The first woman held out her hand towards Slender Face. She said, in Korean, “Hello everyone. Thank you for coming. My name is Lee Ha-Rin. This is Park Dae Lun. We represent The Korean People’s Aviation Company, a new venture of our glorious leader.”
The two women sat down. Slender Face, the one named Park, opened the briefcase. She pulled out a manila folder and set it on the table. She clicked the briefcase closed again. Like a servant, Lee Ha-Rin immediately pulled the briefcase off the table and tucked it away.
Park opened the manila envelope to reveal pages and pages of schematics. They were pretty foreign to Jean Luc but one of them was clearly a jet engine. Another page was the blueprint for a plane’s wing. This must be the thing they’re building.
Jean Luc made mental notes, trying to take snapshots of the blueprints. Park slid the jet engine schematics to the French woman, Juliette Verlay.
Verlay studied them and tapped her lip with her finger. In French, she said, “Jean Luc, do you believe your government would be interested in this?”
What was he supposed to say? He looked to Sydney. She just shrugged.
Jean Luc decided to make up some stuff. If he was gathering intelligence, it was time to ask some questions. He shrugged and sat back in his seat. In French, he said, “The Belgian military is only interested in fully-reversible jet engines.”
Park leaned over to Lee Ha-Rin. She whispered in her ear for a second before straightening up. She said, “We can produce a fully reversible engine with the same amount of thrust to prototype in 48 days.”
Jean Luc nodded as if he were considering the offer. Just like that, he’d gotten them to give up their new production company’s operational speed. They must be desperate to make a deal.
The rest of the meeting went on the same way. Juliette Verlay acted as a go-between between the North Korean company and Jean Luc. The French woman and the North Koreans thought he represented the Belgian air force. Verlay would push some information over in Jean Luc’s direction. He would act interested and ask a few questions. Pretty quickly, it became apparent he was in Pyongyang to spy on this new company the North Koreans put together. It was some kind of plane parts company, selling copies of American planes for much cheaper than the Americans ever could. They could do that because they used their citizens as slaves.
They met for probably three hours. By the end of it, Jean Luc could recite their operational capacity, their amount of working capital, and the airplanes they could copy. The North Koreans, the French, and the fake Belgians all shook hands.
Jean Luc, Sydney, and Juliette Verlay headed out of the office with Verlay’s security guards in the lead. Jean Luc still couldn’t get the size of Verlay’s security guards. His first impression was that they were the B-team but the meeting with the Korean People’s Aviation Company went pretty smoothly. No threat evident or implied.
The guards moved with a pretty well-practiced efficiency. Slick Hair would pull a door open, and Baldy would quietly slide through. He would scan left and right before waving them through. Once Verlay, Jean Luc, and Sydney were through the door, Slick Hair would fall in behind them. They moved with practiced ease. Okay. So, maybe they are the A-team. So, why would Verlay bring the MVPs unless she suspected trouble?
They approached a revolving door onto the pressure-washed white concrete. Baldy scanned the empty sidewalk. He motioned for the diplomats to follow him. They stepped through the revolving door. Slick Hair fell in behind them. A black SUV pulled up to the curb. It was another Zunma, a Hyundai clone.
Baldy approached the SUV to ensure it was the right limousine. The door flew open. Three North Korean men leaped out wearing black tactical gear. Their boots thudded against the concrete. Baldy slid his hand around to the back of his pants to grab his pistol. The North Koreans were faster.
The man in the lead grabbed Baldy’s arm, pinning it behind him. He drove his arm up behind him. Baldy let out a pained grunt. A second man flung a black bag over Baldy’s head and together, they shoved him into the car.
It happened so quickly Juliette couldn’t do anything but shriek and cover her mouth. The three black-clad North Koreans hopped back into the car. Slick Hair sprinted past the fake diplomats and pulled a pistol out of the back of his pants. The door to the SUV slammed shut and the car tires squealed as the SUV pulled away from the curb.
Slick Hair held his gun on the SUV but didn’t shoot. The taillights disappeared down the empty street.
Slick Hair shoved his pistol back in his pants and cursed through gritted teeth. He walked over to Juliette Verlay, while still scanning the area. In French, he said, “We’re blown. This is going to get bad quickly.”
Verlay responded, “Charles knows his training. He won’t give them anything.”
“What’s the call?” Slick Hair asked.
Juliette Verlay tapped her fingernail against her bottom lip. “We need to get out of the country.”
Slick said, “We’re on foot. Let’s go.”
Verlay stepped out of her stiletto heels to reveal she was wearing rubbery barefoot running socks. They looked like tight-fitting gloves for each foot, complete with individual little pockets for the toes. She unzipped her pencil skirt halfway up her thigh to free her legs. So, she didn’t sacrifice beauty for function. This woman came prepared.
Slick set a quick pace. Verlay padded lightly behind him, moving swiftly on her barefoot shoes. Jean Luc and Sydney didn’t have any problem keeping up with them. Their Agency training involved a good amount of running. They set about a 9:00 minute per mile pace. That was an easy day at the Agency.
There was an eerie feeling running through Pyongyang. They were in Pyongyang Disneyland after hours. It was just them and the employees. Who were those employees, the men in the black masks and black combat gear? They passed street after empty street. The only sound in this part of the city was their footsteps pattering against the pavement.
Sydney pulled even with Jean Luc. “Why do you think they grabbed that guy?” She asked in French.
Jean Luc responded, “If I had to guess, they wanted us to run. You smoke a fox out of its hole by lighting a fire at one end. They go scurrying out the other side.”
Sydney seemed to agree. “So, is it smart to run then?”
“Nope,” Jean Luc replied. “But it’s a lot dumber to stay put. At least, this way, we might be able to outrun them.”
“Where do you think they’re running us?” Sydney asked.
Verlay jumped into their conversation to say, “Right into the trap.”
Jean Luc looked up to see a black SUV sitting in the road in front of them. The car was parked sideways in the street, blocking anybody from driving that way. Another street intersected with that one, and the SUV sat right in the middle of the intersection. They could wiggle their way around the vehicle to stay on that same road, but if they wanted to keep their steady pace, they needed to turn right and run down the narrow street between buildings.
Slick took a right at the truck and kept jogging down the new street. Verlay, Jean Luc, and Sydney followed him.
We’re being funneled, Jean Luc thought, but to where?
As they all turned down the new street, the black SUV behind them roared to life. The engine surged and the car leaped forward to slide in behind them. The driver who was apparently hiding inside the car pulled his car across the narrow street. The truck was big enough to touch both sidewalks. There would be no wiggling around this one.
“Damn,” Jean Luc said, but he said it in English.
Sydney said, in French, “Keep your bearings, Jean Luc.” It was her way of reminding him that even though the situation was getting hairy, he needed to keep his composure.
My first mission, he thought, and it’s already going pear-shaped.
Slick sped up until he was practically sprinting. It was a grueling, breakneck pace that Jean Luc could only hold for maybe a half-mile more. They must be running about five minutes per mile. Sydney was already panting a
nd wheezing. Verlay seemed unaffected by the pace. She just fell into a steady cadence that devoured the distance. Jean Luc felt like a lumbering rhino next to her smooth strides.
Another black SUV slid onto the road. It hopped the sidewalks and settled between the buildings like a gate. Slick skidded to a halt. The trio behind him stopped.
Jean Luc looked back over his shoulder, SUV. He looked forward, SUV. They were stuck in the narrow alley.
The two women from The Korean People’s Aviation Company, Lee Ha-Rin and Park, hopped out of the car. They were still wearing their business suits. They pointed AK-47s as they walked with their eyes on the sights. Jean Luc assumed that each woman had one of them in her sights. That meant that one of them could rush forward and probably live, but which one? It was too risky.
The women crept forward, keeping their rifles up and aimed, and stepping carefully so that they could keep the rifles on target. They moved like Special Forces. They were well trained for this sort of thing.
Sydney held up her hands in surrender. Verlay and Jean Luc did the same.
Jean Luc said, in Korean, “Is this about cargo planes?”
The women didn’t smile or even seem to hear him. They just got close enough that they could almost reach out and touch them.
The slender faced woman, Park, said in Korean, “By order of our Exalted Leader, you are under arrest for crimes against the Korean people.”
The round-faced woman, Lee Ha-Rin, swung her rifle onto her shoulder and pulled zip ties out of her belt. With expert efficiency, she zipped all of them. They were handcuffed with the zip ties in a matter of seconds. Lee Ha-Rin pulled her rifle back up and pointed it at them again. She and Park marched the group towards the waiting SUV.
As they marched towards the gaping black mouth of the SUV, Verlay asked in Korean, “What are we accused of?”
The round-faced woman hit Verlay in the back with the butt of her rifle. “Shut up, spy. We know you’re an American.”
Sydney’s eyes darted to the side but she didn’t move her head. Jean Luc did the same thing. He looked over at Sydney without moving his head. Their eyes met. They think Verlay is the secret American.
Jean Luc and Sydney were the actual Americans. As far as they could tell, Juliette Verlay was a French woman. A French spy, but French nonetheless.
The two North Korean women loaded them into the SUV at gunpoint and then climbed in after them. Lee Ha-Rin, the second in command, closed the door. The SUV sped off. The windows were blacked out, so they couldn’t see where they were going. Vague shapes sped by through the dark tint. They could have been heading miles and miles into the countryside or they could have been driving around in circles in Pyongyang. Jean Luc wouldn’t know the difference. He tried to keep track of any turns but having no visual clues made that difficult.
At one point, they turned off the nicely paved city streets and onto unpaved roads. Then again, they may have just been poorly paved roads, there was no way of knowing. Whatever they were, the SUV bounced and skidded as it lumbered through some rural part of North Korea.
Park and Lee Ha-Rin seemed to be studying Juliette Verlay the hardest. She was the one they suspected. He needed to know why.
He said in French, “Do you think we could turn on the air conditioner? I’m a little warm.”
Park curled her lip as if she smelled something disgusting. She said, “Your accent is terrible. We know you’re not really a Belgian. We can spot a Frenchman a mile away.”
Jean Luc made sure to look a little disappointed for a second before putting on an expressionless face. They thought he was a Frenchman pretending to be a Belgian. That meant the North Koreans thought they were all French spies. That was bad luck for Juliette Verlay, but It was good luck for the two Americans.
Jean Luc put on a sad face and sighed. In French, he said, “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Just let my friends go.”
Sydney looked up, shocked. If she was acting, she was a great actress because she seemed genuinely shocked and betrayed. “Jean Luc,” she hissed. “No. Don’t tell them anything.”
Park smiled and leaned forward. She was please to think she’d driven a wedge between them. Park’s eyes glanced down at Jean Luc’s lips and then back up at his eyes.
Oh, he thought. There might be another way to play this.
The SUV continued bumping and bouncing along the highway. Jean Luc waited for a good bump. The tail of the car slid a little bit as if they were on gravel, then it hit a bump that bottomed out the suspension and sent everybody bouncing in their seats.
Jean Luc launched himself forward, timing it with everybody’s butts hitting the seat, so it looked as if he’d been thrown out of his seat. With his hands still cuffed behind him, he flopped forward, landing with his head in Park’s lap. She shrieked and sat up straight.
Jean Luc made a show like he was trying to get up but couldn’t because his hands were still cuffed.
In French, he said, “Oh, excuse me. I’m so sorry. This is so embarrassing. I’m so sorry.”
Park pushed him by the shoulders back into his seat. She responded in French, saying, “It’s okay. I’m fine.”
Jean Luc inhaled and allowed his eyes to close as if savoring a great wine. “What fragrance is that you’re wearing? It’s absolutely intoxicating.”
Park smiled and looked down at her feet. Color rushed to her cheeks. “It’s just soap,” she said.
“I’ve never smelled soap like that before,” he said. “How long have you been the director of the People’s Aviation Company?”
Park frowned. “I’m not a director. I’m just an employee.”
Jean Luc’s mouth fell open. “What? A woman as beautiful, talented, and capable as you, is not a director?”
Park’s eyes narrowed, and she scrunched her eyebrows. “I know what you’re trying to do, Mr. Sejour. You won’t seduce your way out of this.”
Jean Luc looked down and shrugged. “You can’t blame a man for trying. I’ve been captured before but never with such great scenery.”
Lee Ha-Rin sat forward. “That’s enough,” she spat.
She brought up the butt of her rifle and jabbed it like a pool stick. The rifle butt hit Jean Luc in the nose. Hot pain blossomed across his face, running up around his cheeks and causing his eyes to water. The force of the hit flung him back in his seat. Warm blood ran out of his nose, and he could taste the salty copper flavor of blood in his mouth.
He tried to wriggle his nose. It shot through with fresh pain but it moved. She didn’t break his nose even though she could have with the AK-47’s wooden stock. She was a professional, too, it seemed.
As his eyes stopped watering, he could see Park leaning forward. She looked a little concerned. This might work, and Lee Ha-Rin might have just helped me out.
Blood ran down his chin and over his lips. A few drops of bright red blood plopped on his pants. With his hands tied behind his back, he couldn’t do anything to stop the flow.
Jean Luc softly pleaded to Park, “I’m sorry to be a bother, but could you spare a tissue?”
Park pulled a North Korean flag handkerchief out of her suit pocket. Always the company woman. She leaned forward and gently wiped his face.
She looked down at his leg and said, “You got a few drops.” She wiped the blood that had dripped from his nose onto his pants. She slowly and softly rubbed her hand across his thigh. Eventually, she stopped and just let her hand rest on his quadricep muscle. She looked up and met Jean Luc’s eyes. There was a hunger there.
He knew the effect he had on some women, and apparently, Park was one of them.
Lee Ha-Rin loudly and pointedly cleared her throat. Park snapped back to her senses. She tossed the handkerchief on his lap.
“Clean it up yourself,” Park shouted but there was no anger in her voice.
Juliette Verlay looked over at Jean Luc and barely cocked one eyebrow. Sydney just smiled for a second before putting her poker face back on.
&nbs
p; He’d hooked a North Korean spy. They might actually live through this.
CHAPTER SIX
Park Dae Lun watched Jean Luc when she thought he wasn’t looking at her. She held a cell phone on her crossed legs and tapped away at it with her thumb. The screen was covered with a dark film that made it look black from any angle but straight-on. Pretty standard stuff for a covert operator. Lee Ha-Rin, her assistant, darted her eyes back and forth between Jean Luc and Park.
Juliette Verlay leaned back and smirked just a little. It was barely even noticeable, but Jean Luc saw it. She was indicating she approved of his plan, as much as there was one. Step one: seduce a North Korean spy. Step two: find an airplane. Step three: sleep with a North Korean spy? Maybe, but only if it served the mission. She was quite beautiful, though.
Her face was thin and angled as if she didn’t smile much. Her hair was pulled back in a bun so tight, it looked like shimmering black paint. In her black business suit, she looked almost fragile. Jean Luc knew about female spies, though. Oftentimes, they were attractive women with small waists and skinny arms. They looked breakable, so you would help them. They were breakable. They broke like fragmentation grenades, though, and they were more dangerous than men usually. He must consider closely if the mission required him to sleep with her. He tended to like a woman with more curves and fewer edges, anyway. He liked a woman who had a bit of weight to them. Women who felt unbreakable.
Step four: steal the plane. Step five: avoid the North Korean Air Force and escape into South Korean airspace. This was less of a plan and more of a wish list.
The little bit of light leaking through the window tint vanished suddenly as they were passing through a tunnel. It didn’t come back, though. The SUV came to a stop in the darkness.
Park whispered in Korean, “I am sorry. This next part will be very unpleasant.”
Oh no.
With an expert’s precision, she threw a black bag over his head. From the sounds of grunting, he assumed that Juliette Verlay and Sydney were also wearing black bags now.
Clean Cut Kid (A Logan Connor Thriller Book 1) Page 8
