The Expediter

by David Hagberg

  “Do you know this man?” Pak asked.

  “Yes, his name is Kirk McGarvey. Alexandar told me that it was the CIA who hired him, and that McGarvey fed him the intel and the money.”

  Soon looked as surprised as the others.

  “Is that how it was?” McGarvey asked him.

  The man nodded after a brief hesitation. “According to Alexandar.”

  “Quite a coincidence you coming to the States to ask for my help,” McGarvey said to Pak.

  Pak opened the green envelope and extracted the two dossiers that had been lifted from McGarvey’s hotel room. “Can you explain these?”

  “I did my homework after you came to see me. We figured these two might have been the shooters, so my first stop was Seoul, where we would have had the woman, except she had help from Alexandar Turov, their Russian contact.”

  “You know this Russian?”

  “We came up with his name as a probable expediter, and I spotted him in Seoul where he was trying to kill Kim to keep her quiet.”

  “He’s lying,” Kim said.

  “Then why did you run?” McGarvey asked.

  “To get away from you,” she replied. She turned to Pak, desperation in her voice. “I can prove it’s him. Let my husband go home, and I’ll cooperate. Dear Leader will have what he needs to stop the war.”

  “No,” Soon said. “I won’t leave without her.”

  “I’ve had enough of this,” Ri said, reaching for his pistol beneath his jacket.

  McGarvey stepped to the left, batted the sergeant’s hand aside just long enough to pull his own pistol and jam the muzzle against the man’s temple.

  Pak was pulling out his own gun when the much larger Soon shoved him roughly to one side and grabbed the Russian-made 5.45 mm PSM out of his hand.

  Ri reached up and grabbed the barrel of McGarvey’s gun. “Fire in here and you’ll never get out of the building alive.”

  “You’re probably right,” McGarvey said. “Why don’t you give it a try?”

  Pak said something in Korean, and after a brief hesitation Ri let go and dropped his hand to his side.

  “What next?” the colonel asked.

  “You came to me in the States, why?” McGarvey asked.

  “Because I thought that you were an honorable man, who the Chinese trust, and you would be able to help find out what really happened.”

  “If I had been the one behind the hit, I wouldn’t have come here,” McGarvey said.

  “If it wasn’t you paying Alexander then it was someone else from the CIA,” Soon said. “You bastards are the only ones who stand to gain anything from this.”

  “You can’t get out of this building alive, you know that, of course,” Pak told McGarvey. “Put down the weapons, let us take you into custody, and we’ll deal with your government through the U.N. in New York.”

  “You and I are leaving with the woman, while Soon stays behind to keep your sergeant quiet.”

  “No—” Kim protested, but her husband cut her off.

  “What do you have in mind?” Soon asked.

  “Turov wants to shut her up, so I’m going to use her for bait,” McGarvey said. “But first I’m going to take her to Washington to convince my government that North Korea wasn’t behind the shootings.”

  “I’ll never see you again,” Kim cried.

  Soon ignored her. “Getting out is impossible.”

  “Not impossible,” McGarvey said. “I can’t guarantee what will happen to your wife in the end, but at least she’ll be away from here. Will you help?”

  “Yes,” Soon said without hesitation.

  “No, please,” Kim cried.

  “It’s the only way, darling,” Soon said.

  McGarvey took Ri’s pistol from its holster and pocketed it. “Your colonel’s life depends on your cooperation, do you understand?”

  Ri looked at him, his eyes narrowed. “I know that I’ll piss on your still warm body and enjoy every second of it.”

  “Right,” McGarvey said, and he turned to Pak. “You and I and the woman are going to walk out of here, get in your car, and drive out the front gate. If you give me your word that you won’t try to cause any trouble, I’ll give you my word that I won’t draw my weapon and open fire, killing a lot of innocent people.”

  Pak said nothing.

  “I don’t think North Korea had anything to do with the assassination, and I’ll do what I promised you, I’ll find out who did order it.”

  “Even if it’s someone in your own government?”

  “Even that,” McGarvey said.

  Pak nodded. “Very well, though I don’t know how the hell you think you can get out of the city let alone the country.”

  McGarvey turned to Kim. “Cooperate and we just might make it in one piece. If not, you and your husband will certainly die.”

  “Go with him,” Soon said. “Please.”

  She was distraught, but she reached up and gave her husband a kiss on the cheek and then nodded.

  Soon switched aim to Ri.

  “We need a half hour,” McGarvey said. “If he moves or tries to call for help, shoot him.”

  “He won’t,” Pak said.

  SIXTY–SEVEN

  In the operations center Hang-gook jumped up, but Pak waved him back. “Keep everyone out of your office for the next half hour. We have one more thing to do with this prisoner and then I’ll be returning.”

  “Yes, sir,” the lieutenant said. He gave McGarvey a suspicious look. “But what if I need to reach you? Will you be monitoring your radio?”

  “Of course.”

  “Will Sergeant Ri need any help with the other prisoner?”

  “No, and they’re not to be disturbed,” Pak said. “We just need a half hour.”

  “I understand, sir,” the lieutenant said.

  On the way down in the elevator, Kim was shivering and she seemed to be unsteady on her feet.

  “When’s the last time you had something to eat?” McGarvey asked. In some way she reminded him of his daughter Elizabeth who would almost certainly have tried to pull off the same stunt to save her husband, Todd.

  “What do you care?” she demanded angrily. “You’re going to get Soon and me killed. That’s why you came here after me.”

  “She’s lying and you know it,” McGarvey told Pak.

  “I have to go with what I learn. My hands are tied. If you’re not involved, we’ll find out.”

  “In the meantime everyone in Pyongyang just might get incinerated,” McGarvey said. “Thanks to this woman and her husband. For money.”

  “You ought to know,” Kim said. “Colonel, you have to believe me. If you can stop this bastard from taking me out of here, and if you can arrange to get my husband back to Seoul I can prove he was the one who arranged everything.”

  “He’s not going to get out of Pyongyang alive and neither are you,” Pak told her.

  “I don’t want to die,” she blurted.

  “You should have thought of that before you and your husband became assassins,” McGarvey said harshly. Yet that’s exactly what he had made a career of doing. There was a distinction between what he and they did, though it was a narrow one and depended on which side of the fence the observer was on. He’d always worked under that slim margin, and he’d spent more nights than he could count wondering if what he had done was the right thing.

  No one stopped them down the first-floor corridor, nor did the armed guards at the front gate ask any questions, just waving the Lada through.

  “You have a half hour,” Pak said. “Where do you want to go?”

  “The Chinese Embassy,” McGarvey said.

  Pak was startled. “You’re crazy if you think they’ll talk to you let alone take you in. And even if they did you wouldn’t be allowed back out.”

  McGarvey took out his sat phone. “Just drive.”

  Pak turned right and headed down the broad Okryo Street along the river toward the Taedong Gate.

  McGarvey
and Kim were seated in the back, and suddenly she made a lunge for the door, getting it half open before McGarvey managed to grab her by the arm.

  She screeched something in Korean, and for a few seconds it was all McGarvey could do to keep her from tumbling out of the moving car.

  “If you tell the Chinese she was one of the shooters they’ll kill her,” Pak said.

  Kim moaned something unintelligible, but she calmed down.

  “I won’t tell them a thing, except that she’s important to the investigation,” McGarvey said. “You could have taken advantage of the situation just then, why didn’t you?”

  Pak glanced at McGarvey’s reflection in the rearview mirror. “You had your gun pointed at my head the entire time.”

  “Plausible deniability.”

  “I think you Americans call it covering your ass.”

  McGarvey got a signal on the phone and speed dialed Rencke’s number. Wherever Otto was, in his office, in his car, or at home, the call would be rolled over to him. He answered on the second ring.

  “Oh wow, what’s going on, Mac?”

  “There’s no time to explain now, but I need your help. I’ve got one of the shooters with me and I’m making a run for the Chinese Embassy. The colonel who came to see me in Sarasota is driving us over there, at gunpoint. Find out who their chief of security is, explain what I’m working on, and convince him that I need a ride out of Dodge.”

  “Major Shikai Chen,” Pak said.

  “Hang on one,” Rencke said.

  “His name is Major Shikai Chen.”

  “Are you sure, Mac?” Rencke asked.

  “Yeah,” McGarvey told him. “We’re on our way over now, but this situation won’t stay stable much longer.

  “I’m on it,” Rencke promised.

  “We’re less than ten minutes away from the embassy,” Pak said. “But no matter if Major Shikai allows you inside, you will never be allowed to leave Chosun without Dear Leader’s permission.”

  “I know,” McGarvey said. “That’s why I’m going to explain everything to him too, and ask for just that.”

  SIXTY–EIGHT

  By the time they reached the Chinese Embassy, Rencke had not come back on the line. The street was blocked at each corner by four troop trucks and what looked like at least fifty North Korean soldiers in camouflage combat uniforms and armed with Kalashnikov assault rifles.

  A lieutenant colonel got out of a Russian-made Gazik parked directly across from the embassy and walked up the street toward them.

  “This is trouble,” Pak said. “These guys are Reconnaissance Bureau— special forces—and they don’t screw around. Let me do the talking.”

  “You’re supposed to be at gunpoint,” McGarvey said.

  “I’ll figure out my explanations later,” Pak said. “But both of you, keep your mouths shut if you want to survive the next five minutes.” He got out of the car, his movements deliberate, his hands in plain sight.

  “What is State Security doing here,” the lieutenant colonel demanded. “Haven’t your people caused enough trouble already?” City police were under the control of the agency.

  Kim quickly translated for McGarvey.

  “I’m delivering two people to the Chinese—”

  “The hell you say,” the lieutenant colonel said, and he started to step around Pak who put out a hand to stop him.

  The troopers at the nearest barrier, realizing that something not right was going on, snapped to, their weapons at the ready.

  “I suggest that you take your hand off my person if you want to live much longer,” the Reconnaissance Bureau officer warned.

  “I’m going to reach inside my jacket for a letter—not a weapon,” Pak said. He moved his right hand to his pocket and stopped.

  A half–dozen troops raised their weapons higher, ready to shoot, but the lieutenant colonel motioned for them to hold off.

  Pak carefully took out Kim Jong Il’s letter and handed it over. “This will explain my position.”

  The lieutenant colonel quickly read the letter, glanced up at Pak, and reread the letter. He handed it back, his expression neutral. “I’ll check this out, Colonel, if you’ll give me a few minutes.”

  “Check it out if you will, but I’m making my delivery.”

  Rencke was back. “They’re looking at the car outside their embassy and they’ve agreed to let you and the woman inside, but they don’t want to start an incident with the Recon Bureau.”

  “What’d you tell them?”

  “Just your name. But it was enough. The major should be coming out of the front gate now.”

  A slight man in dark trousers and an open-collar white shirt stepped past the Chinese security guards at the gate and stopped.

  “I’ve got him,” McGarvey said. “Let’s go,” he told Kim. He got out of the car, and reached back to help her, but she batted his hand away and jumped out.

  Together they walked past Pak and the Reconnaissance Bureau lieutenant colonel, McGarvey acutely conscious of how delicate the situation was.

  Major Chen stepped aside as they reached him and motioned them through the gate, which the security guards closed after them. McGarvey didn’t look over his shoulder to see if Pak had driven off as they crossed the narrow courtyard and entered the front stair hall of the four-story building.

  “We agreed to bring you this far, Mr. McGarvey, on the strength of your reputation,” Major Chen said, stopping in the middle of the hall. “Now, considering the importance of the current situation, we will require an explanation.”

  “The North Koreans did not kill General Ho, and I’ve been asked to prove it,” McGarvey said. “This woman may hold the key, but only if I can get her back to Washington immediately.”

  Major Chen’s left eyebrow rose. “We have never met, but I was told that you are an unusual man.” He looked at Kim. “We have the ambassador’s aircraft standing by at the airport, but I’m not sure we would be allowed to get to it, or if it would be allowed to take off. What proof?”

  “I can’t say right now—”

  “You of all men must appreciate the urgency of our position. If we initiate an attack that stupid bastard will probably launch, and we couldn’t do a thing about it until afterward.”

  “It’s why I came here.”

  “Without your government’s sanction,” Major Chen said bitterly.

  “I need your help.”

  The Chinese intelligence officer was clearly frustrated. “I can’t do a damned thing for you. They won’t let you out of here.”

  “Yes, they will, if you’re willing to fly us to Washington.”

  “You have to get to the airport first.”

  McGarvey raised the sat phone. “Otto?”

  “Here.”

  “Can you contact Kim Jong Il’s people, explain the situation, and allow me to talk to him with a translator?”

  “Holy shit, Mac. I’m on it.”

  Major Chen was impressed and it showed. “I was not told that you were a surprising man.”

  No one else was in the stair hall and the building was all but silent, though somewhere in the distance McGarvey thought he could hear a muffled conversation, two people arguing about something.

  Kim was getting shaky on her feet and McGarvey sat her down on a wooden bench with carved dragons. But it took nearly ten minutes before Rencke was back.

  “You owe me one, kemo sabe,” Rencke said. “He’s on the line. No names, not his, not yours.”

  “Right,” McGarvey said, and the call was switched. “You understand that I have agreed to help.”

  He could hear the translator in the background, but there was no response.

  “I may have the proof that we need. But I must get to Washington as soon as possible.”

  Again he could hear the translator, but no answer.

  “It will require that I have safe conduct to the airport, along with my prisoner, and clearance for the Chinese ambassador’s aircraft to leave North Korean terri
tory.”

  Still there was no reply, and a moment later the connection was broken.

  “They’re gone,” Rencke said.

  Major Chen walked to the long narrow windows flanking the door. “They’re leaving,” he said. He turned back and looked at McGarvey. “You Americans say, son of a bitch. That’s a good expression. What now?”

  “We need a ride to the airport and the use of your ambassador’s airplane.”

  Major Chen allowed a slight smile. “I think that is possible.”

  McGarvey raised the sat phone. “We’re on our way out.”

  “I’ll arrange something from Beijing,” Rencke said. “That was some spooky shit.”

  “Yeah,” McGarvey said. “But there’s more to come.”

  Washington

  SIXTY–NINE

  Rencke had rounded up a C-20G Gulfstream IV VIP jet at Yokosuka Navy Base in Japan, and had it at a quiet corner of Beijing’s Capital International Airport by the time McGarvey and Kim arrived from Pyongyang. The transfer went smoothly, and once they were aboard and outbound for Hawaii, Kim was fed rice and sushi by an attractive petty officer, and afterward she had put her seat back and had fallen asleep.

  “May I get something for you, sir?” the girl had asked McGarvey.

  “A Martell straight up, if you have it.”

  “Of course.”

  “And let me know when the pilot thinks it’s okay for me to use my sat phone.”

  “Right now, I think, but I’ll check.”

  She came back with his drink and gave him a smile. “I was right. It’s only cell phones that give our electronic gear trouble.”

  “Thanks,” McGarvey told her. “Do we have an ETA for Andrews?”

  “At this point it looks as if we’ll be landing around 0600, and that includes refuels at Midway and Long Beach. If that changes I’ll let you know.” She glanced at Kim. “You look as if you could use a few hours sleep yourself, sir.”