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COWBOY AWOKE DAZED and confused. He suddenly sat up, realizing he was in a king-sized bed with soft white sheets and a plush comforter. As he did, a pain shot through his side and he looked down to see that he was wearing dark blue silk pajamas.
Cowboy raised his shirt and felt the bandaging on his side. He felt like he was in a haze, but memories of being shot and captured were starting to come back. His whole body was sore and he had a massive headache.
The room was dark, but there was just enough light to see his surroundings. There was a flat screen TV and a dresser in front of him, and a chair by a large window off to his left. It looked like he was in a hotel room suite of some sort. That can’t be right.
Cowboy slowly moved to the edge of the bed. As his feet hit the floor, he looked down and saw slippers that had been pre-positioned for him. He put them on and stood, grimacing as pain shot through his body.
He shuffled to the window over the hardwood floors, looking around the room for clues as to where he might be. He remembered bits and pieces from North Korea – Pak and calling home. Some of it seemed real, but most of it seemed like remembering a bad dream. The headache wasn’t making it any easier to concentrate.
Cowboy pulled back the blackout curtains and looked out the window, revealing a busy metropolis at mid-morning. He was on a high floor in whatever building he was in, eye-level with the tops of a few of the buildings across from him. Down below, there were cars and people bustling through the streets as they went about their work day.
“Would you like breakfast?” a male voice asked from behind him.
Cowboy spun around and took a defensive posture. The man appeared to be Asian and was wearing a suit. His arms were at his side and made no advances as Cowboy stepped back.
“Who are you?” Cowboy demanded.
“It is okay, Mr. Carter,” the man said with a thick accent. “I am not here to hurt you.”
“I don’t know who that is, mate, but you’d better tell me what’s going on or else-”
“Please, Mr. Carter, there is no need for that. I know who you are. It is pointless to keep up such a charade.”
“Alright, well, just who the bloody hell are you?”
“You may call me Khang. I am not here to hurt you.”
“Where am I? Where did you take me?”
“Shanghai,” Khang said, still maintaining his position across the room. Cowboy had moved back to the corner near the nightstand and had contemplated using the lamp as a weapon to aid his escape.
“Shanghai? What is your plan, mate?”
“Would you like breakfast?” Khang asked. “I have a chef that can make you anything you like using only the finest ingredients.”
“I would like to go home, if you don’t mind, thanks.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Mr. Carter. But, in the meantime, my goal is to make your stay as comfortable and pleasant as possible.”
“My stay? Just what the fuck is this?”
“I will return with a variety of options for your breakfast,” Khang said as he turned and walked out of the room.
Cowboy followed him. The bedroom was only part of a much larger suite that looked more like an apartment than a hotel room. It had a small kitchen, two bathrooms, and a large living area. Khang walked through the kitchen and living area and out the door.
Cowboy attempted to follow, but the door locked behind Khang and Cowboy couldn’t get it open. Despite Khang’s pleasant demeanor, there was no doubt that he was a captive. To what end, Cowboy didn’t know, but he suspected it was some sort of Chinese intelligence operation.
After unsuccessfully trying the door, Cowboy searched the room for weapons or a means of escape. He looked up and saw surveillance cameras with glowing red lights mounted on the ceiling at every corner. He ignored them as he went to what appeared to be a sliding glass door leading to a balcony. He tried to open it, but it too was locked and unable to be budged.
Straining to open the door caused more pain in his side. Cowboy stumbled to the nearby desk and sat down in the swivel chair. He caught his breath and then searched the drawers of the desk for anything that might help him, finding nothing as he grew increasingly frustrated.
As Cowboy sat contemplating his next move, the door to the penthouse opened. Khang entered with two servers trailing behind him carrying food trays. They headed straight for him and placed the trays on the desk as they removed the covers.
“I hope you will find this sufficient to your needs,” Khang said as he poured orange juice into a glass for Cowboy. “If you have any special dietary requirements, please do tell me.”
Cowboy studied the food as the servers left the room. Khang stood in front of Cowboy, waiting for his reply and acting more as a personal servant than the captor Cowboy believed him to be. He looked up at Khang as he unfolded the cloth napkin, revealing a set of silverware including a steak knife and fork.
“It would be unwise for you to use them for anything other than their intended purpose,” Khang warned as he saw Cowboy eyeing the potential weapons. He showed no emotion or judgment, as if merely stating a fact.
“I don’t know what you mean, mate.”
“Of course you do,” Khang replied. “You will be treated with dignity and respect in your time here, but any attempts to commit violence will be met with greater force. As the person charged with your safety and well-being, it is my duty to inform you of the consequences of such a miscalculation.”
“Fine,” Cowboy said as he picked up the fork and stabbed a piece of sausage. “Can I at least eat in peace?”
“Of course,” Khang said. “My employer will be in to speak with you shortly.”
“Your employer? You don’t work for the government?”
“It is of no concern to you,” Khang said dismissively. “Finish your meal. There will be plenty of time for discussion later.”
“Great,” Cowboy said.
Khang nodded and walked out. Cowboy watched him until the door closed and then stuffed his face as quickly as he could. He hid the knife in his sleeve and went back to examining the room for a means of escape.
He went to the sliding glass door and tried using the knife to jimmy the lock. As he futilely tried to open it, he suddenly heard the door open and a voice called out behind him.
“It is a waste of your effort.”
Cowboy spun around upon hearing the voice. Khang walked in behind the speaker as Cowboy suddenly dropped the knife and his jaw.
“Oh, bloody hell.”