Angel in the Full Moon (23 page)

A knock on their apartment door startled him.

Natasha's eyes flickered and she said, “Who is that?” She looked at their bedroom clock and added, “At this hour! Damn it, I feel ill. You got me drunk!”

“Coming!” yelled Jack as he put on his bathrobe and dropped his 9mm into the pocket.

He could only find one slipper, so he left it and padded barefoot to the door and stood to one side, gripping the 9mm in his pocket before waving his other hand across the peephole.

No shots ... good sign.
He squinted into the peephole.
“Jesus!” he said aloud, stepping back while releasing the grip on his gun.

“Who is it, honey?” asked Natasha.

Jack cast a glance at Natasha, who had slipped on her bathrobe and appeared behind him. He didn't reply as he quickly opened the door.

Natasha had never seen the man before.

“Do you mind if I come in?” the man asked.

“Are you executing a warrant?” asked Jack, while looking out in the hall to see who else was there.

Natasha thought her husband was joking. He wasn't.

The man seemed taken back by the comment, but smiled and said, “No. It's not that kind of a visit. I came here to ask for your help.”

Jack nodded and motioned for the man to enter before closing the door behind him.

“I'm sorry to awaken you at this time of the morning,” the man said, looking at Natasha.

“And you are ...?” she asked.

“Excuse me. My name is Jacob Isaac,” he said, offering his hand. “I, uh, work with Jack.”

Natasha shook his hand and asked, “Are you on Highway Patrol?”

The question caught Isaac off guard, but he grinned and replied, “Not anymore. Years ago, yes. Only for a short time.”

“Didn't write enough tickets?” asked Natasha. She turned to Jack and said, “That's the way for you to get out of there. Don't write any tickets and the ol' man, as you call him, will transfer you back.”

“Honey,” said Jack. “This is the ... uh, Assistant Commissioner Isaac. He's the top boss.”

“Oh,” said Natasha as her cheeks developed a crimson glow. “I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to ...”

Isaac chuckled and looked at Natasha and said, “I am an old man ... but I would really prefer it if you called me Jacob.”

Natasha looked at Jack and said, “I think I'll take a shower.”

Minutes later, Isaac sat at the kitchen table while Jack made coffee. He eyed Isaac curiously.
Must be something pretty damn serious for him to come here—let alone on a Saturday at this time of the morning.

“It is something serious,” said Isaac, reading his thoughts. “I would like to delay your transfer,” said Isaac.

“For a few years?” asked Jack, hopefully.

“No. Just temporarily. I would like you to complete your investigation on the Russians. Particularly in regard to their smuggling operation.”

“Staff Quaile felt it wasn't worthy of our attention. I don't think he would appreciate me coming back.”

“I've already spoken with Staff Quaile this morning,” replied Isaac. “He assures me he is in complete agreement with this ... temporary extension.”

Yeah, I bet.
“I take it something has happened?”

Isaac nodded and the sorrow he felt showed in his eyes. “An unidentified Vietnamese girl between the ages of ten and fourteen was sexually abused and murdered. Corporal Crane is the lead investigator and thinks she may have been smuggled into the country. Would you be willing to help?”

“A young girl sexually molested and killed?” said Jack, vehemently. “You bet I'm willing to help.”

If Isaac had any qualms about Jack's initiative at completing this temporary assignment, he didn't now, after hearing the tone of his voice.

“I believe Corporal Crane is currently working on the case at this moment,” said Isaac.

“I'll call her and start work immediately,” replied Jack.

“Good. Somehow I believed you would,” he said, standing up. “Please apologize to your wife for me again. I realize it is early.”

Jack was seeing Isaac out the door when Isaac turned and asked, “Do you believe in God?”

Jack was taken back but remembered his exclamation when he first saw Isaac at his door. “I'm sorry about that,” he replied.

“About what?”

“That I said
Jesus
when I first saw you this morning. I just wasn't expecting it.”

Isaac smiled to himself.
I'm not Jesus ... maybe just a servant.
He looked at Jack and said, “I would have buzzed, but someone was just leaving so I entered. That is not why I asked. You don't need to answer if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Jack stared at Isaac momentarily and said, “Both Natasha and I are atheists. Why?”

“Because I think He believes in you.”

Two hours later, Jack and Laura sat in the I-HIT office and listened to Connie as she updated them on the nature of the file and the steps they had taken to date.

Jack gave Connie a brief account of their investigation into the Russians who were smuggling women to use as prostitutes for the Trans at the Asian Touch and Orient Pleasure massage parlours.

He outlined the Tran brothers' criminal history and how the one called Dúc headed a vicious gang of approximately fifty thugs. He also told Connie about the trip to Costa Rica, but did not tell her about the added excursion to Cuba.

“What do you think?” asked Connie. “Is there a connection?”

“The pathologist thinks the child was being tortured over a period of at least three or four months,” noted Jack.

“That's according to the various bone fractures,” replied Connie.

Jack looked at Laura, but didn't speak.

“Come on, you guys,” said Connie. “Do you know something?”

“I've got a Vietnamese friend,” said Jack, “who was smuggled by boat into Canada about four months ago by the Russians.”

“That fits!” said Connie. “Who's your friend? I want to talk to her.”

“Confidential informant,” said Jack. “The same person who confirmed that the Russians were in Hanoi and that they looked at the girls before they boarded the boat.”

“Didn't you submit a report on what your CI told you?” asked Connie. “I never read anything of that nature.”

“Quaile wouldn't allow us to work on the Russians, let alone the Vietnamese, so I've never put specific reports in on the CI. I just found this out last week. The CI is someone I've been developing on my own. I've also done a bit of UC work on another character by the name of Giang who is a Vietnamese drug dealer and works for Dúc.”

“UC?” asked Connie. “Are you buying drugs from him?”

“Not yet. I've been doing this out of my own pocket.”

“How much you out of pocket?” asked Randy, who had been standing behind Jack and listening.

Jack turned in his seat, unaware that Connie's boss had been listening.

“Well, counting drinks for the drug dealer and his friends, plus a hundred just to talk to my CI, I'm out about two hundred and fifty. It's no big deal.”

Randy nodded and said, “Come into my office before
you leave and I'll give you five hundred dollars. Consider it payment to a confidential informant. A receipt from your CI isn't necessary the first time. If you need money, overtime approved, rentals, travel, anything ... forget about Quaile. You talk to me. We're running this show. Understood?”

Jack smiled and said, “Understood. Do you think when it's over you could use an extra corporal on your section?”

“And constable,” added Laura.

“Have you looked at the photos of the vic'?” asked Randy, curiously.

Jack and Laura shook their heads to indicate they hadn't.

Connie passed a large brown manila envelope over to them and Jack took the photos out. The picture on top was an alley, after which the pictures progressed to the Dumpster and the torn garbage bag with the child's face staring up. More pictures showed the child's body after being removed from the garbage bag.

“Still interested in coming over?” asked Randy.

“I feel nauseated,” said Laura, pushing the photos away.

“Likewise,” admitted Jack. “Also makes me determined to want to find out who did this to her.”

“I'd love to have the both of you in here,” said Randy. “We have serious stuff sitting on the back burners that we just can't get to. More stuff is arriving every day. Connie told me about your transfer yesterday afternoon, Jack. I'm sorry. I called Staffing immediately to see if I could get you in here. I was told to forget it. There was no changing it.”

Jack picked up a picture of just the victim's face and turned to Connie and asked, “Do you have a smaller version of this one that I can have?”

“To show your CI?”

Jack nodded.

“I can scan it down to wallet size if you like,” said Connie.

“That would be even better.”

“The Orient Pleasure open on Saturdays?” asked Randy.

Jack nodded. “Seven days a week, three-sixty-five.”

“Let me know immediately after you've shown the picture,” said Randy, before walking back toward his office.

Jack looked at Connie while gesturing with his thumb toward Randy. “You're lucky, you know.”

“You're telling me,” said Connie. “He's not afraid to come out and work either. Surveillance, take-downs, you name it. He's the best boss I've ever had—even if he does make me drink Scotch.”

It was one o'clock when Jack entered the Orient Pleasure. He had forgotten that Dúc spent his lunch hour there and they passed each other in the doorway as Dúc was leaving. Dúc looked up at him and smirked before continuing on his way.

Jack glanced after him.
I want so bad to choke your skinny little neck and bash your head into the floor until you talk
...

“Oh, you come back, big guy,” said Cuóng. “You like Jade, yes?”

Jade sat on the edge of the bed with Jack. “I glad you come,” she said. “I hear Mister Dúc tell Cuóng that more girls come in six week. I think I go to United States when that boat come.”

“Why do you think that?” asked Jack.

“Girls on next boat not so old like me.”

“You're what, nineteen?”

“Some men like girls not so old like me,” said Jade. “I go to United States and you put Mister Dúc in jail and I no be sent back to Vietnam.”

“Jade, this life ... I have another way, but first, I need to
ask you to look at a picture of a girl's face.”

“Okay, Jack. Show me picture.”

“It's not easy to look at. It's a young girl. She was tortured ... blinded in one eye. I need you to take a good look ... she may not be easy to recognize,” added Jack, as he handed her the picture.

Jade gasped, dropping the picture on the floor as she put her hands to the sides of her face and commenced rocking back and forth on the bed.

Jack picked up the picture and said, “You know her!”

“No,” replied Jade. “Can no be. Maybe make mistake. Picture not Hang.”

“Hang?” replied Jack. “Who is Hang?”

“She have two thumb, one hand?” whispered Jade, lowering her hands from her face.

“Yes.”

Jade uttered a sound like a wounded kitten and the tears flowed down her face. “Her name Hang,” she said, choking out the words. “Who do that to Hang?”

Before Jack could answer, Jade started crying and he pulled her close to his chest and held her. He heard a Vietnamese woman holler something from the next room, but Cuóng hollered back in Vietnamese and the woman giggled and then was quiet.

It took ten minutes before Jade quit crying enough to speak. “Hang on boat with me, but not same hole on boat. Everybody on boat older than Hang. Me ... Hang ... we good friend. Like sister. She go to United States and live with American family. That all I know.”

“That's all you know? What about her last name? Parents?”

“Smuggler tell us no talk about our name or family,” cried Jade. “They say if police catched someone ... it better not know.
They say they have people with us on boat who tell if someone talk too much. That person have to swim back to Vietnam.”

“So there is nothing else you know?”

“Hang telled me her mother from Dong Ha. Much Agent Orange. That why Hang have two thumb. But how Hang talk ... I don't know ... I think she live in Saigon.”

“You mean Ho Chi Minh City.”

“Communist from North say that. We still say Saigon. I see Hang when father bring her to smuggler before we leave Hanoi. He ride bicycle, so maybe Hang no live in Saigon. Hang and father meet smuggler in Ba Dinh district of Hanoi.”

Jack asked Jade a barrage of questions, but she had little else of value to offer and became more upset with herself for not knowing. Eventually he asked, “Would you like out of this place now?”

Jade trembled at the prospect and said, “My family in Nha Trang. They ...”

“They will be okay,” said Jack. “I have a plan where you could leave and they would not think you ran away. We will talk about that in a minute.”

“Where I go? Where I sleep? Food ... money?”

“I have a friend. Her name is Holly and her husband died last year. She has two small children. A five-year-old named Jenny. She has a boy named Charlie, who just turned two this month. Charlie is unable to walk. Holly has ... some money. She is looking for a live-in nanny.”

“Live-in nanny?”

“A woman to live with her in her house and help her look after her children. I've already talked to her. She will pay you enough that you can still send money home.”

“No more men fuck me?”

“No more working in this ... this rape factory,” said Jack bitterly. “In time, I would be willing to testify at an immigration
hearing for you. With how you have helped, along with the danger for you and your family if you were to return, I think we could work something out. Maybe for everybody.”