Papa Jack Chapter 4

Despite slowly coming to awareness, Richard doesn't know much more than he did when he was unconscious. He can feel a blindfold covering his eyes and the tightness in his shoulders from wrists tied behind his back. Bonds also imprison his ankles. No one speaks, but the smell of honey permeates the air, and at least one human presence seems nearby. His head pounds and his mouth is almost unbearably dry, but he isn't gagged. He forces the words through unwilling lips. "Who's there? Is Veronica OK? What do you want from me?"

"We didn't touch your girlfriend, Richard, an accented woman's voice assures him. "She has no value to me. You, on the other hand, hold great worth, at least for the next few minutes, until your father is brought to me."

"What do you want from my father?" Richard demands. "If it's a ransom, you're out of luck. He's not rich. Publishers aren't known for paying translators big bucks, and New York rents aren't cheap."

The woman cackles. "A translator? Is that what you think your father is?"

"Yes, he was an army brat. His parents moved around a lot, and he learned a language wherever they went. They died in an accident when he was young, and his languages were the only way he had to make a living."

Another cackle cuts through the air. "The jackal even told his cover story to his own son."

"Jackal? Cover story?" Richard repeats. "I don't understand."

The sounds of footsteps against a hard floor interrupt Anna Volkov's jeers. Richard immediately recognizes his father's voice. "I'm here, Anna. You have what you want. Let my son go."

"Oh, I can't do that," Anna replies. "I can't let anything go right now. You know how I love baklava. Sticky fingers. But why should I? When a woman doubles her wealth, why should she give up half of it? I will take your life. But I will enjoy your agony, the agony I felt after you killed my husband and imprisoned me, as you watch your son die before you."

"Did you track the car that took Hunt?" Senior Agent Daltry inquires over his com with Mason.

"We did, Sir. It's parked inside a warehouse at Pier 86. We're studying the plans to shape our best strategy for an assault."

"Do you have confirmation that Anna Volkov is inside?" Daltry questions.

"No, Sir. The car was driven by a male."

"The cell leader?'

"We don't believe so, Sir."

"Then hold," Daltry offers. "We need to burn out the whole nest. If we can't be sure of taking out Volkov and the command structure, the cell will scatter and regroup."

"What about Hunt, Sir?"

"He's on his own. He's known that since he officially severed ties with the agency."

Jack's eyes sweep over the room. As far as he can tell, it's a back office in the larger warehouse structure. That means that if he blows out the back wall, he'll have some means of escape. After the warning flashed on his PC, he secured what devices he could on his body. His watch can blow that wall, but he needs enough of a distraction to get Richard free. Anna always drank lemon tea to cut the sweetness of the baklava. Tonight is no exception. Her glass sits next to the bakery box. The low pH will swiftly react with the pod he has on his forearm, just above his wrist. He just needs to get close enough.

Anna has always been quick to anger, not the most desirable characteristic in an operative. With any luck, Jack can take advantage of that vulnerability. "Anna, I don't know why you're so upset that I killed Gregory. I probably did you a favor. He was cheating on you with that little French agent, Patrice. She had at least three different STDs. She must have infected him with at least one of them. And if he had lived, he would have infected you."

Anna draws a dagger as fury flashes in her onyx eyes. "Bring the dirty pig to me!"

Two operatives propel Jack toward Anna. When he nears the table, he drops the pod into the tea. As choking vapors fill the air, Jack grabs Anna's dagger. After slitting his and Richard's bonds, he attaches his watch to the back wall. "Shield your eyes, son, and get ready to run." As a gap opens in the wall, Jack pushes Richard through and quickly follows. "Head toward the darkest spot. They won't be able to find us without revealing themselves."

"Move in! Move in!" Mason commands his squad as the explosion rocks the night.

Jack urges his son to cover beneath the pier. "That explosion would have attracted the good guy's attention. Between the effects of it and the sting gas, they should be able to round up Anna and her operatives. It's hours before the sun will come up. We can hide out here until it's safe to go home."

Richard slumps against a pilon. "Hide out until it's safe to go home? Dad, I don't understand any of this. Who are those people? Why did they want to kill us? Why did she call you a jackal? Did you really kill someone?"

"Richard, we have to be quiet," Jack cautions. "Not being able to see us won't keep anyone from hearing us. But I promise, when we're safe, I'll tell you everything I can."

Early morning anchor Lana Kelver studies the stories in front of her. "Slow news day," she comments to no one in particular. Several people who were drinking at a bar near Pier 86 reported hearing an explosion. Fortunately, when the police investigated, they found no evidence that anyone had been hurt. A small amount of damage to a wall was attributed to a fire set by some squatters who had been occupying the building. No one was found on the premises, but a box of baklava had been left behind. "Baklava," Lana murmurs, considering the stale donuts in the studio's break room, "the squatters had good taste."

Jack gazes at his son, who had finally fallen asleep in the gloom beneath the pier. The sun is rising, and he'll have to wake him, no doubt triggering a new flood of questions. Since their escape, he's been considering how he'll answer them. He's still considering it. But first things first. He needs to get Richard home, and he needs to find out what happened to Anna. Whatever he tells Richard won't be easy. Coping with his son's reaction for as long as it takes could be even harder. Still, this day's been coming for close to 18 years. He should be prepared by now. He just wishes that he were.

As the light of dawn begins to penetrate beneath the pier, Richard opens his eyes and stares up at his father, the man he's lived with his entire life. He always thought they were honest with each other, more so than most fathers and sons. Now, he's afraid that nothing could have been further from the truth. At this moment, he doesn't have a clue what to believe.

"Come on, son," Jack says. "Time to go home."

Richard pushes stiffly to his feet, wondering if he'll ever think of home – or his father – the same way again.