The Spymaster's Daughter

by Allan Cole

  “Are you okay, Daddy?” she said.

  Jack said, “You know me… the ultimate survivor.” Then he said, “Frank been to see you?”

  “Yes.”

  Jack sighed. “He told you… never mind what he told. You don’t believe it, do you?”

  “No,” Ann said. She hesitated, then added, “Something else happened.”

  “Ah Beng?” Jack guessed.

  “He didn’t introduce himself,” Ann said.

  “Are you okay?” Jack asked, voice tense.

  Ann made a small laugh. “You know me, Daddy. The chip off the ultimate survivor.”

  “What did Ah Beng say?” Jack asked.

  “He gave me a picture of a boy,” Ann said. Then, she asked, “Who is he?”

  Jack grunted. Ann thought he sounded hurt. “I’ll tell you later,” her father said.

  Ann started to protest, then bit her lip. “When’s later?”

  “I need you here right away, sweetheart,” Jack said. “And I need a big favor. Will you do that for me? No questions asked?”

  “Sure, Daddy,” Ann said. “But questions will be asked later.”

  Jack chuckled. “Fair enough. But listen, this is bigger than anything I’ve ever done. And it’s personal, Annie. Really personal.”

  “Where do I go?” Ann asked.

  Jack was pleased that she spoke without hesitation. “That’s my girl,” he said. Then: “I’ve booked you a room at the Raffles Hotel in Singapore. Your plane will land about 5 p.m. Go straight to the hotel. Dinner reservations for two are at the Long Bar Steakhouse at 7:30.”

  Another pause, then a chuckle. “Wear something nice,” he said.

  Ann smiled wistfully. “I don’t have my old prom dress with me,” she said. “But, don’t worry, Dad. I’ll buy something in the hotel shop.”

  Jack laughed. “Figured on that, what with you crawling around in the muck doing good deeds for lo these many months,” he said. “I told them to expect a really pretty girl to show up and do some severe damage to my tab.”

  Ann giggled. “They probably think I’m your mistress,” she said.

  Jack laughed at that. Then he said, ”Okay, Annie. I have to go… I love you, baby.” And he hung up.

  Ann said into the now dead phone, “Love you too.”

  She snapped the phone shut. She stood there for a moment, the cell clutched to her breast, getting her emotions and thoughts in order.

  Trying to sound jocular, Mark said, “I didn’t know you had an old prom dress.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Ann replied with a wan smile.

  She climbed back through the window, staggering a little. Mark helped her, realizing she was struggling with many emotions.

  “Isn’t that the truth,” Mark said, keeping things light. “For instance, previously, I had the distinct impression that you were mad at your old man. But with these ears I heard all sorts of endearments, including the all important, ‘love you too.’”

  Ann said, “Just because I’m mad at him, doesn’t mean I don’t love him.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The following afternoon, shortly after five, one of Singapore’s famous taxis – long and silver and polished to a high gloss – glided up in front of the elegant Raffles Hotel.

  Built during the era when the sun didn’t dare set on the British Empire, in recent years the Raffles had been completely restored to its past magnificence, a fact that was much appreciated by Ann as the cab driver ushered her out of the taxi.

  After months living in mud and muck, with no comforts to speak of, she found her spirits lifting, despite the unknown dangers that lay ahead.

  Ann was dressed casually in jeans, a Doctors Without Borders T-shirt and all her belongings were contained in the knapsack slung over her shoulder.

  Even so, as she started up the grand cavalcade of steps that led to the entrance of the hotel, turbaned bellboys in immaculate costumes rushed down the steps to relieve her of the knapsack and to welcome “madam” to the Raffles.

  They didn’t even blink at the beat up old knapsack. Bedraggled adventurers had been walking out of the wilderness, or climbing off rickety boats to take up residence at the Raffles for countless years. The staff was trained to look past the bedraggled clothes to the fat bank accounts a goodly number of those visitors represented.

  Inside the hotel, whose palatial lobby mocked the desolate place she and Ruth and Mark called home, a young Asian clerk greeted her warmly. He glanced at her passport than positively beamed.

  “Welcome to the Raffles, Dr. Donovan,” he said in a clipped British accent. “Your suite is ready… but wait… one moment please.” He moved to the message center, plucked out an envelope and handed it over to Ann. “It seems there is a message for you.”

  “Thank you,” Ann said, opening the envelope. There was a postcard inside. A flashy picture of the waterfront. She slid the postcard out and flipped it over. Two words greeted her: Go Shopping.

  Ann put the postcard away and smiled brightly at the clerk. “Is the dress store still open?” she asked.

  “But, of course, Dr. Donovan,” he said. “Until ten o’clock.”

  “Excellent,” Ann said. “If you’ll have my things delivered to my room…” she gestured at the shabby knapsack… “I believe I’ll do a bit of shopping before dinner.”

  “Very good,” the clerk said, snapping his fingers at one of the turbaned bellboys who hustled over to make Ann’s knapsack vanish.

  In the très chic Raffles dress shop, Ann was greeted by a lovely Asian shopgirl. Ann presented her passport for examination and said, “I believe an account has been opened in my name – Dr. Ann Donovan.”

  “Quite so, doctor,” the girl said in a lovely British accent. “Also…” she reached beneath the counter… “Something else was left for you…” She presented Ann with a wrapped box… “A gift, I believe.”

  Ann was puzzled, but then saw a small envelope attached to the box. She plucked it off, removed the card inside and read: “Open When Alone.”

  She blushed and smiled as if it were a note from a beau. “How sweet,” she said.

  The shopgirl returned the smile, one girl to another. Then she asked, “Now, what may I show you, doctor? Evening wear? Casual wear?”

  Ann said, “Let’s not get his hopes up too much. We should start with something more practical. But please – nothing too Hillary Clinton-esque.”

  A little later, Ann unlocked the door to her plush suite. She entered, dropped her purchases on a chair, noted the complimentary wine and flower baskets, then

  immediately tore into the gift box. She could stand it no longer.

  Not many seconds later, she lifted out a small, bulging designer’s purse. She hefted the bag. It seemed a bit heavy. She opened it, eyes widening. Her father was a grandmaster of surprises, something she never got used to.

  Ann first pulled out a thick wad of greenbacks. She riffled through them like a deck of cards.

  “So much,” she murmured.

  Next, she withdrew a cellphone, which she placed next to the greenbacks. Then she brought out a small but high-caliber automatic.

  “My, my,” Ann said. She examined the gun, noting that it was loaded and ready to go. She upended the purse and a box of bullets fell out.

  “What in the world are you thinking, Daddy dear?” she said.

  As if in answer, the cellphone rang, making Ann jump. She flipped it open and put it to her ear.

  “Did you find the key?” her father asked.

  Ann frowned. “What key?”

  But even as she asked, she turned over the box of bullets and found a hotel key taped to the other side. She removed it.

  She asked, “I’ve got the key. Now what?”

  Jack said, “Move immediately into that room – Room 411. It’s just down the hall and registered in another name. Don’t get any help from the staff and don’t tell anyone what we’re doing. Just move and move fast. Call me back when y
ou’re done…”

  He clicked off. Ann hesitated for a split second, but good CIA brat that she was, she moved swiftly into action. She stuffed everything into her knapsack, except the gun, and hurried to the door – the automatic clutched in her hand.

  Ann cracked the door and peered this way and that. Nothing. She exited, softly closed the door, then moved swiftly down the hallway – hurrying past the elevator. But as she walked by, she saw the old-fashioned floor indicator moving upward, toward her floor.

  Ann walked faster, knapsack over one shoulder, bags from the hotel shop tucked under her arm, the gun clasped firmly in her hand.

  She was halfway down the corridor – many feet from where another hallway intersected – when, behind her, the elevator pinged.

  Ann peeked over her shoulder and saw the arrow display over the elevator come to a halt.

  Just as the door slid open, Ann squeezed into the shallow cover of a doorway. Carefully, she turned her head to peer down the hallway.

  Her heart stopped as out of the elevator emerged the elegant figure of Ah Beng, followed by two of his men.

  Ann tried the door behind her, but it was locked. She pressed closer against it, praying. Down the hallway she heard a woman laugh and then a couple came out of the room next to Ann’s former suite.

  She peeked out and saw Ah Beng give the couple a look that could have made the blood of a serial killer run cold.

  The woman’s laughter chopped off and Ann heard her companion say in a trembling voice: “Let’s take the stairs, Marge. I could use the exercise.”

  The woman made no argument and they hurried off. After a moment, Ah Beng and his men went to Ann’s room and knocked. Naturally, no one answered.

  Slowly and very carefully, Ann slid out of her minuscule shelter and inched along the wall toward the safety of the intersecting hallway.

  Ah Beng knocked again. She could imagine him frowning, getting angry at the false intelligence that said Dr. Donovan was in her room, probably trying on the new clothes she’d bought at the dress shop.

  She kept moving, commanding herself to move slowly… slow-ly…

  Ah Beng grunted something to his men. One of them put his shoulder to the door and pressed very hard. The other slipped out a screwdriver and inserted it into the space forced by the pressure of his very large comrade.

  Ann heard the door pop open, glanced back to see Ah Beng and his gang pile into the room, then ran like hell. She hit the intersection, whipped around it on silent feet and in a minute found the right room.

  She inserted the key card, but nothing happened. Behind her, she heard angry voices. Ah Beng had found her room empty. She tried again, still nothing. She heard swift footsteps coming down the hall and she tried once again.

  This time the lock flashed green. She pushed the lever and fell inside, swiftly, but silently, shutting the door behind her.

  She leaned against the door, panting as if she’d just run a fast mile. When she was calm enough, Ann went to the bed to dump the knapsack and packages. She found the cellphone, hit redial, holding the phone in one hand, the gun in the other. She heard the phone ring once, then there was a click.

  Jack said, “Good going, sweetheart. You made it.”

  Ann said, “With seconds to spare. I just missed our mutual friend.”

  Jack said, “See you at dinner, Ann. Same as before. Long Bar Steakhouse. 7:30. Okay, gotta go.”

  Ann said, “Wait… you didn’t tell me what’s going on…”

  But her father had already hung up. She slumped on the bed. After a minute she rose and started pawing through her packages.

  “At least I can look nice for dinner,” she said, kicking off her Nikes and tumbling a box of perfumed bath salts onto the bed.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Dressed in a sleek pantsuit outfit that drew every male’s attention, Ann swept into the Long Bar Steakhouse like royalty. Her father was waiting, a silver-haired devil in his well-cut suit, blue eyes gleaming in delight when he saw his daughter.

  The restaurant was staffed with beautiful young women and handsome young men, all wearing sarongs. The maitre d’ captured Ann and Jack and with much ceremony led them to their table, where staff members drew out their chairs and helped them sit, fussing over water, getting a quick wine order from Jack – an expert of long experience – then vanishing to let them talk in private.

  Jack looked his daughter over, his smile as wide and bright as a good slice of the moon, then said, “You look beautiful, sweetheart. You make my heart thump with fatherly joy.” He indicated the pantsuit. “Excellent choice… for the evening’s possible entertainment. Obviously, you haven’t forgotten my number one rule.”

  Ann jumped in. “I know, I know. You drilled it into me. Always be ready for the unexpected. And dress for that occasion.”

  The waiter delivered wine and Ann paused while her father tasted, approved the wine, which was poured. When the waiter vanished they made a silent toast to one another and sipped.

  Ann said, “As much as it pained me, I decided to pass on the La Femme Nikita miniskirt – which would have drawn boyfriend wannabes like flies – and picked something more sensible for tonight’s business.”

  She took another sip of wine. “In other words, if we run into Ah Beng again I want to maintain my maidenly modesty when I kick his teeth down his throat.”

  Jack laughed. “That’s my girl.”

  Ann glanced around the room. “I’ll never get used to the idea of meeting in public places when there are people after us. Lots of people. It seems so counterintuitive.”

  Jack said, “Rule number two - always hide in plain sight.”

  “You taught me that… and the rule has always proved true,” Ann replied. “But it doesn’t make it any easier to live up to.”

  Ann gave her Dad a look, then hoisted up the bulging evening purse and plumped it on the table with a loud thud. She pushed it over to him.

  “Here’s the gun, Daddy,” she said with mock sweetness. “And the money.”

  Jack dropped the purse into his lap, retrieved the gun and pocketed it, then snapped the purse shut and slid it back across the table.

  “Keep the money,” he said. “You’ll need it later.”

  Ann was exasperated. “Don’t you think you’d better tell me what’s going on, father?” she demanded. Jack winced. He hated it when she called him father. Ann continued, “You’ve got Chinese gangsters after you on one side. And your best CIA buddy leading the star-spangled hordes on the other.”

  Jack said, “I gather Frank had some rather harsh things to say about me.”

  Ann snorted. “He used the word ‘renegade.’ He left out the modifier – ‘traitorous,’ as in ‘traitorous renegade’ but it was certainly implied.”

  Jack fiddled with his glass, then absently drank some wine, but without pleasure. He wiped his lips, then said, “It’s a misunderstanding, sweetheart, that’s all.”

  Ann made no reply. Instead she pulled out the envelope Ah Beng had given her. She removed the picture, placed it before her father, then tapped the circled picture of the boy. Jack looked at it, then momentarily closed his eyes, as if in great pain.

  Ann said, “Does this child have anything to do with the misunderstanding?”

  Jack said, flatly, “Ah Beng is holding him hostage.”

  Ann paled. She looked back down at the picture, then to her father. “Who is he?”

  Jack took a deep breath, then: “Your brother.”

  Ann was stunned. She stammered, “My… my brother… How… I mean… Who… No, I mean… when…?”

  She took a deep breath, calming herself. “Just tell me,” she said.

  Jack took his own deep breaths, getting himself ready to face his grown daughter. There were many things uncomfortable things - between them and he dreaded that now there would be one more. A gigantic addition to their differences.

  He said, “In a nutshell, his name is Zach. His mother is a former North Korean physicist
.”

  Jack took a breath, then a drink of his wine. He closed his eyes, sighed, then opened them and went on.

  “Cho and I fell in love when I was in North Korea on a mission… It wasn’t a honey trap, Ann… just love, plain and simple. It can happen, you know? Even in the most cynical circles.”

  Ann’s only answer was a faint nod.

  Jack said, “Cutting to the chase, I helped her escape to Singapore. She was pregnant with Zach. I got her some cover and she’s been living here ever since.”

  “Where is Cho now?” Ann asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jack said. “And I don’t know on purpose. She’s in hiding -somewhere.” He shook his head. “Ah Beng wants her something fierce, so it’s better that I have really good cutouts. I have a pretty high pain tolerance, but Ah Beng is a past master at getting things out of people.”

  Ann couldn’t help but shudder. “I can imagine all too well. We met.” She paused, trying to get her head straight, but failing. She said, “Why didn’t you tell me about Cho and Zach? After all these years, I find out I have a brother I never heard of?”

  Jack put a hand across hers. “Nobody knew about them, sweetheart,” he said. “Not even the Agency. Hell, especially the Agency. They were convinced that Cho was a double agent and when I spoke up for her they thought I’d been led astray. So, I pretended to go along with them.”

  He stopped, taking Ann’s hand into his. He said, “You know I do a lot of business in Singapore. It made it easy to see Cho and Zach regularly without tipping Frank and the guys off. I needed that, Ann. I needed it desperately. I made sure that no one suspected us. But then it became a secret I was stuck to like flypaper.”

  Ann asked, “How did Ah Beng enter the picture?”

  Jack hesitated, then spit it out. “Langley was right,” he said. “Cho was a double agent.”

  Ann was stunned. How could her father have been drawn in like this? Then she saw that all the energy had been drained from her dynamic father. He looked sad and tired, all his bravado gone.

  He said, in almost a whisper, “I think I’m losing my touch, Ann. All of the signs were in front of me. She lied to me for so long and I fell for it. Me, of all people. Shit, shit, shit…”