Big Three-Thriller Bundle Box Collection (102 page)

C
HAPTER 49

T
he gravel growled and popped in the wheel wells of Tony Parker’s Jimmy truck as he barreled down the driveway to Doc White Cloud’s clinic. It was a quarter till ten. There wasn’t much time to do what had to be done. Truong’s interview would be aired sometime between ten and half past.

He wondered if Truong would be there, if there would be a confrontation. Truong may have done what he wanted to do and left by now. Parker hoped he hadn’t. He wanted Truong. He wanted to feel his scrawny little neck in his hands as he wrung the life out. He’d never wanted to do such a thing to any living being before, but this time was different. He wanted Truong for what he had done to his family, to Sarah, to Doc, and to Jack.

Turning into the parking lot, the Jimmy’s lights found two vehicles, parked askew, near the dark building. One was a police car, and the other was Tommy Chin’s van. The clinic van was there, too.

Parker killed the engine and coasted to a stop several yards back and observed over the steering wheel.

Odd. No one in sight. No lights. It was as if they had gotten out of their vehicles and left.

With a flashlight in hand, he opened his door and stepped out. He scanned the area then walked carefully toward the fifty-foot gap between the cop car and Chin’s van. His light found something on the ground by the patrol car. A body. Parker quickened his pace. Another body. He walked faster, then stopped, standing over the two cops. Both were obviously dead, eyes open, pain and fear of their fate covering their faces.

“Chin!” Parker looked over to Chin’s vehicle, expecting to see his body on the ground like the officers’. It wasn’t. Maybe he was okay.

Parker trotted toward the van. The window was broken on the driver’s side, and the engine was running. He hit the door with both hands and looked in. Chin lay, slumped over the console, blood covering the side of his face, glass on his lap.

“Chin! Wake up, Chin!”

Truong couldn’t have done this. Not little, disfigured, meek and mild Truong.

Parker jerked the door open and turned off the engine.

A sudden, sharp pain stabbed the base of his skull. Something poked, cold, hard and sharp.

“Sergeant Parker. What a pleasant surprise,” said an unfamiliar voice. “Now, don’t move, so I don’t have to stick this into your brain.”

Parker was puzzled. The voice wasn’t like Truong’s. There was nearly no accent.

He felt one of his captor’s hands search his body. It stopped at Simpson’s gun, tucked under his belt. The revolver replaced the sharp object pressed to the back of his head.

“You weren’t going to shoot me again, now were you?”

Sergeant Parker? Shoot me again?
It didn’t make sense. He hadn’t been called sergeant since the Marines, over twenty years ago, and the only person he’d ever shot was a North Vietnamese lieutenant.

He flashed back to the jungles of Vietnam. He was on patrol three clicks out from the firebase. A squad of soldiers accompanied him and his three dogs as they looked for booby traps or any signs of the VC. He was separated from the patrol when the dogs picked up a scent and went crazy. They took him by surprise and jerked their leashes out of his hand. He chased after them but soon lost sight in the thick foliage, even though they ran only a few yards away. He chased, following their barks with his military issue .45 drawn.

Finally, he broke through a clearing and heard a shot. An NVA lieutenant stood fifty feet away. He’d shot the lead dog and was bearing down on the second. Parker fired, striking the enemy soldier and knocking off his hat. His adversary went down.

He would always remember the NVA lieutenant’s terror-stricken face as he looked into the business end of Parker’s aimed .45 auto, knowing he only had a split second to live. The face haunted Parker for years after the incident.

The enemy soldier was able to return a single shot as he fell. The bullet broke a limb in front of Parker, ricocheting and hitting him between the left nipple and shoulder, passing scant inches from his heart. He remembered something like a lightning bolt passing through his body as he fell to the ground. The dogs leaped on the NVA officer and the last thing Parker could recall was something shiny flipping out of the enemy soldier’s mouth and into the vegetation as he hit the ground. Now, he realized it was a dog whistle.

He had never been told what had happened after he’d passed out. He thought his shot had been true and if it wasn’t, surely the dogs had finished the job.

Parker now realized the face was the same as the one on the
bugaku
mask in the dream. Truong’s face without the scars.

He glimpsed over his shoulder and saw the man dressed in black with a black patch over his eye.

“Truong.”

It was obvious now, but still preposterous.

“Sergeant Parker, you spoiled the surprise. You peeked,” Truong said, grinning very unpleasantly.

That grin, that terrible grin, from a monster who had caused so much pain and snuffed out so many precious lives was too much for Parker to bear. He brought the flashlight around with a backhand that knocked the pistol out of Truong’s right fist and bounced it off the front fender of the van. He’d caught Truong completely off guard.

Next, he came around with his left and sent it smashing upward into Truong’s nose, immediately causing blood to splatter. Truong fell back and rolled onto his stomach.

Parker bent down, reaching for the gun but was surprised when Truong gave a mule kick to his temple, forcing his head into the wheel of the van. The flashlight flew.

Truong came to his feet.

No time to go for the gun. Parker stood and faced him. Truong obviously knew what he was doing. He was well schooled in the martial arts, probably
kung fu
. Parker had taken
tae kwon do
lessons while in the Marines but that was so long ago. The hand-to-hand combat training they had drilled into his brain in boot camp hadn’t been put to the test in a fight to the death and was long forgotten. It was evident Truong was well practiced, seeing the bodies he’d left in the parking lot.

He came at Parker. A scissors kick hit Parker in the jaw, but he stepped back and avoided more damage.

Blood streamed from Truong’s nose.

Blood rolled down both sides of Parker’s face.

He came at Parker again with a sidekick, but instead of backing away, Parker stepped into his attack. He caught Truong’s leg, drove his fist into Truong’s groin, then yanked the little man’s leg up, sending him to the ground. Truong fell onto his back but flipped over again and kicked Parker in the gut with devastating force. Parker doubled up and fell to the ground. Truong leaped on top of him, but his slight build was no match for Parker’s body weight. Parker rolled on top.

It was a terrible surprise to see that Truong had somehow come up with Jack’s gun. Truong slammed it into the side of Parker’s face, then sent another blow to his temple. Lights flashed inside Parker’s head. He felt as though he were falling. Another strike to the back of the head, and things went black.

CHAPTER 50

“N
ow, bring both of your hands behind your back, slowly, very slowly.”

Parker came to, face down in the gravel. His arms were being pulled to his back. He heard chains and recognized the type by their feel. Truong had taken two separate choker chains and put one around each of his wrists.

“Oh, what ugly injuries,” Truong said, laughing. “Looks like dog bites. You must have a doctor look at them. Now, over here.”

He pulled Parker to his feet, then pushed him toward the door of the clinic. Parker had no way to fight back. He stumbled into the wall, hitting it with the side of his face. Truong opened the door and shoved him inside. He flipped a light switch, and the bright lights exploded in Parker’s eyes, causing them to burn.

Parker felt the fever returning, the throbbing in his neck, the stiffness in his joints. The flu symptoms returned. Rabies flu.

Truong walked Parker into the examination room, then went to the middle of the floor. He rolled the examination table to the far side, revealing a steel restraining ring in the floor. Parker knew what was next. The ring hinged out of a recess in the concrete. It was used specifically to tie up large animals for examination and minor surgery.

“Now sit, and make yourself comfortable, Sergeant Parker.”

“Give it up, Truong. The war was over years ago.”

Truong thrust the gun barrel against Parker’s neck. It caused him to recoil with pain.

“Sit, I said!” Truong yelled and shoved Parker to the floor.

Truong pulled the chains through the loop from both sides until Parker’s wrists were against it tight, then tied the chains together several times. Parker struggled to get free. It was impossible.

Truong stepped across the room and sat on a stool, next to the sink. Parker looked at Truong’s right eye. It was dark and dilated, like Yankee’s eyes had been earlier.

“You are probably wondering about my good English,” Truong said. “I’ve studied and practiced it for years. I was taught during the war to interrogate the American prisoners. Then, I refined my knowledge of it along the way. You see, it was of benefit to carry out my plan. Knowing your language well has helped me to get around in your country, and most importantly, it allows me to explain what you have done to me and what I have, now, done to you.

“Why are you doing this, Truong?” Parker asked, “Why didn’t you just kill me?”

“Oh, that would have been much too easy. I want you to suffer.”

“Why? That was years ago. It was war.”

“War? Whose war? Not yours. You invaded my country, my home, and because you did, hundreds of thousands of my people died. It wasn’t your place to come to my home and do that.”

“I didn’t want to be there, either. My country’s leaders thought we should be. So I was there, doing what I was told to do.”

“And with what results? Prolonging the inevitable? Now we are at peace, free from war, finally. And guess when that happened? Right after you filthy Americans left.”

“At peace? I don’t know, but free, you’re not.”

“Would you like to discuss Vietnamese politics now, Sergeant? Why do you insist on talking about something you know nothing about and will never understand? The fact is, you invaded my home and bombed and sprayed and shot and burned and raped my people, my friends, my family,
me
!” Truong clinched his jaw and raised the gun.

Parker bowed his head, waiting for the bullet.

CHAPTER 51

T
ruong rubbed the gun barrel against the disfiguring scars on his face.

“Oh no, Sergeant Parker, I’m not finished with you yet. You see, I want you to hear the whole story. I want you to be sorry for what you’ve done. I want you to beg for forgiveness and plead for you
r life. Then, I may feel sorry for you and let you live.”

Parker looked up at Truong. “Give it up, Truong. No more killing, no more blood.”

“What about the killing and the blood when you dropped your bombs on my country—on my children? I had three of them, all beautiful and happy. They loved their father. They expected their father to keep them safe and to protect them. But while I was away in one of
your
prison camps, the bombs fell. They fell on my house, on my mother and my children.”

“I’m sorry. But
that was years ago.”

“You’re sorry? I believe you are. But you are not forgiven. Are you also sorry for my father and two brothers, who were killed trying to repel your invasion? Sorry for killing my uncle and three cousins? And how about my wife and my best friend? They were killed after the war, but you killed them just the same.”

Truong turned away and looked out the window over the sink.

“You see, because you killed me, I killed them.”

Parker looked at Truong almost sympathetically. He’d been responsible for Jack’s death and Doc’s. He’d been responsible for at least a half-dozen other deaths and the serious mutilation of Sarah. He hated him. But, at the same time, he felt sorry for him.

“When you and your dogs attacked me, I was unable to defend myself. I lost my gun and your dogs nearly devoured me,” he said and turned back to face Parker. “You trained them well. They ripped and tore at my leg until there was little left but bone.” He emphasized, making clawing motions with his badly scarred left hand. “They devoured my testicles and left me with a tiny stump of a penis.” He indicated with his thumb and forefinger. “They chewed on my hand and arm, and then, they ripped at my face and punctured my left eye,” he said, pushing the gun barrel against his eye patch.

Parker stared at him and swallowed hard. What he was describing was not at all unlike what he had seen over the last few days.

“Don’t you think I’m pretty? Don’t you think I would be sexually desirable to the opposite sex, to my wife?” Truong smiled with his right eye bulging. He chuckled briefly. “Well, when I got home, after I’d spent three years in a prison camp and your doctors had ‘done all they could’, my wife wasn’t real happy to see me. She didn’t think I was pretty or sexually desirable—as if that were even an issue with what your dogs had left me. She had found someone else who was. You see, I can’t really blame them. My wife was a very attractive woman, and she needed a man, a real, whole man. So I waited until I knew they were together and walked into the bedroom—my bedroom by the way—and shoved my gun
right up my best friend’s ass
—and killed them both with one bullet. They died slowly. I think they bled to death. I sat down on the bed beside them and watched.” He stared at the wall behind Parker.

“I felt empty after that. You see, the only thing left in me, the only emotion I possessed was hate. Hatred for you and what you had done to me and my family. You’d killed us all, and you were alive and well and living in the wealthy and all-powerful United States of America!”

He glared down at Parker with a hideous grin and pointed the gun again.

Parker stared back, now defiantly.

“Oh, now, what’s that righteous look for?” Truong asked. “For your friends that I killed? Don’t you see? You killed
them
, too. This is all
your
fault.”

“You’re out of your mind,” Parker said back.

Truong chuckled. “Yes, of course I am. How else do you think I could have lasted this long. You see, when I was being attended by your corpsman, after you’d been well taken care of, of course, I overheard them say your name and that you’d be going back to Kansas. They said you’d survived my bullet—that you’d recover without any problems. I was mad at first that I hadn’t been able to kill you. But later, after
you
killed my wife, I realized it was better that you hadn’t died so quickly, so easily. I had the opportunity to cause you almost as much pain and grief as you caused me.” He smiled again at Parker.

Parker looked around the room. He knew when Truong finished talking he would be killed. The clock on the wall showed ten minutes till ten. The interview would, most likely, be aired around half past. There wasn’t much time left, either way he looked at it. He had to get to those files quickly, or many more people would die horrible deaths. Maybe he could talk him out of it, at least talk him out of all the other killings to come.

“What’s wrong, Sergeant Parker? Uncomfortable? There’s no way out. You are going to die—tonight.”

“I radioed for more police when I drove in. They should be here any minute now.”

Truong laughed. “And you expect me to believe that? Well, if more police do come, I hope I have time to finish my little story because I’d hate to kill you before I’m done. You see, when I kill you, I will be finished. My spirit will be free, and I won’t need this body. Then, I can die, too.”

“I don’t believe you. You don’t want to die any
more than I do.”

“Now, where on earth did you get that idea?”

“The money. The money you stole from MacGreggor.”

Truong looked surprised. “Sergeant Parker, you are a smart man.”

“If you have to kill me, go ahead, but please, not all the others. Shoot me but stop the TV station from airing the interview. Call all the dog owners and warn them.”

“Shoot you? Shoot you? Sergeant Parker, I’m not going to shoot you—that is, unless the police come and make me finish my adventure prematurely. And call the people about their dogs? Why, I’ve already called them once. I’ve been calling them all evening to tell them to be sure their dogs watch the news with them tonight. I’ve told them I have something special for them, a surprise. You know, I think most of them will do it, too. A lot of them thought I was crazy, but I’ll just bet when the interview comes on, their faithful companio
ns will be watching right alongside them.”

Truong looked up at the clock.

“It won’t be long now,” he said. “Soon I’ll finish my story, my dog friends will attack, and it will be time for you to die a very horrible death.

“Now where was I? Mmmm, oh yes. When you met me in the jungle that day, I was hoping to kill your dogs.” He brought out a shiny silver dog whistle and rolled it between his fingers.

Parker now understood the way he was to be killed.

“Your dogs had been finding our booby traps and our tunnels, and I had a plan to kill them. I would call them, and they would lead you and your squad toward me. When I was sure they were on my trail, I would bring them, and you, into an ambush of claymore mines a few yards away. Then, I would disappear into the bush. My plan would have worked fine, but I underestimated the speed of your dogs. But then, I didn’t expect you to turn them loose. I hadn’t had time to reach my little ambush before your dogs appeared.”

Truong grinned. “Then you popped out and shot me.”

He paused before continuing, his eye staring at Parker with the intensity of a jaguar’s at a rabbit. “I also underestimated the incredible fighting strength of the
dogs. I was very impressed. But I would have killed them, anyway — if it weren’t for you. When I discovered firsthand what dogs could do to a man, I became very interested. You see, that would be the way I would get even with you—eye for eye, tooth for tooth.”

A strange hoarse howl came from outside. It sent shivers down Tony Parker’s spine.

Truong turned and craned his neck to see out the window.

“Intriguing howl. Probably a farmer’s dog or a coyote. I’ve heard one just like it every night. It’s almost as if it were following me. Hmmm,” Truong said, then turned back to Parker. “In the North Vietnamese Army, I had been an intelligence officer, specializing in interrogation and brainwashing techniques. Are you familiar with thiopental, or maybe Sodium Pentothal, Sergeant Parker?”

“Truth serum,” Parker responded.

“Exactly. It’s a barbiturate sometimes used to aid in hypnosis. Well, I discovered that if thiopental is used in conjunction with certain very potent mind-altering drugs, the mind becomes very pliable.

“It took many experiments, many lives both dog and human, to find the right combination of drugs that would produce the results I was seeking. But then, there were a plenty of drugs floating around at that time to choose from.

“The human mind seemed too difficult to control, however. Too complex. But certain lower animals, dogs for instance, were easily controlled with the use of my very own designer drug, accompanied by hypnosis. I’ll bet you didn’t know a dog could be hypnotized. It’s a talent my grief has helped me develop along with the gift of a hypnotic eye. The animals seem to look into my left eye and see the pain I carry in my soul.”

Truong pointed to the patch with the muzzle of the gun. “I am able to unlock the more primitive part of their brain: the part they used when they were untamed and vicious wolves and wild dogs, before being domesticated by man. It makes them very aggressive, and they attack anything living, except members of their own pack. That makes it safe for me, you see, for they look at me as their pack leader.

“The next thing I discovered was after hypnosis, even when the drugs wore off, I could induce them to use that part of their brain again at any time, at my whim.” He looked at the dog whistle. “With just a simple signal, planted during hypnosis, I can turn them on
— and off.”

Parker looked at the clock. It was five minutes till ten. He felt helpless.

Truong went on. “So, after years of research and experimentation, I was ready to visit you. I checked
information
for several Kansas cities and finally found you in Wichita. Then, I called around and found out you were the animal-control director. You can just imagine my delight! My plan would work even better than I had anticipated. I bought my identification and my passport to the United States on the black market and flew into Wichita and looked you up, just as simple as that.

“I had been here nearly six months, working out the fine details of my plan. I visited your house often, especially at night. I heard the music you liked to listen to on your stereo—that old-time rock-n-roll. I smelled the supper cooking on your stove. I even heard the arguments you and your wife had, about not having enough money and spending too much time at work—with Sarah Hill.” He grinned again. “Just one year away from getting your veterinarian’s degree, huh?

“But I was there in the daytime, also. To see Nick go to school and Julie take your baby, Audrey, grocery shopping with her. I went through your trash and found the discarded mail, the bills that you paid, the reminders and past due notices. There were some broken toys, some of Nick’s outgrown clothes. I even became friends with your dog. Tell me, does that make you feel betrayed?” He looked at Parker with another of his hideous smiles.

For months Parker and his family had been watched by a ruthless killer, and he hadn’t had a clue. He felt violated, raped. Truong knew everything about his family, had even called them by their names.

“From Yankee’s dog tags, I found your vet, and, of course, he hired me instantly as an assistant once he found out I would work for room and board. I posed as an ignorant Thai immigrant, who was good with animals.

“My real name is Ming. I used Truong so as to help make my getaway good if there were any complications. The old man never asked to see my papers. He believed everything I said. I soon gained the old fool’s trust and had plenty of time to treat many dogs. Every dog that was left here for more than a couple of hours became a soldier in my little army.

“Then, at night, I did some moonlighting and enlightened dozens more. I had picked up the drugs in San Francisco from some black market connections I have there, and I had enough to use on a lot of dogs.

“My first experiment in your country was right after I arrived. I ran across a firehouse mascot—a Dalmatian—and considered how much fun I could have. The firemen treated me like a friend—their favorite foamer, they called me—and they let me
play
with their dog.”

Parker couldn’t help gaping at Truong, thinking of the firefighters and their dog killed the winter before.

“I can see you remember that little
accident
they had. I wish I would have had a camera.” Truong sighed. “When I used up the last of the drugs, it was time to play with
you
. I started with the blind man. I stood outside his house and blew my whistle.”

He put the whistle up to his mouth and began to blow. No shrill whistle noise came out, only wind. He puffed two longs, two shorts and a long. “That was the signal. No other combination of sounds would work.”

Out in the truck, Yankee began to go crazy, barking and snarling.

Truong looked through the doorway with surprise. “Well, it sounds like you brought my old friend Yankee along with you. This
is
a pleasant surprise.” He looked back at Parker. “Now you won’t have to die at a stranger’s hands, or should I say fangs.”