“Exactly,” agreed Leroux. “Which means wherever they are, they’re already out of sight.”
Child sat upright in his chair. “So we should start looking for buildings big enough to hold a bus along one of those routes?”
“It’s a start.”
“I’m on it.”
Leroux turned to Tong. “I want you coordinating this. Divvy up those routes and start finding me private CCTV feeds, anything that might have a view of the road. If we can get just a single shot of the bus on any of them, it narrows down the search dramatically.”
“Yes, sir.”
19
Unknown Location
Seoul, Republic of Korea
The truck bounced along, everyone riding in silence. Nancy didn’t know what they were thinking about, though she was certain some were obsessing like she was over those they had left behind.
The dead.
Part of her was focusing on the poor German man. At least there had been an introduction made and some friendly, polite banter exchanged, though it was rather one-sided, her responses monosyllabic, something she regretted deeply now.
But most of her focus was on the Chinese woman who she had never met, never paid any attention to, she merely a background fixture, someone to be ignored.
She had become good at ignoring people since her father had ascended to the presidency.
You had to.
There were just too many people rushing around, too many people simply standing in place, guarding them. If she were constantly acknowledging them all, she’d never get anything done.
Yet it had been one of the minions that had tried to save them.
Had died trying to save them.
And she vowed at that moment to say hello to everyone that worked for her father, every time she saw them.
It was the least she could do for someone who just might save her life one day.
She glanced at the speaker, it now visible, dim interior lighting turned on as soon as the truck had begun to move. She still couldn’t wrap her head around what was going on. They had yet to see a person, though there was definitely someone pulling the strings. The voice might sound robotic, like something Anonymous might put out, the language clipped as if a computer was reading a script as opposed to the voice merely altered as a person spoke.
Could it be a computer?
In school, they had debated Artificial Intelligence in Philosophy. Apparently Stephen Hawking—the wheelchair dude—and a bunch of other big names, had recently warned about the dangers of AI, and how a computer that became self-aware might quickly decide the human race shouldn’t exist.
She had thought the very idea was insane, something for Hollywood to scare the public with, too many geeks watching Terminator and Matrix movies, but Jeff had thought it was definitely possible, pointing out that their fears had been sort of borne out when Microsoft’s Tay chat bot experiment went from zero to Hitler within twenty-four hours.
And if Jeff thought it was possible, then it must be.
She trusted him more than any of these people she had never heard of.
She stared at a camera mounted beside the speaker.
There’s no way it’s some crazy AI thing.
Jeff had said they were years away from it, possibly decades. And besides, why would an AI target just them? Shouldn’t it be trying to kill the entire human race?
No, there were humans behind this, and they had some sort of agenda. And she had a funny feeling that her father was the key to the entire thing, which just might mean she could survive if she played her cards right.
She looked at the others and frowned.
It also meant that everyone else was probably forfeit.
She regarded the Italian woman, her knee still bouncing, her incessant humming having resumed.
Is it wrong to hope they kill her first?
20
Noksapyeong Road
Seoul, Republic of Korea
Dawson watched the Koreans swarming the smoldering wrecks, Niner and Jimmy recording everything just in case they missed something—or if someone tried to pull anything. With the seriousness of the situation, he couldn’t trust anyone except his own team, their loyalty beyond question.
He’d die for any of them.
And they would do the same.
But he didn’t know the Koreans. On these details, you had to put yourself into the hands of your hosts, though only to a point. He had warned the Secret Service of the risks of an automated bus being allowed to transport the President’s daughter but had been overruled. Hacking the vehicle had never occurred to him, he just didn’t trust that it would be safe.
He had a funny feeling no head of state or their family would travel in an automated vehicle again. Not without some sort of large, guaranteed to work, kill-switch within arm’s reach.
Korean techs were retrieving the chips Langley had requested, the periodic shouts of success from the wreckage suggesting at least some had survived. They wouldn’t tell them what had happened to the bus, though they might just tell them why eight men and women—including two Americans—died horrible deaths.
Plus the driver of the truck.
He wasn’t completely convinced of his innocence yet, though he couldn’t see why someone would stick around when they knew they were about to die. This had none of the hallmarks of an Islamist attack, about the only type where people willingly killed themselves so they could tap 72 virgins for eternity. It was most likely that this poor bastard was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and if Langley was right and these vehicles were hacked, then something might have been done to his own vehicle to bring it to a halt right where it did.
One of the techs shouted, a hand appearing from the wheel well of one of the escort vehicles, only his feet visible. Two of his partners pulled him out and safely sealed his prize in a lead-lined container, just in case anyone attempted to wipe the chips with some sort of magnetic pulse. The retrieval crew loaded what must have been the last chip they were searching for into the back of their truck, the supervisor reporting to Senior Inspector Kim. There was a brief exchange then she strode over to Dawson.
“They’ve finished retrieving all the circuit boards. I’m taking them to the lab immediately.”
Dawson motioned toward Niner and Jimmy. “You won’t mind if my men accompany you? We need the data transmitted to Langley immediately.”
She bowed slightly toward the two sergeants. “Of course.”
Dawson turned to his men. “You’re with her. Get the data to Langley then report back.”
“Yes, sir.” Niner popped on his toes and executed a quick heel-click, he and Jimmy now in their Secret Service disguises—dark suits, dark glasses, their casual attire from their aborted visit to the Sung family’s house, retired.
“What now?” asked Atlas, his impossibly deep voice making its presence felt.
“We get ready for a rescue op. Put together an equipment list and have it sent over to Osan. If we find where they were taken, I want to be ready to hit them on a moment’s notice.”
“Roger that.” Atlas paused. “Do you think the Koreans will let us?”
Dawson looked at the heavy police presence. “It doesn’t matter what they want. I’ve got my orders.”
21
Operations Center 1
CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia
“Sir, the Koreans have traced the fuel truck.”
Leroux spun in his chair to face Tong. “And?”
“The driver’s name is Gi-jeong Minn. He’s worked for the company for over seven years with a perfect record. He takes the exact same route every day, passing through that intersection at the same time, almost like clockwork. It’s at the beginning of his route, so there’s nothing to hold him up before he reaches there.”
Leroux’s lips flared as he stared at the display, the personnel records appearing. “Pull yesterday’s traffic camera footage of the intersection. Let’s see how punctual he is.”
Leroux watched the truck pass through the intersection, turning right, exactly at the corner where he had been forced to pull over. He noted the time. Three minutes after today’s arrival. “Go back a day.”
Tong complied, and again they spotted the vehicle. This time two minutes early.
Leroux tapped his chin. “They had to time this perfectly. They couldn’t risk him arriving late, but early is fine.” His eyes narrowed. “If he leaves on time every day, and he has no stops before this point, then the only thing that could hold him up is traffic.” His eyes widened slightly. “Can we see a shot of that road from one of the cameras that were working? Something that shows the traffic lights?”
Tong worked her magic and they were soon watching footage showing a steady stream of traffic heading east. “Is that him?”
Leroux leaned forward in his chair, peering at a fuel truck from the rear as it drove through a green light. “Looks like him.” He snapped his fingers, leaping from his chair. “Look!” He rushed toward the front of the room, pointing at the shot. “Every light is green!” He twirled his finger. “Roll it forward on this shot. Let’s watch what happens.”
The fuel truck continued forward, the traffic flowing smoothly, the lights at the intersection just cleared turning red, all lights ahead remaining green. The traffic was moving smoothly, no delays, and Leroux counted in his head how many seconds the lights remained green.
At forty seconds, it had cleared the next light, it immediately turning red.
At a minute-thirty the next light.
Again red.
He turned to face his team. “They controlled the lights to make sure he’d get there on time.” He pointed at Tong. “Sonya, let the Koreans know they need to look for an intrusion on their traffic control system as well.”
Tong grabbed her phone, quickly dialing.
“Shit!”
Leroux looked at Child. “What?”
“Something’s hitting the web now, sir.” He motioned toward the display. “Look.”
A video filled the screen, a North Korean flag fluttering in the wind, patriotic music blaring as Korean lettering scrolled across the screen. Leroux spun toward Tong. “Get me a Korean translator, now!” He turned back toward the screen to see a series of laughably bad CGI effects showing various landmarks around the world destroyed by cartoonish missile strikes.
In other words, it was of the quality only a country completely isolated from the world could think might be taken seriously.
North Korea.
The shrill voice of a woman sounded as the images continued to loop and text continued to scroll, Leroux motioning for Child to turn the volume down a bit. It dropped to a level where he could think. “Where’s this coming from?”
“It’s hitting all the major sites now. It’s already trending on Twitter.”
Leroux’s eyes narrowed as he turned toward Child. “How long’s it been up?”
“Not even five minutes.”
“Huh.” He turned back toward the amateurish production. “They must be using dummy accounts like we do to force it up the rankings.”
“It’s on Twitter, Reddit, Facebook, LiveLeak. Pretty much everywhere that’s anywhere.”
“Do the news networks have it yet?” He glanced over at an array of displays showing the world’s major news networks to answer his own question.
Nada.
Wait.
The screen with Fox showed a Breaking News banner as the door to the operations center opened. Leroux turned to see an older woman of Asian descent rushing into the room. She opened her mouth but Leroux cut her off, pointing at the screen as he motioned with the other hand for Child to jack the volume.
The woman opened her mouth again when Leroux cut her off, the image suddenly changing, four dead bodies on the screen. “ID them!”
Another window on the display opened, each body isolated, the facial recognition points mapped. The first ID appeared almost immediately as the translator took a seat at one of the terminals, Tong bringing up the video for her to watch.
Child read the identification. “That’s the German Chancellor’s husband, Hermann Holst.”
Another image appeared.
“That’s the Chinese translator.”
The final two images were still processing, though it was clear they were the two members of the security detail who were reportedly on the bus with the hostages.
The door burst open, Director Morrison rushing into the room as the translator leaped to her feet, a pad of paper in her hands. “It’s standard North Korean drivel at the beginning. You have disrespected the Democratic People's Republic of Korea for too long, and now you will pay the price. We have your women, and unless our demands are met, they will die.” She motioned toward the screen. “Then they show the German gentleman.” She glanced back at her pad. “He is but the first. Any attempt to retrieve your women will result in their death. Disobey us at your own peril.” She looked up. “That’s it.”
“Christ!” exclaimed Morrison, watching the video for the first time.
Child jabbed a finger at the screen. “I can’t believe they’d do something like this!”
Morrison shook his head. “We know they’re nuts, but this is taking it further than anyone expected.”
Leroux agreed. “I’d have thought they’d drop a bomb on Seoul before they’d do some sort of high-profile hostage-taking.” He turned to his boss. “What are we going to do?”
Morrison shook his head. “I have a funny feeling we’re about to go to war.”
Leroux frowned. “What do you think the Chinese will do?”
Morrison drew a long breath then exhaled loudly. “I’m not sure. With the Chinese President’s wife on that bus, I would hope they’d be on our side this time.”
22
Maggie Harris Residence
Lake in the Pines Apartments, Fayetteville, North Carolina
“Can someone get that?”
“I’ll get it!” called Shirley Belme as Maggie worked on a pitcher of Sangria. She heard the door open and pleasantries exchanged as Atlas’ girlfriend, Vanessa Moore, arrived. The wives had collected now that they knew where their men were, and Vanessa was in the unique position as the only civilian non-spouse of the group who knew what her boyfriend did for a living, the Colonel having recently given permission for her to be read in when she had challenged Atlas on his cover, having figured out on her own what he did.
It had almost ended the relationship, though things seemed to be going well now, especially since she had embraced the Unit, the family that connected them all.
She rounded the corner into the kitchen carrying several bags and a tray of what appeared to be homemade hamburger patties.
“What’s this?” Maggie leaned over to take a peek, her frozen burgers sitting on the counter suddenly not so appetizing.
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist whipping these up when you mentioned you were going to barbecue. I hope you don’t mind.”
A burst of air erupted from Maggie’s mouth. “Are you kidding? How could I mind?”
“What’s in them?” asked Spock’s wife, Joanne Lightman.
“Medium ground beef, pepper, a homemade seasoned salt, mesquite, barbecue sauce, some fresh garlic—”
“Good thing our husbands are away!” laughed Joanne.
“—and I stuffed them with Velveeta and bacon.” Vanessa shrugged. “You know, the usual. Normally I’d top it with homemade onion rings and a fried egg, but I figured that would be pushing my welcome.”
Shirley laughed. “What do you call them?”
“It’s my cousin’s recipe. I call them Nick’s Heart Attack Specials, because eating too many of these will probably kill you!”
Maggie’s mouth watered. “Sounds delish. I knew it was a good day when Atlas started dating a chef.”
A round of cheers erupted from the ladies
, Sangrias topped up by Maggie.
“I just wish I knew where he was,” said Vanessa, her face clouding over.
“Oh, we saw him on the news. He’s perfectly safe.”
Vanessa smiled at Maggie. “Really? Where?”
“South Korea.”
Vanessa’s eyes shot wide, her jaw dropping. “South Korea? Haven’t you been listening to the news?” She rushed from the kitchen, Maggie following. There was a mad scramble for the remote as Bryson tried to play keep-away, a snap from his mother ending the game. Maggie switched from cartoons to CNN.
“Oh my God!”
23
Unknown Location
Seoul, Republic of Korea
Nancy gripped the bench she was sitting on, bracing herself as they came to a rather abrupt halt. Something was said over the speaker in a language she didn’t recognize, though it sounded Chinese or Japanese to her—hell, it could have been Korean or Thai.
All she knew was it meant nothing to her, and it was the first time they had been spoken to in anything but English.
The Chinese woman seemed scared.
I guess it’s Chinese.
The French President’s wife leaned forward. “What did he say?”
The rear door began to lower, sunlight pouring in, the sounds of traffic and life suddenly heard.
Nancy’s heart raced.
If I time it right, I can get out of here.
“I think they’ve ordered me off the truck.”
“You think?”
“I-I’m not sure. It-it was a bad translation, but I’m pretty sure they want me off the truck.”
“But why?”
“I-I don’t know.”
Nancy tore her eyes away from potential freedom and stared at the now shaking Chinese woman.
“I-I think they’re going to kill me!”
The French woman jumped up and shook a fist at the camera, anger etched across her face. “Who are you to do such a thing! What gives you the right to treat people like this! This woman has done nothing wrong! She’s only a wife like the rest of us! We have no power!”
Kill Chain Page 6
