The Spymaster's Daughter

by Allan Cole

  Ann cursed under her breath and shoved him aside. Frank started to protest, but when he saw the look on Ann’s face he threw up his hands, saying, “I was just trying to see if the little rug rat was hungry.”

  There was only a flimsy lock on the door, which Frank could have easily forced. But the assurance of that lock had been the only thing that had allowed Ann to leave Zach’s side without the boy freaking out.

  She tapped gently on the door. “Zach,” she called out softly. “It’s me, Ann. Your sister.”

  There was no response.

  Behind her, Frank said, “Hey, the kid’s practically comatose, Ann. He needs a shrink. I can get one in here in three minutes – five, tops.”

  Ann didn’t bother to reply. Instead, she tapped again, saying, “Zach, I’ve got a nice safe place for us to stay. We can get some good stuff to eat. Burgers, if you want. Milkshake. Fries. Yum, fries. I’m starving myself. What do you say? How about some burgers and fries, with a shake on the side?”

  She waited, then, she heard the sound of small feet shuffling across the carpet. Then, suddenly, she had the feeling that Zach was at the door. His ear pressed again it.

  She crouched lower, guessing his height. She whispered, “It’s going to be okay, Zach. It’ll be safe. I promise.”

  A moment later, to her immense relief, there was a snap as the lock mechanism was released. She felt Frank pressing in behind her.

  She turned to confront him, “Get away from me, Frank. Or so help me, I will hurt you – really, really hurt you.”

  Frank reacted, eyes widening. He tried to bluff it out

  – shake it off. But she could see real fear in his eyes. He knew, by God, that she could do what she said.

  He waved open hands. “Sure, sure, Ann. Anything you say.”

  His cellphone rang and he hoisted it from his belt holster. Saw the number and a look of concern crossed his face.

  Frank answered very quietly. Ann stood there watching while he listened to the person on the other side. Second by second, Frank’s face fell. Someone was obviously chewing him out.

  “Right, right,” he said into the phone. Then, “But boss…” From the sudden jolt on his face, Ann knew the “boss” had hung up.

  He holstered the phone, shaking his head. But in less time than it takes to draw a breath he had recovered.

  Frank gave Ann a hard look. “Okay, it’s over,” he said. He turned to walk away, but then paused. “But you know how it works in the real world, don’t you, Ann. It’s only over until the next time.”

  He exited the plane.

  Ann took a deep breath. Got her herself together, then, softly calling Zach’s name, she went into the cabin to collect him.

  *****

  An hour or so later, a taxi delivered them to the Watergate Hotel, where Paul was waiting outside with two large men in dark suits. When Zach saw them, he shrank against Ann’s side, whimpering.

  Paul saw the trouble and called out, “They’re Secret Service, Ann.”

  Ann leaned down to Zach. “These are like James Bond guys, Zach. You know James Bond, don’t you?”

  Still scared, Zach nodded.

  Ann said, “They’re here to guard us. So no bad guys can get us.” Zach was quiet, taking it in.

  Ann let him think a bit, then called out, “Show him your gun.”

  The men looked at her blankly. Not knowing what to do. Paul nudged the guy on the left. “Show him,” he said. “It’ll make him feel better.”

  The guy looked this way and that, checking that nobody was watching, then flipped his coat aside to reveal a very large gun in a leather holster. He gave Zach a thumbs up.

  Ann felt Zach relax. He grinned at the agent, then ducked his head down and started thumbing the video game, which he kept gripped between two hands.

  Gently, she coaxed him forward, guiding him past Paul and the agents, into the hotel. She noticed him glance up at the agent who had showed him his gun. A flicker of what might be a smile crossed his face.

  Well, Ann thought, that’s a good sign. And she mentally crossed her fingers.

  *****

  They ordered room service, when Zach getting the promised burgers, fries and shake. They didn’t have any clothes, except what they wore on their backs. But Paul got one of the gift shops to open long enough to send up some oversized Washington Redskins T-shirts for them to sleep in and some basic toiletries.

  Ann put Zach to bed, made sure he was asleep, then came out into the main room in the suite to join Paul, who was finishing up a glass of wine, over the remains of their dinner, which had hardly been burgers and fries.

  Paul had one of his staff fetch a lovely meal up from the Aquarelle, the downstairs restaurant, which did not do room service.

  She sat across the small table from him, sipping the last of the wine. He didn’t say anything, just sat peacefully, thinking his own thoughts. And she remembered that this was one of the qualities she had so loved in him. He had a quality of stillness that had beguiled her even more than his good looks, charm and humorous outlook on life.

  Just to sit and say nothing, she thought. Think your own thoughts without the other person becoming

  uncomfortable, and worrying that maybe your private thoughts might not be favorable to them.

  Out of nowhere, Paul said, “We were good together.”

  Startled from her reverie, Ann drew back. Then realized she had been thinking pretty much the same thing.

  “Yes, we were,” she acknowledged. Then stressed, “Very good together.”

  “What in the world happened?” Paul asked. Then, immediately backed off. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that I thought we had – " And he stopped.

  Ann’s hand crept over to his, but paused inches short. She wanted to touch him, but didn’t dare.

  She said, “We were going in two different directions, Paul. Politics for you. Medicine for me. Missionary medicine you might call it, although I am hardly religious.” She raised her wine glass. “Here’s to Ann Donovan, do-gooder extraordinaire.”

  Ann almost slammed the glass down, then stopped while it was in midair and then elaborately placed the glass gently on the table.

  “That’s who I am, Paul,” she said. “And it must take precedence over everything else.” Now she did dare place her hand over his. “Even over my feelings for you.”

  In an emotion charged voice, Paul said, “But I’m a by-god U.S. Senator. I can make some of those things come true.”

  Ann removed her hand, suddenly suspicious. She was not a spymaster’s daughter for nothing. And so she thought about what he was saying. Was that what this Phoenix House business was all about?

  What really were Paul’s intentions? How many strings, beyond the Agency’s knotted strands, were actually involved here?

  In that instant, Ann realized that she had been on the very edge of sleeping with him. That she had been about to take him by the hand and lead him into the room, undress for him… then undress him… and then enjoy all the lovely things they had enjoyed before.

  Old lovers, coming together again. Like riding an erotic bicycle – and finding all those good things you had discovered before.

  The words came out without thought: “I’m not going to sleep with you tonight.”

  Paul bowed his head. “I know.”

  “I probably never will,” she said.

  Paul nodded. “I know.”

  She said, “And you still want to do this?”

  Paul said, “I do.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  It was a typical picture-postcard day in Hawaii when the Qantas jetliner streaked over the blue, blue Pacific and touched down at Honolulu International Airport.

  Onboard, Mark and Ruth peered through the cabin window as the plane taxied toward the terminal.

  “Pinch me, Ruth,” Mark said. “I think we just landed in Paradise. Or is it destined to be, ‘Paradise Found, But Then Tragically Lost?’”

  “You
obviously think there’s some kind of catch to Dr. D’s job offer,” Ruth said.

  Mark shrugged. “You know me… After, Hello, Big Boy -Missouri is my middle name,” he said. “And here’s another bone for us to worry on – pun absolutely not intended…What about her deceased father? How do we handle that sad business?”

  The plane came to a halt and they rose with the other passengers. With his great height, he easily reached into various overhead storage bins and got their things.

  Ruth said, “Well, we heard the story – some of it, anyway. We both said how sorry we were and made the usual comments of sympathy and understanding. Of course, there’s no way we really could understand something so complex as Dr. D and her father the spymaster.”

  “Correction, the dead spymaster,” Mark said. Then, “And your point is?”

  “We should act like the good friends we are and keep our lips zipped until Ann gives us a sign that she wants to talk about it.”

  Mark gave her a long look, then leaned down from his great height and kissed the top of her head. “Florence Nightingale had nothing on you, kiddo,” he said.

  Ruth snorted. “I just read that Florence was bipolar,” she said sarcastically.

  “God, Ruth,” Mark said, “all nurses are bipolar. Everybody knows that.”

  Ruth punched his shoulder and then the whole line surged forward and they exited the plane.

  *****

  The three friends tooled along the Oahu Freeway, Ann at the wheel of a new Jeep, its top down.

  Ann said, “I can’t thank you enough for coming.” She stole a look at her companions, then added, “But, I sense some doubts.”

  Mark and Ruth glanced at each other. Ruth gave Mark a nudge. You go.

  “It’s like this, Doc,” Mark finally said. “Your proposal is so stupendous that it borders on the miraculous.”

  Ruth joined in, “I mean, you’re offering us more money than either one of us has ever made. We’re talking big fat salaries, here, Dr. D. Makes my head swim.”

  “Plus,” Mark said, “You say that you’re going to be running a clinic for poor people. Meaning, people without insurance or any other means to pay the above mentioned big, fat salaries.”

  “You want to know what the catch is? Ann said.

  “You mean there is one, right?” Ruth said. “We just weren’t being paranoid?”

  “Yeah, there’s a catch,” Ann said. “Be patient and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  But, Mark pressed on. “Other teeny thing. This Sen. Yano –"

  Ruth broke in – “Sen. Paul Yano…’

  “Paul! Yes, that’s the first name I was thinking of,” Mark said. “Would this by any chance be the ‘Paul’ that you mentioned one night when we had all gazed upon the wine that was red, red, red a bit too deeply? The handsome fellow, with the sensitivity of Tom Hanks combined with the rugged physique of Russell Crowe? That guy you jilted for medical school?”

  “There was no jilting,” Ann protested. “We discussed the situation like adults.”

  “So it is, that Paul,” Ruth said.

  Mark smiled broadly. “At least one of us finally has some chance of a personal life,” he said. “Dare we think that it might be catching?”

  Before Ruth could add a humorous dig, Ann said, “There’s nothing personal. I made it quite clear. This is business, pure and simple.”

  “Gotcha boss,” Mark said, with a touch of sarcasm.

  Ruth gave him a warning pinch – she saw the stormy look on Ann’s face.

  “Ouch!” Mark said, then caught her point. In a more contrite tone he said, “I mean, Gotcha boss.”

  They drove in silence for a time. Soon Ann was turning onto a residential street and a second later the Jeep was climbing a sloping driveway that led to an old two-story Hawaiian colonial house, from the days when the planters and missionaries held sway. It sat upon half-an-acre of overgrown tropical greenery.

  As they pulled up to park, Ruth and Mark could see workmen moving about the place, fixing, sanding, painting, and ripping and tearing at the landscaping. A new sign sat to one side of the driveway. It read: PHOENIX HOUSE MEDICAL CLINIC.

  Mark looked at the sign, then at the house. “Aptly named,” he said. “This old dear looks like she’s been through an inferno and back again.”

  Ann was anxious for her friends to accept her new life and new digs, and was hoping like hell they’d join her. “It’s an old, converted bed and breakfast house whose owners spent too much money on exotic toast and jam,” Ann said. “I got it cheap.”

  Mark indicated the workmen. “What about the remodeling,” he asked, with a touch of suspicion. “Can’t be cheap to fix all those wormy boards and sagging roof beams.”

  Ruth elbowed him – settle down.

  As they climbed out of the Jeep, Zach appeared. He looked at Mark and Ruth shyly, then ducked his head and started playing with his Nintendo.

  “Everybody, I want you to meet my brother, Zach,” Ann said.

  With big smiles, Ruth and Mark stepped forward to greet the boy, but before they could say, or do anything, Zach whirled about and raced back into the clinic.

  Ann called after him. “Zach, don’t go too far, buddy. I want to make sure I know where you are.”

  Zach gestured, showing that he’d heard, then disappeared into the clinic. Mark and Ruth looked at Ann, a little taken aback.

  She sighed. “He’s had some… difficulty, since… you know… since our father was killed,” Ann hesitated, then confessed, “He hasn’t said a word for weeks, guys. I’m really worried.”

  Ruth jumped in. “Dr. D, you know as well as anyone that not being able to speak after a trauma is fairly common. Give him time. And anything we can do to help, just ask.”

  Ann felt a great sense of relief. “Thanks, Ruth,” she said. “I’ve done quite a bit of research about hysterical aphonia. I think I can help him with acupuncture and herbs. But so far he won’t let me treat him. He just plays with his Nintendo all day. It was my Dad’s last gift to him.”

  She shook her head, took a breath, then said, “Oh, well, come on. Let me show you around.”

  *****

  An hour or so later, Ann held court in the kitchen. The room was a wondrous Yuppie leftover from the sprawling mansion’s B&B days – complete with hanging pots and pans, fancy convection ovens, ranges, fridges, professional microwaves and a big farmhouse wooden table running down the center of the kitchen with benches on either side.

  Ann put Mark and Ruth in guest-of-honor seats. Zach perched on the far edge of the table, playing the Nintendo and listening in on the conversation. After pouring big steamy mugs of spiced tea all around, Ann took a sip, then got down to business.

  She said, “Okay, guys, you’ve cruised the whole place. Obviously it’s a little rough around the edges at this point, but you can see what I’m after.”

  “Geesh, Dr. D, I’d hardly call the place rough,” Ruth said. “From your phone conversation it sounded like we were going to be running a primitive country clinic. This is something right out of the clinic manual. It’s so great that it’s unreal. Equipment I haven’t seen since my university days.”

  “Absolutely,” Mark said. “The clinics I’m familiar with just do patient care – and they don’t have extensive gymnasium facilities, nor are they equipped with real hospital-type rooms, with all the fixings.”

  “Or, now that you mention it, in-house labs,” Ruth said.

  “Or herb gardens,” Mark said.

  Ruth raised a hand. “Don’t get us wrong Dr. D,” she said. “The Phoenix House appears to be a medical dream come true.”

  Mark butted in: “But if I didn’t know you, Doc, I’d be suspicious as all get out. I mean, it’s so perfect that it almost seems like a weird sort of front. For what, I can’t say. Please tell me I’m wrong.”

  Ann shrugged. “Here’s the scoop - we will be primarily treating local people. Offering high-quality healthcare to folks who can barely afford a square
meal, much less a place to sleep. So that part is for real. But you’re also right to be suspicious. No one pours money into something like this out of the sheer goodness of their hearts.”

  She placed both hands on the table, palms down. “There are most definitely strings attached,” she said. “And those strings belong to the CIA.”

  Mark was rocked by this announcement. “Tell me you didn’t sell out to them Doc,” he pleaded. “You didn’t cave in, did you? Because your father died?”

  Ann found herself becoming angry at a very good friend. She said, “My father was murdered, Mark. And I have a right to do whatever it takes to make sure that his death is not a waste. And if I can do that by partnering with the CIA, then so be it. If you don’t like it, you can get the hell out.”

  Mark was alarmed. He didn’t intend to have this kind of an effect on Ann. “Whoa, Doc. Settle down. I didn’t mean…”

  Zach looked up from his Nintendo, frightened at the quarrel that had erupted.

  Ann was still angry. She said, “Well, that’s your problem, Mark. You don’t think before you open your…”

  Ruth jumped in with both feet. “Stop it, Dr. D,” she said sharply. “Mark didn’t mean to be an insensitive cretin.” She turned to Mark, “Did you, Mark?”

  Mark did his best to do a mad backpedal. “No, no, Doc,” he said. “I’m sorry. Really, I am.”

  Ann got herself under control. She was feeling a little foolish for letting her temper get away from her. “I’m the one who should apologize,” she said. “I’m so tense right now I’m ready to jump out of my skin.”

  Zach climbed off the stool. He went to Ann and tugged at her sleeve. She looked down at him and realized that he was ready to burst into tears.

  “Oh, Zach,” she said, throwing her arms around him and pulling him close. “It’s okay, honest it is. I’m sorry I got so angry. Really, it’s okay, honey.”

  Zach buried his face in her shoulder and she stroked his curly head. “It’s just a tough time right now, buddy,” she said. “But we’ll get through it. I promise.”

  She laughed softly. “You know that I get my Irish temper from our Dad,” she said.”

  Zach nodded, but kept his face buried.