was in that shack somewhere, and he wouldn’t stop until his brother was safe. He hadn’t flown 8600 miles to return empty-handed.

He paused for breath, lifting his head just enough to discern three armed soldiers standing sentry outside the camp. He cast his gaze toward the left and spotted a wooden frame – the remnant of an old structure of some kind, obviously uninhabited now. It would make the perfect target for a diversion.

In one fluid motion, Max rose to a crouching position, took aim, and shot toward the frame. It exploded in a ball of fire as he flopped on his stomach again.  The three guards and two others from inside, as he’d hoped, dashed toward the fiery mess to try to ascertain what had just happened.

Max’s second shot, without a doubt, eliminated all of them. None could have survived the subsequent inferno. But Max couldn’t think about that. This had been a war, after all. Casualties were to be expected. The only person that mattered was Ray.

Max broke into a run toward the shack, the flamethrower forgotten. There were no guards to threaten him as he kicked in the door.

The inside of the shack was dim and cloudy, as if the fog had settled within. Max’s ice blue eyes searched intently, darting back and forth across the room until they settled on a familiar figure.

“Ray!” Max hissed, crouching beside his brother.

Ray was barely conscious, looking up at Max with almost unseeing eyes, saying nothing.  Max quickly surveyed his brother for injuries, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of blood seeping around Ray ‘s right kneecap. There was no way his brother was walking out of here under his own power.

Max didn’t dare think that he’d taken out every single guard with his weapon; someone was bound to be close by.  There was no time to waste.

Max pulled Ray up as best he could and slung him across his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Then he moved as swiftly as he could toward the place where he’d hidden the chopper, half a mile away.

It was slow going. Ray was six years older and outweighed his teenage brother by thirty pounds. But Max was muscular and strong, even at seventeen, and that strength combined with the pure adrenaline that coursed through his veins spurred him on.

As he approached the chopper, he could hear the shouting behind him, and the gentle wisping of someone moving through the tall grass. But he couldn’t stop, couldn’t turn around.  He hoped it wasn’t an army, and that whoever it was didn’t shoot his legs out from under him.

Almost there now. Just a few more yards. Ray ‘s body was like dead weight, but Max trudged on. Finally, he reached the passenger door, flung it open, and pushed his wounded brother inside. He slammed the door and turned…and came face to face with the man that his gut told him was the leader of the POW camp.

But then suddenly, the scene shifted, and the man’s face aged twenty years, morphing into the photograph of Tran Quang that Jim had shown during the team briefing. He smirked at Max.

“So, Mister Harte,” he jeered. “We meet again, after all these years.” Tran cocked a silver sawed-off shotgun and aimed it at Max’s head.

“I’ll kill you,” Max growled, “just like I promised.” He felt for a weapon, but he didn’t find one…where the hell was his weapon?

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” Tran replied condescendingly, “but not before you get to watch all of your friends die.”

Then Tran removed the gun from Max’s head and turned to his right. Max’s face blanched in horror as he saw all four of his teammates bound and gagged, in sitting positions against a rock wall.

Tran took aim at one – Max couldn’t tell who – and pulled the trigger.

“NO!” Max shouted as the gun went off.

******

“NO!” Max yelled aloud, sitting bolt upright in bed at the sound of the gunshot.

For a moment, he was confused, didn’t know where he was or what he was doing there. The room felt strange; everything felt strange. His breathing was coming in rapid, heavy gasps, his heart racing within his chest.

He was vaguely aware of his door opening, the light from the hallway streaming in, and a figure moving swiftly across the room.

“Max?” Grant whispered, and he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. Max flinched slightly, startled by the touch. “It’s okay, buddy. It’s just me,” he continued softly. “You’re safe now.”

Slowly, Max blinked his eyes and looked around. There was no chopper, no Tran, no shotgun. He was in bed, and Grant was sitting beside him, his eyes filled with worry – not trussed up against a wall with his other teammates waiting to be shot.

“Had a dream,” Max growled, his voice low in both pitch and volume.

“More like a nightmare,” Grant responded. He could hear Max’s rapid breathing, feel his body trembling beneath his hand, and almost hear Max’s heart pounding in his chest. Though his vitals were slowly returning to normal, his friend was no less alarmed. “You all right?”

Max nodded, though he wasn’t sure he believed it yet. “I will be,” he amended.
“You wanna talk about it?”
Max was torn. He didn’t want to burden his friend – not in the middle of the night. But part of him needed to know for sure – needed for Grant to tell him – that his teammates were safe.

“I was getting my brother out of the camp,” Max replied slowly, “and I came face to face with Tran. Except suddenly…” Max shuddered at the recollection, and Grant ‘s grip on his shoulder tightened. “…suddenly it wasn’t Ray in danger.” His eyes, liquid with fear and worry, met Grant ‘s own. “It was all of you.”

“We’re all here, Max,” Grant assured him quickly, knowing this is what he needed to hear. “Everybody’s fine.”

Max let out a heavy sigh of relief, but then his breath caught as he realized where they were and what they would be doing today.

“Grant,” he said urgently, “you and Shannon have to be extremely careful today. This guy’s dangerous.”

Grant had his own apprehension about the mission ahead, but tried to put on a brave face for his friend. “We’ll be careful,” he promised with a smile, touched by Max’s concern. “And we’ll be in constant communication with Jim.”

Grant felt a yawn forming and tried his best to stifle it but was mostly unsuccessful.

“I’d better let you get some rest,” Max murmured. “I’m okay now,” he added at Grant ‘s questioning look.

“Are you sure? ‘Cause if you need anything…” Grant let his voice trail off as he studied his friend.

Max smiled bravely. “I’m fine, Grant, really. In fact, I think I could go back to sleep.”

“All right, then,” Grant said, somewhat reluctantly, as he gave Max’s shoulder an extra squeeze and got up from the bed. “But if you need me, I’m right across the hall.”

“Thanks, buddy,” Max replied sincerely, as he adjusted the bedcovers and rolled over.

Grant lingered one more moment, and then walked out into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind him.

Grant was only half surprised to find Nicholas standing in the hallway outside his room.

“Is Max okay?” he whispered to Grant.

Grant nodded. “Nightmare,” he explained simply. “He thought Tran was coming after all of us. But I think he’s all right now.”

“He’s such a worrywart,” Nicholas pretended to scoff, but his voice was filled with affection for his protective teammate.

Grant looked Nicholas dead in the eye and grinned slightly. “Look who’s talking,” he teased. “Go back to bed, Nicholas. Tomorrow’s a big day.”

Grant disappeared into his room and closed the door.  Nicholas followed suit, but as he lay back down he knew that Grant was right.  Sleep would be slow in returning, for Nicholas’ mind was preoccupied with concern for his friend.

Chapter 7

Everyone was up early the next morning to go over the day’s activities and to see Grant and Shannon off on their assignment.

Jim had gotten up first to prepare breakfast for the team. Shortly afterward, Nicholas came trudging downstairs. Jim turned to smile a good morning, but then his smile faded somewhat. Nicholas did not look very well-rested.

“Fresh coffee,” Jim commented, pointing toward the pot. “You look like you could use some,” he added, his way of expressing concern for his friend’s appearance.

“Thanks,” Nicholas replied as he prepared a cup. Jim held his gaze, the unspoken inquiry obvious. Nicholas sighed heavily.

“Max had a nightmare,” he explained simply.

“Tran?” Jim asked quickly.

“Yeah,” he replied.

Jim dropped his head, once again chiding himself about accepting the mission in the first place.

“He’s worried about all of us,” Nicholas continued, after taking a sip of coffee.

“And we’re all worried about him,” replied Jim, knowing without doubt how much sleep Nicholas had probably lost.  He looked up, and his blue eyes locked with the brown ones of his friend. “I wish I’d turned down this mission.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Jim,” Nicholas soothed, trying to comfort his leader. “Yes, you knew the mission was here in Vietnam, but you didn’t know about Tran. And you know Max would never walk away from the chance to help someone else, regardless of who we were up against.”

“I know,” Jim responded. “That’s why he’s so valuable to our team. I just worry that this one is too personal for him…that it will interfere with his ability to carry out the mission.”  It was a fear that Jim had carried all along, but he wouldn’t have spoken it aloud to anyone else.

Nicholas shook his head. “You know better than that, Jim. He was okay yesterday.”

Jim nodded, conceding the point.

“He’s just going to need all of us to help him get through this,” Nicholas continued.

“We’re all going to need each other,” Jim countered. “But sticking together is what makes us a stronger team.”

Jim gave his friend an affectionate shoulder slap and then grew quiet as they heard noises drifting down the stairs.  The others were awake.

Max showed no obvious signs of his restless night, though there was a certain tiredness in his eyes if one looked close enough, and he didn’t mention anything about his dream.
In fact, the only indication that anything was out of the ordinary came as Grant and Shannon were leaving to head toward the Presidential Palace to meet with Tran Quang.

When Max stood to bid Grant goodbye, his handshake was a little too tight; when he reached to hug Shannon, he squeezed her so hard she could barely breathe.  Then he took a step backward and gazed deeply into both their eyes.

“Promise me you’ll be extremely careful, all right?” he pleaded, his voice low but barely audible. “This guy is volatile and dangerous, believe me. Don’t take any chances, but keep in touch with us as much as you possibly can. And watch out for each other. All right?”

Jim opened his mouth, about to make a comment about how fussing over the team was his job, but caught a pointed look from Nicholas and closed it again.

“We’ll be careful, Max, we promise,” Shannon said sincerely, her stomach lurching a bit upon seeing the hint of moisture in his eyes.

Max grabbed her hand impulsively and squeezed it again before running upstairs to compose himself, as Grant and Shannon went on their way.

Nicholas watched Max go, fighting the urge to go after him.  He sighed heavily and walked to his corner of the room, where he began to analyze the features and vocal nuances of the doorman he and Max had confronted the day before.  Every few seconds, he paused to glance up the stairs, until finally he heard footsteps and saw Max’s tall figure come into view.

The blonde agent ran a hand through his hair and walked over to Nicholas’ corner, pulling up a seat behind him at his left shoulder.  Nicholas turned slightly in his chair until he could see his friend.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

Max managed a smile. “Yeah,” he answered.

Nicholas returned the smile and turned back toward his computer. Grant must have told him about the dream, he reasoned, given his concern.  Grateful for that, but also for the fact that Nicholas didn’t push a conversation with him, Max reached out and gave Nicholas an impromptu slap on the shoulder.

*******

“What’s with Max?”  Shannon asked Grant once they had pulled out onto the road.

“He had a nightmare last night that Tran was after all of us,” Grant explained softly.

Shannon was quiet for a moment, biting her lip and fighting to maintain her composure. “Bless his heart,” she whispered.  There was nothing else to say, and she couldn’t allow herself to get to caught up in her feelings toward Max right now. They had a job to do, and they would have to stay on their toes in order to succeed…and survive.

Chapter 8

“So,” Tran greeted, “you must be the American agents. I was told to expect your arrival.”

“Special Agent Grant McDowell,” Grant announced with a firm handshake. “This is Special Agent Shannon Reynolds.”

“How do you do?” Shannon smiled as the Prime Minister took her hand.

“You must be Prime Minister Tran,” said Grant.

Tran smiled. “That’s correct,” he replied. “Please, come in.”

As Grant and Shannon entered the large building and looked around, Tran’s smile faded slightly.

“Please do not misunderstand me, agents. I am grateful for your protection, however unnecessary it may be. But I am a very busy man, and I have private matters to take care of behind closed doors. I trust that won’t be an issue.”

“Your Excellency,” replied Grant smoothly, “we are here to offer protection, not to interfere with your business. If you will permit me to check your office over to make sure it’s safe – no bombs or bugs or anything like that – then you are welcome to do whatever you need to do. We will not bother you.”

“See to it, then,” Tran replied, with a wave of his hand.

To Grant ‘s surprise, Tran turned and walked into the next room, leaving Grant unsupervised. He met Shannon’s eyes and grinned.

“Like putty in my hands,” he muttered under his breath. He entered Tran’s private office as Shannon followed Tran.

Grant silently walked around Tran’s office, knowing Tran was blissfully unaware that he was planting bugs instead of eliminating them.

Less than five minutes later, with all of the listening devices planted, including the tiny remote access flash drive on the back of Tran’s computer, Grant finished his sweep just as Tran walked back into his office.

“All clear, Your Excellency,” Grant smiled at the Prime Minister.

“Very good,” replied Tran. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there are some things which require my immediate attention.”

“Of course,” answered Shannon. “Would you like for us to stand guard here?”

Tran, appalled at the idea that the agents might be in a position to eavesdrop on his private conversations, shook his head vehemently.

“Absolutely not,” he replied, waving his hand again. “Why don’t you go somewhere? Is it time for lunch yet?”

“But, Your Excellency,” Shannon protested, “we couldn’t possibly leave the premises.”

Tran huffed in disgust. These agents were turning out to be quite inconvenient.

“Fine,” he conceded. “There’s a lounge two rooms over.  Make yourself at home. I have some phone calls to make.”

Then Tran disappeared into his office and closed and locked the door behind him.

As soon as Grant heard the door lock, he pulled out his communicator.

“Jim,” he whispered, “we’re all set. He’s in his office.”

“Nice job,” Jim replied, as he punched a few buttons on Grant ‘s computer and linked up to the listening devices in the room and on Tran’s phone. “How’s it going there?”

“So far, so good, but he’s not happy that we’re here,”  Grant replied.

Almost immediately, Jim could hear the faint but unmistakable ticking of telephone keys being punched.

“He’s making a call,” Jim said, his voice tight as he broke off the communication with Grant to listen in.

To Jim’s chagrin, the exchange took place entirely in Vietnamese. He was able to catch a word here and there, as well as a handful of Vietnamese surnames, but otherwise didn’t have a clue as to what the two gentlemen were discussing. Thankfully, Jim knew, everything was being taped and Grant would be able to run it through a translator when he returned from his assignment later tonight.

For the moment, they were no closer to knowing the details of Tran’s scheme than they had been before. Only Grant knew the innermost workings of his computer system well enough to decipher everything, and right now he was needed right where he was. There was, however, one thing that they could do.

“I think it’s about time we turn up the heat on His Excellency,” Jim said resolutely.  “Nicholas, how soon will you be ready?”

“Almost there, Jim,” Nicholas replied, looking up from his work. “Give me half an hour.”

Jim nodded in satisfaction.

*******

Forty minutes later, Nicholas was in character, and he and Max were pulling into the parking lot of the Presidential Palace.  The doorman, Van, was standing in position as Max got out of the car.

Van’s face paled as he recalled the last time he’d seen Max. “What do you want from me, officer?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“I have a few more questions,” Max responded as he approached the doorman.  A split second later, Max whipped out the knockout gas and sprayed Van, catching him with his other hand as he fell.

Wordlessly, like a well-oiled machine, Max dragged the doorman’s body to the car as Nicholas, in character, assumed his post. Max whipped out his communicator.

“Jim,” he said tersely.

“Yeah, Max,” Jim replied.

“Nicholas is in position,” he advised.

“Good work,” Jim replied. “I’m about to make a phone call. Stand by.”

*******

Jim picked up the phone and dialed the Prime Minister’s number.  He was still in his office with the door closed.

“This is Tran.”

“Prime Minister Tran,” he greeted, disguising his voice slightly from the previous conversation, “this is Interpol.”

Tran’s heart flip-flopped for a second. “How may I help you, officer?”

“We are investigating the death of Susie Han,” Jim replied smoothly.

“I am aware of that,” responded Tran, “but I fail to see what that has to do with me. We already have the murderer in custody.”

“We have been speaking with a Van Phan,” said Jim, “and we would like to ask you some additional questions.”

Tran’s face paled, and Jim did not miss the hesitation in his voice.

“I am acting President, officer,” Tran snapped. “I’m a very busy man.”

“I understand, Your Excellency,” answered Jim. “We would be glad to come to you, if you prefer.”

“I’m afraid I’m in meetings for the next two days and I won’t be available. Could we make it Thursday?”

“We really need to talk to you before Thursday,” insisted Jim. “Can we catch you between meetings, perhaps?”

“Let me see if I can switch a couple of things around.” Tran’s voice was downright hateful now. “Then I will call you and let you know when.”

Before Jim could reply, Tran hung up.

Jim immediately pushed the page button on his communicator. If Grant wasn’t being observed, he would answer back.

“Yeah, Jim?” Grant responded instantly.

“I just spoke to Tran,” Jim replied. He may be about to make a move. Don’t hover too closely. Let’s see what he does.”

“Roger that.”

*******

Tran hung up the phone and cursed loudly in Vietnamese. That blasted doorman!  he thought to himself. I might have known he would crack at the first sign of pressure!

Tran knew that the police wouldn’t have any physical evidence linking him to the crime. Abducting the girl had been completely random, and he could never be traced to the gun. The only way they could ever catch him was if the damned doorman squealed.

From the sound of things, he’d already said too much. The police would catch up with him eventually, and there would be questions to answer. But if he could just put them off until Thursday, then it wouldn’t matter – the plan would already be in motion.

But what if he didn’t have till Thursday? What if that big mouth doorman talked so much that Interpol was on their way – despite his protests – to pick one of them up for further questioning right now? That would ruin everything.

And then there was the problem of those damned Americans. Part of him wanted to just kill them both right now, but he knew that would lead to big trouble – and trouble with other nations was exactly the kind of thing he was trying to avoid. So how could he get them off his back without making his problems worse?

Tran knew there were three things he had to do.

First, he jerked up the receiver and dialed a number, and when the voice answered he barked in Vietnamese:

“There’s been a change of plans. We meet tomorrow at the other location, at the same time. Let everyone know.”

He abruptly hit the button that ended the call and dialed a second number. He gave a brief order to his subordinate that he knew was half a block away, and then set out to do his final task.

Tran knew that the doorman had been at his post earlier this morning when the American agents had arrived. He was fairly sure that Interpol hadn’t been there today…yet. And if Tran had anything to say about it, they wouldn’t get any more information from the doorman at all.

Tran opened a drawer and pulled out a sawed-off shotgun. He screwed on a silencer and stuck it in the waistband of his pants.  Then he emerged from his office – and came face to face with Grant and Shannon.

It took all he had not to pull out the shotgun and blow them away right there.

“Your Excellency,” Grant greeted, flashing him a toothy white grin. “I trust you were able to get some things done.”

“Yes, of course,” replied Tran, trying hard to be civil. “Look, I have to go out. It’s a private matter. I won’t be needing your company.”

“But, Your Excellency-” Shannon protested.

“It’s a private matter!” Tran repeated through clenched teeth. “You can take the rest of the day off.”

“But we have been sent here to ensure your safety, Your Excellency,” persisted Grant.

“Look,” said Tran, growing impatient. “I’m a very powerful man. I’d be glad to contact your superiors in America and tell them all kinds of inappropriate things about the two of you, which they would believe. Now, if you want to have jobs waiting for you when you get back home, I suggest you get in your car and make yourself scarce.”

Grant ‘s blood boiled at the Prime Minister’s arrogance, but he kept his composure.

“Fine, fine,” he conceded, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. “Whatever you say, Your Excellency. We do not wish to make trouble. We will be back tomorrow.”

“Very well,” Tran sniffed, and he watched Grant and Shannon get into their car and pull out of the parking lot.  Only when they were out of sight did he set out to complete his task.

As Grant began to pull the car away from the Palace, Shannon hurriedly keyed the communicator.

“Guys, Tran just ran us off and he was in an awful hurry. He may be headed your way, Nicholas. Watch your back.”

Chapter 9

Nicholas, in character as the doorman, took a deep steadying breath as he watched Tran walking toward him. He took some comfort in knowing that Max was watching close by.

“Your Excellency,” Nicholas greeted, trying to mask the slight tremble in his voice.

Tran was in no mood for cordiality. “We need to talk,” he growled. “Inside.”

Nicholas, mindful of Max’s warning, complied without resistance.

As soon as they were inside the Palace, Tran pulled out his weapon, cocked it, and aimed it at Nicholas’ chest. “You shouldn’t have talked to Interpol.”

He fired once, and Nicholas’ body snapped backward and hit the floor.  Tran fired a second time into him, just to make sure he was dead.

He knew that the doorman’s death would arouse suspicion, but he couldn’t think about that now.  He  didn’t have the time nor the inclination to fabricate an elaborate frame as he had before.

Then, a sudden thought occurred to him, and an evil grin curled across his face. He wouldn’t have to create anything, after all. In a matter of moments, all he would have to do was get rid of the gun.

By the time Interpol caught up with him and started asking questions about the dead doorman, he would say that obviously he and the President planned and executed the murder together – that’s why the doorman tried to cast the blame on somebody else.  And those poor American Secret Service agents must have figured it out; they killed Van in a shootout and were on their way to report the incident when the tragic accident occurred….

The police would believe him.  After all, the two agents would not be around to defend themselves.

Tran turned and left the Palace, getting into his car and driving out of sight.

*******

Once Tran was gone, Max popped up from his hiding place and rushed to his friend, who lay stunned where Tran had left him.

“Nicholas,” he said tensely as he crouched beside him, “you all right?”

Max slipped an arm beneath his shoulders and helped him sit up, keeping his hand on Nicholas’ back in support. It took a moment, but eventually the disguised agent’s breath returned to him.

“Damn, that hurt,” Nicholas gasped with a wince, looking down at his shirt stained with the fake blood, grateful he’d taken Jim’s suggestion to wear the vest.

“I’d say so,” Max said in empathy. “Close range, real bullets…you’re gonna have a hell of a bruise.”

Nicholas grasped his friend’s hand and let the taller agent pull him to his feet. He managed a slight smile.  Satisfied that his partner was okay, Max reached for his communicator.

“Jim, you were right. Tran just left.”

“Nicholas?” Jim asked, sensing what had taken place.

“I’m fine, Jim,” Nicholas answered quickly, “though I’m sure Tran thinks the doorman is dead.”

As they entered their vehicle, Nicholas reached for a clean shirt and cast a glance at the still-unconscious Van Phan in the backseat.

“That’s what we want him to think. Grant?”

“We’re on his tail, Jim,” Shannon responded.

“Good. Keep him in sight, but don’t spook him. We know he’s armed.”

“Yeah, and angry,” added Grant. Then the communication was broken as Grant concentrated on keeping surveillance.

******

Tran glanced at his mirror, a slight grin on his face. He couldn’t see the Americans’ car, but he had little doubt they were following him. They were probably just skilled at surveillance ; he expected no less.

But it didn’t matter. If they were following him, they wouldn’t be much longer.

Tran guided his sedan up a long, fairly steep stretch of highway. As he began his descent on the other side of the peak, he tossed the shotgun out the open driver’s side window, then concentrated on manipulating the treacherous downhill curves.

*******

“Where the hell is he going?” Grant muttered as he coaxed the Jeep up the sharp grade. Finally, he reached the summit and started downward.

Immediately, Grant noticed that the other side of the mountain was just as steep and much more curvy, with a dangerous drop-off on the driver’s side. He lifted his foot from the accelerator and positioned it on the brake, pressing down harder as the Jeep picked up speed.

The pedal went all the way to the floor.

“Shannon!” Grant yelled out, his face paling as he frantically stomped the pedal to no avail.  “No brakes!”

Shannon was still holding the communicator. Almost unconsciously, she pushed the button.

“Jim!” she screamed. “We’re gonna crash!”

Chapter 10

“We gotta jump!” Grant yelled.

Instinctively Shannon opened the passenger door while thrusting all her weight against it, while Grant did the same on the driver’s side.

Shannon hit the pavement with a thud and was stunned for a moment. But her mind was on Grant. She didn’t know if he’d gotten out of the car; even if he did, he had bailed out on the side of the road that dropped off the mountain. Was he safe?

Shannon scrambled to her feet and shook off the rest of the cobwebs -just in time to hear a loud explosion. She shuddered involuntarily.

“Grant?” she screamed out his name as she ran to the opposite side of the road. She looked around frantically but did not see him. “GRANT!” she yelled at the top of her lungs, panic-stricken.

As she searched desperately for Grant, Shannon became aware of another voice…Jim’s voice! The communicator! She’d been holding it so tightly when she’d jumped; she hadn’t dreamed it had survived the impact with the pavement.

She pressed the button anxiously.

*******

“Shannon!” Jim’s voice was tense, his heart in his throat. “Shannon, are you all right?”

Max and Nicholas, who were also listening, exchanged a panicked look. Max pulled the Escalade over as they listened intently for any sign of a response from Shannon.

For several horrible moments, there was nothing.  Finally, they heard something.

“Jim! I can’t find Grant!”

“Shannon!” Jim cried out, fear rising up inside him. Consciously fighting to keep his voice calm, he continued. “Where are you, honey?”

“Mountain,” she stammered, breathing heavily from her frantic search. “Steep mountain…brakes failed…we jumped…Grant went over the side…”

“Oh, God,” Max cried, and his stomach lurched at the thought.

“She said a steep mountain,” Nicholas mused, his mind racing. “We didn’t see a mountain on our way in.”

“Has to be the other direction,” Max replied, following his partner’s logic. “Hang on, buddy.”

Max spun the Escalade around in the middle of the road with the skill of a race car driver and stomped the accelerator.

“Shannon,” Nicholas said softly. “Hang in there, baby, we’re coming.”

*******

Jim stared at the communicator for almost a minute after Shannon severed the connection to resume her search for Grant. Then he put it down on the desk, picked up a paperweight, and impulsively threw it across the room.

How could this have happened? he wondered. The team faced danger with every mission – prepared for it, even, the best way they could. They had anticipated that Tran would come after Nicholas with a gun; that’s why Jim had insisted he wear the bulletproof vest today. But who could have foreseen this?

The brakes weren’t supposed to fail. The Jeep wasn’t supposed to crash. Now Grant was missing – injured at best, and he didn’t want to think about the alternative….

Jim had worked with countless agents during his long IMF career.  Instinct had always told him that emotions were a hindrance to good teamwork, and that it was best to not get too close.  But this team was different.  They obviously cared about one another, even beyond the scope of the missions. And still, they were a hell of a team.  In fact, it was almost as if they were stronger because of their bond with one another, rather than in spite of it.

Jim certainly cared about each of them. Even though he’d remained stoic when Casey was killed – that was his job as team leader, after all – nobody had known how that loss had affected him. Each of the agents held a special place in his heart, but Grant was perhaps the most special to him.  Jim, after all, had worked with Grant’s father for years, and had watched Grant grow up.

When Barney passed away a couple of years before, Jim had been devastated at the loss of his close friend.  But having Grant there had helped lighten the burden; it was as if Barney were still around. Jim wasn’t sure what he would do – what any of them would do – if Grant were gone.

Jim cast his eyes heavenward, sending up a silent prayer that Barney would watch over his son and keep him safe, then waited anxiously for news from the rest of his team.

*******

“Grant!” Shannon yelled again. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been searching for him. It couldn’t have been longer than a few minutes, but it felt like hours.

She refused to allow herself to imagine that Grant had fallen hundreds of feet down the mountain to his death. Or, worse yet, that he hadn’t gotten out of the Jeep in time. It just wasn’t possible. He had to be alive somewhere!

Max and Nicholas are coming, she kept telling herself.  They’ll help me find him. And while she continued to search for Grant, she didn’t stray far from the point where he had to have jumped. Even if he were a good ways down the mountain, that would be the best starting point if they were going to find him.

*******

For Max and Nicholas, it also felt like an eternity, but finally they became aware that the road in front of the Escalade was inclining. At the same moment, they became horribly aware of something else.

“Look!” Nicholas pointed off in the distance at a plume of black smoke willowing up through the trees. The Jeep.

“We’re getting close,” Max’s voice was dangerously tense, his knuckles white from gripping the wheel.

Nicholas nodded. “Almost there, Shannon,” he told her. “Any sign of Grant?”

“No,” Shannon replied tearfully.

“We’ll find him,” Nicholas replied, not sure who he was trying to convince.

Suddenly the steep hill crested, and they could see Shannon a few yards away, peering over the embankment.  Max whipped the Escalade onto the right shoulder and he and Nicholas leaped out.

Max gave a silent prayer of thanks that the rappelling gear that he and Grant had used on their last mission was still in the Escalade. He began fishing it out while Nicholas ran to Shannon.

Shannon practically leaped into his arms. “Oh, Nicholas,” she said, as she began to weep softly. “This is where we jumped out. He’s got to be down here somewhere. We have to find him!”

“We will,” Nicholas assured her, squeezing her tightly once more before breaking free to help Max secure his rope onto a nearby tree. Max had hurriedly gotten into a safety harness, but there was no time to rig up a counterbalance.  If Grant, by some miracle, was clinging to life down there somewhere, then they didn’t have any time to spare.
Max nodded to indicate he was ready, but was stone silent as Nicholas helped him begin his descent, his mind solely focused on finding and rescuing his friend.

Slowly, Max made his way down the steep terrain, leveraging himself with his feet as he dodged the stiff briars and branches that impeded his path. He was probably thirty feet down when something off to his left caught his eye, and his breath shut off for a moment.

Grant was nestled in a crevice in the mountainside, hidden by an overhanging rock formation. He was clinging desperately to a mid-sized overhead branch, one foot delicately balancing on a jutting rock. It had been the only thing that had kept him from falling all the way down.

Max shuddered for a moment at the thought, but quickly regained his focus. He looked closely at his friend, not daring to touch him just yet for fear of disrupting his balance. Grant’s eyes were closed, and his entire body was a mess of blood and mangled clothing where the briars and branches had scraped him as he fell.

“Grant,” he whispered softly, so as not to startle him. “Can you hear me?”

Grant opened his eyes slowly.  “Max?” he rasped, his voice barely audible. “Is that really you?”

“I’m here, pal,” Max replied, sending up another silent prayer that his friend was alive. “What hurts?”

“Everything,” Grant answered, blinking his eyes slowly. He had very little strength remaining.

“Let’s get you out of here,” said Max urgently. There was no time for hesitation, but Max knew that if they didn’t do this right and he lost his grip…

Max shook off the thought. “How are the ribs?”

Grant winced. “Probably cracked,” he admitted, “but do what you have to do.”

Max couldn’t help but smile at his friend’s bravery. “All right,” he answered. “I’m going to put my arm around your waist and lift you a bit so you can let go of that branch. Then put your arms around my neck and we’ll go up, okay?”

Grant nodded slowly in understanding.

Max reached out and carefully wrapped his arm around his friend. As soon as he took the pressure off, Grant’s arms went around Max’s neck as he’d planned. But they barely held strength and Grant’s body was like dead weight in his grasp. It was all Max could do to hang on to him.

“Stay with me, buddy,” Max urged. He tilted his head upward and yelled to the top of his lungs. “Nicholas!”

Nicholas and Shannon, who’d been waiting anxiously for news of Grant, reacted immediately to Max’s voice.

“What is it, Max?” Nicholas yelled back, peering down the mountainside, his voice anxious.

“Grant’s alive,” Max responded, and Nicholas and Shannon both let out forceful sighs of relief. “I’ve got him, but you guys are going to have to help pull us up.”

Nicholas and Shannon didn’t even stop to consider the difficulty of the task. They just knew they had to do it.

“All right, Max,” Nicholas acknowledged. “Here we go.”

It was slow going. Max was able to boost off some with his feet, taking some of the pressure off, but it still took every ounce of strength in both of them. Finally, painfully, Max reached the roadside. Nicholas and Shannon each grabbed an arm and pulled Grant up as carefully as they could.

The danger now past, all four teammates were still for several seconds, catching their breaths. Max was the first to move.

“Let’s get out of here,” Max urged. He and Nicholas helped Grant to the Escalade and the four of them sped away.

Chapter 11

“I wonder where the hell you’d find a doctor in this city,” Max grumbled, while Nicholas used the communicator to let Jim know that Grant was safe.

“Max, please.” Grant, who was starting to regain his strength, held up a hand in protest. “No doctor. Just take me back to the suite.”

“But, Grant,” Shannon countered, squeezing his hand as she sat beside him, “you’re hurt.”

“A few bruises, lots of scrapes,” Grant managed a wry grin and then winced in pain, “maybe a cracked rib or two. But I’m pretty sure nothing’s broken. Besides, I can’t wait to take a look at that computer.”

“He won’t go,” Nicholas said aloud, doubtless responding to Jim’s question about Grant and medical attention. “He just wants nothing’s to come back to the suite.”

“I’m not sure that’s a bad idea, as long as he’s all right,” Jim responded thoughtfully. “The doctors here all answer to Tran, and it’s probably better if he thinks Grant and Shannon were killed in that crash.”

Grant shuddered at the memory of how close that was to being true, and Shannon squeezed his hand tighter in empathy. “I agree,” he said aloud.

Max saw the wisdom in Jim’s words and acquiesced, if only so that Tran wouldn’t come after his friends.  He turned the Escalade around in a wide place and headed back to base camp.

Nicholas stole a glance at Max and saw the hardened expression on his face. He knew that Max had been terribly worried about Grant, and the rescue had taken a lot out of him.  But the look in Max’s eyes said much more. Nicholas puzzled for a moment, but then suddenly, realization dawned on him.

“Max,” Nicholas said, his voice so soft that Grant and Shannon didn’t hear him, “you don’t think it was an accident, do you?”

Max gripped the steering wheel even tighter. “No, I don’t,” he answered softly, “and now it’s even more personal.”

*******

When they reached base camp, Grant insisted that he felt fine, albeit sore and tired. He and Shannon both indulged in warm baths and treated their abrasions with ointment, and Shannon wrapped tape around Grant’s upper body in order to cushion his sore ribs.
Afterward, the others tried to convince Grant to lie down and rest for awhile, but he insisted on taking a look at the computer files.

“Guys, listen. Tran was in his office for a long time making phone calls, and then he went after the doorman,” Grant said, casting a quick glance at Nicholas. “He’s obviously spooked…”

Yeah, thought Max, as he and Nicholas also exchanged a look, especially if he was also behind the Jeep accident.  It was a suspicion they hadn’t yet shared with the others.

“…and he may be about to make a move,” Grant was saying. “If I don’t figure things out now, we may miss our chance to nail him.”

Grant gazed at his four teammates, who still looked skeptical. He sighed heavily.

“Guys,” he smiled warmly, “I appreciate your concern, I really do. But I’m okay, I promise. Let me look at those files, and then I’ll rest. All right?”

Jim sighed and dropped his head. Grant could be so stubborn sometimes. Just like his father, Jim thought fondly. He knew further insistence would get him nowhere.

“Okay,” Jim relented. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

Everyone gathered around the computer as Grant went to work.

First, he located the audio file of the telephone call that Jim had heard entirely in Vietnamese and ran it through the translator program.  After a few moments, they were able to listen to the conversation in English.

“Tran is planning a meeting,” Jim observed, “and he’s been kind enough to leave us his guest list.”

Grant quickly jotted down the Vietnamese names that they’d heard Tran mention during the call.  There were six of them.

“Some of these are fairly common Vietnamese names,” Grant stated, “so  it might be hard to find the link. But a couple are quite unique, so we’ll start there.”

Grant punched a couple of buttons, and brought up two separate profiles.

“Well, now, this is interesting,” he commented. “Two of the guests he’s invited to this meeting are high-ranking officials…one in communications, and one in information security.”

Playing a hunch, Grant was silent for a few more moments while he conducted some more searches. Finally, he sat back in his chair and smirked in satisfaction. “Three others are also high ranking officials in their respective categories: transportation, commerce, and military.”

Grant looked up at the others. “The final name on Tran’s list belongs to the policeman who arrested President Nguyen for murder.”

“A coalition of seven, with the collective authority to control the nation,” mused Nicholas. “So what’s their agenda?”

“Maybe I can figure that out,” replied Grant. “Let’s see if there’s anything on Tran’s hard drive.”

After a few more moments, Grant hit pay dirt. Jim noticed his expression change subtly.

“Find something?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Grant replied, his voice low, “but you’re not gonna like it.”

He paused briefly. “We already know that Tran doesn’t like making nice with other countries and would like to return to the isolation and separation of pre-War Vietnam.” At nods from the others, he continued.  “According to the information I’ve uncovered, these seven men have been meeting for strategy sessions every couple of weeks for the last six months.  Now that the President is incapacitated and Tran’s in charge, they are planning one last meeting to finalize their strategy. Then the seven of them will essentially shut off Vietnam from the outside world completely.”

“With Tran having full authority,” Nicholas finished. “A veritable dictator.”

“Taking military action against whatever country decides to initiate a challenge,” added Shannon.

“And locking up people in POW camps just for the hell of it,” Max muttered, raking a hand through his blond hair and walking away from the rest of the team.

Nicholas knew Max was thinking about Ray and started after him, but Jim laid a gentle but restraining hand on his shoulder.

“Let him go,” he whispered. “He’ll be fine. He just needs a moment.”

Nicholas nodded reluctantly and turned his attention back to Grant.

“The meeting is scheduled for Thursday,” Grant was saying. “Three o’clock.”

“Day after tomorrow,” Jim confirmed, “so we have a little time. Did Tran make any other calls?”

Grant punched some more buttons and pulled up another audio file which he ran through the translator.  When the team heard the Prime Minister’s words in English, everyone’s heart skipped a beat.

“Jim, the meeting’s tomorrow!” Shannon said in disbelief. “And we don’t even know where!”

Chapter 12

“Hold on, Shannon,” cautioned Jim, holding up one hand and turning the other arm to glance at his wristwatch. “That still gives us a little over twenty-four hours.  And it makes sense that he’d stay away from the Palace now that he thinks Interpol is after him, but it shouldn’t be too hard to find the alternate location since we know who all the players are.”

Jim looked around at his teammates, his gaze lingering on Max, who by this time had rejoined the others. He got to his feet.

“We have all had a very tough day,” he sighed. “There’s not much else we can do right now,” he conceded, “and I do need a little time to think about strategy. So why don’t we all try to rest for awhile, and we’ll reconvene in  about three hours to map out our plan.”

The others nodded in agreement and started to go their separate ways.

“Just a second, Jim,” said Grant.  “There’s one more call from Tran. I’m just curious.”

Grant ran it through the translator, which didn’t take long because it was a short call.   The others wandered back to the computer, themselves curious.

As he played the words back for the team, they all caught their breaths in horror.

“Those American agents are in the way,” Tran’s voice growled. “Slice the brake line on their car. I’ll do the rest.”

The room was deathly silent for several long seconds.

Jim cursed aloud, something he rarely did.  Damn him for messing with my team! he thought protectively.

Grant’s face went absolutely white. It was one thing to think he’d nearly lost his life in a freak traffic accident. But intentionally? That was murder…cold-blooded murder.

Nicholas shot Max a pointed look as his heart came up in his throat.  Max had been right.
Max’s face, meanwhile, had turned blood red; there was no mistaking the anger in his eyes. First the bastard had taken down his brother, and now he’d damn near cost him two of his best friends.

Max turned to walk toward the door, once again looking for something to ram his clenched fist through. This time, Shannon took notice and reached out a hand to grasp his shoulder.

“Wait, Max,” she said gently.

Max froze for an instant, but then turned back toward his friends.

Shannon took his hand, then she scanned the faces of her four teammates, meeting each pair of eyes in turn. “We’ve all been through hell and back today,” she said quietly, her eyes brimming with tears, “but we are a team, and we’re stronger because of it. We started this mission together, and we’re going to finish it together.  We all need each other, so let’s not any of us think we have to go through this alone, all right?”

The men were speechless for a moment. Then Max squeezed her hand and threw his other arm around her. “Thanks, Shannon,” he whispered.

The other men followed suit, and soon all five of them were caught in a massive group embrace. The day – in fact, the entire mission – had been physically and emotionally horrendous. They all needed that measure of comfort from one another – perhaps more than any of them would dare to admit.

Then Jim, Shannon, and Nicholas went to their separate bedrooms to rest while Max lingered to wait for Grant, who was moving more slowly due to his aching ribs.

“How are you feeling?” Max asked softly.

“Like I slid down the side of a mountain,” Grant quipped with a grin, trying to lighten the mood.  Then he turned serious.  “Hey, man, I didn’t get a chance to thank you for the rescue,” he smiled at his friend. “I couldn’t have held on much longer.”

“No thanks necessary,” Max replied warmly. “And you’re welcome.”

Another back slap, and Max and Grant each retreated to his own room.

*******

Three hours later, the team reconvened in the suite’s main room. Grant was the only one of the five who’d actually slept, but thanks to Shannon, everyone had rested. And the team was closer than ever before, if such a thing was possible.

“So how do we stop Tran?” Shannon began the discussion.

With a bullet to the skull if I had my way, thought Max coldly, and his eyes flashed fire momentarily though he said nothing.

“The coalition has been meeting for six months, each one has access to high-level information, and all of them speak Vietnamese,” Jim observed. He looked at Nicholas. “Even though we know all the players, we can’t risk having you go in as any of them. You’d be found out and killed within minutes.”

Nicholas nodded his understanding. “Well, what’s important isn’t so much the meeting itself but rather what they set up to happen afterward,” he replied.

“Yes, but it’s at the meeting when they’ll lay all their cards on the table,” Jim countered. “So we have to figure out how to expose and defuse those plans.”

“The weak link in the coalition is the policeman,” observed Grant. “He’s a first lieutenant, one of the lower ranking officials in the People’s Security Force. He doesn’t have the kind of power that the others have. There are law enforcement personnel above him that don’t seem to be involved.”

“I wonder why that is, if they all answer to Tran,” Shannon mused.

“Either the lieutenant is their spokesperson…” Nicholas said thoughtfully, one finger on his chin.

“…or the higher-ranking officials don’t agree with the Prime Minister’s philosophy,” finished Max quietly.

“I’d say that’s more likely,” stated Jim, looking at Max. “That could work to our advantage.”

“What if we could get the senior colonel to crash the party?” Grant suggested with a grin, raising an eyebrow.

Jim smiled. “Now that just might work,” he answered slyly, and the five teammates began to formulate their plan.

Chapter 13

Once the strategy was laid out, the five agents sat in the suite’s common room, making small talk and enjoying each other’s company until the wee hours of the morning.  Neither of them were looking forward to trying to sleep, given what had taken place that day, so it was easier to just wait until exhaustion took over. And while no one slept especially well, they all did rest, better than they might have otherwise.

The next afternoon, Nicholas and Max donned their Interpol uniforms for the final time.  As Max was adjusting his collar, he looked in the mirror and observed Nicholas watching him.  Their eyes locked, and Nicholas spoke.

“I wish you’d switch places with me,” he said with a sigh.

Max shook his head. “I have to see this through, Nicholas. And you know why.”

“I know,” Nicholas conceded.  Max needed to be at the meeting, to witness firsthand the moment that justice was served. Nicholas just hoped that his friend could stop himself from dishing out his own brand of justice. He wished he was going along with Max, but Jim had told him he was needed for the other part of the mission and was sending Shannon along instead.

“Just be careful,” Nicholas added pleadingly, not even attempting to hide the double meaning in his words.

As if reading his thoughts, Max gave him a half-smile. “We’ll be fine, buddy,” he promised.

As Max turned to rejoin the others, Nicholas sighed again, eyeing the weapon clinging to Max’s hip. Tran was dangerous, and they could take no chances at facing him without being armed. On one hand, Nicholas was glad there were only knockout darts in there, knowing what state of mind his friend was in. On the other, he prayed anxiously that Max wouldn’t find himself in a confrontation with Tran without a real weapon to defend himself.

*******

Shannon finished dressing in her Secret Service attire and joined Jim and Grant in the common room, where they waited for the others to get ready.

“Are you nervous?” Jim asked her, an affectionate smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“A little,” Shannon admitted, “but I know that Max won’t let anything happen to me.”

Jim’s smile faded. “Shannon,” he said, meeting her eyes, “I don’t have to tell you how dangerous this will be, especially if Tran figures out who Max really is.”

“I know,” Shannon admitted. “I really wish he’d agree to let Nicholas take on this part of the mission.”

The agents recalled the conversation from the strategy session the night before.  For the first time since the Berazan case, when he’d been asked to continue to play an intimate role with Casey’s killer, Max had openly challenged Jim’s instructions.

When Jim suggested that Nicholas shadow the meeting with Tran and the others, Max had vehemently disagreed.

“No way, Jim. That’s my part. I want to be there when Tran gets what’s coming to him. I have to.”

“Max, it isn’t safe,” Jim had countered. “What if he figures out who you are?”

“What if he does?” Max had responded hotly, meeting Jim’s eyes.  Then he blinked, and his voice was a bit calmer. “Look,” he had said, “I’m not going to do anything to screw up the mission. I can handle it, Jim. You have to let me do this.”

In the end, it had been Jim, not Max, who had relented, but Max had agreed to allow Shannon to come along in her role as Secret Service agent since Grant was still not up to doing so. He knew Shannon could hold her own in any situation; having her there would serve a number of purposes, not the least of which was keeping the protective agent grounded and focused on something besides revenge.

“I understand his obligation,” Jim was saying. “I just hope he doesn’t let it get in the way.”

Shannon suddenly found herself feeling defensive of her friend. “I think Max is smarter than that,” she smiled. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

“Well, just keep an eye on him,” Grant put in, silently wishing he was able to be there with Max. After all, Tran had almost killed him, too, and he couldn’t fault Max for how he was feeling because, damn it, he also felt that way.

“You know I will,” Shannon answered.  Then they grew silent as Max came into sight.

“You ready?” he asked.

“I’m ready,” Shannon responded.

Max glanced at his wristwatch. It was 1:45. The lieutenant would be leaving his house soon. “Then let’s get going.”

“Be careful, both of you,” Jim ordered, as the door closed behind them.

*******

Max and Shannon sat in virtual silence, their car parked among a grove of trees a quarter mile from the lieutenant’s home.  Shannon had opened her mouth more than once to say something to him, but each time had closed it again.

Max sat stoically, his gaze fixed on the lieutenant’s front door.  Shannon knew he was lost in his thoughts, and she certainly didn’t want to make that worse; but at the same time, the silence bothered her greatly.

Finally, she reached over and grasped his hand, which was resting loosely on the seat between them.  Max turned his head to look at her.

“Max,” she said softly, “I meant what I said last night. You’re not alone.”

Max smiled at her. Then, suddenly, they both caught sight of the lieutenant’s front door opening.

“Here we go,” Max said, taking his hand from hers and gripping the steering wheel. The lieutenant pulled out of his driveway in his car, and Max followed suit a moment later as Shannon summoned Grant on the communicator.

“He’s on the move,” she informed them.

“Thanks, Shannon. So are we.”

*******

Nicholas, clad in his Interpol uniform, sat in the back of the Escalade beside Van Phan, handcuffed but still unconscious.  Jim, in a similar uniform, was at the wheel; Grant as the Secret Service agent rode shotgun.  At Jim’s nod, Nicholas broke the ammonia capsule beneath Van’s nose and he came awake with a start.

“What-?” he stammered, at once becoming aware of his situation. What was he doing handcuffed? In a moving vehicle? Sitting beside the Interpol agent?

“Easy there, Mister Van,” Nicholas soothed with a smirk.

“Where are you taking me?” Van demanded.

“Down to security headquarters,” Nicholas replied.

“Why? I have done nothing wrong!”

Van studied the two men in the front seat intently for a moment, then his eyes grew wide. “What’s he doing here?” he nodded toward Grant, recognizing his uniform as Secret Service.

“This is a matter of international security, of course,” Nicholas replied, rolling his eyes as if Van should have known this all along.

The fear in Van’s eyes was growing by the moment.  He looked around him again, noticing for the first time that Max was not in the car.  “Where’s your…uh…friend?” he asked haltingly.

Nicholas could not help but smile at the knowledge that Max had left up such a lasting impression on the young doorman.

“You really don’t remember?” Nicholas feigned incredulity, knowing full well that the knockout gas they’d used the day before would have caused exactly that effect.
Van shook his head, perplexed.

“Well, let me fill you in,” he offered. “The Prime Minister told us everything – how you helped the President kill that girl and then tried to frame him with it.” He paused, waiting for Van’s reaction.  He wasn’t disappointed.

“WHAT?” he yelled.  “That’s NOT what happened!”

“Then you attacked my partner when he came to talk to you about it.  Damn near put him in the hospital, you did.  Didn’t know you had it in you,” Nicholas smirked again, enjoying the bluff.  “Anyway, you can add police brutality to your long list of charges.  You’re going away for a long time, my friend.”

Van squirmed in his handcuffs, as if trying to break free.  Nicholas tolerated it for a bit, then pulled out a weapon. He cocked the hammer for effect, though he knew it wasn’t loaded.  “I would stop fighting if I were you,” Nicholas said coldly. Clearly, the good cop was now gone.

“Wait a minute,” Van said meekly. “I swear, that’s not what happened.  It was all Prime Minister Tran’s idea to kill that girl and frame President Nguyen.”  His eyes were pleading.  “I don’t suppose we could make a deal?”

Nicholas pretended to think this over for a moment.  “Perhaps,” he replied, “but you have to come clean about your part in the whole thing.”

“I will,” Van promised, reasoning that the hard time he would receive for his small role would be significantly less than being an accessory to murder.

“All right, then,” Nicholas replied as they pulled into the parking lot of the security building. “Let’s see what we can do.”

Nicholas and Jim led the handcuffed doorman into police headquarters while Grant sat in the car. A lieutenant came forward to meet them.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” he asked, recognizing the uniforms.

“This man has additional information about the murder of Susie Han,” Nicholas advised him.  “He wants to talk.”

“I want to make a deal,” Van clarified.

“Let’s just see about that,” the lieutenant answered, reaching for the handcuffs.  “I’ll take it from here, gentlemen.  Thank you for your service.”

Nicholas and Jim exited the building and got into the Escalade, where they waited to hear from Shannon.

*******

Max tailed the lieutenant expertly, keeping him in sight while staying a safe distance back. Finally, the lieutenant pulled up in front of a large, brick building.

“Grant,” Shannon spoke into the communicator, “we’re at the Golden Dragon Motel.”

“Got it, Shannon,” Grant responded. “We just dropped off Van.  Give me five minutes, then make the call.”

Chapter 14

Grant strode into the security building as quickly as his still-sore body would allow.  He burst through the door, panting.

“The Prime Minister has been abducted!” he shrieked, without so much as an introduction. “I need to speak to the senior colonel!”

“What?” cried out a lieutenant, incredulous. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“Just get the senior colonel,” Grant replied. “l’ll tell you what you need to know.”

The lieutenant rushed to get the senior colonel and was back in an instant.

“State your business, officer!” commanded the senior colonel.

“Special Agent Grant McDowell, Secret Service,” Grant announced.  “My partner and I are here on special assignment, protecting the Prime Minister.  A half hour ago, some men showed up, overpowered me, and abducted him.”

“What? Where did they take him?” the senior colonel demanded.

“We don’t know, sir,” answered Grant, “but my partner was able to follow them. She’ll contact me when she finds out where they’re headed.”

As if on cue, the communicator went off. “Grant?”

“Special Agent Shannon Reynolds,” Grant explained. “Go ahead, Shannon, I’ve got the senior colonel here.”

“They’ve taken the Prime Minister to the Golden Dragon Motel,” Shannon stated.

“We’ll be there in half an hour,” the senior colonel swore.

“They have weapons,” Shannon informed them. “So come in quietly.”

“Will do,” responded the senior colonel. “Stay put until we get there.”

Shannon acknowledged the order and ended the transmission. She looked at Max, and he nodded.

“Staying put is the hard part,” he muttered.

“I’ll meet you there,” said Grant, and he climbed into the driver’s seat of the Escalade as the senior colonel began to mobilize his troops.

“How’d it go?” Jim asked from the backseat.

“Worked like a charm,” Grant grinned.  “Its about to be showtime.”

*******

Thirty minutes later, the senior colonel arrived at the Golden Dragon, along with three additional carloads of officers.  Thinking they were there to thwart a kidnapping, they quietly moved in, Max and Shannon falling in smoothly behind them.

The senior colonel stopped at the front desk.

“Did a group of men come by here?” he barked in Vietnamese.

The clerk indicated a large stateroom, and the officers moved in.  At the colonel’s direction, they burst open the door, weapons drawn.

“Freeze!” the senior colonel barked.

Tran and his six colleagues looked up from the large table they were sitting around.

“Are you all right, Your Excellency?” the senior colonel asked.

“What are you doing here?” Tran demanded, evading his question, momentarily too shocked to attempt to cover up the papers strewn all over the table.

“We received a report that you’d been kidnapped,” responded the colonel, turning to look at Shannon, “from Secret Service.”

Tran followed his gaze, and his eyes lit up in recognition.

“What-? How-? How is this possible?” he stammered.

“What do you mean, Your Excellency?” Shannon asked with a smile.

“You’re supposed to be dead-” Then he stopped abruptly, realizing that he’d already said too much.

“No, the car crash didn’t kill us even though the brake line was cut,” Shannon sneered. “But how would you know about that?”

The senior colonel’s eyes went wide at the realization, and then they narrowed again as he looked at Tran. “You tried to kill two Secret Service agents?” he asked.

Tran remained tight-lipped.

“What else have you been up to, Your Excellency?” the colonel asked, applying a heavy dose of sarcasm to the title, as he reached for a piece of paper lying on the table.
Tran tried frantically to scoop up the papers, but the colonel snatched it from his grasp.  He looked at it, and his eyes flashed fire.

“What is the meaning of this?!” he demanded. “What are you planning to do to our country?”

Tran did not answer, and the senior colonel walked over to him. “What the hell are you planning?” he asked again, more forcefully this time.

With lightning-quick motion, Tran reached into his pants, pulled out a sawed-off shotgun, and pointed it at the colonel’s chest.

“We have spent months making these plans, Colonel,” Tran said through clenched teeth.  “You are not going to ruin them now.”

Several of the officers reached for their weapons. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Tran warned, standing up, his voice low.  “I will kill him right now. Put your weapons on the table.  All of you.”

The officers waited for a nod from the colonel, and then reluctantly put their weapons down.

Max stood off to the side, just over Tran’s right shoulder.  Up until now, he had stood back and let the senior colonel take the lead. But it had taken every ounce of patience he had.  All he could think about were the people that Tran had hurt.  He tried to take comfort in the knowledge that Tran was about to be taken down for attempted murder as well as threatening national security.

But the instant that Tran pulled out a gun and threatened the colonel, Max reacted with lightning speed.  But rather than extract the dart gun from its perch, Max yanked the .22 from a nearby officer’s grasp and aimed it squarely against Tran’s head.  He cocked back the hammer.  Just like his dream… only the roles were reversed now.

“Put the gun down,” Max growled, his blue eyes ice cold.

Tran looked at Max, saw that he was serious, and lowered his weapon.  A couple of Tran’s colleagues reached for their weapons in protest, which Max saw out of the corner of his eye. In response, Max leaned closer and pushed the weapon further into Tran’s forehead.

“Call off your dogs,” he seethed.

Tran slowly waved his hand to let them know not to draw their weapons, as one of the officers circled around behind Tran and put on handcuffs.

“We’ve got him, officer,” the senior colonel said in satisfaction.  “You can put down the gun now.”

Max did not move.

Tran looked Max dead in the eye, and suddenly the look of fear changed to one of recognition.

“Do I know you?” he asked.

“You bastard,” Max growled in response.

“Max, put the gun down,” Shannon pleaded, her heart in her throat.

Upon hearing his name, Tran’s puzzled look changed to one of clarity.  “Mister Harte,” he sneered, despite the gun butted against his head. “How’s your brother these days?”

Max’s trigger finger twitched, and Shannon saw it. “Max, no!” she cried out, as the rest of the men in the room maintained a stunned silence.

Max kept the weapon trained on Tran’s forehead, as his mind flashed back to the last time he’d seen his brother alive.  They’d been talking about the War.  They’d been talking about Tran.  Max had told his brother of the oath he had sworn the day he’d rescued Ray from the POW camp.

“Revenge is a dangerous thing,” Ray had said thoughtfully. “You will be given the opportunity many times in your life.”

Ray reached across the table to gently press his index finger against Max’s chest.  “But you have to listen to your heart.  It will tell you if you’re making the right choice.  And you have the biggest heart of anyone I know.  I’m so proud of you, little brother.”

Suddenly, Max knew what he had to do.

“Max, please!” Shannon begged, as Max squeezed the trigger.

Chapter 15

The force of the gunshot propelled Tran’s body backwards against the officer who was standing behind him.

Max loomed closer until he stood nose to nose with the Prime Minister, whose shoulder was now beginning to bleed through his shirt.

“I could have blown your ass to kingdom come,” Max said through clenched teeth, “but that wouldn’t be fair to my brother, and my friends, and everybody else you’ve ever hurt.  I want you to suffer for what you did, and every time you see the scar from that bullet hole, I want you to remember Raymond Harte.”

Max laid the gun on the table and walked out of the room as the Vietnamese officers began the process of taking the seven conspirators into custody.

*******

Jim, Grant, and Nicholas had arrived fifteen minutes after the colonel and had waited outside, not wishing to get in the way or to put Grant at risk of getting hurt again. Now they snapped at attention at the sound that came from within the hotel.

“That was a gunshot!” Nicholas gasped, and the three men rushed inside.

They reached the stateroom door just as Max was exiting.

“Max?” Jim ventured, but Max walked between him and Nicholas, his shoulders brushing up against both of them.  Shannon, still spooked, ran into Grant’s arms.

Nicholas stared after his friend for a moment, then his eyes riveted back to Tran and he saw the gunshot wound in his shoulder. He looked up at Jim, who shook his head slightly, and Nicholas heeded the unspoken command to leave Max alone for moment.

As the officers led Tran out, the colonel’s handheld radio went off.

“Colonel,” said the voice in Vietnamese, “the doorman at the Presidential Palace is here, and he’s saying that the Prime Minister’s the one who killed that Chinese girl.  Is that crazy or what?”

“Its not crazy,” replied the colonel.  “We’ve got Tran in custody. Release President Nguyen.”

“But, sir-”

“That’s an order!”

Tran’s mind was spinning. How could the doorman be alive?  He had killed him – shot him twice, in fact!

Suddenly, Tran’s gaze fell on Grant, who was holding onto Shannon. His eyes popped as he realized he had been set up.

“You should have died in that crash,” Tran muttered at Grant. Then he spat on him in contempt.

Grant didn’t miss a beat.  He pulled back his fist and dished out an uppercut that caused Tran’s body to go slack in the arms of the officers.

The senior colonel, who had witnessed the exchange, reached out to shake Grant’s hand.  Then he climbed in the squad car and sped away with the prisoner.  The mission was over.

*******

Max was leaned back against the car, facing away from the motel, his arms crossed, lost in thought.

He had wanted so badly to kill Tran, just like he’d promised – to send him straight to hell. But that would have been too easy.

This way, he’d managed to send Tran a message, leaving him a souvenir that would haunt him for the rest of his life, which he’d be spending in prison.

“I’m so proud of you, little brother.” Max could almost hear Ray ‘s voice ringing in his ears.

At a nod from Jim, Nicholas walked up beside Max and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s go home, buddy,” he said softly.

Max said nothing, but he climbed into the passenger seat and allowed Nicholas to drive him back to the suite.  Jim, Grant, and Shannon followed in the Escalade.

Epilogue

The next few days passed quietly as the team struggled to recuperate from one of the most dangerous missions they’d undertaken in some time.

Max’s four teammates had called him often, checking in, but for the most part had kept their distance at Jim’s suggestion. Jim had an uncanny way of knowing what was best in situations such as this.  So they left Max alone with his refreshed grief, certain he would call someone if he needed them.

It was Max who’d suggested the drive.  And he wanted all four of his friends with him.

Max took the wheel of the Escalade and drove wordlessly as the highway became a gravel road, then a dirt road, and then ended completely. Several yards from the end of the road was a rock formation jutting out from the side of the bank, overlooking a large waterfall.

Shannon gasped.  “Max, it’s beautiful here.”

Max ran a hand through his blond hair.  “Ray was cremated, and his ashes were scattered in the ocean,” he explained, his voice barely audible, “so there’s no grave to visit.  When I want to feel close to him, I come up here.”

Max reached for the door handle and got out of the Escalade.  The others remained in the car and watched him go.

Max walked out to the rock, climbed up on it, and sat down, letting his feet dangle off the side.

“Hello, Ray,” he whispered.  “It’s been a while.”

A pause.  “I went back to ‘Nam,” he continued. “I saw him.  I wanted to kill him.”  His fist clenched involuntarily. “But I don’t think that’s what you would have wanted me to do.”

Max found himself smiling faintly.  “Instead, he gets to rot in prison for the rest of his life for what he did to you and all those others at that camp. And he gets to think about you every single damn day.”

Max pounded his hand into his fist in satisfaction.

“I wasn’t alone this time,” he mused, recalling how much flak Ray had given him when he found out that Max had done the rescue mission solo. “I’ve got friends…good friends… and I know they’ve got my back.” He paused again. “I think you’d really like them.”

Max blinked back the tiny tears that were starting to form in the corners of his eyes.  “I still miss you, big brother,” he said, his voice cracking as he studied the rippling water, “and I hope you’re still proud of me, wherever you are.”

Max slowly got to his feet and trudged back toward the Escalade.  The others were patiently waiting in the car, not wishing to rush Max or to eavesdrop on such an intimate moment.

Now, as Max approached the car, Shannon opened the left rear door, got out, and began to walk toward him. As she reached him, she threw her arms around him.

Max allowed himself to be wrapped up in her embrace.  It was then that his composure failed him completely and he broke into sobs that shook his body.  He hadn’t cried about Ray in a long time.

How long they stood there was unclear. It didn’t matter. Eventually, the sobbing ceased, and Max withdrew gently from the embrace.

“Thanks,” he mumbled to Shannon, slightly embarrassed that she – and the others – had witnessed him at his most vulnerable.  “Let’s go home.”

Shannon squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, then they both got back into the Escalade and the five of them drove away.

The End

(c) 2016

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