The same rage he himself had felt only moments ago.
“If you march on the ASP camp,” Nguyen said, “they will mow you down like cockroaches.”
“I do not doubt that,” Pham said. “But that is not our plan. Our intelligence has provided us with an alternative approach. One that will hurt them in a way they will never forget!”
“Don’t do this!” Nguyen said, shaking Pham furiously.
“It is too late,” Pham said, pushing him away. “We were already planning to strike. We were simply waiting for the outcome of the trial. But no trial has stopped ASP before—no trial ever will.” He turned to face his followers. “It is up to us! We will make our move tonight!”
They cheered again, long and loud.
“This is insane! Suicide!” Nguyen shouted, but few could hear him over the clamor of Pham’s warriors. “I will not allow you to do this!”
Suddenly the night was split apart by a piercing scream, so loud it seemed to reverberate through all of Coi Than Tien.
“My God,” Nguyen said quietly. “What now?”
The youngest Dang daughter, Cam, ran out the front door of the newly constructed Truong home. Cam was crying and wailing; her hand was pressed against her mouth.
“Why was she in there?” Nguyen wondered aloud. “The house is not yet ready for them.” It was not finished; it was simply a wooden framework with a thin layer of boards on all sides.
Nguyen didn’t have to wonder long. Cam ran straight to him and buried her head against his shoulder. “I was checking the homes, to make sure no one was injured by the gunfire.” She paused and tried to catch her breath. “I don’t know why I went in there. I just had … a premonition. I wanted to be thorough. And I found—”
Nguyen’s eyes expanded with the horrible realization. He passed Cam to one of Pham’s men and raced toward the new home. The frame was still visible in many places; it had the fresh yellow coloring of new-cut pine.
He flung open the front door.
A body lay crumpled on the floor. A female body. With a bullet hole in her head.
A puddle of dark blood encircled her head and shoulders. The bullet had left a star-shaped hole about the size of his fist in her skull. Nguyen grabbed her wrist, but he knew he would find no pulse. She was dead; she probably died the second the assassin’s bullet struck her skull. The poor Truongs—as if they had not already been cursed enough—
He blinked and wiped the sweat from his eyes.
This woman was not one of the Truong clan. He stared down at her wrist, her hand, her pearl-colored complexion.
She was white.
What would she be doing here? He brushed away her dark hair and examined her face, what was left of it, more closely.
She was definitely white. And for some reason, she looked familiar.
All at once, tears poured out of his eyes. He could not hold them back any longer. For so long, so long, he had not allowed himself to acknowledge his own feelings. Now the tears came whether he wished them or not.
No one was safe. An innocent woman had been killed. In his rage, Pham would kill innocent men, men whose only crime was joining a club that was popular in their hometown. And in retaliation, ASP would destroy Pham and all his men—perhaps all of Coi Than Tien. No one was safe.
And in large part, Nguyen realized, it was his fault. In his concern for his own family, he had crippled the law enforcement efforts to restore peace, had crippled the court’s ability to exact justice.
He had caused great harm. And he had prevented nothing. His words had been useless—dust in the wind. The cataclysm between ASP and Coi Than Tien would proceed just as surely as if he had never been here at all.
Nguyen suddenly realized he was still clenching the dead woman’s hand, but he did not drop it. He squeezed it all the tighter. He could do one thing. He could prevent another innocent death, another tragedy like the one that now lay beneath him soaking in her own blood.
He could do that. And he would.
59.
“MR. KINCAID. MAY I have a few words with you?” Ben and Mike gazed up at the rugged Asian face, the deep-set eyes, the gray-flecked temples. “Of course. This is my friend Lieutenant Mike Morelli. You’re Colonel Nguyen, aren’t you?”
“Colonel Khue Van Nguyen.” He bowed slightly. “You have a good memory.”
“I’ve seen you in the courtroom. You’ve been watching the trial.”
“Yes. Yes I have.”
Nguyen was being strangely hesitant, as if he had something important on his mind, but couldn’t make himself say it. “Any particular reason?”
“Curiosity. The jury has not yet returned?”
“No. They’re taking their own sweet time about it. Looks like it’s going to spill over into tomorrow. At least.”
“That is unfortunate.” Nguyen wrung his hands anxiously.
“Colonel Nguyen, forgive me for being blunt, but I have the distinct feeling there’s something you want to tell me.”
“There is.” Nguyen folded his hands together. “Donald Vick did not kill Tommy Vuong.”
“What?” Ben rose out of his chair. “How do you know?”
“Because I was there.”
“You mean you killed him?”
“No. But I saw it.”
“You were with him when he was killed?”
“I arrived less than a minute afterward. The cross was still burning. I heard his last words. I saw the fire consume his body”
Ben reached across the desk and took Nguyen’s arm. “Who killed Vuong?”
“That I do not know. I saw the silhouette of a figure moving away from me as I arrived. I could not see it clearly.”
“But it wasn’t Vick?”
“No. I am certain. The killer was thinner, not as tall. It was someone else.”
Ben glanced at Mike. “You’re my witness.”
“Understood.”
“Colonel Nguyen, why didn’t you tell me this before the trial was over?”
Nguyen lowered his head. “I was concerned about the possibility of … repercussions. Not for myself. But my wife, my children. I could not allow them to come to harm.” Nguyen’s eyes were filled with shame. “I do not offer that as an excuse. It is simply … an explanation.”
“What changed your mind?”
“Have you heard what happened at Coi Than Tien tonight?”
“Not another fire?”
“No. An armed attack. Men in a black pickup with automatic weapons.”
“ASP?”
“Presumably. But we have no proof. Just like every other time.”
Ben nodded grimly. “Was anyone hurt?”
Nguyen’s face tightened. “There was one fatality. A white woman.”
“At Coi Than Tien? Again?” Ben’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who was she?”
“I do not know.”
Mike interrupted. “Is someone investigating this crime?”
“Sheriff Collier is there now,” Nguyen answered. “But I suspect he has no idea how to proceed.”
“Ben,” Mike said, “if you don’t have any objection, I’m going out there to see if I can help.”
“No. Do it. I can wait for the jury by myself.”
“Thanks.” Mike grabbed his overcoat and bolted out of the office.
“Mike is a homicide detective in Tulsa,” Ben explained. “He’ll know how to handle the situation.”
“That is good.”
“Colonel Nguyen, what else can you tell me about Vuong’s death?”
Nguyen reached inside his jacket and withdrew a stack of papers about two inches thick. “I found these in the forest less than twenty feet from where Tommy was killed.”
Ben took the papers and examined them. It was all hate literature. Pamphlets and comic book tracts. The Whole White World, one was called. Keep Your Neighborhood Pure, another demanded. All of them bore the imprint of ASP; the stamps on the back indicated that they had been printed at the Birmingham ASP camp.