by David Clark
The nondescript black sedan moved cautiously from one lane to the other. Their maneuver drew a few honks and hand gestures from the passing traffic. Her grip tightened more with each reaction. Signs hung over their new lane every couple hundred feet. The first few they passed under were arrows under Chinese characters, leaving them all in the dark of which one to follow. Then, in the distance, Amy saw one and pointed it out. It had a picture of an airplane on it and the distance 10 kilometers. Robert settled back in his seat, knowing where they were heading.
Jill turned on the blinker and followed the next exit with a large sign with the same picture of a white plane.
“Keep going,” Doug said from the back seat.
Jill looked at him in the rearview mirror while Amy and Robert turned toward him with questions in their eyes. Doug, didn’t return their looks, he stayed focused on the road as he said, “Three more exits.”
They continued past the signs and exits for the airport. Most of the cars around them exited, though. Just a handful continued on with them.
“Get off here,” he said at the next ramp.
Jill got off and followed the ramp off and to the left. She looked back at Doug several times for directions when she noticed the ramp took her directly into a parking lot. Doug finally directed her to park the car with everyone else. She followed the rest of the cars through the parking lot, toward a tender who directed her into a spot next to another car that had just parked. She shut the car off. Now all three of them were looking at Doug for some kind of direction.
“You probably guessed we aren’t getting on our flight home. Chances are, someone was waiting for us at the airport. Who knows if we would have ever really made it home.”
The three anxious passengers sat back in their seats. This was a fact none of them had considered. With what they had witnessed and seen, if they talked to anyone, they could cause trouble. They were a liability and Mr. Lee was probably assigned to make sure they never made it to the airport. At that moment, Robert felt more alone and unsure of the future than he could ever remember. He looked at Amy, feeling both responsible, and inadequate as a husband. He was why she was here, and he’d failed at protecting her. Their vows said in good and bad, but he’d hoped there would be more good than bad. At that moment, it didn’t seem like that was possible.
“What now?” asked Amy.
“Well, we are going to get out of the car and follow these nice folks to the ferry and take a little ride. Let’s get going.” Doug grabbed the plane tickets and cash and exited the car. A confused Robert, Amy, and Jill followed.
Doug purchased four tickets at the tender’s office. He then led the four of them up the ramp and onto the ferry. Inside, he led them to the back corner where all four could sit far away from anyone. Not that many people would understand what they talked about, or even care. Most of the passengers had their head buried in a newspaper or focused on their cell phone, scrolling through social media.
When Doug sat, his body collapsed into the seat. The raw emotion and tension of the last several days and hours dripped from his pores. It was not the same for the others. They sat around him, looking for answers, with uncertainty written on their faces and confusion running through their heads.
“We are heading to Hong Kong. When we get there, there is a train that will take us into the city. From there, we will walk to the US Consulate. They can help us.”
Robert settled back into his seat. This made sense. He had seen it in several movies and documentaries. Any time an American was in trouble overseas, they headed to the Embassy for help. Once they were there, they would be safe and could return home. That wouldn’t help Christopher, though. The thought of their friend, what he is going through, and his fate, were a constant presence in his head. In fact, the only thought that pushed it out for a moment was the question that just entered.
“Doug, how do you know where the Embassy is here?”
Neither Jill nor Amy had considered that question yet, based on the expressions on their faces, but now that it was out in the open, they were curious, as well. Doug looked down at the floor, avoiding eye contact with anyone. Friends and strangers, alike. He twisted his hands around and around, fidgeting.
“Doug?”
“This isn’t my first time here. I was here in the service.”
“What were the Marines doing in Hong Kong?”
“We were here on an exercise. Any time they sent us out of country, they told us where to go if there was trouble. That is all.” With that, Doug clammed up and sat looking out the window as the turbo-jet powered ferry sped across the harbor to Hong Kong. For the longest time Robert, Jill, and Amy sat looking at Doug, waiting for him to say anything else. He was their leader at the moment, but his silence eventually convinced them there would be no further instructions for now, and they turned around in their seats and did as he did, watched the water speed by.
When the ferry docked at the terminal in Hong Kong, they followed Doug. He led them a few blocks through town, to Sheung Wan Train Station. For a few moments, he stood and watched how others bought train tickets from automated machines. Once he felt he had the pattern down of which buttons to push, he bought four tickets. He mumbled, “It’s been less than 20 years, and no signs the British were ever here,” as he walked to the platform and had a seat to wait for the train. The others followed.
They sat in silence for twenty minutes until the next train pulled up. When the doors opened, a mad rush ensued. Robert grabbed Amy by the hand and hurried after Doug, who kept a hold of Jill and yelled, “Excuse me,” as he pushed through the crowd. A few people cut him off, and Doug said something in Chinese, causing them to move out of his way. They crowded on to the train, which was more closely packed than Robert ever remembered the Los Angeles subway being.
Doug comforted them, “Just press together. It is a short ride.”
To say personal space was violated would be an understatement. Body parts constantly bumped into the four. Some, Robert, Amy, and Jill felt were inadvertent, but others seemed intentional. Robert wanted to say something, but he felt outnumbered and, considering their situation, he decided against it.
After four stops, Doug moved toward the door, pushing through the crowd. At the fifth stop they squeezed off, along with the handful of passengers. Once off, they didn’t stop moving. Doug headed through the gates of the station and out into the street. He walked with purpose and determination. Most of the people on the sidewalks were walking at a leisurely pace, but not Doug. He was moving at almost a jog, which created a challenge for the others to keep up.
They turned a corner and saw it. A concrete building surrounded by a twelve-foot black iron fence. In front of that, a row of concrete barricades blocked any vehicle from trying to ram the primary fence. Small breaks in the barricade allowed pedestrian traffic through to the entrance, which was a separate, almost impenetrable building, itself. Doug stopped at the metal turnstile and let the others go first. Inside, they each stopped just short of the guard station manned by four heavily armed Marines and two metal detectors. Entry could only be made by walking through the detector’s opening.
The Marines observed their out of breath visitors with both anticipation and intrigue. Two of them rested their hands on their sidearm, ever at the ready to take action, if a threat emerged. Doug entered through the turnstile and approached the guards.
“We are American citizens. We were kidnapped and tortured. We need your help.”
This was not a phrase these Marines heard every day, and they cautiously waved Doug through, but he declined and motioned for Jill to go first. One of the Marines stepped forward and stopped her just short of the metal detectors. He asked her to hold her arms out to her side, and she did. He then traced her body’s figure with a black metal detection wand. The first pass completed, then he went over her a second time. He then asked her to hold still and performed a simple pat down, before he gave a thumbs up to those stationed behind the metal detectors. They
motioned Jill through the arch, which remained silent as she passed through.
Then it was Amy’s turn. Once she was through, Robert went, and finally, Doug. They were told to stand there and wait, and wait they did. Ten minutes later another Marine, an officer, appeared from the side hallway.
“If you will follow me,” he said, with no greeting or pleasantries.
They walked down the hallway, passing many locals with State Department badges. A large double door separated the outer building and the inner building. The officer badged through the door and let the four of them pass through before securing it. Robert knew at that point they had crossed into the Consulate itself. The interior had rich wood trimming, more like you would see in a law firm, and the workers were not locals, these were all Americans.
Doug, who had been filing behind all of them, rushed to the front of the line and said, “Sarge. I need to speak to Chief Maldons.”
The officer stopped at that moment and turned to Doug, “Who do you need to speak to?”
“Chief Maldons. He is still the station chief here, correct?”
The expression changed, as did the tempo of his walking, “Come with me.”
He led them through a series of offices and cubicles and into an open conference room. The Sargent stood, stone-faced, by the dark solid wood door as the four of them walked in.
“The coffee’s fresh, help yourselves. I will be back.” The door secured itself behind him, leaving them in the room standing around a glossy wood conference table, gawking at Doug, who was fixing a cup of coffee from a sterling silver coffee set on a dark maple bureau against the wall. Robert felt a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue. There was more to their friend they he’d ever known.
4
Doug sat at the table, taking casual sips from his coffee. Leaning back in the chair, he appeared rather relaxed, almost at home in this setting. The others still stood just inside the door. All three sets of eyes were transfixed on Doug, lounging back and enjoying his steaming cup of coffee.
After another sip, he took notice of the attention. The chair he was sitting in rocked forward and Doug rested his arms on the table and asked, “You guys are quiet. I am sure there is something you want to ask.”
“Umm, yeah. Care to explain all this?” asked Jill.
“You all know I was a Marine, but that is only half true. I started as a Marine. I spent five years there before they recruited me into the intelligence and counter-intelligence world.”
Robert leaned forward, his hands thumping against the table when his weight came to rest. With his forehead wrinkled he stated, “You mean you are a spy.”
“Not in so many words. Think about it as a level of special forces that worked in areas we, officially, were not allowed to operate.”
“Huh. That explains a lot,” said Robert, standing back up, a half-amused expression on his face. “So, I am guessing one of your many secret missions brought you to Macau?”
“Eight years stationed in south east Asia. At the time the British controlled this area, so yeah, I have been here and I’m pretty familiar with it.”
Jill asked, “So you are an assassin?”
Doug gave a wry smile, “You watch too many movies. I am not a double-0. I am not even sure I have met one. Have I taken lives? Yes, but that was not my goal. I gathered intelligence on North Korea and China for the United States government. Remember the huge standoffs between the Clinton administration and the North Koreans over their nuclear program? That was me.”
“Explains why you seemed so comfortable with a gun in your hand.”
“Just training. I am not a cold-blooded person. I don’t take pulling the trigger lightly.”
“Then what happened back there, earlier?” Robert asked.
“What do you mean? What happened?” asked Amy.
“When we went back for Christopher. We ran into someone in the control room. Doug shot him and Mr. Lee before we left.”
All three sets of eyes landed on Doug, with a look of disapproval and disgust.
“You may not understand, but it was necessary. We couldn’t leave anyone behind that could identify us or alert anyone that we were there. It improved our odds of getting out of there and the country.”
The three fell silent.
“You guys have to trust me on this. What I did was necessary to help us survive.”
There was a quick knock on the door as it opened. A white-haired man in a Hawaiian print shirt and shorts leaned in, pointed at Doug, and motioned for him to follow him.
“Guys, I will be right back.”
When the door closed, Amy asked, “I take it neither of you knew any of that?”
“Hell, no,” said Jill. “I knew he was in the Marines, but when you hear him talk about it, he never made officer.”
This all made sense to Robert. They way he handled Mr. Lee in the hotel showed someone that was skilled in the art of coercion. Almost like something out of a spy movie Robert had watched. The way he handled the weapon was beyond someone who occasionally visited a shooting range. To be honest, he was scary good. Then it hit him.
“I think Christopher knew.”
“What are you talking about, Robert?”
“Remember when we tried to escape. Who did Christopher hand the gun to?”
Both Jill and Amy were sitting and leaning against the table. Their bodies, minds, and emotions exhausted from the ordeal. When Robert pointed that out, they both sat up straight. Eyes were wide as saucers.
“You are right,” said Amy.
Jill said, “He had to know. He didn’t even try to get any of us involved. He went straight to Doug.”
Robert felt he knew his friends extremely well, but it appeared they were still keeping secrets from each other. This kind of secret may be one he had to keep quiet.
“So, anyone else keeping a secret?” Robert asked, half mocking.
Both Amy and Jill shook their heads.
“Yeah, me neither. You guys know exactly who I am.”
“How are we going to tell Michelle and Bob’s families?”
Oh, shit, thought Robert. A panic pushed aside the grief and remorse he felt. How do you tell a family their loved one died and, worst of all, how does he explain all this to them? Nobody’s family knew about the Game Master game they were involved in, and if they did, they probably would not understand or approve.
The door flung open and Doug entered, carrying a folder. “Robert. Amy. Is this them?” Doug said, businesslike. He opened the folder and dropped it on the table. Two pictures slid out and onto the table. He leaned over and spun them both until they were right side up to Robert and Amy’s perspective. Both looked down at the pictures and, in under a second, they looked at each other. Their body language as they looked at each other gave Doug the answer.
“Yes,” said Robert.
“Amy? Is this who you saw in Paris?”
She nodded.
“Both of them?”
Amy nodded again.
Doug gathered the pictures and put them back in the folder. He walked toward the door.
“Doug, what is going on?”
In response he held up his hand to Robert and continued out the door. Robert tried to follow him, but ran into two uniformed guards stationed on either side of the door. Looks like we went from one captive situation to another.
5
The three were alone in the conference room for about an hour. A few stopped by to see if they needed anything, giving the impression that their comfort was at least a concern. Something that differed a little from their last captive situation. The last person who checked on them took their lunch order. The options were from a popular deli down the road. Until he placed the menu in front of them, no one had felt the pang of hunger. That changed to a full blow reminder that it had been a few days since they had eaten.
When the door next opened, there was a little salivating by all of them, in anticipation of food. Instead, Doug entered holding only a fold
er again, followed by his Hawaiian-shirt clad associate. Doug threw the folder on the table. It spun a few times before settling in the center. A few of the papers inside jostled, allowing the edges to slide out. He spun the chair at the head of the table around and had a seat.
“This is Station Chief Stephen Maldons.”
Chief Maldons had a seat and motioned with his hand for the others to, as well. “First off, I want to say how sorry I am for what you have gone through, and the loss of your friends. We are making attempts now to contact their loved ones and let them now.”
Robert opened his mouth to speak, but the chief stopped him.
“Don’t worry, we came up with a cover story,” he said, with a quick look to Doug. “Their family won’t know what they were involved in, or how they died. It will be sensitive. Now, we need to get you out of here and back home, but it will take a bit. Doug filled me in on what you have been through. If anyone called the authorities about seeing you with your hostage, or anything else, you are now the target of a dragnet. Sending you to the airport to fly out would be too risky. You would be picked up long before you ever boarded your flight.”
“We were kidnapped and tortured!” yelled Jill. Her nostrils flared as anger grew inside.
“Ma’am, I know, but you are Americans, in Macau. Do you really think that would matter? There is no law here. Why do you think Mrs. Sanger runs her business from here?”