The Spymaster's Daughter

by Allan Cole

  She went right to the child, whom Mark had gently laid on the treatment table. “What’s his name?” she asked the mother, as she quickly looked the wheezing child over.

  “Hiro,” the woman sobbed. “His name is Hiro… He was playing soccer with his friends… and he got an asthma attack… I told him not to play… to just sit nice and quiet and watch… I don’t have any more of his medicine… No money to pay… So he has to sit quiet, or the asthma comes… Bad attacks. Every time. But he does not listen to me.”

  Ann nodded, then told Mark, “I’ll need the albuterol.”

  Mark rushed off to do her bidding. Meanwhile, Ann removed the boy’s shirt and started to massage pressure points on his back and chest.

  As she worked, she assured the boy, “You’re going to be okay, sweetie. Just do as I say and you’ll be able to breathe normally again… First, focus on breathing from your belly. Imagine that you’re smelling something really great… Your favorite smell. Can you do that?”

  Hiro nodded and focused on an imaginary scent. Gradually, his breathing started to ease.

  “These places that I’m massaging will help you get more air into your lungs,” she told the boy. “Can you feel that it’s getting better already?”

  Hiro nodded again and started taking deeper breaths. He began to calm down and not look so scared, as did his mother.

  Mark came back with the inhaler, but Ann shook her head. It wasn’t needed anymore.

  “Okay, Hiro,” she told the boy, “now I want you to focus on slowly breathing in and out. Think about blowing on your favorite hot food to cool it down. What’s your favorite food?”

  The boy grinned weakly. “Ice cream,” he said.

  Ann laughed. “What a joker. That’s not hot, but I see you can talk now. That’s a good sign. Now, do you have a favorite hot food?”

  With difficulty, he said, “I… like… pizza.”

  “Me too,” Ann said. “Now, think about cooling it down with your breath. Blow on the pizza. The cheese is so hot and you have to cool it down because you’re hungry.”

  Hiro nodded and started practicing slowly blowing out and sucking air in.

  “Good job, Hiro,” Ann said. She turned to the mother. “Mark will get you set up with medication, including an inhaler – in case you have another emergency. And don’t try what I just did on your own if he’s having difficulty breathing. Go ahead and have him use the inhaler.

  “For now, we’re going to keep him here a while longer just to make sure he’s okay.”

  The woman was beside herself with gratitude. “Thank so much, doctor,” she said. “I don’t know how we will repay you.”

  “Actually,” Ann said, “I’d like for both of you to come back tomorrow so I can go over some strategies on how to control his asthma. We can help him a lot by making changes in his diet. And I can give you an herbal preparation for him to take to prevent further episodes. Soon, he’ll be able to play with his friends without suffering an attack.

  “But I can’t stress enough that if he starts to get bad again, use the inhaler. We’ll keep you stocked up, okay?”

  The woman nodded, tears running down her cheeks. *****

  Mark was feeling pretty good about things as he hurried out of the room to return to his duties. But as he went down the hallway he heard low voices coming from Mr. Tan’s room. Male voices.

  What’s this?

  He went to the door and listened.

  *****

  Inside the examining room, Mr. Black Suit was threatening the terrified Mr. Tan with a pistol.

  “Please, I’ll give you the money, I swear,” Tan was saying. “It’s just that my daughter got sick again. I needed money for medicine.

  The gunman snorted derision. “I don’t want to hear it,” he said. “You owe me and I’m here to collect. One way or another, you’re gonna pay up.”

  “But my kids,” Mr. Tan begged. “They’ll never survive without me. Please, give me another chance.”

  Mark barged into the room. Mr. Black suit swiveled to cover him, but Mark swatted the weapon aside and smashed the man to the floor with a single blow.

  Seconds later, Ann and Ruth came running in as Mark leaned down and ripped the gun from the thug’s hand.

  “I’ll call 911,” Ruth said, hurrying away.

  Mark kept a foot on the gunman’s chest as his boss turned to confront Mr. Tan.

  “What’s going on?” she demanded. “Why is this man here in my clinic with a gun?”

  Mr. Tan was quaking with fear. “I owe him money,” he said. “I’ve been working such long hours to repay him, but my daughter has been so ill… and I need money for her medication…”

  “What’s the matter with your daughter?” Ann asked.

  “She was born with Down's syndrome,” Mark heard the man say. “She’s a wonderful little girl but she needs so much medical attention. That’s why I borrowed the money from this man. For medicine.”

  Mark smiled as his boss's fierce manner dissolved. Such a softie.

  “Okay, okay, Mr. Tan,” Ann said. “Let’s turn this guy over to the police, then we’ll see what we can do to help you feel better. Meanwhile, why don’t you bring your daughter in to see us? Maybe there’s something we can do to help you get the money you need so you don’t have to work so hard all the time.”

  In the distance, Mark heard the sounds of

  approaching sirens. Mr. Black Suit tried to rise, but Mark pushed him back down with his foot.

  “You would do that for me?” Mr. Tan asked Ann, almost in a whisper.

  Mark saw her grin. “As long as you promise not to invite anymore gunmen into my clinic,” she said.

  The sirens were very close now.

  Nodding and smiling, Mr. Tan said, “I promise.”

  Mr. Black Suit groaned in disgust, “Oh, Jesus, this is too much. He’s nice, you’re nice, his daughter’s nice. I think I’m gonna puke.”

  “I’ll rub your big fat face in it if you do,” Mark said. “And that won’t be so nice.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Some weeks after the clinic’s opening, an exhausted Ann, Zach at her side, ventured out into the garden to join her friends and toast the fabulous sunset with a little wine.

  It was a lovely garden, graced with native plants and a musical water fountain.

  The fountain was a rare work of garden art – a Pan like boy with goat’s legs, blowing a horn that started as a stone reed, then blended into the body and head of a carp. The water spewed from the carp’s mouth and tinkled down its scaly sides, producing the music.

  On one side of the fountain was an herb garden filled with medicinal plants, some of which were beginning to flower. On the other was a broad green lawn, with chairs and lawn furniture set up in a close circle.

  Ann went to that circle and settled into a deck chair next to Mark and Ruth. Zach squatted beside her, working at the Nintendo. But in the lovely setting, even he seemed more peaceful than usual. His thumb movements not quite so frantic.

  “Amazing,” Ann said. “The first sunset I’ve had a chance to enjoy since we got here.” She rubbed Zach’s head affectionately. “Maybe we should buy a ball and a couple of gloves and get outside more often, what do you say, Zach?” The boy grinned his agreement.

  Ann raised her wine glass. “To the dearest friends a woman could ever have,” she offered in toast.

  The others blushed and raised their glasses, but before the toast could be consummated, they heard the squeak of the back gate opening.

  Ann turned, her heart sinking when she saw Frank Holiday coming down the garden path.

  “Look who’s sneaking up on us,” Ruth said.

  “I didn’t hear him coming,” Mark said sardonically. “Guess his little helicopter’s busted.”

  “Hello, Frank,” Ann said wearily. “What’s your bad news today?”

  Unfazed, Frank shrugged. “It’s time to start earning your keep, Ann,” he said. “I brought your first Agency cust
omer.”

  Ann eyed him. “Who is it?” she demanded.

  Frank looked pointedly at Mark and Ruth. Ann sighed. “You can fill me in on the secret stuff later,” she said. “But right now I need to know if the person is injured or sick so my staff can get the old medicine ball rolling, so to speak.”

  “He’s been beaten pretty badly,” Frank said. “But it’s no big deal.”

  Ann’s temper surged. “What a statement,” she growled. “That’s too macho even for you, Frank.”

  Frank shrugged. “Believe me,” he said. “This guy’s used to it.”

  But Ann was no longer listening. She was heading for the house, Ruth and Mark at her heels.

  Frank looked down at Zach, who was staring at him. “Still playing with the Nintendo, kid?” Frank said in a halfhearted attempt at being friendly.

  Zach glared at him, then jumped to his feet and ran for the house. “What a family,” Frank muttered, as he strolled toward the back door.

  In the kitchen, Ann was confronted with a very muscular, half-naked Japanese man sitting at her table. Bare to the waist, a bloody bandage wrapped around his forehead and another across his chest, the man was bizarrely tattooed from head to foot.

  Besides the bloody bandages, other signs of injury were the livid bruises on his arms and chest and back. He was holding his ribs and Ann could see that he was in pain.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Zach at the kitchen door. He was staring at the guy as if he were the most wonderfully exotic man he’d ever seen.

  The moment the man spotted Ann he hoisted himself upright. He bowed politely, but Ann could see how much this hurt him. He was gripping the table to keep on his feet, and Ann noticed how white his knuckles looked as he gripped harder to bear the pain.

  Then Ann came unstuck and she and Ruth rushed to the man, checking out his injuries. Mark, meanwhile, whisked Zach away, to the boy’s huge disappointment.

  Frank came into the kitchen and seemed amused by the scene. With a mocking smile, he said, “This is Mr. Karoda, Ann.” He indicated Ann to Mr. Karoda and said in Japanese, “This is the doctor.”

  Immediately, Mr. Karoda became very animated. Bobbing up and down despite the obvious pain. Thanking her profusely, although she’d done nothing yet. “Doctor, doctor,” he said. “Arigato, Doctor. Arigato.”

  “Stop, please,” Ann replied. “You’ll hurt yourself even more.”

  Frank chuckled. “He doesn’t speak a lot of English,” he said.

  “Well, for heaven’s sake, I can figure that out,” Ann snapped. “Besides, I can get by pretty well in Japanese.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Frank said, snapping his fingers. Making Ann angrier still because he was mocking her. “Your father did a tour of duty in Okinawa. That’s where you picked it up, right? Along with the martial arts.”

  “Oh, just go to hell, Frank,” Ann said, then forgot him completely as she and Ruth helped Mr. Karoda ease back in the chair.

  Ann inspected him carefully. He winced when she touched his ribs. Mark re-entered and goggled at the fabulous tattoos.

  “Get a load of those tats,” he said. “What’s up with that?

  “He’s Yakuza, Mark,” Ann replied. “A Japanese gangster.”

  This was all for the benefit of her nemesis, Frank Holiday.

  She gave her old counselor a sweet smile. “Isn’t that right, Frank?”

  “Well, technically he’s a former Japanese gangster,” Frank said. “He’s working for us, now.”

  Mr. Karoda was squirming under Ann’s probing fingers. “Please remain still,” she said in Japanese. “You have broken your ribs. We’re going to take you upstairs and give you something to help your pain and to allow you to sleep.”

  The gangster immediately relaxed. In awe-struck tones, he said, “Arigato, Doctor. Arigato.”

  “Why’s he calling you an alligator, Dr. D?” Ruth said, a little miffed.

  “It’s ari-gato, not alligator,” Ann said. It means thank you,” Ann replied. Then she returned her attention back to Frank Holiday. “What did you do to him, Frank,” she asked, “to make him sell out his clan?”

  With a wolfish grin, Frank replied, “Let’s just say, we let in a little light.”

  *****

  Later, in the privacy of Ann’s office, Frank filled her in.

  He said, “It’s like this, Ann – the Yakuza have started conspiring with the North Koreans to sell drugs worldwide. They’ve almost put your local guys out of business in Hawaii. The competition is way too fierce. Fuck with them and you get anthrax in your mail, or dioxin in your soup. Plus their dope is cheap. They’re underselling all the

  competition.”

  “You’re kidding me,” Ann said. “The North Koreans?”

  “Absolutely,” Frank said. “State sponsored criminal enterprise is their number one product. Hell, they’re the largest producers of heroin and methamphetamine in the world. Once upon a time old Karoda thought that was just dandy. He was taking risk-free deliveries from North Korean naval gunboats. Mess with them, you start World War Three. Or, at least, that’s what the Northies are telling everybody.

  “Bottom line: local cops can’t touch them, unless they want to risk their careers by causing an international incident.”

  “What made Mr. Karoda change his mind?” Ann asked.

  “It’s sort of complicated,” Frank said. “But the short answer is that he recently found out that the North Koreans kidnapped his mother when he was a little boy. He thought she’d just disappeared – abandoning him. The Yakuza took him in and raised him, gave him a family.”

  “I know, I know,” Ann said. “Get them when they’re young and impressionable and you have them for life. That’s how the Yakuza operate. Preying on orphans. But what did the Reds want with his mother?”

  Frank shrugged. “They wanted her to teach Japanese to their spies so they could infiltrate the country,” he said. “They kidnapped hundreds of Japanese citizens for that purpose. But everyone was too afraid of the Northies to protest.”

  “What about Mr. Karoda?” Ann asked. “By any chance did he get those injuries trying to get his mother back? After you and the CIA so kindly informed him?”

  Frank ignored the sarcasm. “Something like that,” he said. “He didn’t succeed. But he’s so pissed that he’s willing to spill his guts big time to Sen. Yano’s committee. And believe me, he’s got a lot to spill. You just have to fix him up for us.”

  Ann said, “His injuries would set an average person back a year. But he’s got a remarkable constitution. I’ll have him up and ready to go within a month.”

  “Thanks, Ann,” Frank said. He hesitated, then added, “Look, kid, can we call a truce, or something? I’d really like my old friend, Ann Donovan back. Could we declare a cease fire, please?”

  Ann considered the request, then nodded. “Okay, Frank, a cease fire it is.” She chuckled. “Although Ruth and Mark will be betting good money tomorrow on how long it’ll last.”

  Frank frowned, not getting it. Ann laughed, saying, “Never mind. It’s a Doctors Without Borders thing.”

  The CIA man nodded, obviously seeing no humor. He said, “There’s one more thing, Ann. And it is definitely not good news.”

  She sighed. “There’s always one more thing with you guys, Frank. And the news is never good.”

  *****

  Ann was not exaggerating about Mr. Karoda’s hardy constitution. A few days later the not-so former gangster was sitting at the kitchen table, looking as if nothing had ever happened. He wore a muscle shirt - bulging slightly from the Ace bandages wrapped around his torso -that showed off his anatomy and tats and was bent over a bowl of noodles, chopsticks flying.

  Across the table, Zach fiddled with his Nintendo. But his eyes remained on the mysterious Karoda. The boy was clearly impressed.

  Ruth hovered over Mr. Karoda – checking his vitals with a stethoscope and pumping at the blood pressure collar around his arm. Ann, who sat at
the head of the table, watched while idly nibbling a salad. When Ruth was done, she gave Mr. Karoda’s muscular shoulder an encouraging pat.

  “If I hadn’t seen for myself, I would’ve never guessed that this guy was practically at death’s door a little while ago,” Ruth said. “He’s strong as a horse.”

  As if he understood, Mr. Karoda dropped his chopsticks and beat his breast like King Kong. “Arigato, Doctor Ann,” he thundered. “Arigato, very much.”

  Ann laughed and said, “I think we have a very large tattooed friend for the rest of his life, or our lives – whichever comes first.”

  Across the table Zach smiled and gave a very slight nod of agreement. Ann didn’t miss it.

  *****

  Zach was sprawled on his bed, Nintendo clutched in his hands, while Ann applied her acupuncture needles.

  “You’ve really been a great patient, Zach,” Ann said. “What, we’ve been doing these treatments for more than a month now, right?” Zach nodded.

  Encouraged, Ann went on. “I think the treatments have been progressing really well. You’ve even become used to the needles, right?”

  Although Zach remained silent, a small smile played on his lips and he nodded his head slightly. Ann knew the signs and drew in a deep sigh of relief. Progress.

  But she had more to say – an unpleasant task.

  She gathered her thoughts and courage and then said, “Listen, Zach, there’s something I have to tell you. I know it’ll upset you, but it would be unfair of me if I didn’t tell you what was happening.”

  Zach paused his game and looked up at her. He nodded, encouraging her to go on.

  Ann said, It’s about that man… Ah Beng.”

  Zach went very still. His face became firm and he started punching away at the game again. Even so, Ann sensed he wanted her to continue.

  She said, “How could you forget Ah Beng, right? I swear to you, brother dear, that if he were here I’d strangle him with my own two hands. Do you understand?”

  After a very long moment, Zach nodded.

  Ann continued, “Well, the thing is they haven’t caught him yet. Everybody in the Agency is after him but he’s always one jump ahead of them. What everybody’s worried about is that… well, he might come here.”