Kane had guessed as much when his buddy Chris had described the research, but hearing it said by his boss was another thing. And the fear in his boss’ voice added to his own.
“What went wrong?”
“We’re not clear on that. The reports say a coding error, but they activated an EMP and managed to stop it before it spread too far.”
“An EMP can stop it?”
“An Electro Magnetic Pulse is apparently the only way to stop it, and if you had a wide enough infestation, you’d need a nuke to stop it. And that’s only if a few square miles are affected.”
“So there’s hope.”
“Do you realize what would happen if the United States launched a nuke, or possibly several nukes, at a country to try and stop some infestation? Most likely there’d be war, and if they were a nuclear power, there’d be retaliation. Do you think the Administration would ever be able to come to a decision in time?”
Kane shook his head, realizing Morrison was right. Politics had become so polarized, so tainted, that he could see the other side risking the world being destroyed, if it meant making the President look bad—regardless of who was in power. We need to realize that we’re all Americans, and we’re all in this together. Kane sighed. The ideologies above all else, the lines in the sand, the uncompromising positions, the venomous hatred spewed on a daily basis of this ‘us versus them’ mentality had polarized America to a point where it threatened to implode.
If our politicians don’t check their egos, this country could lose its greatness.
But Kane knew there was nothing he could do about that. He followed the orders given him by the men put in charge by the very politicians who were driving this country into the ground. And seeing what he had seen with the Fiscal Cliff, he realized Morrison was right.
There was no way they’d be able to agree to nuke a country on minutes notice, to try and stop an infestation from spreading across the globe.
The Chinese would, though.
So maybe there was hope?
“So there was an accident. What happened then?”
“The EMP wiped out all the computers and electronics for the entire research division. It was a last resort failsafe, and deliberately set up to not be shielded within the lab, just in case the experiment did escape. They realized full well what they were dealing with, and took the necessary precautions.
“Unfortunately, this resulted in a massive expense to Omega Bionetix. It nearly bankrupted them. Insurance didn’t cover something like this, so they were left holding the bag. Layoffs are about to happen. Massive layoffs, and the rumor mill has been running rampant.”
“Why have we been paying attention to this?”
“Because we intercepted some conversations between one of the scientists and a foreign competitor. They basically began to feed him false information that his program was about to be cut, and scrapped completely. His life’s work. So they offered him a job if he’d come work for them.”
“I’m sure he’s signed a non-compete that prevents him from doing so legally.”
“Which is why they planned an extraction of him, to make him look like he had died in an accident, with the body never found.”
Kane’s eyes narrowed. “That’s ridiculous! It’s just a job!”
“Some of these geniuses are borderline nut-bars.”
“And the other two? How did they get involved?”
“It appears they were taken against their will.”
Kane leaned back in his chair, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “Let me guess. This foreign competitor isn’t Sony.”
Morrison shook his head. “No. This is government run, state owned—which in this case means military.” Morrison sighed and Kane looked up. “If this technology gets into the hands of a foreign, military power, it could completely shift the balance of power. And in a maniac’s hands, it could mean the end of the world.”
“Why the hell were they working on this if it was so dangerous?”
“Because the potential for good was deemed to far outweigh the bad, once the research was completed and the safeguards put in place. This technology is another ten or twenty years from hitting the streets. With proper development, it would be safe and if weaponized, we would hopefully have figured out a countermeasure. But right now? Right now it’s only dangerous.”
“So what went wrong? Why were you letting them be taken?”
Morrison held up a finger.
“Correction. We were letting him be taken, because of the three, he apparently was the least important, and there was no way he would be able to complete the work on his own. Keep in mind, he’d have to recreate everything from scratch. The end goal was to embarrass the Chinese behind the scenes.”
“So it’s the Chinese behind all this?”
“Don’t get ahead of me, just listen.”
Kane closed his eyes and processed the briefing, his mind desperate for answers to questions, not the least of which was, ‘How stupid do you have to be to let one of these guys, let alone all three, be taken?’
“The idea was we’d track him, find him in China, embarrass them behind the scenes, they’d cough him up, and we’d bring him back and charge him and imprison him for a very long time. By the time he’d be out, the technology would have advanced beyond him, and he’d be of no use to anyone.”
“But why let them take him in the first place?”
“Well, we can’t exactly charge him for thinking about doing something. We needed him to actually work for the foreign power. Then he’d be indictable. Remember, if he changed his mind, nothing would have happened to him and there’d be no risk to our country. If we stopped him, he might just try again, and we might not know who was involved next time, or when it might happen. As it happens, we knew everything this time.”
Morrison sighed, rubbing his closed eyes.
“Or so we thought.”
Unknown Location
Two Days after the Kidnappings
Jason Peterson’s ass was killing him. He had been on a wood bench seat for what seemed like almost a full day without being able to stand and stretch his legs. He looked at the top of Darius’ head as it rested on his lap. The poor kid had cried himself to exhaustion after their first few hours in the back of what he would describe as a regular troop transport he’d seen in almost every war movie.
After exiting the airplane they had been immediately loaded onto a truck. He had heard voices that sounded Chinese, but he couldn’t be certain. For all he knew they could be Japanese or Thai. He just didn’t know. Once they were moving, after about an hour they were allowed to remove their head covers. It was still the two families, with two guards, Asian, he was sure Chinese, in paramilitary uniforms, meaning a complete lack of insignia or markings. They were switched out every couple of hours, and he had determined by the sounds of engines starting and stopping during these switches, that there was at least one other vehicle like they were in now, as well as at least one regular car.
They were a convoy of vehicles, moving to God knows where, for God knows what purpose.
He heard the vehicle gear down, and the engine began to take the edge off the speed it had built up, then with the brakes applied, the vehicle came to a stop and shouting could be heard around them. Their two guards jumped from the back of the truck, the cloth flap that had been covering it flipped aside for a moment allowing a flood of daylight to stream through.
And a glimpse of a flag that caused his stomach to churn.
What the hell are we doing here?
He looked across at Carl who had apparently also seen the flag, his eyes revealing the same fear.
If this is our final destination, there’s no hope of rescue.
Leif Morrison Residence, River Oaks Drive, Mclean, Virginia
Today, Five Days after the Kidnappings
“Or so you thought? What do you mean?”
Kane eyed his boss. He had never seen the director look so tired, though he had only met him a han
dful of times. Agents and the top dog don’t frequently meet, unless they’re being awarded with something, usually in secret. Kane had a few awards, all of which were presented, then taken back, the mission they were for always too secret. Someday he might have a cozy house on a lake, with a wall for his trophies, but he doubted it.
He lived by a code he had adapted from something heard during Delta Force training. His version he felt had kept him alive beyond the mission, and probably explained his hard lifestyle while off duty. He believed that if you went through life thinking you were already dead, you were more willing to take the risks during a mission that might actually keep you alive. If you were too afraid to die, you wouldn’t take that leap from one roof top to the next, leaving you to be captured and killed by your pursuers. But if you weren’t afraid to die because you were already dead? You took the leap without hesitation, and if you made it, you left your pursuers behind, and survived to die another day.
And party like there was no tomorrow.
Phuket memories returned for a moment, then the Director finally spoke.
“We’re not sure what happened. All we know is we lost contact with our surveillance team. We still don’t know where they are; we presume they’re dead and cleaned up.”
Kane shuddered on the inside. That type of cleanup operation usually didn’t mean retrieve the bodies and scrub the crime scene. It usually meant bottles of potassium peroxide and no trace of what was once a human being.
“Sorry to hear that.”
Morrison nodded. “I sent in another team, the team you essentially eliminated—”
“You sent in a team with a BlackTide member?”
Morrison shook his head. “No, I sent in a team of our own men, and the Defense Department sent in their own team of specialists from BlackTide. I got wind of it and at least managed to have them under our command, and then swapped out a man from each team so I’d have eyes on what they were doing. They weren’t happy about it, but there was no way I was going to let BlackTide mess around with our operation.”
“Where’s the second team now?”
“Scrubbed. Ogden is a dead end now. They were supposed to leave a couple of days ago, but when we intercepted your flight plans, I decided to have them stick around.”
Kane remained silent but his thoughts roared in his head. If you hadn’t gone to Ogden, three agents and a BlackTide contractor would be alive. He pushed the thought from his mind. They shot first.
“So what did they find out?”
“That not just our one scientist was taken, but all three, along with all the families. As well, helicopters and a military transport were involved, and a crew went in and stripped the lab bare.” Morrison sighed and swirled the last of his beer in the bottom of the bottle, then drained it. Putting the bottle back on its coaster, he looked at Kane. “As far as we can tell, three of our best scientists and their families, along with all their equipment, have been transported out of the country.”
“And where are they now?”
“We know they landed in China, and our sources there were able to track them to the border where there was a handover.”
“Handover? To who?”
“The North Koreans.”
Somewhere in North Korea
Three Days after the Kidnappings
Jason Peterson couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It made no sense. They had crossed the border and driven for a few more hours, then were offloaded in the middle of the night, put into what appeared to be houses that looked like something from a 1950’s or 60’s newsreel, and told to rest. It hadn’t been an order they were able to ignore, and all four of them, exhausted, slept in what was in every way a master bedroom.
He had awoken the next morning to the doorbell, and when he answered it, he could have been forgiven for forgetting where he was. A young man, presumably North Korean, dressed in the latest business casual fashions you would see anywhere back home, smiled a greeting, and asked him, in perfect English, to be ready in one hour for his first day at work.
Jason hadn’t bothered questioning anything.
He woke Maggie and left the kids to sleep. He found everything he could need in the bathroom, and a full set of clothes made to his size in the closet, and Maggie found a fully stocked fridge, with all the brands available at their local supermarket.
Except the milk and bread seemed odd. The cartons and wrappers matched, but the taste was inconsistent. If he didn’t know better, he would guess they were refilling the milk containers and bread bags with local goods.
Which made sense to him. Shaving cream and soap could be brought in bulk. But bread and milk needed to be fresh. But he didn’t have time to analyze their surroundings much, as the doorbell rang again, exactly one hour later. A car he didn’t recognize was waiting, along with his friendly greeter from earlier. The back door was held open for him, and he climbed in. It was roomy, leather, and quite comfortable, and the steering wheel had “Chery” written on it, a manufacturer he didn’t recognize. He was pretty sure from what he had read and heard, that North Korea wasn’t able to produce anything like this, which meant it was an import.
Probably from China.
Which would be logical. They were pretty much their only ally. But it wasn’t until they began to drive that he truly realized the extent of their situation. Rows of houses sped by, all perfectly appointed homes with white picket fences, as if transported here from another era. Everything was from the sixties, from lampposts to mailboxes. And stepping out from those houses were men in suits, in lab coats, in all sorts of different garb, but of all ethnic backgrounds. The majority were definitely oriental, but he couldn’t tell if they were all North Korean, or if some might be from the south, or from China, Japan, or Singapore for all he knew.
But there were also white men, with white wives kissing them at the doors. As far as he could tell, this was a middle-class, multi-ethnic, professional community, with everyone going about their daily lives as if nothing were out of the ordinary.
But where are the smiles?
It was a frown on one man as he walked by that made him take notice. Nobody was smiling, except his grinning chauffeur, but as they pulled up to a gate with several armed guards, all obviously North Korean, but wearing blue jumpsuit style uniforms as opposed to a traditional military green, his focus changed to the massive building in front of him.
And another mausoleum to the past.
It was a large box of a building, probably the length of a football field, about ten stories high, filled with a grid of tiny windows that stretched from end to end on every floor, except for two in the middle that seemed to have no windows at all, at least on this side. Dozens of people were flowing into the building as they pulled up in front. His instinct was to open the door, but he hesitated, not sure if he was supposed to actually get out. His ‘chauffeur’ jumped out and opened the door for him, but not before opening the trunk and removing something. It was a briefcase, which was handed to him with a smile that was so practiced, it actually seemed genuine.
“Please follow me, Doctor.”
The man then briskly walked toward the building, and Jason had to hurry to catch up. They stepped through a set of doors held open by another blue jumpsuit, and inside Jason gaped at the vast lobby, all marble and stone, but the accents still dated, at least four decades out of fashion. But what caught his eye was the sign emblazoned across the mezzanine above.
International Cooperation Center.
And under it were dozens of flags, most of which he recognized, others that he didn’t. He looked about at the people arriving along with him, and began to notice the occasional smile, usually as what appeared to be colleagues met up with each other. But when alone, amongst their thoughts, there didn’t seem to be any joy here.
Except amongst the blue jumpsuits. Inside the building he noticed dozens of them everywhere, but none seemed armed. Within the building it appeared that they were regular staff, as if at a hotel. To the right was a
long counter that almost appeared to be a hotel concierge desk with a small lineup of jumpsuits apparently being assigned their duties, others escorting people of various ethnicities, the escorts all with smiles and over exaggerated bows to every passerby.
They boarded an elevator, and proceeded to the fifth floor. Jason followed his escort out and down a long hall, then through a plain white door with the number 512 painted in crisp black, the dried dab at the bottom of the ‘1’ suggesting it had been done meticulously by hand.
“Jason!”
Jason spun and smiled as Carl jumped from a chair and stepped toward him. They exchanged quick hugs while both their handlers stood by respectfully, but said nothing.
“Are you okay?”
Carl nodded. “You?”
Jason looked at his handler out of the corner of his eye and put a smile on his face. “Fine, they’re treating us very well.”
“Yeah, us too.”
The door opened behind him and the look on Carl’s face caused him to spin around.
His jaw dropped as he looked at the smiling face he thought he’d never see again.
“Phil!”
Leif Morrison Residence, River Oaks Drive, Mclean, Virginia
Today, Five Days after the Kidnappings
“Jesus Christ! The North Koreans?”
Morrison nodded. “So now we have a country, run by a family who think they’re divine, building nukes and rockets, that could deliver the results of this research directly into any city within a five thousand mile range. That includes Seoul, Beijing, Tokyo, Moscow, Seattle.” Morrison pulled at his hair then looked at the empty beer bottle. “We need to stop this.”
“No shit,” muttered Kane. Draining his beer, he looked at Morrison. “I see only two options.”
“What?”
“I go in and retrieve them, or I go in and kill them.”
Rogue Operator Page 12
