The Spymaster's Daughter

by Allan Cole

  Jack stopped, gulped his wine, refilled the glass and gulped it down again. Ann’s heart thumped. This behavior was uncharacteristic of her father. As he reached for the bottle to fill his glass again, she put her hand on his, stopping him.

  “Just tell me, Daddy,” she said. “I’ll love you no matter what.”

  Jack thought for a moment, then shoved the wine away. “Okay, here’s how it is. I fucked up big time. Now Cho is in hiding from Ah Beng and Zach is in grave danger. And it’s all my fault.

  “Looking back, I can see all of the times Cho tried to tell me… attempted to warn me… And I… Well, I just made of mess of things, I’m afraid.”

  He reached out and grabbed the wine bottle again. But this time he poured only a few dribbles. Which he sipped and rolled around his mouth… thinking… determining… promising himself.

  Jack finally said, “I have set things right. That’s all there is to it.”

  Ann reached out to retake his hand. “I’m on your side, Dad. Never doubt that. But I still don’t understand and I need you to help with it. Who was Cho working for? And why? And how did you find out?”

  Jack said, “She had an anxiety attack a few weeks ago. I thought it was her heart and rushed her to the hospital. But the doctors couldn’t find anything wrong that couldn’t be fixed with breathing in a paper bag. In the end she confessed everything right there in the hospital room.”

  Jack squeezed his daughter’s hand, taking comfort. “She begged my forgiveness, Ann.” He tapped his chest with a hard finger. “Me. A man with so many sins on his soul that I’m practically the high-priest of evil. Even so, her confession put me on my knees. She said she couldn’t handle the lies anymore. And begged me not to kill her.”

  He shook his head. “As if I could.”

  Jack stopped for a moment, overcome by the painful memory. He emptied his wine glass, refilled it, then said, “Ah Beng is in the business of selling nasty stuff to nasty people. Dirty bombs, chemicals, biologicals. His customers are the usual suspects – dictators, extremist groups, terrorists and rich nuts like the Bin Laden clan.”

  He shrugged. “What could Cho do? He threatened to kill her entire family. So… she broke into computers all over the world, stealing vital information for him. She made one or two drops, then came across some really hot stuff. I don’t know exactly what it was, but she said it was big… Hell, it could be nukes. With the North Koreans you can never tell.

  “Anyway, she put it all on a computer chip, but just before she made the delivery she freaked. In the excitement, the delivery was bobbled. Then it was button, button who’s got the button. I played along and pretended to be a rogue agent for sale to the highest bidder.

  “I almost got my hands on the chip, but Ah Beng beat me to it. Then I turned the tables on him.”

  “Apparently you hit his arm with that table,” Ann said dryly. “I saw it in a sling.”

  Jack allowed himself a small smile of pleasure as he recalled his escape from the limo. Then the smile vanished and he added, “Unfortunately, Ah Beng trumped my ace when he snatched Zach.”

  Ann said, “He wants to ransom Zach for the chip?”

  “That’s what he’s saying,” Jack said. “Of course, he has no intention of letting Zach or me live once the deal is done.”

  “What are you going to do?” Ann asked.

  Jack sighed, then leaned across the table and took her hand. “You remember your favorite bedtime story?” he asked. “The one about the magical bird?”

  “Sure, Daddy,” Ann said, warmed by the memory. A broad smile spreading across her face. “The one about the Phoenix.”

  “Yeah, the Phoenix,” Jack said. “Chinese legends say it lives a thousand years. And when it gets too old to go on, it bursts into flames. Then it rejuvenates itself in the ashes – to live a thousand years more.

  “That’s me, sweetheart. An old, spooky bird with what feels like a thousand years' worth of sins on my soul. But if I can pull this one off – snatch Zach - and the chip right out of the fire -I’ll be new again. And our family will be new again.”

  His eyes pleaded with her. “Do you understand, Ann?”

  “I understand,” she replied. And she did.

  “Okay, that’s good,” Jack said. “But, will you help me, Ann? Will you do whatever it takes to help this dirty old bird rise out of the ashes and be whole again?”

  Without hesitation, Ann said, “You know I will, Daddy.”

  *****

  Jack and Ann sat in the back of one of the long, silver Singapore cabs as it cruised through the dark streets.

  Ann watched the colors of the city swirling in the windows, thinking things through. Finally, she said, “I wish you would have told me about Cho. Maybe I could have helped.”

  “Well, it was hard,” Jack said. “I felt… Well… I don’t know that I can say…"

  Ann answered for him… “Guilty? Because of Mom?”

  Jack looked sheepish. “I’ve never been comfortable with other women since your mother died. It was like I was, you know, cheating on her.”

  “It’s been fifteen years,” Ann said softly. “No one expected you to endure that kind of loneliness.”

  “I know, I know,” Jack said. “It’s like the gods were against me from the day Patricia died. Nothing turned out the way I planned.”

  He shook his head. “I lost you…”

  “Never,” Ann protested. “You never lost me. It’s just that my goals changed. Besides, my original goals were kind of childish.” She laughed, a little shaky. “I was going to be a big time secret agent like my father.”

  “It was all set for you,” Jack said. “Georgetown University for the basics. Yale for the polish. A little time at the UN for foreign service seasoning. Hell, you might have ended up as the first woman to head the CIA.”

  Ann’s smile was rueful. “Instead I settled for just being a doctor?”

  Jack chuckled. “Well, not exactly ‘settled for,’” he said. “I mean, you’ll always be the best at anything you do. Although, I must say you went about it in a strange way. First you get a doctorate in Traditional Chinese Medicine, of all things. Then you go to medical school.”

  “I guess it’s because we spent so much time in the Orient,” Ann said.

  “That’s one theory,” Jack said. “Or maybe it was really because Western medicine failed your mother.”

  “Not fail, exactly,” Ann said. “A Chinese doctor could have at least done a better job of relieving her pain. Made her feel more comfortable.”

  Jack sighed. “So, you blame me because I didn’t-“

  Ann put a hand on his arm, stopping him. “I don’t blame you, Daddy.” She sighed. “No one’s to blame. Nothing could have saved her. Nothing… Even so, it changed my priorities. My idea of a life’s work. And the Agency wasn’t going to be part of it.”

  “Are you happy with what you do, sweetheart?” Jack asked. “Is it all you thought it would be?”

  “Happy?” Ann said. “I don’t know if anyone working in a disaster area or a war zone can ever feel happy. Satisfaction, maybe, when you save a life, or diminish someone’s pain. Mostly you feel frustrated because the human race is so damned thick-headed that it keeps on repeating the same mistakes.

  “I mean – never mind the whole bloody business in the Middle East. Without them, right this minute there are something like fifty or sixty countries at war, or on the verge of going to war. Hundreds of thousands dead at the drop of a Rwanda machete. Arms and legs cut off, just for the hell of it. Children sold as soldiers and whores for those soldiers.

  “From a medical perspective, if war were a disease we’d say it was pandemic. Worse than any plague in the history of the human race. If I dwell on things like that, I suppose it all seems pretty hopeless.”

  “And yet you go on,” Jack said.

  “I don’t see how I could ever leave Doctors Without Borders,” Ann said. “It’s… Well…”

  “Addictive, right?”
Jack said with a grin. “You’ve become a crisis junkie just like your old man.”

  A soft laugh from Ann. “Busted,” she said.

  There was a momentary silence as the two reflected. Then Jack said, “I can’t wait until you meet Zach. He’s only ten, but he’s ten going on forty. He’s a whiz with computers and logic and he just loves the hell out of games of all kinds. Even invents his own and beefs up some old out-of-date Gameboy he’s had for ages.”

  Jack fished into a pocket and came up with a sleek, black box. “As the kids say ‘check it out,’ The latest Nintendo gaming device. With this, he can take on the world.”

  He chuckled, adding, “Besides all that, he’s also one of the most stubborn people you’ll ever meet.”

  It was Ann’s turn to smile. “Stubborn, is he?” she said. “Well, there certainly can’t be any doubt that he’s a Donovan.”

  They both laughed. Jack leaned forward to look outside. He spotted a neon sign just ahead. The sign read: "THE KIT KAT KLUB.” He tapped the window separating them from the driver and pointed. The cab pulled over.

  “You’re all set?” he asked Ann.

  “Yep.”

  Jack leaned over and kissed her. “Here’s lookin’ at you, kid,” he said.

  Then he was out the door and striding for the club. Ann stared after him for a long moment, thinking of his last words: “Here’s lookin’ at you kid.”

  For as long as she could remember, whenever her father was home for the new year, they always screened “Casablanca.”

  In the very early days, they had it on Super 8 film. Later on videotape, then DVD. It was a family tradition. Her father always made a big ceremony of setting out treats, champagne and snacks – with a little orange juice to mix with Ann’s champagne when she was very young. The snacks were always caviar and toast, with bits of egg (yolks and whites separate) and onions chopped up in little dishes and plenty of butter for the toast.

  Then, at a predetermined time, - Jack would start the film. And the three of them – Ann sprawled on pillows in front of the couch where her parents were cuddled – would watch the story unfold.

  And just at the right moment when Bogart - in his flashback innocence - was toasting the beautiful Ingrid Bergman, saying, “We’ll always have Paris.” And, “Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.” At that moment the clock would chime midnight and outside the fireworks would go off, and if you switched channels you saw the balloon drop in Times Square.

  And all was right with the world.

  Ann watched her father walk into the “Kit Kat Klub.” And she thought, “Yeah, Daddy. Here’s lookin’ at you…”

  The she rapped on the window for the cab to continue on its way.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Ann peered out the window of her hideout suite, watching the light traffic move by and a few pedestrians strolling down the avenue. Behind her, Frank Holiday was demanding, “What the hell are you up to, Ann?”

  She turned back into the room, glaring at the cellphone, which was resting on a nearby table. The speaker function was turned on and Frank’s voice was coming from the phone.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Ann answered. In his hollow cellphone speaker voice, Frank turned to threats. “Give me a break, Ann. There’s only so many places you can be. We’ll find you eventually.”

  “Don’t waste your time,” Ann said. “Dithering doesn’t become you.”

  She glanced at the bedside clock, which read: 11:15, then added, “Just be sure you have the team together like Dad said. I’ll call you the moment he shows. And you’d better come running, okay?”

  Frank said, “How do I know he’s really going to give himself up?”

  Ann sighed wearily. “Quit sounding like a cop. He’s not surrendering. He’s completing his mission.”

  “There is no mission,” Frank countered. “Nothing’s been authorized.”

  Ann went to the cellphone and picked it up. “Bye, Frank,” she said.

  She snapped the cover shut, cutting the connection, then glanced at the clock. Two minutes had passed.

  Ann went to the window again. Across from the hotel, she saw a long, sleek limo pull up and park. Ann studied the limo, then the street. Everything looked peaceful.

  She turned away, took several deep breaths, then dropped to the floor and started doing sit-ups to ease the tension.

  *****

  Two hours later, she came out of the shower, toweling off her long, lean body. She looked over at the clock, frowned, then got out clothes from her knapsack. She pulled on black “pajama” trousers, a loose blouse over a black sports bra and slipped into black kung fu shoes. Then she got herself a powerbar, peeled the wrapper, took a bite and strolled over to the window.

  Looking out, she was mildly surprised to see the same limo parked across the street. Of course, at least two of the hotel’s clubs were still open, so that wasn’t so odd. A second later she saw what appeared to be a delivery van – a white box truck – pull in behind the limo.

  It flashed its lights. The limo flashed back, then drove away. Very strange. And certainly suspicious.

  Then she heard something heavy thump against the door to her room. She whirled, taking a defensive position. After a long moment, the thumping sound came again. Then there was a soft knock – coming right at the level of the doorknob.

  Ann went to the door, but stood well to the side, in case someone fired through the door.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  She heard her father’s voice - “It’s me, Ann.”

  Ann threw the door open, her heart leaping into her throat when saw Jack sagging against the frame. Struggling to hold him erect was a boy of about ten, with slightly Asiatic features. It was the child she’d seen in the picture -her brother, Zach.

  Still trying to take this all in, she finally saw the blood on the front of Jack’s sports coat.

  With some effort, Jack said: “I’m afraid we ran into a little trouble, sweetheart.”

  Then Zach lost his grip and Jack fell forward into the room. As Ann caught him, an object fell from his jacket and thumped against the floor. It was the sleek Nintendo that Jack had displayed at dinner. For the moment, no one noticed it.

  “Lock the door,” Ann told Zach. The boy did as he was told. Ann said, “Help me get him to the bed.”

  Zach hustled over and got on one side, Ann on the other, and although Jack did his best to work rubbery legs, they had to basically drag him to the bed.

  As he settled back onto the pillows, Ann pulled aside his sports coat and started ripping the buttons of his shirt to get at the wound.

  Gasping, Jack objected, “It’s not that bad. I just lost a little blood, is all.”

  Ann ignored him and kept ripping. “The knapsack,” she said to Zach, indicating the pack with her chin. “There’s a medical kit.”

  Without hesitation, the boy ran to the knapsack and dug out Ann’s kit. Ann found the wound in Jack’s side. It was bubbling blood. There was no time for niceties, so she ripped open packets of powder with her teeth – it was the same stuff she’d used on the Cambodian woman.

  She poured it over the wound, then she applied a pressure bandage. She was about to continue, when Jack finally got the pain under control.

  “We’re out of time,” Jack protested. “They’re coming, Ann. Block the door. Then call Frank.”

  She hesitated. She wanted to do more – a lot more. Jack came up on one elbow. “Hurry,” he said, putting as much force into the word that he could.

  Ann nodded, then ran to the bureau. Without being asked, Zach jumped in and helped her shove it in front of the door. Ann paused, looking down at the boy. He seemed remarkably composed.

  “You okay, Zach?” she asked.

  Zach shrugged. “I guess.” A slight smile tugged at his lips. “You’re my sister, right?”

  “Right,” Ann said, rubbing his shoulder. There wasn’t time for anything else. So she said “Right,” again and grabbed the phone to speed dial.

/>   It rang and rang. “Come on,” Ann growled. “Come on.”

  Zach spotted the new Nintendo on the floor and retrieved it. He heard a soft moan and turned to see his father grimacing in pain. He stuffed the Nintendo into his pocket and went to his father, trying to comfort him.

  Still on the cellphone, Ann stopped gritting her teeth when someone finally answered. “Frank?” she demanded. “Get over here right away. Dad’s shot. We’re at the Raffles Hotel. Room-"

  Then she jerked her head back. The cellphone was howling like a banshee. The connection was jammed – painfully so.

  A split second later there was a crash. Ann turned to see an axe bit protruding through the door. With a shriek of complaining wood, it was jerked out. She heard someone grunt with effort and the axe crashed through the door again, smashing away the top panel.

  Looking through the hole was an immense Asian thug, with saw-blade teeth exposed in a wide grin. He shook the axe at her and roared obscenities in Chinese. Then he dropped the axe and pulled a gun, aiming it at Ann.

  Before he could fire, Ann hurled the cellphone at him and rolled to the side. She crashed into a pole lamp and it came tumbling down at her. Ann grabbed the lamp by its barrel and vaulted to her feet. She ripped the cord out and with almost the same motion she hurled the pole lamp at the thug just as he was about to fire again.

  The lamp caught him in the face, glass shattered, there was a welter of blood, then he fell out of sight.

  Before Ann could collect her wits to face another attack, a hail of automatic fire shattered the door. It was so violent that within seconds it turned the restraining bureau into a pile of splinters.

  The bullets kept coming, and Ann had to flop on her belly and roll like hell across the carpet to escape the hail of lead.

  On the bed, Jack came alive, pushing his son down and out of the way. He clawed for his weapon, the gun slipping in his bloody fingers. Jack fired and kept firing.

  Someone cried out in pain and the automatic gunfire stopped.

  Jack ejected the clip, and fumbled for another in his coat.

  But just then two gunmen burst through the door. Before they could open up, Ann came up, smashing one man in the nose with her open palm – breaking it. He screamed in pain and fell away.