by Don Easton
“You take it,” she whispered. “I’ve never used one before.”
Jack felt relief and said, “I can tell. First thing you learn is don’t point it at people you don’t want to kill.”
“Zhang?” came Rong’s voice from above again.
Jack took the gun and stuck the muzzle in Zhang’s ear and said, “Listen carefully if you want to live. Say exactly what I tell you to. Nothing else. You will answer in Chinese. I may not understand it, but my friend here does. ”
Zhang nodded in compliance.
“Tell them to stay up there and be quiet for a moment.”
Zhang yelled out in Chinese and Jack looked at Mia who nodded that he had done as instructed.
Jack whispered in Mia’s ear so Zhang could not hear and said, “I don’t want the guys upstairs to know we have a hostage. If they come trooping down the stairs it may be to our advantage if they think Zhang has captured us.”
“I understand,” Mia whispered in response.
Jack looked at the narrow passageways leading between eight wooden shelving units. Another passageway at the rear of the units allowed entry to each aisle from both ends. Four dingy lights hung from the ceiling to illuminate the rows.
He tapped Mia on the shoulder and pointed. “I want you to sneak over there and break those three light bulbs. They’re far enough down the rows that you won’t be seen from above if you enter the rows from the back.”
“There’s a fourth bulb back amongst the rows behind you,” noted Mia.
“I know. Meet me and Zhang there once you’re done.”
Rong heard the sound of a bulb being broken and then another as the shadows below turned into darkness. “Zhang?” he yelled again. “You okay?”
Seconds later, Zhang cursed in Chinese. “Yes, I’m okay, you idiot … except for a sprained ankle. I dropped my gun but found it. They are playing cat and mouse with me. I don’t want all of us bumbling around in the dark. We’re liable to shoot each other. There are glass bottles and things they could use to bash someone on the head. Stay there and cover the stairs. I’ll either flush them out toward you or shoot them myself.”
Moments later, Mia broke the third light bulb and felt her way back amongst the rows until she came to the last passageway. Under the remaining light she saw Jack, who had Zhang lying face down on the floor with his hands tied behind his back with his own belt. “What now?” she asked. “It will only be a matter of time before they come down here after us. I also doubt that anyone would call the police.”
Jack thought the same thing. He knew the owners of the restaurant would be too afraid to do anything. The only two customers left were an older couple who appeared to be new to the country and he had a sinking feeling that they would not want to get involved.
“Do you think there is any chance we could convince him that it really wasn’t us who shot his boss?” asked Jack, indicating Zhang with the pistol.
“He might lie and say he believes us,” replied Mia, “but you are Caucasian and I am only half-Chinese. I have my doubts he will trust us on that.” She looked at Zhang and said, “Isn’t that right?”
Zhang turned his head and glared back in response.
“What I figured, too,” replied Jack.
“Are we going to shoot our way out?” asked Mia.
“I hope not.”
“We’re just going to wait?” whispered Mia.
Jack put his fingers to his lips when he heard Shen talking to Rong at the top of the stairs in Chinese.
When the conversation ended, Mia translated and said, “Basically Shen told Rong to go out to the trunk and grab the autos. Rong said he was expecting Zhang to flush us out soon and didn’t think they would need them.”
“Oh, great,” said Jack, bitterly. “Just what we need. They’ll likely have Uzis, Mac-10s, or knowing these guys, maybe AK-47s. Whatever they have won’t matter when all we have is a pistol.”
Mia realized she was starting to shake and knew she was going into shock. Jack saw her and gently squeezed her arm for reassurance. “So what do we do?” she said in a shaky voice, trying not to cry.
“I’ll get you out,” he said, sounding confident. “But I need to know what’s going on.”
“I don’t understand,” replied Mia. “The gangsters upstairs are trying to kill us.”
“That’s part of it,” he replied, taking her by the arm and leading her farther away from Zhang so they could talk privately. “I need to hear the other part.”
“The other part?”
“Yes, if we’re going to get out alive, you need to be straight with me. You can start by telling me who Mr. Frank really is. And don’t give me that crap that he works for Wong. What he did was a desperate act to try and kill us, as well. If he only wanted Wong out of the way, he could have come up with an easier plan than to shish kebab his eyeball with us in the room.”
Mia stared back at him as a lifetime of training told her to lie.
“Come on, Mia. Level with me!” whispered Jack, tersely. “There is a hell of a lot more to that guy than you’ve told me … and I’m not just talking about hacking computers.”
“You know about the computers?” asked Mia.
“Yes. Quit screwing around. Who is Mr. Frank?”
“He’s my case officer,” she blurted. Her voice trembled as did her body. Exposing a secret she had kept all her life seemed more frightening than the men she faced upstairs.
“Your case officer?” In the dim light Jack could see and hear her fear. He felt stupid that he had not clued in earlier. “You’re a Chinese spy! You don’t work for Wong at all, do you? He works for you.”
“Not me. Mr. Frank … or well, our benefactor, as we say.”
“Your benefactor? You mean Chinese Intelligence.”
“Yes.”
“Why did Mr. Frank try to have us killed?”
“I think he screwed up. He slipped a drug into my wine the day I had the accident in front of Nancy’s house and tried to force himself upon me. He also gave me the bags of drugs I was caught with. I was concerned it was too much, but he wouldn’t listen. After I was charged, he knew that if I received a criminal record that the benefactor would learn of his actions. I’m sure he went to Wong to have him kill the witness without approval.”
“So Mr. Frank is responsible for having Betty Donahue killed?”
“Yes, but you know how that went. Everything got screwed up and then you appeared on the scene. I think Mr. Frank felt like he was being backed into a corner. His hope was to kill Wong and me to keep us from talking. I don’t know about you. Maybe you were in the wrong place at the wrong time … or perhaps it fit into his cover story for later.”
Jack glanced around at the darkened basement and heard the murmurs from the men upstairs. He shook his head at the predicament they were in and looked at Mia, asking, “Why didn’t you run out the back door like I told you? Why did you save me?”
“I don’t know. At first I thought you were a schmuck and that I could play you. Then in the meeting when I thought Wong was going to kill me … it was you I turned to for help. I don’t know why I did it. It was probably a mistake.”
“Not for me, it wasn’t.”
“Maybe I was starting to clue in about Mister … fuck the mister part … that asshole, Frank. He deceived me … probably about a lot of things.” She saw Jack staring at her intently, so she shrugged and added, “Maybe I decided it was time to be a real Canadian.”
Jack sighed. “Well, thanks for saving my life.” At least for the moment. “You said that Mr. … asshole Frank probably deceived you about a lot of things. Are you referring to your father’s hit and run?”
“Of course not,” said Mia abruptly. “I was a child then. Frank recruited me last year in university. I had nothing to do with him before then. I was referring to him telling me that it was the benefactor who ordered the witness killed.”
Jack knew she was lying about being recruited last year and understood why. It w
as something he would talk to her — and her entrepreneurial mother — about later.
“What are we going to do?” asked Mia. “What’s going to happen?”
“What’s going to happen is that Frank is going to go down,” replied Jack, determinedly, as he looked toward the basement stairs.
“Forget about him. The guy is a trained agent. If he succeeds in killing us, he’ll have figured out some way to bullshit the benefactor. He’ll also have a Plan B. If by some miracle we survive, I’m sure he’s plotted a secure escape route along with a new identity to disappear. He won’t be caught. All we can do is try to stay alive and hope someone comes to save us.”
“Yeah, well maybe you don’t know about my Plan B,” said Jack.
“What’s your Plan B?”
“It’s kind of complicated,” whispered Jack in response.
“Fuck, you don’t have a Plan B, do you?”
Jack put his finger to his lip to silence her when he heard all the bodyguards gathering at the top of the stairs.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Mr. Frank saw the horrified look on Dai and Shen’s faces as they examined Wong slumped in his chair with his head to one side. His one eye remained open while blood and fluid from his brain dripped onto the desk from his other eye.
Mr. Frank did his best to look hopeful as Dai checked for Wong’s pulse. Dai shook his head a moment later. Mr. Frank let out a big sigh, closing his eyes briefly to fake his grief. Then he spoke to them in Chinese, knowing that it would subconsciously make them feel united. “I tried to stop them, but I was too late,” he lamented. “The woman distracted us. I didn’t realize what was going on until Taggart stabbed him. He tried to punch me in the throat after, but I blocked his blow and then they ran.”
Excited voices from the front of restaurant interrupted their thoughts. “Shen … the staff and the customers,” cautioned Dai. “We may not have much time.”
“We will make time,” replied Shen harshly. “The people who work here would not dare to call the police on us. There were two customers, but they are old and I suspect not familiar with Western culture. Go back out front. Tell the staff to go upstairs and wait. If the customers have not already fled, say that the police have been called. Tell them they must leave if they do not wish to get into trouble and be taken in for questioning. Then lock the door and come back.”
When Dai hurried back down the hall, Mr. Frank turned to Shen and said, “Taggart is a police officer. I am sure someone paid him big money to do this. He will have a plan. Maybe he will say that it was us who murdered Mr. Wong. We are Chinese. The authorities will not believe whatever we say. You need to kill them both immediately!”
Shen’s face looked pale, but he nodded in agreement. Mr. Frank knew then that his importance as a trusted friend of Wong gave him the power to influence the bodyguards and he used it to take control of the situation. “Quickly, let’s go get them and get out of here,” he said, gesturing with his hand toward the hallway.
In the darkness below, Mia listened to bits and pieces of what she heard and whispered in Jack’s ear. “Frank is near the top of the stairs and is taking control. Rong told them that Zhang sprained his ankle, but is okay and said to wait while he flushed us out. Frank said they’ve wasted enough time … talk of checking to see if the restaurant has a flashlight. More talk of the autos …
“Zhang!” yelled out Mr. Frank. “In about two minutes we’ll be sending some backup down. Do you hear me? Zhang?”
The sound of a shot echoed loudly in the basement and Mr. Frank and the four bodyguards instinctively leaped back. The noise was followed by the sound of a body falling against some shelves and knocking items to the floor. Before anyone could respond, the remaining light was smashed as a second shot rang out.
Jack cried out in pain as Zhang yelled, “Got them! The woman through the head and Taggart through the knee when he broke the last light.”
“Finish him off!” yelled Mr. Frank.
Jack’s tearful voice drifted up the stairs. “Please don’t kill me,” he begged. “I have a wife … children … no! Please don’t! You’ll never get away with —”
A third shot rang out. “He tried to grab my gun,” yelled Zhang. “I put one through his other kneecap.”
“Good,” whispered Jack into Zhang’s ear. “If you don’t want us to kill you or any of the others, you’re going to get them down here so we can escape. The only one I am really after is Frank. I know you don’t believe me, but he killed your boss, not to mention some other people.”
“Finish him off!” yelled Mr. Frank, from the top of the stairs.
“No,” replied Zhang. “Taggart killed my boss. His death will be more painful. Come and help me drag him to the bottom of the stairs. I want to see him beg before I kill him.”
Mr. Frank knew it was time for him to go. “It is possible someone may have heard your shots,” he yelled. “I would suggest you make it quick and get out of here!”
“I will!” replied Zhang. “Help me drag him out!”
Mr. Frank watched Shen, Dai, and Rong run down the steps, before he headed down the hall to the fire escape. He shoved the door open and stepped outside as he heard yelling from the basement. He turned in time to catch a glimpse of Mia and Jack enter the hallway behind him. He was about to stop the door from swinging shut when he saw that Jack was holding a pistol.
Their eyes momentarily locked and Mr. Frank leapt to one side in the alley as the door closed.
Jack quickly shut the basement door, then fired a warning shot through it, before handing Mia the gun.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “I can’t —”
“Yes you can. Lie on the floor off to the side and point it at the door,” he commanded. You’ll hear the stairs creaking if anyone tries to come up. If they do, fire a shot through the door. They’re not going to risk getting themselves killed for a boss who is already dead. I’m going after Frank!”
Seconds later, Jack stepped into the dimly lit alley. To his right, he saw a figure moving in the shadows and took a step in that direction, before realizing the figure was too short and not trying to escape, but coming toward him. He turned around and saw Mr. Frank … barely out of arm’s reach, taking aim at his face with a revolver. Shit, now I find out he has a gun …
“We know who you are!” said Jack quickly. “We have your photo. We know you’re with Chinese Intelligence … the benefactor.”
“We know?” sneered Mr. Frank. “Don’t you mean … you know?”
“It’s we,” replied Jack. “We’ve been on to you for some time now, trying to identify your contacts. We know you fucked up. Given the opportunity, your so-called benefactor will probably kill you for what you’ve done. Put the gun down. Your only hope is to co-operate with us.”
“Yeah, right,” muttered Mr. Frank.
“Think about it,” continued Jack. “You really have no choice. Kill me and both East and West will be looking for you. How long do you think you would last?”
“I’m willing to take my chances.”
“Your value could preclude that. As far as killing the witness and that guy in the flower shop … I’m sure something could be arranged. You undoubtedly have priceless information you could exchange for leniency.”
“The guy in the flower shop? Lok Cheng is dead? She got him already?”
She got him? thought Jack.
“Thanks for the info. I’ll figure out a way to use it,” said Mr. Frank, sounding matter of fact. “Killing her former case officer … well, that makes it all too easy,” he added, straightening out his arm as he squeezed down on the trigger.
A shot reverberated in the alley and Jack instinctively blinked and cringed at the same time. His jaw went slack when he saw Mr. Frank collapse like a rag doll to the ground, with blood draining out the back of his head where the bullet had exited.
Jack spun around. The heavyset, toothless Chinese woman stepped out of the shadows while pointing a pistol at him. Ch
rist, I hate days like this …
Chapter Fifty-Four
“You are not in danger if you obey my instructions,” said the woman, in perfect English.
“Then why are you pointing the pistol at me?” asked Jack. He glanced at Mr. Frank’s body and added, “Thank you, by the way. You’re a hell of a good shot.”
“Not really. You were lucky … more ways than one. A moment ago I heard you refer to the benefactor … that is who you owe your life to,” she said, moving closer before stopping out of reach.
“Not like the other people you or the benefactor have killed in this country,” Jack remarked.
The woman frowned. “He is the first person I have ever killed,” she replied, gesturing at Mr. Frank with the muzzle of her pistol. “In fact, I believe he is the first person ever killed in Canada that the benefactor has … would … approve of. And, of course, that was done to save the life of a Canadian national.”
“The first person?” queried Jack. “I am familiar with a hit-and-run murder about twenty-five years ago done by one of your Intelligence people. A murder that killed Mia Parker’s father to gain control and manipulate his wife. In fact, that same Intelligence officer was murdered in his flower shop last night. I take it the benefactor was afraid he had become a loose end?”
A siren pierced the air a few blocks away, startling the woman. “If the benefactor had approved such an operation twenty-five years ago,” she replied hastily, “do you really think the person who did the murder would remain in Canada afterward? Let alone Vancouver? I was told you are on an Intelligence Unit. Use your head.”
“Perhaps you thought he was safe until recently when —”
The siren was coming closer and the Chinese woman interrupted. “No more talk! Take Mia and leave immediately.”
“What? Have me call her outside so you can shoot her, too?”
