by Trevor Scott
Lori thought for a moment and then said, “Can you tap into the local police dispatch?”
“Yes, we can monitor that,” Pam assured her.
“What about infiltration into their system?”
“To what end?”
“We send the police to false locations to stay away from Jake.”
“But we don’t know where he is.”
“We will once Kim finds the NSA contact,” Lori explained. “They will give us the location of the bad guys. Jake won’t be far away.”
Pam smiled. “Are you sure you don’t want to come work for us?”
“I’m sure. Congress is frustrating, but I like representing my people from Montana.”
Pam left to find Kim. If they were going to help Jake Adams, they would have to find the man’s contact at the NSA.
●
Jake caught a break when he reached the Myeongdong stop, two stops before Seoul Station. With many subway stops passengers must flow out in one direction, but this stop allowed for flow from both sides of the platform. Since he was on the lead train car, he simply scooted off and up the stairs.
Without looking back, Jake hurried into the street market, which at this time of night was filled with shoppers. Bright lights advertised everything from clothing to restaurants. He blended in with the other shoppers and then finally stopped at a rack of postcards and looked back the way he had come.
He first caught a glimpse of the Slavs walking down the middle of the street as if they were police officers on the beat. They were a block back. But where were the others. What would he do? Have someone run around the block and wait for him. He smiled. Perfect. He had them right where he wanted them.
Turning around, Jake wandered with purpose along the left side of the street. That’s where they would be waiting for him. For a split second, a man rounded a corner ahead and then scooted out of sight. He grasped his gun but then decided to hold back from scattering the crowd with gunfire.
As he got to the building where he saw the man briefly, Jake prepared himself for attack.
When the man thrust his arm toward Jake, he parried the punch, pivoted behind the guy, and struck him in the throat with a chop. Jake followed that with a kick to the knee that buckled the man to his knees. Then Jake grasped behind the man’s head and simultaneously slammed his knee into the Korean man’s face, knocking him out.
The entire incident took just seconds. Now Jake flowed back in with the shoppers. He kept his right hand in his jacket pocket holding onto the Sig.
Hesitating for a second to look at a baseball cap, Jake let his eye catch the Slavs in his peripheral vision. They had made up some distance and were now only a half block back. But where were the others?
Moving forward, Jake took a right on the next street. It was darker here, with fewer shops and not as many shoppers. It wasn’t like he could really blend in. There were other westerners here, but not many.
Just as he got to a spot where he could turn and see where the Slavs were, a roundhouse kick came out from an alley and caught him in the stomach, nearly taking his breath away. Instead of backing out to the street, Jake rushed into the alley.
It was the North Korean intel officers from the KTX train—the man in his 40s, Kwan, and his younger friend, the hot woman. It was the woman who had kicked him. She now stood in a karate stance, while Kwan simply smiled at Jake.
He wished he didn’t have to do this. But he had no choice. He could just shoot them both. Instead, he reacted with equal force. He slung his backpack to the ground and prepared for an attack—not getting into his own karate stance to give away his skills. He simply waited in a lame boxing stance.
When the woman got a nod from her boss, she came at Jake with everything her small body could produce. Punches, kicks, elbows, knees, and Jake blocked them all. She had skills, but he had fifty pounds on her. As she came at him again, he smiled and struck her once in the jaw, knocking her out.
Jake went to pick up his backpack and he saw Kwan pull a gun from his coat. He twisted to his right, shoved his hand into his pocket and fired twice.
Two flashes came at him simultaneously. Jake ran back into the street, crashing right into one of the Slavs, the one with the bald head, and the two of them hit the pavement. Rolling over, Jake hit the man with his backpack, knocking him back again. Then he clambered to his feet and looked for the man with the long hair. Where the hell was he?
As Jake slung the pack to his back, he felt a hard object against his left kidney. Instinctively, he twisted his body and shoved his elbow back, catching long hair in the jaw and knocking him back. Jake guessed the man couldn’t just kill him. They needed him for information. His advantage.
Jake ran now the way he’d come. As he got to the main street ahead, he heard the sirens and then saw a police car trying to push its way through the crowd of shoppers. He slowed to a walk and let the police car pass him.
He was kicking himself now. He should have just put a bullet in each of their skulls.
As he walked he felt a sharp pain in his left shoulder. He touched his jacket and his finger went into a hole in the leather. Damn it. Another leather jacket ruined. Putting his right hand inside his jacket, his hand became moist with blood. Kwan had hit him. But it was only a graze. No bone and no major arteries. Yet it still hurt. He wiped his bloody hand on his shirt and then put it back onto the gun in his jacket pocket. Well, that was two holes in his jacket. He had shot Kwan through his pocket.
Jake kept looking back to make sure the Slavs were not there. But deep down he needed them to continue after him. That was his plan. Shift from the pursued to the pursuer.
His phone buzzed and he tapped his ear bud. “This better be good,” he said. “I’m a little busy.”
“It’s Kim.”
“How the hell’d you get this number?”
“We also have friends. Are you all right. We have reports of gunfire in Myeongdong.”
“Kwan is dead or almost dead.”
“What about you?”
“I’m fine,” Jake lied. “I take it my NSA friend gave you the phone data from our long-haired buddy. Where are they?”
“A block from Myeongdong-gil, heading west toward Namdaemun-ro. Where are you?”
“Just hitting Namdaemun-ro.”
“They’re right behind you.”
“No shit.”
“It would help if you let us track you by your phone,” Kim pled.
“That won’t help,” Jake said. “I’m going down to the underground arcade. Toward Namdaemun Market.”
“Let us help you, Jake.”
As he hurried down the stairs to the underground arcade, he thought about what he really wanted the Agency to know about his actions. They had again pulled him into this shadow war. And it had gotten his good friend Toni killed.
“I need to do this my way,” Jake said. “I doubt the Agency would sanction my actions.” He clicked his Bluetooth earpiece off and wandered through the underground shops. He knew that much of the business in Seoul was conducted in these underground arcades, which would also provide shelter to citizens if and when the crazy bastard in the north started lobbing artillery rounds at the city.
Jake glanced back at the stairs where he had entered and finally saw the Slavs, the North Korean woman, and the man he had knocked out in the alley. Right where he wanted them. He smiled and strolled through the corridor under the streets of Seoul.
●
Lori, Pam and Kim were now in the secure communications center in the embassy building in the Yongsan-Ku district of Seoul.
Confused and sitting by herself, Lori watched as the two Agency officers worked consoles and phones and related with the other workers in the room. She would have suspected much more high-tech equipment, but maybe that was in another part of the building.
Kim was tracking those chasing Jake and then giving the local police misinformation to make them go in the wrong direction. At least for a while.
Pam was
on the phone with someone else, but Lori wasn’t sure who that could be.
She’d had enough. As a member of congress, officially she outranked all of these people. Lori hated to pull rank, but she would if they didn’t give her information soon.
“What’s going on?” Lori finally asked, exasperated.
The station chief turned away from her, one finger in the air as she talked on the phone.
Kim stepped toward Lori and said, “Ma’am, we’re trying to help Jake, but he’s gone underground. Literally. Into one of the underground arcades in the city. From there he can travel for blocks without coming up for air. It’s almost impossible to track the phone of the bad guy’s there. It’s a dead zone.”
“What about the police?” Lori asked.
“Initially we sent them to a false location in the Myeongdong district,” Kim said. “But then, once we were sure Jake was away, we put them on the correct location.”
Lori glanced about the room and nothing seemed to be happening, despite the activity. “Can’t we do more?”
Kim shrugged and shook his head in the negative.
“I know I’m just a civilian here,” Lori said, “but what ever happened to the concept of not leaving anyone behind? This man has given everything to his country. He deserves more.” Her words seemed to lose strength as she made her point. Now she was seconds from tears. Did Jake Adams mean more to her than she wanted to admit? Sure they had gone to high school together, and she had worked with Jake’s brother. Oh, and there was that whole making love at her hotel recently.
Pam finally got off her phone and said, “That was Kurt Jenkins. He’s authorized us to actively help Jake in any way we can.”
“Finally,” Lori said loudly. “Let’s go.”
The station chief raised her hands and then her voice when she said, “Not you congresswoman. Our boss was adamant that you remain here in the embassy for protection.”
“Why?”
“Are you serious?” Pam gave her an incredulous glare. “We can’t have a member of the House of Representatives hurt or killed on South Korean soil. Especially one of our delegation to six-party talks. That’s not gonna happen. Not on my watch.” She pointed to a female Army captain, a military attaché, and said, “She is not to leave this building. Understand?”
The Army officer, who looked like she lifted weights with the marine guards, sternly nodded her head. “Yes, ma’am.”
Pam gave a man at a console instructions and then she and Kim left in a hurry.
Lori took a seat at the edge of the room, feeling totally useless. She wished there was something she could do to help Jake.
30
Jake came to the end of a section of underground shops. His only choice was to go up. The Slavs were weaving their way through the crowd of shoppers nearly a block back.
As Jake started up the stairs, a man coming down ran into him. . .with his fist striking Jake in the side of his head. Jake had turned his head instinctively at the last second to avoid a strike to his face.
His head swirled as he tried to shake the cobwebs from his skull. Fighting on stairs was not easy. Jake recognized the man as the one he had knocked out less than an hour ago, just before his encounter with the Slavs and the North Korean intel officers.
When the Korean man tried a roundhouse kick, Jake was ready for it. He simply pivoted to his left on the stairs and swept the man’s leg out from under him, crashing his body onto the stairs and sending him all the way to the bottom.
Now Jake ran up the stairs, guessing the others would be close behind him. When he got to the top of the stairs, he glanced back down and saw the Slavs had picked the man up. They headed up the stairs after Jake.
On street level now, Jake saw his next move as if it was happening in slow motion for him. A line of five taxis, white and silver, sat against the curb. With the cold weather, all of them had their engines running. He smiled at that.
Rushing toward the first car in the line, a silver Hyundai Sonata, Jake nodded at the driver standing at the door smoking a cigarette.
Looking back again to make sure the Slavs knew where he was going, Jake simply grasped the man by his jacket and flung him aside, got behind the wheel after throwing his backpack on the passenger seat, and then he pulled away from the curb into light traffic.
He reached behind him to adjust the gun at his back. Then he pulled the 9mm Sig from his jacket pocket and set it into a cup holder.
Glancing back at the taxi stand, Jake saw the Slavs and others jump into a white taxi and race after him.
Now Jake put the pedal down, running the engine to the max and barely making the lights. In his rearview mirror, the white car ran the red lights and cars screeched to a halt, while others crashed to as the taxi closed the distance on Jake.
Seconds later and Jake’s pursuit vehicle was right at his bumper, nearly ramming into him. Were they willing to kill him? Or did they still want their information?
Smiling, Jake hit his brakes, smashing the two cars together. Then he slammed down on the gas and pulled away from them.
In this moment of tension, Jake had to laugh when he saw the meter click away. Even more humorous was what was showing on the big screen on the dash—a Korean game show of some sort. He touched the screen and a menu came up, but it was all in Korean. So he started hitting characters until the GPS map showed up. He zoomed out and could now see what was ahead of him, including traffic updates.
Time to isolate and finish this, Jake thought.
He drove fast enough to make it seem like he was trying to get away, but not fast enough to actually escape these men. When he got to an expansive park in the northern part of the city, he knew he was now in his element. He could survive in the urban jungle of nearly any city, but he had grown up in the forests of Montana. A forest was a forest.
Jake drove far enough ahead of the men to be able to stop, get out and run through the light covering of snow to the nearest trees. He found cover among a grove of pines, a berm in front of him. From his position he could see the taxi he had driven, and then the other one showed up and parked next to his.
Then the unexpected happened. A third car pulled up and four more people got out. That was at least eight bad guys, including the two Slavs. He pulled out his three guns and checked on the additional magazines. The math could work if he didn’t shoot too much. What did Toni say when they last met? ‘Make your shots count,’ or something close to that.
He shoved one Glock into his left pocket and the other into his right pocket. The acquired 9mm Sig he kept in his right hand.
Now he watched as the men fanned out. Their flashlights made them all nice targets, Jake thought. But Jake couldn’t afford to stay put. The men would simply surround him and wait until he ran out of bullets. No, he needed to be on the move. Shoot and run.
The first man to come close to Jake took a round to the chest, knocking him to the ground. Then Jake ran up to the man, picked up the guy’s flashlight and gun, and pretended to be one of them.
A couple of the men yelled in Korean and Jake guessed they were asking the man he had just killed for his status. But Jake didn’t understand Korean or speak more than enough to get a beer in a restaurant.
Clicking off the flashlight, Jake crept off into the forest. Movement to his right stopped him in his tracks.
A flashlight clicked on him, followed by a couple of shots. Jake returned fire with two rounds and then ran off behind a large tree. Two more bullets struck the tree in front of him.
More Korean yelling. Giving away his position.
Move Jake!
Light shone on both sides of the tree. Jake got down to his belly and rolled to the edge of the tree trunk, firing as soon as he could acquire a target. The light dropped, followed by the man who had been holding it.
This cat and mouse continued until Jake no longer had any bullets for the 9mm Sig or the Glock he had gotten from the first man he’d shot. In the process he had at least wounded two more men
. But the others were closing in on his position.
Leaning against the tree, he retrieved the Glock from his pocket. It had fifteen rounds, and he had only one extra magazine for it.
Suddenly, one of the Slavs yelled, “Come on, Jake. We don’t want to kill you. We just want your encryption code.”
“That didn’t keep you from killing my friend,” Jake yelled back, and he regretted doing so immediately.
Bullets showered down on his position. If they didn’t want to kill him, they were sure putting a lot of lead in the air.
“Come on, Mister Adams,” the Slav pled. “We are even now. You killed my friend in Montana.”
Jake could hear movement to his left, the crunching of feet in snow. He aimed his gun in that direction and waited. They wanted him to talk again to pinpoint his location. When Jake saw movement, he fired twice and another man hit the snow.
Jake rose up, considered his options, and ran toward the man he had just shot.
Guns fired at him as he rushed forward. He vectored toward the man who was talking with him. Bullets whizzed by him striking branches. But he continued to run in an arch toward the Slav’s last position.
One second Jake was running and the next he was laying flat on his back in the snow, his head feeling like a truck had just hit him. Disoriented, he got to his knees and felt the ground for his gun. Then something struck him in the chest, nearly taking his breath away.
“Over here,” the Slav yelled.
Pretending to be more hurt than he was, Jake’s left hand went into his pocket and grasped the Glock. He rolled to his back and shot twice. The first bullet hit the bald man in the neck and the second one missed, since the man was falling backwards to the snow. Laying on the snowy surface, the Slav could not speak. Blood gurgled into his throat.
Jake got to him and pointed his gun at the man. He could see blood spurting from the man’s neck. He considered putting the man down for good, but then Jake remembered that these men had shown no mercy for Toni.
