New Orleans Noir

children back.” Or we will all die in the attempt , he thought.
    Hours later, the men came back.
    For much of that time, Sonny had been waiting in the shelter of a collapsed carport opposite the Phams’ front yard. He’d been sitting above the water on a section of crossbeam, but when he saw the men approaching, he slipped into the water.
    There were three of them, just as Nga had said. Two moved through the deep water on either side of a raft created from a section of privacy fence. Another walked behind. They were bare-chested, golden-skinned, and muscular. Despite the masks they wore, it was easy to see that they were young men. A tattoo of a sinuous green dragon curled around each man’s upper right arm.
    The Pham children were sitting at the raft’s center, bound together shoulder-to-shoulder with duct tape. Facing outward. More duct tape covered their mouths. Above the tape, their eyes were terrified. It would take little effort, Sonny realized, to tip the raft and send the bundle of children tumbling into the water. Where they would certainly drown.
    The children shared the raft with three handguns.
    The procession stopped in front of the house, in front of the porch. Sonny watched as the two flanking men abandoned their positions and went up the steps. Two of the handguns went with them. They shouted loudly and waved the guns in Nga’s direction when she came to the door.
    Maximum intimidation , Sonny thought.
    One of the men pointed at the raft, clearly threatening.
    Nga nodded, looking nervous, but did just as she and Sonny had agreed. She gestured for them to come inside. To view the valuables she’d collected.
    “Keep them inside for as long as possible,” Sonny had instructed her, silently admiring her courage when she’d immediately agreed. They had spread the ransom across the dining room table, then gotten rid of the pillowcase so that gathering up the money and jewelry would be less convenient for the kidnappers.
    Nga had added to the plan: “There’s a wall safe upstairs. I’ll put half of the money back into it. When they demand more, I’ll reluctantly tell them about it. Then I’ll take them upstairs. After that, they can wait as I search the house for the extra jewelry I’ve just remembered.”
    “Smart,” Sonny’d said, and then he’d grinned at her. “Be sure to move slowly, old woman. That way you’ll give an old man the time that he needs.”
    Now, as he slipped quietly into the water, Sonny murmured another prayer to the Virgin. He apologized to her for previous transgressions, then asked her to intervene on his behalf. To ask the Lord’s forgiveness for what he was about to do.
    “Ban cung sinh dao tac,” he said finally. (“Necessity knows no laws.”) And he hoped that the old adage was respected in heaven, too.
    Then he made sure his grasp was firm around the razor-sharp filleting knife he’d taken from his tackle box when he’d briefly returned to his little house. And he moved forward, only his nose and eyes above the water’s surface, the top of his head camouflaged by a small, leafy branch. When he’d tested it, Nga had assured him that it looked as if the branch were merely floating loose on the water.
    Sonny had already checked his route, knew exactly where the obstacles lay between him and the porch. He moved forward quickly, detouring when he needed to, half-swimming, half-gliding through the water. Recalling how he’d once crossed rivers in just this way, intent on an enemy.
    The man who’d been left behind was entertaining himself by terrorizing the children. He had retrieved his gun and, with his free hand, was leaning on the raft, pushing it downward against the water’s pressure, then releasing it abruptly. He was laughing at the children’s muffled cries.
    Sonny emerged from the water directly behind him. He wrapped one arm around the young man’s shoulders as he slid the blade firmly across his throat. Just as he’d been taught back in Vietnam. Then he held the body for a moment, waiting for it to hang limp before lowering it slowly into the water.
    The gun sank before he could retrieve it, but that didn’t matter.
    He smiled at the children and touched his fingers to his lips. But he left them taped up and gagged. Impossible to trust ones so young to the silence that was essential to saving their lives. He pushed the raft back down the street, moving as quickly as he could, finally beaching it on his own tiny side porch.
    He took the