There was an elaborate ritual of dialing the ancient phone, followed by what appeared to be a curse in Vietnamese. The officer slammed the phone back in its cradle and reached in his pocket. Kat looked at her watch and frowned. The officer pulled out a tiny GSM cellular phone and extended the antenna before punching the keypad and placing it to his ear.
The exchange was brief, but among the Vietnamese words, she clearly heard her name, followed by much nodding and the hint of a smile. The officer stood suddenly and looked at her. “You wait now!” he commanded, turning and rushing out the door.
Kat looked around at the other two unsmiling officers, neither of whom wanted to meet her eyes. “Either of you fellows speak English?”
There was no response.
“Not even a little bit? Parlez-vous français?”
A calm, cultured male voice rang out from behind her in answer, the words spoken in lightly accented English. “Not if they want to keep their jobs, they don’t.”
She turned to face a short, overweight man in a business suit with a security card clipped to his pocket.
“Hello?” Kat said, raising her eyebrows.
He stepped forward and extended his hand. Kat got to her feet to take it.
“I am Nguyen Thong, immigration director in Ho Chi Minh City. We’ve been expecting you.”
“I appreciate that,” Kat replied.
“We are happy to respond to the request from your ambassador in Hanoi. He called as you were leaving Hong Kong,” Nguyen continued, “and explained that you are from the American FBI and that you would be the advance representative for the American accident investigation team. They asked us to help get you on your way to Da Nang, and so we shall. We’ve arranged a helicopter to take you directly to the crash site, and we’ve had your bags cleared and put aboard.”
“A helicopter? That’s wonderful.”
“Vietnamese Air Force. You will board the helicopter right here. Vietnam is determined to do what we can to help. The location is around six hundred kilometers from here, roughly four hundred miles. It will take about three hours.”
“That’s very kind of your government, Mr. Nguyen. Speed is vital here.”
“I understand. I’m truly sorry about the circumstance, but welcome to the new Vietnam, nonetheless.”
“Your help is greatly appreciated, Sir.”
He smiled at her as the other officer entered quietly with Kat’s passport in his hand. He held it out to her and bowed slightly.
“Thank you,” Kat said to him, observing the frightened look on the man’s face as he glanced at the immigration director and backed quickly out of the room. She turned back to Nguyen, noting his eyes happily exploring her body in an appreciative manner. She lowered her head slightly, looking at him through upturned eyes as if reproaching a misbehaving adolescent. He smiled and shrugged, dropping his gaze to the curve of her breasts once again before looking her in the eye. His left arm swept toward the door in an exaggerated gesture.
“You are a beautiful woman, Miss Bronsky.”
Kat regarded him with raised eyebrows, her relief at the sudden offer of help eclipsing her natural tendency to bristle at sexist remarks.
“Really?” she said, letting a guarded smile take over her face. “Thank you. Actually, this is just a disguise. Underneath, I’m really just an FBI agent.”
Britta Franz had stepped away from the others to look for a place to relieve herself. When she had readjusted her torn clothes, she glanced up, surprised to see what looked like a path ahead.
Britta could see Steve Delaney moving parallel to her position, following Robert, whose arm was around Dan. Dallas had moved back to encourage Graham to try to keep up. Steve was an unhappy kid, Britta realized, but a smart one. Britta’s initial judgment of him as a repulsive, spoiled brat had softened to an almost maternal feeling of protectiveness. He had tried his best in the cockpit, and felt responsible for the crash.
The image of the disaster loomed up again, bringing the sickening thought of the more than 200 passengers and crew who hadn’t lived through it. The faces of her flight attendants paraded before her, triggering tears. Nancy, Jaime, Claire, Alice — all dead. And Bill! Her friend for decades. Solid as a rock. How could he be gone? She thought of his three boys, the triplets, all in college, and of his wife, all of them about to go through incredible grief when the rescuers returned with the word that there were no survivors.
Oh my God! Britta shook her head to expunge the shock. They’d think she, too, had died! They would notify Carly if she couldn’t get word back. The thought of her daughter getting the news that her mother had been killed in a distant jungle was unacceptable. Phil, she knew, would protect Carly as long as possible from the conclusion that there was no hope, but with so many shredded bodies, who would know? Despite their divorce and his custody of Carly, he had always been wonderful about nurturing Carly’s love and respect for her absentee mom.
Britta forced herself to shake off the panic. Carly would find out in due time that her mom was alive. For that matter, Britta chided herself, the grief for her comrades and her passengers would have to wait as well. The first order of business was survival of those who had made it through.
Britta looked ahead at the trail she had spotted. It seemed to lead in the same direction they were going, to the west. A little overgrown, but definitely a trail. She yelled in the direction of the group, “Hey! I’ve found a path!”
She had just pushed past a small tree that overhung the trail when a half-dozen objects slammed into her. She stopped, puzzled, realizing she had walked into a small man-made web of cord laced with heavy Coke cans. She was completely entangled, but something told her to hesitate before just pulling herself away.
What in the world? “Everyone wait a second. I’m tangled up in something.”
Nearly eighty feet ahead, Dan grabbed Steve’s arm, his voice tense. “What did Britta say back there?”
“She found a trail, and now she says she’s tangled up in something.”
“Oh my God!” Dan cupped his hands and yelled in her general direction. “BRITTA! FREEZE! DON’T MOVE A MUSCLE! DO YOU HEAR ME?”
There was no response.
Dallas and Robert whirled around to see what the commotion was about. “What’s the matter?” Dallas asked, completely puzzled, as Dan told Steve to lead him toward Britta.
“Robert? Follow us, please,” Dan yelled over his shoulder. Steve pushed through the undergrowth with Dan holding his arm and keeping pace. Robert broke into a run to follow them.
“BRITTA! FREEZE! DON’T MOVE!” Dan yelled as he ran, repeatedly tripping and righting himself despite Steve’s best efforts.
There was an answer from Britta’s direction. Steve shoved aside one last fern and stumbled into the middle of the same pathway Britta had discovered.
“We’re on the trail now,” Steve said.
Dan yanked him to a halt. “Don’t move! Can you see Britta?”
“No,” Steve answered, looking up as Robert and Dallas came up behind them.
“Who’s behind me?” Dan demanded.
“Dallas and Robert. Graham stayed behind.”
“Freeze!” Dan commanded. “Don’t move past me, no matter what.”
“What on earth is this all about?” Dallas asked.
“Britta?” Dan called ahead, ignoring their questions for the moment.
“Here, Dan.” Her voice came from the left.
“Robert,” Dan asked, “can you see her?”