His heart continued to race until the alarm screamed, announcing six am. He pretended to wake with his wife, giving her his usual kiss, then headed into the bathroom. He looked around as he went through his morning routine, trying to find the device planted in this room, but couldn’t find it. After John had made his promise last night, he had gone through the house, searching for all the bugs, and planting the recorders, while Jason lay in bed, trying to fall asleep. He had thought he wouldn’t have much success, but he had, not waking until John had woken him to hand him the control.
And he assumed the same thing had happened at Carl Shephard’s “home” later.
Dressed, he found his wife and kids at the table, looking a little groggier than usual. He gave them all hugs and kisses, a little more intense than usual, the guilt he felt over what had almost happened last night still consuming him. But the hope he now felt, the first since their capture, fueled his aching body, and he attacked his breakfast, knowing he’d need all the energy he could muster for the day’s, and night’s, events.
He shoveled the eggs onto his toast with the fork, then into his mouth. Maggie sat down, dipping her toast into the soft egg yolk.
“Sorry I fell asleep on you.”
Jason’s chest tightened as he tried desperately to think of a way to change the subject.
“Don’t worry about it, I was dead tired too.” He pointed his toast at the eggs. “Do these eggs taste different to you? Fresher?”
Maggie shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe. Probably from a nearby farm?”
Jason shoveled the rest of his food into his mouth in record time, then jumped up. “That was great, Dear, thanks.” He placed a kiss on Maggie’s forehead, then headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He successfully killed the rest of his time until he heard the crisp knock on the front door.
This is it!
He checked himself in the mirror, then headed for the door, kissing the kids and Maggie, and joining his handler in the idling car waiting to take him to work. He waved at the sad faces standing in the doorway, his own smile, forced the previous days, genuine.
And you’d better knock it off.
He wiped the smile off his face, hoping Kimmy hadn’t noticed. That’s the name he’d given his handler. If the man wouldn’t give him a name, he’d make one up. And since they all worshiped their great leaders Kim Jong-il and Kim Il-Sung, Kimmy seemed appropriate.
A term of respect it was not.
They drove to the International Cooperation Center in silence, Jason staring out the window, looking at his surroundings with renewed interest, now that he would be soon leaving them. They pulled up to the front of the building, and he climbed out, a blue jumpsuit holding open the door, nodding to him with crisp military respect.
Jason returned the nod, and followed Kimmy up the steps and into the elevator. Moments later they were in the lab, Carl and Phil, along with their handlers, already there. Carl gave him a look which Jason quickly avoided.
“So what’s on the agenda for today?” asked Phil, his usual upbeat prickish self.
“I’d like to verify the EMP installation,” said Carl. “I could use your help, Jason. And in the meantime, Phil, why don’t you verify the integrity of the test chamber and calibrate the scopes? Remember the last time we got a new scope in and forgot to calibrate it.”
Phil laughed out loud, and even Jason cracked a bit of a smile.
“Yeah, I’ll never live that one down,” chuckled Phil as he headed to the other side of the lab. He looked at the handlers. “We got a new scope in the lab a couple of years ago, and we all assumed the other had calibrated it. Turns out no one had. These two went to lunch and I put a sample device right where it should be, but the scope showed nothing. I spent over an hour looking for the damned thing, only to have these two come back and ask me if I had finished calibrating it yet.” Phil roared in laughter, Carl and Jason joining in lightly, but the handlers remained impassive. “You see, we’re dealing at a microscopic level here. Atomic. If you don’t calibrate, it would be like looking through a set of binoculars, but they’re pointing miles away from where you think they’re pointing.”
Still no laughter. Not even a smile.
Phil shrugged. “I guess you need to be a scientist.”
Jason turned to his terminal, quickly bringing up the EMP interface, then the low level interface code. It didn’t take long, not when you knew what you were doing, and when Carl was running interference, asking him questions, Jason would run off the standard answers, pretending he was checking the values, instead modifying the base code that controlled the EMP.
Within half an hour the EMP was verified, and a new sub-routine was running that would activate at 11:58pm, powering up the EMP, then discharging it at exactly midnight.
Now let’s hope their EMP is as efficient as ours was.
International Cooperation Center, North Korea
Phil Hopkins realized he wasn’t the most popular guy in the room. But he was willing to tolerate a little hostility, even to be patronized, just to get along.
But he wouldn’t play the fool.
He had done this for all of them. Had he made a mistake? Yes. He admitted that now. After seeing Jason show up for work after his beating, it had been heart wrenching, and he had gone to the bathroom and thrown up. Jason and Carl were his friends. His buddies. His only friends. And he had lost them. He hoped over time they would come around, and the camaraderie that had existed before would return, and once they received their payout, they could all be friends again.
And if they couldn’t, well, he’d have ten million big ones to comfort him.
And if the others refused their money, he had already arranged that he would get their shares. He had intended to keep it separate in case they ever changed their minds.
But play me for the fool?
He had caught the glance between Carl and Jason. He knew them too well to not know some surreptitious communication, some secret message had been exchanged that only they could understand. What it was, he didn’t know, until he heard them working on the EMP. Carl did his job, of that he had no doubt, but Jason’s distracted, automaton type answers, and his fingers flying over the keyboard far more than they should if just verifying settings, made it obvious he was doing something other than validating Carl’s findings.
The three had eaten lunch together in the cafeteria, a cafeteria he had to admit was the quietest he had ever encountered, despite being packed. But like so many other tables, there had been no conversation at theirs. In fact, Carl and Jason couldn’t even look at each other, and both picked at their food until Jason suddenly attacked his meal, and Carl followed suit.
The clincher was when Jason ate his string beans. Jason never ate string beans. He hated them. And he could think of only one reason he would eat them.
He thought he needed the energy.
They’re going to try and escape.
He couldn’t let that happen, of course. It could mean death to one or more of them, and even losing just one meant the end of the project, which would mean the death of them all. They were in this together, until the end, whether they all liked it or not.
The thought of dying terrified him. He had fucked up, he knew it, and if he had to do it all over again, he’d never have agreed to it. But they were here, now, and it was too late. They had to cooperate, or die. And why would they choose death over life? They both had families. Why wouldn’t they just cooperate, get the job over with as quickly as possible, take the money, and leave? The life they could provide for their families with ten million dollars would be incredible.
But these two were up to something, about to sacrifice everything, risking their own death, and that of their families.
He had to stop them, but first he had to find out what Jason had done in the lab.
The loudspeaker beeped, and everyone rose, taking their trays to the nearest garbage cans, then returning to their labs. It was a somber bunch, and Phil had to admit each
lunch spent in that cafeteria demoralized him more each day. It was clear that the staff at the International Cooperation Center were not happy, pasted on smiles of the jumpsuits notwithstanding.
Jason and Carl busied themselves with something, what he didn’t care. He huddled at his terminal in the corner, looking at the EMP configuration, but finding nothing amiss. Then he started delving into the code behind it, and eventually found what he was looking for, nearly shouting in triumph, but instead biting his lip as he read the code.
Whatever is happening, it’s happening at midnight.
He quickly deleted the subroutine, then resumed testing the atomic microscope. He’d go over to Jason’s house tonight and talk to him, after the kids went to bed.
We’ll settle this, once and for all, at ten tonight.
Peterson “Residence”, International Cooperation Center, North Korea
Jason looked at the control, then the clock, lying next to his wife in bed. At 9:50 he pressed the buttons, in sequence, activating all eight transmitters. He waited for a few seconds while his heart settled, then he sat up in bed.
“What’s wrong?” asked Maggie, pushing herself up on her elbows.
“Nothing. We’re getting out of here,” he whispered.
“What? Are you crazy?” she hissed. “They’ll hear you.”
“No time to explain. Get dressed, warm, with comfortable shoes. We’ve got ten minutes before he gets here.”
“Who?”
“The American who was here last night while you and the kids were sleeping. He’s here to rescue us.”
Maggie reached for the lamp when Jason stopped her.
“No lights, they might be watching for that. John planted devices in the house to override the listening devices.”
“John?”
“Not his real name, but it doesn’t matter. Get dressed. Now. You get Ayla ready, I’ll get Darius.”
Jason quickly got dressed, then went into Darius’ room. He shook him awake, to moaning protests, then when the chocolate was passed under his nose, he quickly perked up, devouring it as if it had a half-life of sixty seconds. Jason got him dressed in the warmest clothes they had for him, and had just finished tying his shoes when the little tike passed out from the drugged treat.
In the kitchen Jason emptied Ayla’s school bag, filling it with bread, crackers, cheese and as much water as he could find bottles to fit it. He looked at his watch.
10:01pm.
He gathered them all together, picking Darius from the floor and putting him over his shoulder. “We need to stay absolutely quiet. Follow orders, no questions. Understood?”
Maggie nodded, as did a terrified Ayla, her saucer-sized eyeballs leaving little doubt she was going to cooperate. They stepped out the back door from the kitchen, and huddled by the side of the house. It was cold, a light dusting of snow having fallen earlier in the day. It was going to make it hard going, since none of them had proper winter clothing. He especially worried for Darius. This was going to be tough on him.
But if they made it, it would be worth every moment of pain.
His heart leapt as he saw several shadows moving toward them. Jason quickly recognized Carl and his family, along with their rescuer. They all met near the porch, Maggie and Phoebe exchanging quick hugs, but remaining silent, Charlie and Ayla exchanging awkward smiles.
“Where’s Phil?” asked Maggie.
Jason frowned. “He’s not coming.”
“Why not?”
“He’s the one who got us into this mess.”
“But—”
John cut them off. “No time to debate this. We have to go now. Every minute counts.”
He led them to the corner of the last house on the street where Jason could see a fence not fifty feet away. And they waited. For what he didn’t know, and he was starting to get antsy when he heard an engine roar, his stomach flip flopping with the approaching sound. A pair of headlights sliced through the darkness, thankfully pointing away from them, but then they suddenly turned toward them, sweeping by their position far too close for comfort.
Maggie squeezed his hand, tight, her nails digging into his palm, as Ayla huddled closer. Darius remained mercifully sound asleep over Jason’s shoulder. The vehicle passed by without slowing down, and once out of sight, John darted toward the fence, and the group followed in silence. John pried open a portion of the fence that he had obviously cut earlier, and they all squeezed through.
As Jason handed Darius through to Maggie, then climbed through himself, he took one last look at their prison, and swore, no matter what, they were never coming back.
Outside the Fence, International Cooperation Center, North Korea
Kane wasn’t happy. Things already weren’t going according to plan. He hadn’t been able to determine what house Phil Hopkins was in, so he was still roaming the earth, but he hoped the little contingency plan he had left behind at the Shephard residence would work.
A note thanking Phil for his help.
If that doesn’t get him killed, nothing will.
It was cruel, and the poor bastard would be tortured to death, all the while telling the truth that he knew nothing of the escape or why his friends had thanked him, but he had brought it upon himself.
Kane just hoped the EMP Carl Shephard had told him they set up was going to work, otherwise he’d have to return at some point and try to destroy the lab himself. With security probably quadrupled.
Gears gnashed and Kane’s head whipped around to see a vehicle skid around the corner, its headlights sweeping across the landscape, flashing over the eight forms for the barest of moments.
Brake lights shone as the vehicle jerked to a halt.
Shit!
The depression was less than fifty feet away, and he sprinted for it, hoping the others would get the idea without needing words to urge them forward. He dove over the edge and hit the ground, the teenage Shephard boy following him, then his parents, followed by the Peterson’s. Kane already had his head over the depression, looking at the scene behind them.
“Quiet,” he whispered. “Not a sound, no matter what happens.”
He watched as the two occupants of the vehicle walked toward them, their flashlights out, sweeping the area, chattering in Korean. From their tones, it sounded to Kane as if one of them thought he had seen something, the other thought he was crazy, and was complaining about the cold, repeatedly slapping his hands together.
But his partner wasn’t to be deterred. The flashlight swung toward the lip of the depression, and Kane dropped, his back against the ground, as he motioned for everyone to get down, and cover their mouths. Everyone complied, pressing themselves into the ground, against the depression wall as best they could. The crunch of footsteps approached, the hard, frozen ground revealing each step as the unforgiving rubber soles of cheap boots crushed the dirt and sparse vegetation beneath them.
The footsteps stopped, right above Kane’s shoulder, dirt tricking onto his shoulder. The flashlight played out in front of them, highlighting the tundra-like expanse.
A final shout from his partner and the man, only inches above them, finally acquiesced, spinning around, running back toward the warmth of their vehicle. A collective sigh of relief burst force from the group, as the vehicle pulled away.
That was too damned close.
Peterson “Residence”, International Cooperation Center, North Korea
Phil knocked on the door again, and again there was nothing. He had noticed the house was completely dark, and he thought that a little odd, but then again, he didn’t have kids, so maybe this was what families did at ten o’clock at night.
Nothing.
He knocked again, a little harder. He had to talk to Jason. It couldn’t wait. What he had done at the lab could have got them all killed, and he wasn’t willing to die for his friends’ cowardice.
But again there was no answer.
He looked at his watch. It was under an hour before curfew, and he had to not only
have it out with Jason, quietly, he needed to get back to his own house on the other side of the school before 11pm.
He took a deep breath and grabbed the door handle.
Fuck it. This isn’t America.
He pushed the door open.
“Hello! Jason! It’s me, Phil! You home?”
He tried to make his voice as cheerful as possible.
“I tried knocking, but there was no answer,” he continued as he closed the door behind him. He reached for the light switch and flicked it, flooding the entranceway with light. He blinked a few times, his eyes eventually adjusting, as he stepped into the living area, then the kitchen, both empty.
“Hey guys, anybody home? I don’t want to walk in on anything.” He chuckled, then remembered there were kids living under this roof. “Uh, sorry about that, single guy, remember. Hope I’m not waking you!” he said as he walked down the hallway toward the master bedroom, the house an identical copy of his own.
He knocked on the door, listening carefully.
Nothing.
He pushed the door open, flicked on the light, and saw the empty bed.
They’re not here!
He rushed into the bathroom, then threw open the doors to every room, confirming it.
They’re gone!
He felt his stomach flip and his chest tighten.
Backyard!
He rushed to the backyard, praying he’d find them all sitting on the step, watching the stars.
But instead found it equally empty. And a jumble of footprints in the light dusting of snow, leading away from the house, joined by another group from further down the street.
Carl?
He followed the footprints and soon found himself at the fence. He heard some shouts and he ducked as a jeep, parked not far off, kicked into gear and sped off. He followed the jeep with his eyes until it was out of sight, then looked back at the horizon. Within moments he saw a group of people appear from behind some depression in the terrain, and begin to run away from the encampment.
Rogue Operator Page 25
