At least, that’s what Ben thought Mike was doing. He had to assume Mike wasn’t killing a cat, although that was more what it sounded like. There was a painfully high-pitched screeching, followed by the excruciating sound of metal grinding against metal. Not quite as bad as fingers on the chalkboard, but close. There were a few final clattering noises, followed by a loud thump from the engine casing.
Ben didn’t need a close-up view to tell him that Portia was not taking off. “I don’t think it’s working,” he shouted.
Mike turned off the power and fell dejectedly out of the cockpit. “Damn. I thought I had it that time.”
“Evidently not.”
“Did you hear that crash? I think the entire engine fell. It’s in worse shape now than it was before.”
Ben was forced to agree.
Mike shoved his hands into his pockets. “Looks like I’ll be sending your blood samples to Tulsa by Federal Express, Ben.” He thought for a moment. “I wonder if they can deliver helicopter parts?”
28.
BELINDA WAS ALREADY AT Coi Than Tien when Ben arrived just after sunset. They had decided earlier it might be best if she went in first and prepared the way. Several members of the community had previously met her or one of her Hatewatch associates and were aware of their good works. Some of the older members probably thought Hatewatch stirred up trouble, but they were more likely to befriend her than the man who was representing Donald Vick.
Ben parked his car outside the rickety assembly of warped wood and cardboard that constituted the boundary fence of Coi Than Tien. It was a moonless night, but Ben managed to find his way to the front gates.
The largest building inside Coi Than Tien was the barn, a long rectangular structure centrally located beside two other storage buildings. The barn appeared to hold equipment and supplies. Ben couldn’t see inside the two other similar but smaller buildings, but in previous years he’d had a bit of experience with chickens, and the clucking and squawking inside told him that was where the principal assets of any chicken farm were housed.
Scattered in a rough semicircle around the storage facilities were the residences of Coi Than Tien. Ben was shocked at the impoverished conditions; they were even poorer than he had imagined. Most of the homes were little better than shacks. The better ones had a few walls or perhaps a roof made of corrugated metal. Despite the obvious poverty, however, there was no squalor; on the contrary, Ben got the impression that the homes were well cared for. Some of them even had small makeshift gardens. The residents appeared to be doing the best they could with what little they had.
Ben found Belinda on the porch of one of the homes. She was sitting next to a much older Vietnamese man. The porch was dark as the night; only the glow from a thin, long-stemmed pipe provided illumination.
Belinda identified the man as Duong Dang.
“Pleased to meet you,” Ben said. He wondered if she had explained what Ben’s role was in the current drama. Well, he wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up.
“Elder Dang is the leader of this community,” Belinda explained.
“Was,” Dang corrected. “I am no longer. My people will not listen.”
“There’s been a schism of sorts,” Belinda explained. “Elder Dang and his council have always followed the path of peace and reason. But there is another faction within the community led by a young man named Dan Pham. He favors a more … aggressive approach. Active resistance. First-strike assaults. He’s rounding up all the support he can find.”
“How successful has he been?” Ben asked.
“Much too successful,” Dang replied. “More than half our people now follow him.”
“What exactly does Pham want to do?” Ben asked.
“Fight fire with fire,” Belinda replied. “Meet the terrorist activities of ASP head-on.”
“Counterterrorism?” Ben said. “Against those maniacs? Surely he knows he hasn’t got a chance.”
“He cannot see the truth of our situation,” Dang said sadly. “He wants to be a crusader, a hero. He wants to save his people. He is blind to the realities.”
“If he takes on ASP, he’ll be made aware of the realities pretty damn fast,” Ben said. “Maybe this is all just bluster.”
Dang and Belinda exchanged a glance. “Someone tossed a firebomb into the ASP encampment,” Belinda said.
“I know,” Ben replied. “I saw the scorched building. You think Pham was behind that?”
“I cannot say with certainty,” Dang replied. “But who else would run such a risk?”
“We’ve heard it didn’t cause much damage,” Belinda said.
“True,” Ben replied. “But it could’ve. The bomb hit the ASP ammunition stockpile. If the fire had burned much longer, there would’ve been a major explosion. Fortunately that didn’t happen. No one was hurt.”
“No,” Dang said. “But their retaliation has nonetheless been swift and brutal. One of our two automobiles was stolen this morning. And a fifteen-year-old boy, Nhung Vu, was attacked and severely beaten. Two of his teeth were knocked out. And—” Dang hesitated. His eyes closed. “They branded him. With the sign of the cross. After he was unconscious, they pounded his face, like it was a piece of meat. There may be permanent damage to his right eye.”
“Have you reported this to the sheriff?”
“Of course. But what can he do? There were no witnesses. Nhung did not know his attackers. Most of them were hooded. ASP is very careful.”
“You need to corner this Pham kid and tell him to cool it,” Ben said. “More violence will only make matters worse for Coi Than Tien.”
“It may be too late,” Dang said gravely. “There are rumors that the ASP men are not finished, that they plan retaliation in even greater measure in the near future.”
That was certainly bad news. Ben didn’t think Coi Than Tien could withstand a full-out frontal assault by ASP. But then, who could?
“Has Belinda asked you about Tommy Vuong?” Ben asked.
“I have known Tommy for many years,” Dang replied. “He came from a good and honorable family. A bit wild, but that was not unusual given his youth and vigor.”
“I heard he was in some legal trouble about a year ago. Do you know anything about that?”
“He was investigated by the sheriff. Apparently a woman accused him of … forcing his affections upon her.”
“You didn’t believe the charges?”
“It is a common occurrence,” Dang said gravely. “Two young people of different races fall in love. All is well until the families discover their relationship. Then stories must be created, lies must be told. Loving relationships may be turned into criminal acts.”
“Then you don’t believe it was rape?” Belinda asked.
Dang looked at him thoughtfully. “I know the district attorney decided not to prosecute. Given the ill will of much of Silver Springs toward Coi Than Tien, I believe that if there was any proof of her accusations he would have arrested Tommy.”
Probably right, Ben mused. Unless, of course, the DA was busy baby-sitting that night.
“Did you know of Vuong’s connection to Donald Vick?”
“No,” Dang said, frowning. “I very much doubt that there was any connection before the fatal incident at the bar.”
“Some Vietnamese man visited Vick shortly before the murder occurred. Do you know who that might have been?”
“I find it difficult to believe that any resident of Coi Than Tien would visit such a man for even the most desperate of reasons.”
“And you don’t know what Vick and Vuong fought about?”
“The men of ASP need no excuse to fight. Their hate drives them far further than any logical motive could do.”
Ben tried to contain his frustration. This wasn’t getting him anywhere. “Do you know why Vuong was in that bar that afternoon?”