Not since the first time he’d entered the Daoist monastery did Chan wonder about surrendering his service revolver. But he did so, just as he had then, because he’d not be able to enter otherwise. As he approached the dormitory, he was surprised to see Sean Daniel walking with the use of a cane.
“There you are,” said Daniel cheerily. “I feel safer just at the sight of you, David Chan.”
Chan managed a small smile. “Well, you know, in this place, you’re about as safe as you can be.”
Daniel made it to a bench and settled on it. “It’s good to be up and about,” he said, tapping the cane, “even if it’s a bit tricky.”
“Right,” agreed Chan, standing rather than sitting beside Daniel.
“So what’s the good word, David?”
Chan nodded. “Well, one of the good words is that I didn’t see a hoard of assassins descending on this place on my way in. How do you think these people will try to come at you?”
Daniel nodded. “Hmmm, that’s a good question. I have to admit I’m stumped for the best way to kill me. You have any idea?”
Chan watched Daniel narrowly. “One, maybe.” He paused. Kneeling, he ran his hand over the hard shell of a passing tortoise. The animal swiveled its head toward him, then crawled on.
“And?” said Daniel.
Chan stood up. “How about the possibility that no one might be coming for you?”
Daniel laughed. “Well, that would be the best news of all, old man. Would it not?”
“Yes, yes it would be,” said Chan. “Super news. Although a little unexpected, don’t you think?”
“How so?”
“Well, for this sinister plot to succeed, you need to be eliminated, right? I mean somewhere out there is the double who will take your place and infiltrate MI6.”
Daniel nodded. “Yes, yes, David. Best to be on my toes with all of that, eh? When I leave this place I hope you and your colleagues of Four-9 will be by my side all the way to the airport gate.”
Chan laughed derisively. “Oh yeah, Agent Daniel, we’ll be by your side when you leave here, you can count on that.”
Daniel eyed Chan questioningly but said nothing. Nodded and smiled. Then, “Something up, David? Your tone, it sounds a bit ominous.”
Chan smiled. “Sorry about that. I guess I tend to sound that way when something ominous is happening.”
“Oh? And what’s that then?” asked Daniel.
“Well, for instance, what if I were to ask you who you really are?”
Daniel gave a puzzled look a bit too exaggerated. “Why, David, I’m me.”
“Yeah, you’re you, all right. But who do you mean by you?”
Daniel laughed. “You’ve turned into a puzzle master, Lieutenant Chan. Inscrutable, eh? Sorry, I can’t follow.”
“Oh, I don’t think the puzzle master here is me,” said Chan. “If anyone, it’s you. Whoever you are.”
Daniel said nothing.
Chan continued. “Two people shot who should have been killed. You, and Hank Lee. Yet both of you are shot, miraculously, in such a way that both survive. Pretty dead shots, your buddies. You must have been holding your breath when that one put a bullet in you?”
The Agent attempted a smile of mock surprise. Chan ignored the feeble attempt to insult his intelligence.
“And now you will return home and fight this shadow organization before they get you. Hank Lee had to live in order to confirm your story that some kind of substitution scheme is afoot. I mean really, whoever you are, this is moving in the direction of some kind of James Bond extravaganza, isn’t it? Hollywood here we come.”
Daniel said nothing, his face now placid.
“So what, James Bond? I’m guessing that isn’t a mask, right? With you, it really is plastic surgery, isn’t it? Like you said, that would be James Bond, not Sean Daniel.”
“Do tell,” said the man.
“When did you eliminate Sean Daniel?” asked Chan. “It wouldn’t be on any of the flights, obviously. Was it in the airport in New York? In L.A? Or was he already replaced before he even made it on the plane at Heathrow?”
Chan waited. This was not rhetorical. He wanted to know.
Finally, the man said, “Well well well, Copper, you’re quite the detective, eh? Too bad they don’t allow guns in this holy place. And,” he lifted the cane, “too bad I can barely wield this as a weapon.”
“Yes,” said Chan, “I was wishing when I came through the gate that I could have carried my gun with me. Not to defend myself, though.”
He paused, smiled at the man.
“Oh, come now, David. You would just shoot me? Kill me in cold blood? That’s not the way the police do it, is it? Why that’s against everything you people consider holy, is it not?”
Chan laughed. “Holy? Hardly, James Bond whoever you are. You, I would kill you at the drop of the proverbial hat.”
For the first time, a look of fear crept over the man’s face. “Why, come on now. Surely you jest, old boy. Bring me to justice, right? You Yanks are always on about fair trials, innocent until proven guilty, all of that American-way jargon.”
The expression on Chan’s face did not change. It was hard and cold. It was the David Chan who’d lost his wife, who’d lost his daughter, who’d lost his father. It was the hard and cold Chan who knew this man and his people had killed Sean Daniel’s wife and then Daniel himself.”
“Murdering bastards like you, James Bond,” Chan said, “need to be shot every day. You’re damn lucky I’m in a good mood. Get up on your goddamn feet and come with me.”
“So you’re arresting me then?” asked the man.
“Yeah yeah yeah. I’d read you your rights, but they don’t apply to your situation. Let’s say we’re going to detain you, not arrest you. I’m sure MI6 will want to whisk you away to some special place where they’ll treat you in a way you’ve earned.”
The man stood shakily with the aid of the cane.
“Move it, James Bond, and move it fast.”
Chan had the man by the elbow and was pushing him hard. At one point, just before they reached the gate, the man stumbled and fell, knocking against a tortoise.
“Watch what you’re doing there,” said Chan, using his foot to push the man away from the tortoise. “Get up,” Chan said with great heat. “Get the hell up!”
The man managed to stand and hobble forward.
At the gate, Chan retrieved his revolver. When the two reached his car, Chan handcuffed the man’s hands behind him and pushed him into the back seat. As an added precaution, he used a second pair to cuff the man’s ankles together around the seat post.
Sliding into the front seat, Chan swiveled and stared hard at the man. “Give me a reason, James Bond. I’d like the chance to shoot you as Agent Daniel’s proxy.”
Then he gunned the engine to life and headed for the station. Several times he looked in the rearview mirror and pictured a hole in the middle of the man’s forehead.
The man kept wondering why Chan’s reflection would smile at him periodically.
Lanning Lee 