JASON STEED Absolutely Nothing (27 page)

The US officer’s launch approached again. “Jason, you don’t want to do this. You will be up setting some people in very high places. I have given you the order to return.”

“You will have to say you got here too late and never told me to go back. That way, neither of us get into trouble.” Jason grinned.

“And why would I do that? I am not in trouble,” the officer asked.

“Well this inflatable is a British Naval Raft and you don’t want the British government to ask your government why you shot at it with two children on board, do you? Especially when the newspaper people find out how I rescued all these children. Or we could say you helped save them.” Jason smiled.

The officer replied but his voice was drowned out by the noise of the Harrier jets and motor crafts.

Two news team helicopters approached and started filming. The children were taken off the barge and transferred to the inflatable’s and then onto HMS Hermes. One of the inflatable’s towed Jason and Tiny Tim’s raft back. Jason noticed his father and Captain Bass watching as some of the crew helped the children aboard. They noticed Jason’s raft being towed to the ship rear boat dock and approached.

“Hi Dad, er I mean Lieutenant. Hi Captain, Sir. Um I brought the inflatable back in one piece, but the engine was shot by the Yanks and the Vietcong shot a hole in the side. It’s loosing air, but I’m sure we can patch her up,” Jason stuttered. “This is Tiny Tim. His real name is An Dung or something but I think he likes Tim, um. Am I in much trouble?” Both men couldn’t help smiling at his cheeky grin.

“I’m glad you're safe, son. Your father has been worried. You keep doing that and his hair will be as grey as mine.” Captain Bass scoffed. Ray helped Tiny Tim onto the Hermes loading dock and held out his hand for Jason. In a swift move he pulled Jason from the inflatable into his arms.

“Don’t keep doing this to me, son. I’m not superhuman. I can’t stand this. Have you any idea how worried I have been?” Ray said. He noticed the small boy was also hugging Jason. “Who’s this little chap?”

“Dad, this is Tiny Tim. Can we keep him?” Jason said roughing the small boy's hair.

“No, Jason. He’s not a dog. The American authorities will want to find him a suitable home for him with a family.”

“We’re a family and the Americans didn’t want them.” Jason smiled.

“No, I’m at sea most of the time and you,” he paused. “Well
you,
sonny boy, are where ever you want to be.”

United States President Ford made a speech to the world’s media. He told them how. in a joint American and English operation, some refugees from Vietnam had been rescued. When asked by a reporter regarding the children’s heritage being Amerasian, he failed to answer the question and talked about how America prides itself on being a melting pot for all races and religions, and the children were very welcome.

*

Jason’s problems continued. Quentin Roosevelt Military Academy refused to allow him back after he went absent without leave. The British government put pressure on the Americans to keep Jason’s identity a secret. The Americans argued it was an American military academy student who broke the prisoners free. The British argued if his identity was published it may prevent SYUI from using him again. They could see the promising career he had as an agent.

Raymond told Jason that he needed to get back to his studies and forget about being an agent for a few years. Jason was devastated to hear that he would have to go back to St. Joseph's, a school he hated.

After ten days, HMS Hermes reached the Royal Australian Naval Base in Fremantle. The children were taken into care where they would be eventually flown to the United States. Jason was upset saying goodbye to Tiny Tim. He grew fond of the smaller boy, as if he was a little brother.

The surviving prisoners spoke at a press conference in Freemantle. It was heart wrenching for the relatives of those that never survived. Ray spoke and gracefully said that they would never have gotten away without the help of Marcel and the others. No mention was given regarding Jason. He watched from the back of the room, his hand still bandaged. A large photographer pushed Jason out of the way so he could get a better picture of Ray, Evans, and Jones.

On the car ride back to the HMS Hermes, Jason was quiet. He forced a smile and told his father he agreed with SYUI and the British government to be kept away from the limelight. Secretly, he was hurt. In a phone conversation with Scott two hours later he told Scott. “Now, I know how the horse feels like when the jockey gets all the praise for winning a horse race.”

He was granted permission to stay on board HMS Hermes for another five weeks while it cruised back to the UK, although it was no holiday. He was given duties to do as any sailor or able seaman would.

The return of HMS Hermes at Plymouth was a minor occasion in the UK. A few welcome home banners like any returning naval ship. Jason and his father had not made a decision on what school he would return to after the summer recess. The answer came quicker than they expected. An overweight man stood smoking a cigarette on the loading dock, waiting for Jason.

“George.” Jason grinned. He ran forward and gave George a hug. “Thanks for coming to welcome us back.”

“Really, George, you couldn’t wait for him to get home before you need to steal him away?” Ray cursed.

“Okay I admit it, I did need to ask if he could help out in a delicate situation that is very close to home to you guys, but I also wanted to welcome you
both
back. I’m pleased you’re safe Ray. I know you and I don’t always see eye to eye.” George said offering his hand.

Ray shook his hand and grunted back. “What’s this delicate situation that’s also close to home?”

“Let’s get a cup of tea shall we?”

*

Ray and George sat at a table with a mug of tea in a local café. Jason put some money in the jukebox and chose some records.

“Okay, you got my attention. But before you start, you know he’s not going to go on a mission again,” Ray said.

Jason sat down next to his father and slurped a milk shake through a straw. “Agh, this is crap compared to what I had in America. Those malt shakes are awesome,” Jason said pulling a face.

“It’s what?” Ray sternly asked.

“Oh, um sorry, Dad. I meant it’s nasty,” Jason said.

“Just because you spent a few weeks with a bunch of sailors doesn't mean you use that language in front of me,” Ray said before turning his scornful look at George. “Look, George. You know I won’t agree to Jason helping you on a mission. He has just missed a ton of school work, and I will not put him in danger.”

“I’m fine, Dad. I can look after myself,” Jason argued.

“No, you’re not. I have not forgotten how you got on the boat when Cookie got shot
. You completely lost it and...” He paused and took a sip of his tea. “No, Jason. Enjoy the summer recess with Scott, meet up with Catherine, and we will discuss where you go after recess later. But no missions.”

George looked at Jason. “Before I start, Max Fisher in America wanted me to thank you for them, Jason. Apparently your tip on a Corporal Jones was right. He was an undercover spy and was working for the Chinese intelligence agency. The Yanks have arrested him. Although Max also called you a disobedient little monkey, but he used much stronger language of course,” George said with a smile.

George pulled a brown file out of his briefcase. The outside was stamped in red letters TOP SECRET. The wordings immediately caught Jason’s attention. “I know Ray, after all, I agreed not to send him on any missions. Well, apart from helping you out when Bill Giles' niece went missing, and Jason soon solved that. But, I think you will find this is very close to home.”

He opened the file and pulled out a large black and white photograph and slid the picture across the table. It was of a man in his early forties, wearing a duffle coat and smoking a cigarette. Jason looked at the picture briefly before Ray pushed it back across the table.

“Not very close to home George I don’t know him,” Ray said.

“And I should hope bloody not. This is Shamus O’Neill. He is a suspected member of the Irish Republican Army and their number one arms dealer.”

“What of it? I’m sure there are many like him,” Ray scoffed.

“Yes, you’re right, but we believe Shamus is responsible for many of the bombings. He's an explosive expert and has been active for the IRA for fifteen years,” George said.

“Arrest him then,” Jason said.

“We have no proof. I do know that he and his wife have been trying to have a child for years and have finally given up, so they just completed an application with Belfast City Council to be foster parents,” George said.

Ray laughed. “You are pathetic, George. No way would I agree to sending Jason in as a foster child. Come on, Jason, we have a long drive home.” Ray got up from his seat and nudged Jason out. They started walking towards the door and Jason stopped in his tracks.

“George, why did you say this mission was
close to home
? You made it sound like we knew him.” Jason asked.

“We believe he planted a certain bomb in 1962. It was meant for the defence secretary and his wife, but it was planted on a similar black Rover outside the same theatre. It killed the occupants, a Mr. and Mrs. Steed. Your parents, Ray.”

Ray marched back and picked up the picture. “This piece of dirt was responsible?”

“Everything leads to him. He has planted many more since and killed dozens more and maimed countless others,” George said.

“He’s the guy who killed my grandparents before I was born dad?” Jason asked.

“Yes, I actually met your mother at the airport after the funeral,. I literally bumped into her.”

“Then this time it’s personal,” Jason said taking the picture from his father.

“No, Jason. You're not doing it. Plus I need you to talk to someone about your problem. It’s got worse now you're getting older,” his father said.

“What problem?” Jason said, frowning at his father.

“Your temper. After you finished off General Chow, you were pretty much out of it. You had me pinned down by my throat and were going to hit me,” Ray said.

Jason sighed and sat back down. He looked at his father and George. “The adrenaline rush I induce into my system makes me alert and defensive. If I get hurt or lose my temper in a fight it kind of gets out of control. Maybe I should go to Hong Kong for a few weeks and spend time with Wong Tong for extra training, em, I mean help with it.”

“Sounds like a bloody good plan,” George said to Ray. “Send him to Hong Kong for a few weeks to train with his karate master. Then maybe we can look at catching your parents killers.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Jason returned to Hong Kong for three weeks to work with his karate master Wong Tong. As far as Ray was concerned, he was getting help with his temper. Jason, however, used it as an opportunity to work with Wong Tong every day, training and improving his martial art skills.

Jason stayed at Wong Tong’s modest apartment above the karate studio. The thin, grey haired old man treated Jason like a son. Jason marvelled listening to him, watching his every move, how he twirled his long moustache that hung below his chin.

Wong Tong tried to get Jason to wear traditional Chinese clothing. He tried it once but thought he looked like a girl so removed it, preferring to wear his western clothing.

Before sunrise every morning, Wong Tong and Jason would climb what was locally called ‘the Peak’ in Hong Kong. Wong Tong would meditate for an hour while the sun rose. Jason would sit with his back against a rock quietly thinking, allowing the sunlight to slowly warm his face. At almost two thousand feet above sea level it was the highest point in Hong Kong.

The clean air filled his lungs. The over populated buildings were hidden from him. He might be the only person in the world, looking at a scene that has remained unchanged for hundreds of years. From his vantage point he could see the vast range of mountains and to the north, the South China Sea. The troubles in Vietnam or the rest of the world meant nothing up here.

It took Jason a while to get over Vietnam. The scars and bruises soon healed on his fit young body. It was the deeper emotional scars that would take time to heal. Making friends with boys at the American military academy and with Cookie one moment, and the next knowing he would never see them again was tough to bear. Jason consoled himself again. No matter what happened in life, when it really came down to it, there was only one person he could really rely on and one person who he could always count on. That person was called Jason Steed.