Jason Steed Royal Decree

by Mark A. Cooper

  “Jason Steed, I presume,” he said. Jason nodded. “I’m…” He paused and looked back at the woman. “I’m Dad, although it sounds strange saying that. I’ll be known as Dexter Delong. This is Mom, and she will be known as Karen Delong, and you will use the same surname.” Jason shook her hand as well.

  “My real mum was called Karen,” Jason said.

  “Oh wow, you do sound English,” Karen said. “Nice to meet you, Jason.”

  “Derrrr. What did you expect, Chinese?” Jason asked. “I’m British. I sound British.”

  “And he’s witty too. No doubt you also come with angry teenager tantrums and loud music.” She looked at Jason with a calm expression. There was no emotion in her voice.

  “First impressions and we’re off to a good start then.” Jason grinned. Dexter checked his watch and gestured Jason to take a seat. He explained in great detail that, from this point on, Jason was only to call him Dad and Karen was to be Mom. They would be catching a flight in an hour to Istanbul, Turkey. He went over the mission twice. Jason’s job was to go to school and come home and act like any other kid.

  Karen cut in. “They gave us a file on you Jason, quite impressive. Queens Award for bravery, you have a pilot’s license, and were involved in the rescue after the Jakarta massacre and the UN team held in Vietnam.”

  “The CIA have a file on me?” Jason asked, trying to conceal his excitement.

  “It’s not all good. You assaulted four military police officers that needed hospital treatment at Camp Pendleton and had your entire academy banned from the military games for a year. You went AWOL and disobeyed orders that came indirectly from the president. You have also had your fair share of ‘run-ins’ with the Brits, assaulting a teenager that blew your cover on a mission.”

  “On this case you will obey orders from Karen and myself at all times, no heroics. If you even think about hitting someone, you will be on the first plane back to Britain and on assault charges,” Dexter said.

  Jason studied Dexter. Everything about him was imposing, from his immaculate black suit to his jet-black hair with grey streaks just above his ears.

  “The teenager had a knife and tried to mug me. I would do the same again. And I was defending fellow cadets at Pendleton and was defending myself against four or five of them when one threw grit in my eyes. I couldn’t see. When the military police came and tried to grab me, I thought I was still being attacked,” Jason argued.

  “Ah he has excuses. And going AWOL? Were you under attack again?” Karen sniggered.

  Jason stood and faced her. “No, but if I didn’t my father and many others would be dead now. I would do the same again. I don’t know about you, but I love my family and put them first. You can put that in your file in bold letters.”

  “Oh yes family like, what’s his name? Stuart Steed.” Karen sneered.

  Jason took a step forward, before taking a breath and turning away trying to calm himself down.

  Dexter smiled at Jason and nodded. “I could almost see that temper of yours emerge then. A Mr. George Young wrote in your file ‘anyone should stand clear when Jason loses his temper.’ Is it that bad?”

  He sat down heavily in his seat again. “It’s not good. I’m trying to control it,” Jason said and looked down at the floor. “George was killed on our last mission.” Thinking about George dying was still very painful for Jason. He partly blamed himself for not getting to George and Scott in time.

  “If you just go to school and be a school boy on this mission, you’ll be fine,” Dexter said.

  Jason liked Dexter, he reminded him of an American movie star who always said and did the right thing. As for Karen, he was still unsure about her.

  *

  His first impression of Istanbul International Airport was as he expected. A crowded modern building with a mixture of businessmen and tourists carrying suitcases and rushing in all directions. Some looked lost, others impatiently tutted and walked around people who stopped to read the overhead directional signs.

  The taxicab driver sang while driving the makeshift Delong family. His cab had no air-conditioning. It took an hour before stopping outside a modern four-story apartment block in the city. Jason stretched as he climbed out, trying to get his muscles to come back to life. It was early evening and still hot. Jason thought the heat was coming from the ground. The sidewalk had been baking all day. The whole area felt dry and extremely hot.

  He collected his case and followed Karen and Dexter inside the building. The apartment had a marble tile floor throughout, a modern leather sofa, and a large television. His bedroom was small, but clean. He bounced down on the bed and kicked off his shoes and socks. Dexter knocked on his door and walked in.

  “Can I come in?” he asked. Walking in Jason’s room he noticed Jason’s questionable look but ignored it. “Put your shoes on we’ll go out and eat.”

  After a nice meal at a restaurant in the town center, Jason sat quietly. He had noticed Dexter briefly talk to a man as they arrived. The man was older, maybe sixty, dressed in an immaculate suit and gleaming black polished shoes that looked out of place. He had white hair and a white beard. Jason thought in the winter the man could pass as Santa Claus.

  Dexter ordered another bottle of wine for himself and Karen. It surprised Jason; Dexter requested a certain year of Chardonnay. A tight knot started to form in the pit of Jason’s stomach. At first, he tried to ignore it, but something was wrong with the situation. He had always trusted his instincts and his gut feeling. It was poking him with enough force to cause a hibernating grizzly bear to waken from its deep sleep.

  Dexter poured himself and Karen another glass of wine. Jason finished his Coke and placed his glass down heavily on the table. He noticed the watch on Dexter’s wrist. A Rolex, but not just any Rolex. This was Gold and had diamonds as hour markers.

  “That’s a nice watch,” Jason said causally.

  Dexter smiled and pulled his shirtsleeve down over it. “It’s nothing too special. Do you want desert? I can ask for the menu. They may even have carrot cake.”

  “Wow you have done your homework, sure yes please. I’ll never turn down carrot cake,” Jason said.

  Karen made small talk and complained about the cab ride from the airport. She felt all taxicabs should have air-conditioning fitted by law. Jason took notice of everyone around. The waiter had an acne scared face and greasy skin. The couple at the next table were French; he had heard them speak. An older couple a few tables away had glanced at Jason a few times.

  Am I being paranoid? Jason asked himself. No the watch, the wine, Dexter’s clothing. Even Karen’s suitcase was Louis Vuitton. If they were CIA, surely they would not be earning the kind of money to buy them. Dexter noticed Jason was looking around the room. He was sat on the edge of his chair, and he had stopped eating.

  “What’s wrong Jason?” Dexter asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Sure there is. You haven’t touched your carrot cake, and according to your file, you love it. You seem on edge.”

  Jason looked at him, not sure what to say. He was annoyed with himself for giving his anxiety away so easily.

  “It’s nothing, maybe a little nervous about a new school,” Jason said. He looked at Karen who was studying him. “I’m fine, Karen.”

  Dexter and Karen looked at each other. The fact they never corrected him when he called her Karen made his theory all the more real.

  Jason watched as Dexter poured himself another glass of wine and drunk it back. “I thought it was Scott who was the smart one? Seems you are smarter than we thought. All will become clear tomorrow at school.”

  “So until then I have to just trust you?” Jason said, raising his eyebrows.

  “Trust, it is us who have to trust you Jason. After all, your uncle is a known arms dealer who supplied terrorists, A Mr. Bradan O’Neill was shot in your presence, and you say you were knocked out and later released but had no idea where you were held? How do we know you are not part of it
and we can actually trust you?” Karen asked. “Strange how you can take on four or five military police who are used to handling US Marines and yet now a retired army major knocks you out?”

  “He hit me over the head with a gun. I wasn’t expecting it, and then he tied me up. You are twisting it and making it sound like I’m a criminal. You can stick that idea where the monkey sticks its nuts,” Jason said, raising his voice. He stood up from the table.

  “Okay Jason relax, sit down,” Dexter said, waving his hand down at Jason. “Please Jason, sit down. Your reaction is enough to tell me I can trust you. We are on the same side. Finish your carrot cake and let’s go home. Tomorrow, everything will be explained.”

  Jason slowly sat down in his chair. He thought for a while. If Dexter or Karen had wanted to hurt him they could have done that at anytime. He had fallen asleep on the plane or they could have done something at the apartment. For now, he would play along and see where it would lead them. He wondered if Brenda had known about any of this. No, she really cared for his father. Although it made him cringe every time they kissed in front of him, she genuinely loved his father.

  *

  Jason lay in bed, trying to fight off sleep and put the pieces together. Eventually, like a thick fog, tiredness crept over him and smothered his tired body, and he was asleep.

  In the moning Dexter knocked on his door and poked his head in. “Jason, time to get up. We have to be at the school in an hour.”

  Jason lifted himself up onto one elbow. “What’s the point of you bloody knocking if you come in anyway?” Jason grunted.

  “Ah early morning teenager. I heard the teenage species were angry in the morning,” Dexter said happily with a broad smile that made Jason even angrier.

  “I might have been getting dressed or something.” Jason frowned, swinging his legs out from under the covers and onto the floor.

  Dexter left whistling to himself, leaving the door wide open. That provoked Jason more. He plodded out of bed to use the bathroom and found the door locked.

  “Karen’s in the shower. She won’t be long. I made you a coffee,” Dexter shouted from the kitchen.

  Jason walked into the kitchen and slumped down at the table. “Have you got tea?”

  “Tea? No, I’m American. Here get this down, you’ll feel better.” Dexter smiled passing him a coffee.

  “Are you always so happy in the mornings?” Jason asked, looking down at his reflection in his coffee before taking a sip. He noticed his hair was sticking up in all directions, and his pajama top had come unbuttoned. He slowly fiddled with his buttons and did himself up.

  “Why, sure. It’s a beautiful day, another wonderful day God has given us,” Dexter said, passing Jason some toast.

  Jason ignored him. Karen came out of the bathroom. She wore a black skirt, white blouse, and smelt of perfume that was so strong it tainted the taste of Jason’s coffee.

  *

  Later, as they left the apartment, Karen and Dexter walked ahead. Jason sluggishly followed, his hair still wet from his shower. Dexter used a key to open the door of a white Anadol A1 car. The Istanbul International Community School board had provided the Turkish built car for the family to use.

  “What is it with this country? Haven’t they heard of AC?” Karen complained examining the cars controls.

  “I guess not,” Dexter said.

  The journey took under ten minutes through the busy streets of Istanbul. Jason marveled at the scenes. Brightly painted trams packed with commuters twisted a path through the traffic. Women wearing traditional burka’s many black, some in groups wearing blue burka’s. He noticed a child wearing one; he assumed it was a young girl. He wondered how hot it would be to wear one. The garment was like a long dress that dragged on the floor and covered the head. There was a small opening in the front for the woman to see out.

  Some men sat on street corners selling newspapers, others sold what Jason thought looked like dried meat. In among the scene, young men raced past on mopeds, wearing modern western clothing. It was a strange mix and looked like a battle of time-honored clothing and traditions against modern influences from the western world.

  “Ah here we are, Istanbul Community School,” Dexter said. He parked the car and swung around in his seat to look at Jason. “Be good Jason. Remember, this is not a mission for you. Make friends and be a normal boy, learn something.”

  Jason’s attention was drawn outside to a group of three girls his age who walked past. One glanced back and took a second look at Jason. “Yeah, I may like it here.” He was given a timetable and a backpack.

  “What’s in it?” Jason asked, swinging it over his shoulder.

  “Everything you will need. Now run along, your first lesson starts in five minutes,” Dexter said.

  The brick built building stood four stories tall. A set of granite steps led up to double doors that were held open by large brass hooks. He looked down at the timetable and smiled when he read the subjects. Science, Math, World History, English, French, German, Spanish, Turkish, Music, Horticulture, and Physical Education. Jason enjoyed foreign languages. He excelled in French, German, and Spanish. He was looking forward to learning Turkish.

  He slowly walked along the corridor; boys and girls from a few years younger to a few years older walked around him. He followed his timetable and the room numbers. His first lesson was Horticulture, something he hadn’t done before. Eventually, he found room 1G. The room was empty. He stopped and double-checked his timetable and the room number before walking in. It was marked 1G Horticulture and in brackets it was marked door at the end. He assumed that it was because the class was at the end of the corridor on its own.

  The walls were decorated with pictures of various crops, farm animals, and tractors. At the end of the wall was a huge picture map of the world. Jason looked at it, trying to pick out the countries. Australia and New Zealand were dotted with sheep. Brazil had chocolate bars. The United States was represented with corn, sugar beet, and tobacco. He didn’t notice the door in the very corner open until a lady stepped out.

  “Jason?” she asked in an accent. Jason couldn’t make out if it was Russian or German.

  “Em, yes ma’am. Am I the only one in the class?” Jason asked.

  “What does your timetable say?” she asked, pointing a ruler at him.

  He looked at it again. “Room 1G, the door at the end. I think I’m right,” he said.

  She tutted and held the ruler at arm’s length and pointed it at him like it was a wand. “At the end of this ruler is an idiot, don’t you agree?” She sneered.

  “If you mean the end facing you, I can’t say for sure. I hardly know you.” Jason grinned.

  “Are you always a smartass?” she sneered.

  “Nope, just around idiots.”

  Her eyes glared at him, trying to bury themselves deep into his soul. “I heard you were over-confident, bad-tempered, and abrasive. Seems our sources were right to warn us of your flaws as well as your skills. Follow me,” she said, swiftly turning and going into the door in the corner of the room. Jason followed and paused at the door. She stood inside a small six-foot square room with shelving full of books and paper.

  “It’s a…” He paused in disbelief. “A storage closet.”

  “It’s the door at the end room. Come in and close the door behind you,” she snapped. Jason slowly entered and pulled the door shut behind him. With it closed, she pushed a stack of books back and the whole wall slid back. Jason’s mouth opened wide, not sure what to say. A corridor opened up. The cool, damp air made Jason’s skin prickle.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “Don’t ask me. After all, you think I’m an idiot,” she snapped. “Come on, we haven’t got all day.”

  Jason stood where he was. He took in his surroundings. She looked about fifty, slim, with grey hair tied up behind her head. She wore black pants with a matching black top. It had a logo in the center with what Jason thought looked like a map of the world
. The corridor was built of brick; the floor was a grey concrete. The lights that illuminated the corridor looked old; the bulbs hung in large metal hangers.

  The woman noticed Jason was not following and glared at him again. “So the famous Jason Steed is nervous?” she scoffed.

  “No, he’s just not stupid. Where does this go? And my name is Delong; Jason Delong,” he said, although as soon as he said it, he knew it was pointless. She obviously knew who he was.

  She smiled at him and sighed. “Jason I know who you are and you are no more Jason DeLong than I’m Miss World.”

  “I dunno, you might have looked quite hot in a swimsuit a hundred years ago. Where does this go? You’re right, I’m nervous. Who are you?” Jason said, slowly walking forward. He was not accustomed to feeling nervous, but he could not suppress the prickling sense of unease that was creeping over him.

  “You have nothing to fear, Jason. Follow me,” she said. Her heels clicked as she walked off down the corridor.

  He followed as she marched ahead. Jason’s stomach knotted as another twinge of apprehension washed over him. The corridor turned. Jason was certain he was going down, and by the cooler temperature, knew it was underground. She stopped at a large steel door. The same logo, a picture of the world, was painted on the front. She punched some numbers in the keypad next to the door and opened it.

  It opened up into a brightly lit, modern corridor. The air was warmer, and he could hear people’s voices. He followed her down the corridor. Each room it passed had glass windows. Inside, people were working; many stopped and stared when they saw him, some pointing and talking about him. They all wore the same black uniform with logo.

  After a flight of stairs, they came to what Jason could only describe as the inside of a large office block. A man walked past and smiled. “Hello, Jason,” he said. Jason recognized him. It was the man with the Santa beard who spoke to Dexter the night before at the restaurant. Jason’s mouth opened but nothing came out.