The Spymaster's Daughter

by Allan Cole

  As he dropped, Ann went for the second man. But he was ready, slamming the butt of his gun into her head. She fell to her knees, blood pouring down her face.

  He pointed his gun at her, but before he could fire, Jack shot him between the eyes.

  Jack came to his feet, his son helping him as best he could. He fished around in his jacket and came out with a silver box about the size and shape of a pack of cigarettes.

  He punched a button embedded in the bottom and a red LED light started to flash. The box emitted a high, nervewracking beeping sound.

  Ann glanced over and her father pointed at the window. “The fire escape,” he said.

  His daughter knew immediately what he wanted her to do. She ran to the window, jerking it open.

  Mack pushed his son toward Ann. “Get him out,” he shouted.

  Ann hesitated. The beeping grew louder and the red light flashed with increasing frequency. Then more men rushed the dolor.

  “Out, for chrissakes,” Jack shouted, firing at the men.

  Ann’s hesitation ended and she dragged Zach through the window.

  Now the silver box was howling like a banshee and Jack threw it at the men, who scrambled away in terror. He limped to the window as fast as his weakened legs could carry him.

  Outside, Ann put her full weight on the iron ladder, forcing it down to the next landing. The crazy sound of the mini-bomb shrilling danger sounded in their ears as she and Zach scrambled down the ladder.

  They stopped and looked up just as Jack came tumbling out the window. At that moment, the shrieking of the mini-bomb halted.

  Jack shouted, “Down.”

  He fell face down, covering his head. Below, Ann threw herself across Zach just as an enormous explosion ripped through the hotel room, blowing out the window, frame and all.

  The flaming figure of one of Ah Beng’s men shot out, plummeting to the street many floors below.

  Jack got to his feet then painfully lowered himself down the ladder to where his daughter and son waited.

  He kissed them both, then said, “We have to keep going.”

  They made the agonizing descent to the ground, bodies tensed against the imagined next attack.

  Finally, out on the street, Jack limped along the sidewalk, Ann and Zach steadying him. Ahead was a cab stand, with a solitary taxi waiting. But as they approached, they heard shouts coming from the hotel. They looked up to see a half-a-dozen of Ah Beng’s men scrambling down the steps.

  Ann said, “Get in the cab.”

  Jack knew his daughter too well to quarrel. He urged Zach onward as Ann broke away. She charged up the steps to meet the attackers. They all shouted and crowded around, anxious to get to her. But one gangster – an enormous Asian

  – ignored her. He drew his gun and aimed at the fleeing Jack.

  Ann dodged the clump of men and ran straight at the big man. She leaped high, kicked the gun out of his hand, then flipped over… hand reaching out to snatch the gun in mid-air.

  She landed on her feet, firing at her attackers. The big man went down first. Two others fell, then Ann was out of ammunition and she waded into the men, kicking and punching and sending them reeling back at the unexpected fury unleashed by the slight, womanly figure.

  Meanwhile, Jack and his son hobbled the last few steps to the cab. The driver, who was seated at the wheel, looked them over, vast amusement on his face as he leveled his gun.

  “Ah Beng said you might make it this far,” the driver said.

  Despite his wounds, Jack moved with amazing speed. He spit in the man’s face, making him rock back with indignant surprise - lifting his hand to wipe off the spittle.

  At the same time, Jack pushed his gun against the man’s face and fired, blowing half his head away.

  As the man fell, Jack fumbled at the cab door. He was too weak to operate the handle.

  “Hurry,” he told Zach.

  The boy was half in shock, but even so he gripped the door and hauled it open, dodging aside as the driver’s corpse tumbled out. Jack pulled at the man’s collar, struggling to get him all the way out. Scared as Zach was, he helped his father.

  Jack motioned to his son and the boy dived across the seat to the passenger’s side. Jack got behind the wheel and fumbled around until he could fire up the car. His motions were slow, painful, as if every movement were against broken glass.

  In the rearview mirror he saw a whole horde of killers streaming out of the hotel to descend upon Ann. As he watched, he saw that she had a momentary advantage. She was a whirling dervish of fury, smashing men to the ground, leaping over them to confront her new enemies. Snatching their weapons away and turning them against them.

  Gradually, however, it became apparent that she couldn’t last much longer. Punches were getting through – hard punches that staggered her.

  Then Jack saw someone deliver a brutal kick that slammed her down, her body arcing in pain as the edges of the steps cut in.

  Even so, Ann rose to confront her attackers. But then Jack saw a knife-wielding thug edging up the steps behind her.

  Zach must have seen it too, because he shouted, “Get them, Dad. Get them.”

  Jack jammed the cab into reverse and smashed the accelerator to the floor. The engine roared, the cab’s tires bit into cement and then it piled up the steps, tires shrieking in protest.

  The screeching wheels momentarily froze the action on the steps. The thug with the knife half-turned to see what was happening.

  The cab slammed into the man, sending him flying. Other men were hurled away. Ann, sensing what was happening, rolled back, letting the cab’s momentum take her and lift her away to safety.

  Jack slammed on the brakes and Ann rolled off, then dived head first through the window to land on Zach. Jack shoved the car into first gear and blasted away, bouncing down the steps, then heading off down the street.

  Before they could travel very far, the limo Ann had seen earlier blasted out of an alley, followed by the van.

  Inside the limo, a furious Ah Beng reached through the divider to punch his driver on the shoulder.

  “There, there, can’t you see it’s them?” he shouted in Chinese. “Don’t let them get away.”

  Jack screeched around the corner, the limo and a van full of gangsters in pursuit.

  Instinctively – or maybe it was his plan all along – Jack headed for the street that ringed the harbor. He lost it at one point, jumping the curb and crashing over a street sign.

  Then he was caroming into late night harbor traffic, dodging old trucks, delivery vehicles and fishermen in ancient pickups full of nets and stinking bait.

  Behind them, Ah Beng’s men leaned out of the limo and opened fire. Jack worked the wheel, making their aim difficult and dodging traffic at the same time.

  But the effort was draining him of his remaining strength. Ann was beside him, her terrified little brother crammed against the passenger side door.

  Finally, Jack croaked, “Take the wheel.”

  Ann acted instantly. She grabbed the wheel with one hand, got her foot on the accelerator, then hunched as her father painfully crawled into the back seat.

  She got fully behind the wheel just in time to avoid a large truck barreling down on them.

  Weak as he was, Jack cracked the back window and opened fire on the limo, managing to wound one of Ah Beng’s men, who tumbled out of the vehicle into the path of an oncoming pickup. The pickup rolled over the man and the panicked driver jerked his wheel to the side, creasing the limo.

  In the confusion, Ann dodged between two vehicles, then went flat out, praying to all that was holy that she could lose Ah Beng and his men.

  Her prayers went unanswered. In a few moments the limo and van closed in behind her. They were coming around a long curve, which Ann maneuvered with great skill. At the same time, Jack got lucky and shattered the van’s front window with one of his shots.

  The vehicle swerved, then plunged through the rail into the river. But Ah Beng ke
ep coming, relentless in his pursuit.

  And that’s when the Donovan family’s luck ran out. Ah Beng’s driver got a break, the traffic suddenly cleared, and he surged ahead, coming up alongside Ann.

  The rear window came down and Ah Beng aimed an elegant pistol at the cab. He fired, the cab’s front tire blew and Ann lost all control.

  The cab crashed through the rail and soared off the bank into the water. Immediately, it sank beneath the surface.

  Ah Beng had his driver stop at the broken rail. He got out, getting a good look at the limo sinking beneath the water. Then he heard approaching sirens and returned to his seat. His signaled to his driver and the limo smoothed away, blending into the traffic.

  But if he had waited a few moments more, he would have seen the water become suddenly alive with motion.

  Ann burst to the surface, Zach in her arms. She kicked out, maneuvering him to the shore. She found a tiny beach to push him onto, then turned, looking wildly about for her father.

  A sudden explosion of bubbles disturbed the surface as the limo hit bottom and gave up its last. But there was no sign of Jack Donovan.

  Ann dived, trying to find him. She came up, gasping for air, and dived again. And again. And again.

  Finally, she surfaced and just treaded water, gasping, too exhausted to go on.

  Zach shouted, “Where is he, Ann? Where is he?”

  Ann didn’t have the strength to reply. She slowly swam to the little beach and crawled up beside him, shivering, half in shock.

  “I’m sorry, Zach,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  When she started to cry. Zach leaned against her, stroking his sister’s face. He wanted to cry himself. Tears jutted, a lump filled his throat. More emotion than he’d ever known swelled up inside him. But he fought it all back. Crammed everything deep inside him.

  Zach tried to say something to Ann. Words of comfort. Anything that would lessen her agony and his. He opened his mouth to speak, but no matter how hard he tried, nothing would come out.

  The boy reached into his pocket and found the Nintendo. Carefully, he wiped it off.

  To his surprise, when he flipped the switch, the machine lit up and offered him a game.

  Zach accepted.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The big Gulfstream jet scooted through the sky, heading away from Singapore at 500 mph plus. Other than the crew, the only people on board were Ann, Zach and Frank Holiday.

  The borrowed jet was outfitted for a billionaire’s comfort and Frank and Ann looked a little incongruous in the empty, luxurious lounge – Frank in his jeans and rumpled cowboy shirt; Ann in an old track outfit one of the stews had loaned her. Zach was holed up in the bedroom suite and wouldn’t come out.

  Frank was in the process of spinning his web, hoping to snare Ann before the shock of her father’s death wore off.

  He said, “Langley’s making all the arrangements, Ann. There’ll be a nice memorial service. Closed to the public, of course. But there will be full honors, believe me. Full honors.”

  Ann was scornful. “That’s just wonderful, Frank,” she snapped. “Two days ago you accused him of being a rogue agent. Now he’s a hero… A dead hero.”

  Frank shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. “I won’t lie to you, Ann,” he said. “There’s some pretty serious things that still need to be cleared up. To begin with, his body wasn’t recovered. And it’s unlikely it ever will. That area on the river is noted for sweeping things out to sea. It’s a notorious dumping ground for local murders.”

  “Well, I certainly can’t help you there,” Ann said. “I told you what little I know and unless you get your hands on Ah Beng, you’ve just hit a big fat dead end.”

  “Not quite,” Frank said. “There’s someone else who can help us.”

  Ann sat bolt upright. “What are you up to, Frank?”

  Her old counselor raised his hands as if helpless. “It’s not me, it’s Langley,” he pleaded. “They want to debrief Zach.”

  Ann was furious. “That’s an outrageous suggestion,” she snapped. “You want me to turn a ten-year-old-boy over to the interrogators? What’s next, Guantanamo Bay?”

  “It’s not a suggestion,” Frank said. “I’ve got orders. Besides, it won’t be that kind of an interrogation. We’ve got the best child psychologist on the Company payroll standing by.”

  Ann sneered. “A CIA child psychologist?” she said. “That’s an oxymoron if I ever heard one. What’s his name, Dr. Mengele?”

  “Don’t be facetious,” Frank said. “You know what we’re after.”

  “Sure,” Ann replied. “You want to know if my father traded nuclear secrets for his son’s life.”

  She snorted. “Let logic be your guide, Frank. You’ve known my father most of your adult life, right?”

  Frank couldn’t help but smile. “I was at the hospital when you were born,” he said. “I got the first cigar. And I was also there when your mother died. There’s nobody on the planet who knew, or admired, Jack Donovan more than yours truly.”

  “Then why do you doubt him now?” Ann demanded.

  “Because I also know that he’d do anything – anything – to protect his family,” Frank said.

  Ann slumped in her seat. “I told you before, Frank, that his plan was to double-cross Ah Beng. He had no intention of turning over any secrets.”

  “But is that what happened?” Frank asked. “Or, did Ah Beng turn the tables on him?”

  “I strongly doubt it,” Ann said.

  “The problem we have,” Frank pressed on, “is that Jack’s dead. We can’t question him. We can’t even search him, because there’s no body.”

  “My father said it was all contained on a computer chip, Frank,” Ann protested. “Are you sure you didn’t miss it when you looked through his belongings?”

  Frank shook his head. “Not a chance,” he said. “So, where is this alleged chip? Did he dump it? Destroy it? Or does Ah Beng have it?”

  “Ah Beng’s goons wouldn’t have followed my father to the hotel if their boss already had the chip,” Ann said. “Obviously, my father either took it to his watery grave, or he destroyed it in advance.”

  “Do you know that for certain?” Frank demanded.

  Ann shrugged. “It’s only logical.”

  “That’s not good enough,” Frank said. “Which is why we have to talk to Zach.”

  Ann was getting hot. “Leave him alone, Frank.” It was a warning, not a plea. “He’s just a kid.”

  “Like I said - I have my orders,” Frank replied.

  Ann got herself under control. “I’ll talk to him,” she said.

  Frank stared at her for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, you’ve got one shot,” he said. “Make the best of it.”

  Ann’s face gave nothing away as she went to the cabin door. She knocked softly. “Zach?” she called out.

  No answer. Ann knocked again. Still nothing. She slowly opened the door and looked in. Zach, fully dressed and sitting upright in the bed, glared down at the Nintendo, which he was playing furiously.

  “Zach?”

  There was not a flicker of a response from the child. Concerned, Ann moved into the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

  In the lounge, Frank muttered a curse under his breath. Next to him, a phone rang. He answered. Frank listened for a moment, then said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got her by the short and curlies.” When he hung up, he looked quite pleased with himself.

  Ann sat beside her brother. He didn’t look up, but only stabbed furiously at the Nintendo. She reached a hand out, but the boy leaned away, like a young branch in the wind. She withdrew the hand.

  “Frank and the other guys you met aren’t bad people, Zach,” she said. “Although sometimes it might seem like they’ve got ice water in their veins. The thing is, they’re convinced they have our best interests at heart. So, it’s like this. There’s some information they want. About our father. They think maybe you know something important.”
>
  Zach’s fingers moved rapidly over the Nintendo – and he gave no indication that he’d even heard Ann.

  Ann said, “I don’t blame you for not wanting to talk right now. Maybe you’ll feel like it later. It’s up to you.”

  Once again, the boy ignored everything she said.

  “Until last night,” Ann said, “I didn’t even know you existed. How about you? Did our father ever mention me?”

  Zach stopped and for a moment, Ann thought he was going to reply. Then he resumed the play.

  Ann sighed. “I get the idea. But there is one question I just have to ask you. Do you want to stay with me? If you do, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you with me. Not just because we have the same father. I want to Zach. I want to be your sister and your friend.”

  Zach paused, as if considering, but he still made no reply.

  Ann said, “Maybe you have someplace else to go. Some family I don’t know about. If that’s the case, I’ll help you find them.”

  She bent down, trying to peer into her brother’s face, which was bent over the Nintendo. “It’s up to you, Zach,” she said. “What do you want to do? Do you want to stay, or go? Your choice, sweetie.”

  Zach remained motionless. Finally, Ann gave up. She started to rise, but suddenly Zach grabbed her, pulled her toward him. She sank down and the boy buried his face in her shoulder. Ann embraced him.

  “Okay, Zach,” Ann said. “It’s a deal. It’s me and you against the world from here on out.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  The woman approached Ann, hand outstretched in greeting. She was a middle-aged Asian-American woman, outfitted in a tasteful business suit that complemented her expertly coifed black hair that was shot with silver. She wore a single strand of gray pearls about her neck and matching pearl earrings graced her delicate ears.

  “I’m Alice Hayakawa,” she said, “Senator Yano’s chief assistant. But, please call me Alice. We’re not formal around here.”

  Ann took her hand, thinking that any woman so immaculately put together was anything but informal. Adding to that impression, she noticed that Alice’s grip was firm, the skin pleasantly smooth and dry. This was a woman who exuded confidence.