Point of Contact

by Tom Clancy

  The only problem was that the Tuas Checkpoint—a customs facility—was shut down, according to the sign.

  Even if it wasn’t closed, they couldn’t pass. The three lanes that fed into the checkpoint were completely jammed with hundreds of abandoned vehicles—some of them half turned around as panicked drivers foolishly tried to reverse direction in the one-way traffic.

  Even the bus lane was jammed with abandoned vehicles. Everyone was gone, too—only vehicles remained. It reminded Jack of a giant painting he once saw at a county fair, The Rapture, only without the crashing airplanes and spirits flying into the sky.

  “We’re done,” Paul said, sitting up. Rain slashed against the windows and thudded on the steel panels. The noise was deafening, and nearly maddening.

  “Can you walk?” Jack asked.

  Paul nodded. “Sure. Just don’t ask me to run.”

  “What’s the plan?” Lian asked.

  Jack checked his watch. They had just under four hours to complete the journey and make contact with somebody who could stop the virus. “If the causeway was closed because of the storm, then all of this traffic got trapped. But there might still be a way over. Follow me.”

  Jack and Lian each supported Paul by the arms as they walked the hundred yards as fast as they could in the driving rain between the lanes of abandoned cars and trucks. They reached the sheltered concourse soaking wet but relieved to escape the ceaseless downpour. The open-air building looked like a giant airplane hangar without walls.

  “Now what?” Lian asked. There were dozens of vehicles abandoned in here, too: the first ones prevented from crossing the causeway.

  “Let’s get to the head of the line.” Jack pushed forward through the terminal, passing a small booth enclosed in one-way black glass. As the three of them scrambled by the door, a uniformed Immigration and Checkpoints Authority official bolted out of the tiny station. His blue shoulder boards bore silver sergeant’s chevrons.

  “What are you doing here? There’s a big storm! Can’t you see?”

  “Where is everyone else, Sergeant?” Lian asked. Her command voice caught the officer by surprise. Lian had passed through the Tuas Checkpoint many times. Normally, there was a small army of uniformed officers and civilian immigration officials to process the tens of thousands of people passing through here each day.

  “Most went home to their families. Others are over in Terminal One. I stayed behind out here to keep an eye on things. Who are you?”

  “We need to get to Kuala Lumpur, right now,” Jack said.

  “You’re not going anywhere in this weather. The causeway is shut down until noon tomorrow. You can camp out in Terminal One with the other stranded motorists.”

  Jack’s hands clenched. He hated the thought of clocking a cop just doing his duty. But too much was at stake, and they needed to get across the causeway.

  Lian saw Jack’s fists clenching, too.

  She stepped between Jack and the ICA officer, flashing him her SPF reserve badge and explaining who she was.

  The man examined her credentials closely, then shrugged. “You still can’t cross the causeway. Too dangerous. The river is very high. Two cars were already thrown over the side earlier today.” The sergeant waved his hands in the air to illustrate his point.

  Lian stepped closer. “It’s a national emergency. I’ll take full responsibility.”

  “I can’t.”

  Lian shoved her pistol in the man’s face. “I’m sorry to have to do this.”

  The man’s eyes got wide as eggs. “Don’t shoot!”

  “Just get back in your office and you’ll be fine.”

  The man nodded furiously and backed into his booth, Jack and the others right behind him. Jack restrained him with ICA zip-cuffs while Lian kept the gun on the frightened officer. She apologized for the inconvenience, assuring him that what they were doing was necessary, and explained that tying him up was only a precaution against him calling ahead to stop them.

  “We’re not going to hurt you,” Lian said.

  “But there’s one more thing we have to do,” Jack said, towering over the man.

  The officer looked like he was going to cry.

  —

  Jack headed for the far side of the checkpoint, following a line of abandoned cars queued up to cross but not allowed to because of the storm. He pushed the alarm button on the key fob. Lights flashed on a blue Honda Odyssey parked in front, right where the officer told him it would be. He felt bad taking the man’s van, but they needed an accessible vehicle.

  “There.” Jack pointed, and killed the alarm.

  The three of them made their way to the sergeant’s vehicle and climbed in. Jack knew that modern cars were nearly impossible to hot-wire, despite what TV crime shows suggested.

  This time Jack took the wheel. A wooden barrier blocked the Honda’s forward movement. Its headlights pointed directly at the rising causeway and what he assumed in the dark was the Malaysian peninsula on the far end.

  Jack cranked the engine over and the headlights lit up. Rain slashed through the high beams.

  “Only a mile and half across, right?” Jack asked.

  “Go as fast as you can. There won’t be any cars out there. Should be clear,” Lian said.

  Jack nodded. “Like driving through a car wash.”

  “A really long car wash,” Paul added. “A car wash that can kill you.” He pointed forward. “How do we get around that barrier?”

  Jack floored the gas and crashed through it.

  68

  The fuel-injected Honda accelerated briskly up the incline of the three-lane causeway, despite the fierce winds.

  Jack wasn’t sure how much water was on the road; even on the incline, it was pouring down the asphalt. Hydroplaning would be fatal on this road at high speeds, especially if they flipped off the bridge and into the river. He backed off to sixty kilometers per hour.

  All Jack could see was the road in front of him and the sheets of rain blowing nearly sideways through the high beams. There weren’t any lights on the Malaysian side. He didn’t know whether that meant they’d lost power, too, or there just weren’t any.

  The rain sprayed against the side of the van like a fire hose. Jack fought the wheel as the cyclonic winds tried to shove the Odyssey across the three northbound lanes. A few minutes later he sensed more than saw when they crested the incline and began the descent toward the Malaysian border. He kept his speed steady.

  The causeway flattened out. It was a straightaway shot to the other side, but they were closer to the raging Johor River than before, surging just below the barriers.

  “Less than half a kilometer to go!” Lian shouted, smiling.

  The van shuddered as it plowed through a puddle of standing water. For a second Jack felt as if the van was airborne—or maybe it was just his ass coming out of the seat. His guts tingled as if he were in free fall, but he corrected the steering and the wheels found secure pavement again.

  “Whoa!” Paul shouted from the backseat.

  Jack saw Lian still had one hand clutched on the “Oh, shit!” handle above her head, and the other braced against his seat. She wasn’t smiling now.

  “Any cell signal yet?” Jack shouted back to Paul.

  Paul stared at the phone in his hand. “Not yet.”

  Jack’s eyes focused on the road in front of him. The high beams reflected in the heavy raindrops like a million tiny silver mirrors. It was distracting, almost blinding. He tapped the lights to low beam just in time to see the looming shape rocketing toward them over the rail.

  —

  Lian screamed as the wave smashed into the van like the fist of God, crashing on Jack’s side and throwing the vehicle in the opposite direction, lifting the van off of its two right wheels. It slammed into the concrete barrier on the far side before it could tip all the
way over.

  Glass shattered and steel crunched when the Odyssey hit the barrier. The surging rush of water groaned against Jack’s door. The glass near his face cracked but didn’t break as water seeped in through edges of the door. The van’s engine stalled, but the headlights stayed on.

  “Everybody okay?” Jack shouted as he twisted the ignition key and pumped the gas.

  “All good,” Paul said. “Storm surge.”

  Jack shot a glance at Lian. She nodded. “Fine.”

  Jack turned the key again. The engine wouldn’t fire. “We’re not going anywhere in this thing.”

  “What do we do?” Lian asked.

  “Can’t stay here. If another wave comes, it might push us over the side,” Paul said.

  “And we’re running out of time,” Jack said. He could see the end of the causeway up ahead. “Five, six hundred feet. We can do this.”

  The three exchanged glances. If another wave came when they were on foot, they were dead.

  69

  Let’s go!” Jack pushed against his door, but it was wedged shut. He shouldered against it three times before it gave way. He jumped out and turned around to help Lian crawl over his seat to get out. Paul manhandled the sliding passenger door open, breaking the handle in the process.

  For a moment the three of them faced east into the howling storm, hunched into the wind that was trying to knock them down. They held their hands up to protect their eyes from the stinging rain.

  “Stay close to the rail,” Jack said. “And let’s haul ass!”

  Lian and Jack draped Paul’s arms around their shoulders, and the three of them managed a stuttering half-jog. A hundred steps into their journey, Paul shouted, “Wait!”

  They stopped in the lashing wind.

  “What’s wrong?” Jack asked.

  Paul frantically patted himself down. “The drive! I don’t think I have the drive!”

  “Where did you leave it?” Lian asked.

  “We’ve got to go!” Jack said. “We can’t worry about it!” He grabbed Paul’s arm, but Paul pulled away.

  “I’m not leaving without that drive. It’s the only evidence I have against Rhodes.”

  “Forget Rhodes.”

  “And whoever else is behind him,” Paul added. He turned and started hobbling back toward the van.

  Jack cursed to himself, then grabbed Paul by the jacket. “You and Lian keep going forward. I’ll run back and take a look.”

  Paul frowned, conflicted. Finally he said, “Hurry.” He draped an arm over Lian’s shoulder and the two of them paced their way toward the Malaysian border.

  —

  Jack lowered his head and ran full-tilt back toward the bright headlights of the dead Odyssey. He was crabbing against the wind, but he was making a lot better time than the other two.

  Paul’s sliding door was still open. Jack leaped in. The dome light still shone and the van’s tan leather interior made it easy to see. He didn’t see the USB, though. He jammed his hand between the seat cushions but didn’t feel anything. He knelt down and checked the floor. His fingers bumped into a small flat object underneath the seat. The USB drive.

  Relieved, Jack shoved it deep into his pants pocket, turned, and ran for the others.

  —

  Lian was strong but not invincible, and running under the weight of the obese American against the wind was wearing her out. They were less than two hundred feet from the shore when their pace slowed to a walk. She thought Jack would’ve caught up with them by now.

  “Wait a second,” she said. The two of them stopped and turned around, both gasping for breath.

  Lian saw Jack’s tall frame running toward them, silhouetted in the headlights of the van.

  Saw the giant hand of the wave sweep across the barrier.

  Watched him disappear.

  —

  Lian screamed and ran toward Jack.

  The wave that hit him was smaller than the one that had smashed the van, but it was big enough to pick him up and slam him against the concrete barrier. By some miracle it hadn’t lifted him higher, otherwise he would have been swept over the side.

  By the time she reached him the wave had disappeared. He lay on the asphalt, crushed against the concrete barrier, coughing up water and gasping for air. She dropped down beside him.

  “Jack! Where are you hurt?”

  “I think I broke my arm.”

  Jack caught his breath and cursed. He cradled his left forearm.

  “Let me see that.” She gently touched his forearm, examining the length of it. He winced violently.

  “It’s probably broken, but the break hasn’t punctured the skin. Can you walk?”

  Paul limped into the headlight beams, gasping for air. “I thought you were dead, Jack.”

  “You and me both. Let’s get moving before the next one takes us all out.”

  Jack struggled to raise himself up, but he was badly shaken. Lian started to help, but Paul pushed her aside. Despite the searing pain in his left hand he grabbed Jack with both fists and lifted his heavy body to his unsteady feet.

  Jack threw his good right arm around Paul’s neck and the three of them hurried the best they could, Jack setting the pace, their eyes fixed on the safety of the far shore. Lian kept swiping the matted wet hair out of her face, and Paul’s limp was more pronounced than ever. He was determined to stay at Jack’s side, and keep him from falling again, no matter the pain. Jack’s injuries were his fault, and the guilt fired his limping steps.

  Jack shuffled more than walked, pressing his broken left forearm against his chest, wincing with every step, praying that another wave wasn’t looming in the dark, waiting to devour them.

  70

  KUALA LUMPUR, MALAYSIA

  The Reconnaissance General Bureau agents were rousted from their beds behind the crumbling walls of the DPRK embassy compound at twenty minutes after midnight by the RGB chief of station himself. The panic in his eyes underscored the urgency in his barked orders.

  The station chief had only seven men in his command at the embassy. The task was straightforward enough: Find three spies who were in transit to Kuala Lumpur from southern Malaysia.

  Photo IDs of the three were handed to the agents.

  “Won’t finding these three people on a peninsula inhabited by thirty million people prove difficult, sir?”

  The chief parroted the explanation given to him. The three spies were almost certainly traveling by car, and two of the three spies were white. Moreover, no one was driving on the roads this time of the night, especially under current conditions. So, in fact, the assignment was not as difficult as it seemed.

  “Agreed?”

  “Agreed!”

  The chief informed his men that he had received their deployment orders directly from Pyongyang. They were to split their forces between the only two crossing points, the eastern Johor causeway and the western Second Link. The mission was also specified:

  Recover the USB drive.

  Kill Brown.

  Kill Fairchild.

  “And most important, capture Jack Ryan!”

  —

  The four grim RGB men in the Kia Sorento with DPRK diplomatic license plates sped through the early-morning gloom and the drenching rains at high speed—far higher than caution warranted in the current conditions. The drive to the Second Link causeway across from Tuas Checkpoint at normal speeds would take almost three and a half hours. They needed to beat that time, and the late start didn’t help.

  Fortunately, the roads were clear at this time of the morning, and traffic warnings had urged Malaysians to avoid driving altogether until noon tomorrow, if possible.

  The North Korean driver pushed the four-cylinder to its maximum, breaking far beyond the speed limit. The police wouldn’t dare pull them over with their diplomat
ic plates—and no police were to be seen, anyway.

  The edge of the unusual storm had reached Kuala Lumpur, but it was not nearly as destructive as it had been reported in Singapore and points south. Though the road conditions were dangerous, each man in the vehicle knew that death in a fiery car crash was preferable to what awaited them if they failed their mission.

  SOUTHERN MALAYSIA

  Jack, Paul, and Lian finally reached the far side, safely away from the river but still pummeled by the ceaseless rain and wind. They stopped to catch their breath. No cars were around. Certainly no emergency vehicles. If anybody saw them make the crossing, they weren’t doing anything to help them now.

  “Now what?” Paul asked. “Keep walking?”

  “What else can we do?” Jack said. He turned to Lian. “What time is it?” Not only had the wave broken his arm, it had busted his watch.

  “Three twenty-eight. Three hours and thirty-two minutes to go.” Lian shook her head. “We need to find a car, fast.”

  “You find the drive, Jack?” Paul asked.

  “It’s in my pocket.”

  “Sorry about that. I’m sorry about everything—”

  “Just buy me a beer and we’ll call it even, okay? In the meantime, we need to find some wheels.”

  “The Honda’s lights are still on,” Paul said. “Won’t somebody come out and take a look?”

  Jack shook his head. “Not in these conditions. Too dangerous. We can’t wait around for them to show up. We’re running out of clock.”

  “I know where we might find a car,” Lian said.

  71

  Five minutes later, the drenched and weary threesome stood on the empty elevated expressway overlooking what appeared to be a used-car lot. The fenced property bordered on a two-lane road that ran east-west through a tunnel beneath the expressway.