Kill Chain

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Kill Chain Page 15

by J. Robert Kennedy


  Heads dropped toward keyboards as everyone got to work. Morison stepped closer, lowering his voice. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking that there’s almost fifty charities up there, all with big numbers tied to their names. All it takes is for one of those to be a front, and whoever’s behind this is walking away with a lot of money.”

  60

  Unknown Location

  Republic of Korea

  Niner sat sandwiched between Kim and Nancy, the young girl occasionally leaning forward and eyeing her perceived competition from time to time. He wasn’t blind to the fact a little teenage crush had formed and jealousy was already rearing its ugly head, Kim the target of her wrath. He had brought everyone up to date, their disappointment evident, though they had remained remarkably calm until they heard about the death of their Chinese counterpart.

  That had elicited tears.

  And fear.

  He and Kim had examined the room thoroughly and unimpeded, the speaker on the wall silent, it one of two, with over a dozen cameras and listening devices spread about.

  There would be no privacy, including in the toilets, though they kept that little tidbit from the others, Kim deciding the ladies shouldn’t fear bathroom breaks.

  The lone door was protected by a security panel that had no keypad, it appearing to have some sort of sensor on it that could probably detect a signal transmitted by someone, or perhaps a drone, though they had no need for a door, the walls extending perhaps ten feet from the floor. The roof was far above them, a steel beam construction with lots of glass—very industrial.

  In fact, the room they were in—modular walls with a floating floor—seemed completely out of place in such a setting, it clearly purpose-built by humans, and stocked from local stores, Kim recognizing a few private labels. Somebody in Seoul had done this, and that meant there was somebody for Dawson and the others to find.

  We just have to sit tight and survive.

  Escape might be possible, though only for him and perhaps Kim. A quick leap up and over the wall was easy; it was the drones that were the concern. He was unarmed, with no intel on what was on the other side, though one thing he had noticed on his way into this tiny oasis had him thinking it might be worth the sacrifice.

  The charging pads.

  If he could clear the wall, they were less than twenty feet from the door, and if he managed to reach them and unplug them, the drones would eventually lose power and their ordeal would be over.

  They’re liable to kill the hostages before that happens.

  Whoever was behind this had proven they wouldn’t hesitate to kill. He wondered if they truly were environmentalists. It was possible, eco-terrorism having killed before. And it was much easier to kill someone using a drone than it was with a gun held in your hand, with your target’s eyes staring at you.

  It was why so many people he had encountered demanded you turn your back.

  He had never felt the need. If he killed someone, they deserved to die.

  No guilt.

  No shame.

  And no joy.

  It never felt good to take a life, not deep down. There might be the satisfaction that you had killed a truly bad person, that you had saved lives by taking a life, but he never went home and had a beer to celebrate the kill.

  And he’d never forget anyone whose eyes he had stared into before squeezing that trigger.

  Regret didn’t dominate his dreams. With some in his business it did, and he understood it, and one day something would happen, something would go wrong, and the wrong person might die and it would be his responsibility.

  And then maybe it would all change.

  He knew Kane was a changed man. He had heard rumors of an incident in Afghanistan, though nothing official. But he could see it in the man’s eyes.

  He was different somehow.

  Man, I hope I’m never like that.

  He stared up at the windows overhead and prayed Jimmy had made it out.

  I love that guy.

  He’d never admit it, and if he did, the bastard might accuse him of being gay again, though he knew the feeling was mutual. He loved them all, and he was sure they all loved each other, though Jimmy was the one he was closest to. He had lost friends before, Stucco the most recent, and it had hurt, but he and Jimmy had been through so much together, if anything happened to him, he’d take it hard.

  Damned hard.

  He remembered how Clint had been affected when Spaz had bought it in Peru at the hands of a man he now considered a friend, Professor James Acton.

  Now that’s something I do regret.

  False intel had led them to kill a group of innocent students, their handlers telling them they were actually terrorists training for an op inside the United States. Fortunately, Dawson had spared them the nightmares by performing the executions himself, and it had changed him, he tortured with the memories.

  They had all been trying to atone for those sins since.

  But it wasn’t possible, and he wondered if on his Judgement Day, would he be deemed worthy, free of blame for following his orders, or would he too be condemned for participating in the crimes of those times.

  We were following what we thought were lawful orders.

  Those truly responsible were already dead.

  And so were a lot of good people.

  He could have quit, resigned from the Unit, left the Army, but instead he persevered, pushed through the pain, and now tried to save as many lives as he could, to live his life as best he could, to honor those who had died, comrades and strangers.

  Like here, today.

  He’d find some way to save these women.

  The innocent.

  He felt a tug on his sleeve.

  He looked at Nancy who leaned in, cupping her hands around his ear.

  “Who’s she?”

  He turned toward her, keeping his voice low. “A colleague from the National Police Agency.”

  “Is she your girlfriend?”

  He smiled, the question tentative, uncertain. “No, I just met her today. I may be good, but I’m not that good.”

  She flushed slightly. “You mean you have lots of girlfriends?”

  The poor kid appeared genuinely hurt. Niner chuckled, trying to set her at ease, no matter how inappropriate the attraction on her part may be. “No, not at all. In fact, one of my best friends just told me today he thought I was gay.”

  Her eyes shot wide and her jaw dropped. “You’re not, are you?”

  He laughed. “If I am, I’m pretty sure I’m doing it wrong.”

  She giggled and appeared relieved.

  “So I understand you have a boyfriend.”

  Her eyes shot wide. “Umm, no. Why would you think that?”

  “Oh, Jeff’s not your boyfriend? Huh. You two are almost inseparable at school, texting all the time. Seems like a nice boy.”

  She had paled. “H-how did you know that?”

  Niner smiled. “Your father is President of the United States. Did you really think you could hide a boyfriend from him?”

  Nancy’s shoulders slumped, her chin dropping to her chest. “Ugh, I hate being watched twenty-four-seven.”

  “Understandable. But he’s just trying to protect you.”

  “From what? Jeff’s a nice guy, he’d never hurt me.”

  “Noo, he might not, but”—he waved his hand at their surroundings—“clearly some people want to. The Secret Service check out everything that might be a threat, so they can eliminate that threat from their radar. They checked out Jeff then dismissed him, which is the only reason the relationship was allowed to continue. If they had any concerns, he would have been somehow transferred to another school and your messages blocked.”

  Nancy looked up at Niner. “So Dad knows?”

  “Yup.”

  “And he’s okay with it?”

  “As okay as any father can be, I guess.”

  She blushed. “He is a nice guy.”

 
; “I’m sure he is.”

  Nancy leaned forward and stared at Kim before sitting back and whispering in his ear. “And she seems nice as well. You should ask her out.”

  Niner opened his mouth to respond when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He stared up and saw a stream of drones entering an open window high above them, another group leaving. “Interesting.”

  Nancy shrugged. “I think that’s the second or third time they’ve done that since we’ve been here.”

  “They must be using the charging pads I saw and rotating them in and out as needed.” He turned to Kim, switching to Korean. “If that’s the case, then this might be their command and control center.”

  Kim agreed. “At least for the drones. I still haven’t seen any evidence that anyone is actually here.”

  “Me neither, though somebody built and stocked this. I think this is the C2 for the drones only. They recharge here while fresh ones are sent out.”

  “C2?”

  “Command and Control.”

  Kim’s head bobbed as they watched the last of the drones leave. “It makes sense—they have to recharge somewhere, but who reloads the guns? There’s no way they can automate that without some sort of robot, and I didn’t see anything out there.”

  Niner’s eyes narrowed as he thought about what Kim had just said, a smile slowly spreading on his face. “So what you’re saying is that once they’re out of bullets, they’re permanently out of bullets.” His smile was now a grin.

  Kim eyed him. “You’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you?”

  His grin spread. “You hardly know me, but apparently I’m very transparent.”

  “You really think having them use up their bullets is a wise idea?”

  He grunted. “No one ever accused me of being wise, but no, it’s too dangerous. It’s something to keep in mind, though. If they’re all using the same weapon, then it’s a fifteen round mag. If not, then give or take one or two.”

  “One or two can mean everything when a gun is shooting at you.”

  Niner grinned. “Yup. So just make sure it’s not shooting at you.”

  61

  Operations Center 1

  CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia

  “There’re no cameras at all?”

  Child shook his head. “No, sir. There’s no ATMs, no store cameras, nothing in the area, just the city traffic cameras, and those were all disabled the entire time.”

  Leroux cursed. “No way that’s a coincidence. Whoever is behind this left breadcrumbs along the way to keep us thinking we were making progress, just so they could sweep the trail clean when we finally reached the end.”

  “So what do we do now? We can’t even be sure what the truck looks like. The guy who moved the grate was useless!”

  “We forget the physical trail and concentrate on the digital.” He turned to Tong. “Any luck figuring out the source of that video?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet. And look.” She pointed at the display as she hit a few keys, satellite imagery of a North Korean launch facility appearing. “Looks like they’re fueling their missiles.”

  “Are those at Punggye-ri?”

  “Yes.”

  Leroux frowned. “So they might be nukes.”

  “Christ, we need to get the President out of there!”

  Leroux shook his head at Child’s outburst. “He’ll never leave without his daughter.”

  “Then we need to find her. Now!”

  “Sir, got something!”

  Leroux glanced back at one of his staff as he rushed toward Tong’s station. “Bring up what I just sent you.”

  She did and Leroux rose, staring at the display as Tong brought it up. “What am I looking at?”

  “I’ve found the bank account used to wire funds into PayPal for the manhole cover gig.”

  “And?”

  A transaction history appeared. “We have a wire transfer for two-hundred-and-twenty-thousand into the account. Ten thousand was then deposited into PayPal, twenty then wired out, and the rest wired a few days after, all about two months ago.”

  Leroux stabbed a finger at the screen. “We need to find out where those wire transfers went. Amounts that big aren’t for moving manhole covers.”

  62

  Embassy of the United States Seoul

  32 Sejongno Street, Seoul, Republic of Korea

  President Starling checked his watch as Red contacted Langley for a clarification on the conversation that had taken place almost an hour ago.

  Their deadline was fast approaching with nothing deposited.

  “Control, can you confirm if he said to begin transferring the money within sixty minutes?”

  There was a pause then Red gave a thumbs up and a head bob.

  Starling breathed a sigh of relief. There was no way to transfer three billion within sixty minutes, not even as a President, though his staff back in Washington were prepared to transfer several hundred million of his discretionary funding, and Treasury was cooperating, though it took time, it not exactly sitting in bank accounts. The Vice President was working with Congress, the hope being that the transfers could be authorized and completed, then the charities contacted to try and retrieve the bulk of the money afterward should it become necessary.

  Everyone was working together, it a refreshing change.

  But governments moved slowly.

  Surely they know this!

  Red held the phone against his chest. “Sir, Langley has an idea.”

  “What?”

  “CIA has slush funds that they can access. They can do electronic transfers instantaneously.”

  “Enough to cover what they want?”

  “Perhaps, but that will take authorization. Control says he can immediately transfer several hundred million, though. He just needs the go ahead.”

  Starling’s pulse raced with sudden hope. “Do it! Proportionally into each account, if possible.”

  Red nodded, repeating the instruction. “Hold for the President.” He held out the phone. “They need to hear it from you, Mr. President.” Starling took the phone. “You’re on with Supervisor Analyst Chris Leroux.”

  “This is the President.”

  “Umm, it-it’s an honor, sir.” He heard a gulp. “I’m sorry, sir, but we need to hear the instructions from you.”

  “Understood, Mr. Leroux. Transfer whatever funds you can before the deadline, proportionally to each account.”

  “Yes, sir.” Starling heard muffled instructions given, apparently to Leroux’s staff. “Sir, we’re initiating the transfers. Hopefully we can get in under the deadline, but there’s only a few minutes left.”

  “Chris, is it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you have kids?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Anyone close to you?”

  “Yes, sir. My girlfriend.”

  “You love her?”

  “Ahh, very much, sir.”

  “And you’d do anything to save her if the roles were reversed?”

  “Yes, sir, I would.”

  “Then don’t hopefully get it done. Get it done.”

  “Y-yes, sir.”

  63

  Qingdau, China

  “How far to the factory?”

  Chan Chao shrugged. “About two hours?”

  Kane stared at him. “Christ, we don’t have two hours!”

  Chan again shrugged. “That’s why we’re not going there.”

  Kane’s eyes narrowed as his Chinese contact guided them through traffic, Kane having just arrived on a charter flight from Seoul. “Huh?”

  “The owner lives half an hour from here and he’s home.”

  Kane nodded, his eyes on the cars ahead of him rather than his sometimes-exasperating friend. “How do you know?”

  “You have your sources, I have mine.”

  Kane smiled. “I won’t ask.” His stomach gurgled, his intestines cramping.

  He moaned.


  “You okay?”

  Kane gripped his abdomen. “Stomach problems. Bad laap mei.”

  Chan stared at him for a moment. “You good for an op?”

  “I’ll survive.” Kane grimaced, deciding to change the subject. “How’s the wife?”

  “She asked me to send you over when we’re done, and for me to take a hike.”

  “Tell her I’m spoken for.”

  Chan’s head bobbed. “I heard that. Be careful my friend, my government hasn’t forgotten what Lee Fang did and would like nothing more than to get their hands on her.”

  Kane frowned, the very idea of anything happening to the first woman he had ever loved, terrifying. And rage inducing. “You tell them that if anyone lays a finger on her, I’ll make it my life’s mission to kill every single one of them.” He turned to Chan, stabbing the air with a finger to make his point clearer. “And you know I’m more than capable.”

  Chan laughed. “I think they already know that, which is the only reason she’s still alive.”

  “Good.”

  “Perhaps. Let’s just hope they don’t decide to eliminate you first.”

  Kane sighed. “Why can’t life be simple?”

  “Buddy, if we wanted simple, you wouldn’t have joined the CIA, and I wouldn’t have become a traitor to my own country.”

  Kane regarded the old man, concerned. He was long past his prime, though showed no signs of slowing down. “You should retire, old friend. I can get you and your wife out, set you up back home. You’d be safe.”

  Chan quickly shook his head. “No way. This is my home. China has its problems, but I love my country. What I do is not to hurt it, but to save it from itself. One day, with a little luck, we’ll become a democracy and my people will be free.”

  Kane’s head bobbed slowly as he gazed at the teeming masses surrounding them on the streets. “From your lips…”

 

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