by Oliver North
Trey scrolled through the phone, calling out names, almost all Asian.
“Who were they just talking with?” asked Jake.
Trey punched up that feature and reported the results. “No name but a 310 area code, five minutes, thirty-five seconds.”
Jake pressed harder, the man’s face buried in the ground. “Who were you just talking to?”
The man said nothing.
Jake dug his heel hard into the man’s neck and repeated the question.
“Mohammed,” he croaked.
“This isn’t a knock-knock joke. Mohammed who?”
“I just know him as Mohammed.”
“What was the call about?”
“He’s looking to buy some stuff.”
“What stuff?” said Jake, grinding his foot deeper into the man’s neck.
“Counterfeit stuff—watches, clothes, cigarettes. He’s a regular. He sometimes makes small purchases of meth. I swear that’s all I know. It’s the truth,” said the man, struggling to speak and breathe.
Jake said to Trey, “Keep the phone.” Then, whispering in his best Clint Eastwood imitation to the two men on the ground, he said, “You two, keep your eyes on the street. If you lift your head or turn toward us, I promise you will both have closed-casket funerals because I will blow your faces into Beverly Hills.”
With that Jake and Trey rushed to the van. Jake jumped into the driver’s seat. The engine kicked over on the first attempt and he goosed the accelerator, squealing out of the alley toward Wilshire Boulevard as the two FBI agents removed the stockings from their heads. The four women who had been at the end of the alley when the altercation began were nowhere to be seen.
“That went well. You’re kind of fun to play with when you aren’t cranky,” said Trey with a broad grin. “Where’d that elbow come from? Is that legal?”
“Marquis of Queensberry rules only count in the ring. You always cheat on the street,” Jake said, laughing.
“What do you expect me to do with this cell phone? Given the way we obtained it, the U.S. Attorney is never going to allow us to use anything we get from it as evidence at trial.”
“Let’s worry about the rules of evidence after we rescue two kidnap victims. Ask the tech guys to dump the SIM card for previous calls and check the names in his directory against our files. We need to find out who this Mohammed is. At least one of the attackers at Park’s house was Middle Eastern and we had the Iranian broadcaster’s plates. Maybe they’re somehow involved in this,” said Jake.
Trey thought for a moment and said, “If Korean mobsters are working with Iranian-connected Middle Eastern bangers, this case will be one for the record books.”
As Jake ran a yellow light on Wilshire, he glanced toward Trey and said, “Stranger things have happened. Remember we had that mafia gang two years ago that teamed up with the Mexican drug cartel to deliver khat from Uganda to the Somali expat community?”
“Yeah,” Trey replied. “That was the stuff that was tainted with some kind of chemical, killing seven of the buyers—and the ACLU sued the Bureau and the DEA for not stopping the shipment before the stuff hit the streets.”
“Well, I don’t think that’s going to happen here,” said Jake. “By the way, did you notice neither of the two guys we took down tonight seemed to know how to defend himself? I thought they all knew karate.”
Trey laughed. “I think that’s Japanese.”
“Whatever.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
DAY 8
MONDAY, MAY 5
Jake arranged with his ICE contacts for a two-man FBI undercover truck-driving team to pick up Park’s container at the Otay Mesa border crossing at ten in the morning. Unlike his nighttime antics with the two border thieves a week ago, this pickup was uneventful.
Jake’s UC budget for this operation included rented space at an offload transit facility in the Valley. The shipment would arrive there at about two. Instead of shadowing the delivery, Jake was en route to a “cloth-napkined” Studio City restaurant.
He parked on the street to avoid the valet, saving himself the paperwork hassle of trying to get reimbursed for a tip. Though it really wasn’t necessary, he entered the restaurant through the rear door and made a quick stop at the restroom before heading for his noon appointment.
While washing his hands, Jake questioned why Olivia Knox, the Assistant Director in Charge of the FBI’s L.A. office, had arranged for this hastily called meeting. He assumed it had to do with his nocturnal confrontation with ASAC Hafner and/or the psych eval Trey had mentioned. That had to be why she had set the meeting for a very public venue, where he was less likely to go postal.
“Welcome to the Bistro Garden,” said the hostess as he approached.
“Thanks,” said Jake. “I’m supposed to meet someone and I’m not sure if she’s here yet.”
“Are you Jake?” asked the hostess.
He nodded guardedly.
“She’s already seated. Please follow me.”
With that Jake accompanied the hostess to a table in the back corner. Olivia rose as he approached, offering her hand and a smile.
“Thanks for coming,” said his boss. She was wearing a chic, well-tailored, navy blue Elie Tahari pantsuit. Though he thought, She’s trying to look younger than she is, he had to admit she was a picture-perfect representative of the FBI management team.
The contrast with his attire, a clean but faded Polo shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots, was stark. He said, “Please pardon me for being underdressed for this occasion, but when the ADIC says ‘meet me for lunch, come as you are,’ I figure it was a good thing you called after I was dressed.”
“I’m glad you were wearing pants,” she said with just the hint of a smile. “I appreciate you being here on such short notice—and am very aware how engaged you are right now with this investigation. I didn’t want to put you in jeopardy by having you come to the office.”
“Thanks. Under the circumstances it’s probably best I steer clear of the federal building.”
“I think it’s safe here. I didn’t see any Korean crime lords, suspected terrorists, or defense attorneys.”
Jake offered a cautious smile.
“I understand you and Hafner went at it the other night.”
Here it comes, a counseling session or at least her way of saying they are ordering an emergency psych evaluation. He could feel the bile churning in his stomach but had the self-discipline to remain silent.
“We are all under a lot of pressure with this investigation and maybe I’ve been pushing Charles too hard.” She paused, taking a sip of water, then said, “I have some bad news and I wanted you to hear it from me.”
Jake stared, waiting for her delivery.
“The LAPD found Gabe Chong’s body early this morning. He was tortured and murdered.”
Jake was stunned, his mind racing to find the right words, but nothing came. After a prolonged moment he said, “Have you told Brian Carter?”
Knox was confused. “No, why would we?”
“They were best friends in the Marine Corps.”
“Oh no,” she said with genuine sympathy, sorrow gripping her face.
The server approached. “May I get you something from the bar?”
Knox shook her head and ordered iced tea. Jake ordered a Coke. When he left, Knox continued: “I’m not sure under the circumstances we can tell him. This is extremely sensitive and if it gets out he was with the Agency there will be ramifications, both in D.C. and overseas.”
“Where’d they find him?”
“An LAPD patrol unit found him in an alley off Wilshire Boulevard in Koreatown after a call on their tip line. At first they thought he was passed out drunk, but when they turned the body over they saw the carnage. He’d been beaten, his legs broken, his femoral artery slit, and he was shot in the head.”
Jake swallowed hard. “How long had he been dead?”
“The coroner hasn’t pinpointed an exact time but at least for
ty-eight hours, based upon rigor. He said it would have been an excruciating death. I don’t understand how anyone could inflict such torture on another human being.”
Jake sat there without saying a word, trying to comprehend all he was hearing. Almost in a whisper he said, “I think every human is capable of evil, given the right circumstances.”
“We need to pull you out immediately.”
Jake was silent for a moment, then said calmly, “That would be a mistake. I’m deep into Park and he may be responsible for what happened to Gabe. It’s possible Gabe was a reprisal killing in the turf war between Park and Yeong. At least give me a chance to discover why Gabe was murdered and turn his death into a victory.”
“Jake, we have our orders from back east.”
“I thought my orders were to find out everything possible about the North Koreans flooding the globe with Supernotes,” said Jake with a little too much force.
“It was, but the mission’s changed. Gabe’s death changes a lot. We can’t risk the same thing happening to you.”
His voice rose slightly. “But I can risk it. I know how far I can push. You have to trust me on this one.”
She shook her head. “The safest course of action right now is for us to terminate the operation. Headquarters agrees. That’s why they’ve ordered you to come in. They’re getting their marching orders from State. I’m sorry I even invited Gabe to the meeting in the SCIF. I wish he hadn’t been read in on our project. He probably gave you up.”
“He didn’t,” said Jake without hesitating.
“How do you know?”
“He’s a Marine. Semper Fidelis, always faithful.”
“You’re putting a lot of trust in a man you just met the other day.”
“It’s a brotherhood thing. Besides, if he had given me up I’d be dead by now.”
The server returned with the drinks and asked if they were ready to order. Knox said they needed a couple of minutes. As soon as he left, Jake continued. “I am meeting Park this afternoon when I deliver a container to his warehouse. Let me meet with him and see where we stand with the kidnapping and Tommy’s murder. The whole thing will be recorded and I’ll be armed. I would think our Headquarters and the Agency would want to know if Park is behind Gabe’s murder. I don’t know if I can find out, but at least we have a chance.”
“I don’t know,” Knox said, shaking her head as she maintained eye contact.
“Look, Park has already told me he needs this container to pay the ransom for his daughter and granddaughter. If we pull out now, if we go overt, or refuse to deliver the container, both Jenny and Gracie die. I don’t think you want to explain that to OPR or State or the press.”
“Jake, Hafner’s already gone over my head calling for your removal as the undercover agent in this investigation. He called Headquarters early yesterday morning—”
Jake interrupted. “That must have been before he learned Gabe was missing. He called me yesterday, asking for help, all polite and proper. What a piece of work! Where do you find these guys?”
“Jake, that’s not important. What is important is if anything happens to you or to the kidnap victims while you are involved in your undercover capacity, we will be subjected to all kinds of second-guessing,” she said as she took a sip of iced tea. “If we tell Park we know of the kidnapping, we remove ourselves from any legal liability.”
“What about moral responsibility?”
“Jake, I just don’t think we can allow you to continue. We have our orders.”
Jake shook his head slowly. Without being confrontational, closer to a plea, he said, “Come on, Olivia. Don’t go Bureau on me. Trust me. You have in the past and I’ve always come through for you.”
She laughed. “Do you have any idea how many sleepless nights you’ve given me?”
“Call me. I don’t sleep, either,” said Jake with a slight grin.
She smiled, pausing before speaking. “As you’ve probably figured out, this is a highly unusual and sensitive case. The Director has been briefed daily and is keeping the Attorney General and the President updated. Up until today, it seemed like everyone in Washington wanted to know what the North Koreans are up to. Now it seems as though there are some in the administration and Congress who want this operation shut down.”
Jake shook his head and said, “Sounds to me like this is becoming another bad case of political indigestion—just like Fast and Furious, the IRS Enemies List, and Benghazi.”
“Well,” Knox continued, “there are certainly people in Washington who want to shut this case down.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure. We’ve kept Headquarters updated. The ‘drones’ at Hoover and DOJ have immediate access to our entire case file. They know everything once we input the information. Something has changed. It’s more than Gabe’s death but it’s something State’s not sharing.”
Jake said nothing.
Knox leaned forward almost as if the two were about to engage in a romantic conversation. In a voice just loud enough for Jake to hear she said, “Look, the regime in Pyongyang is dangerous and unstable. Lately they have been very bold.
“The NKPA has shelled South Korea, tested nuclear weapons, and test-fired ICBMs capable of delivering a nuclear warhead. Kim Jong Un even declared the 1953 armistice nullified. Blackmail is their favored avenue of political negotiations. We know North Korea has enough weaponized fissile material for at least six atomic bombs. They’ve admitted to possessing thirty-seven kilograms of plutonium.”
“Sounds like a worthy target,” said Jake, not giving any ground.
“They are, but the FBI doesn’t make foreign policy. That’s the purview of the White House and the State Department. We take our orders from DOJ and right now those orders are for me to pull you out. It’s above my pay grade and it doesn’t matter whether I agree or not. They don’t always clue me in on everything that goes on in the Washington decision-making process. I can only pray those issuing a final verdict have our nation’s best interests at heart.”
When the server returned to take their order, Knox said, “I’m sorry. We just got to gabbing. It’s been years since we’ve seen each other and we have so much catching up to do. Give us just a sec.”
She said it without stumbling, like a skilled liar. Jake was impressed.
Picking up the menu, Knox said, “Maybe we better look at the menu and we can finish this discussion after we order.”
As Jake was opening the menu, Knox said, “I love their cold poached salmon.”
Jake looked at the price and quickly said, “I’ll probably just get the club sandwich.”
Knox moved a stray hair behind her left ear and said, “This is coming out of my budget, not yours.”
“In that case, I’ll take the sliced filet mignon sandwich and fries,” said Jake with a smile.
Knox laughed and signaled the server, who took their order.
“Okay, where were we?” she said. But before Jake could assist, she continued, “Oh yeah, I remember. Look, here’s the bottom line. Without the proceeds from their criminal activities, North Korea can’t afford to do any of the nuclear and missile research they conduct.”
Jake gave her a look.
Knox continued, “It takes tens of billions of dollars. It’s not just the Supernotes. They counterfeit everything—from clothing to cigarettes to pharmaceuticals. It’s a multifaceted conspiracy and if our information is correct there may be more than a billion in Supernotes already in circulation. We have no way of telling how much counterfeit money is floating around the international markets.”
“And this doesn’t make our case important?”
“Of course it does, but State wants us to put this operation on hold and the AG agrees. Regardless of where you’ve been or where you’re going, we need to shut this down.”
“So Gabe died for nothing and two victims of a kidnapping don’t come home because somebody in D.C. wants us out of the game? We’re going to let two innocent
s die and nobody cares.”
“I care, Jake,” said Olivia with a sincerity Jake believed.
“Then I have to meet with Park this afternoon. I’ll get the container to him; otherwise he can’t pay the ransom.”
She paused for an extended moment, her eyes gazing in the distance. Jake maintained his focus on her, refraining from offering any more comments. When she turned back toward him she said, “Jake, you can meet with Park. I don’t want to see the little girl or the daughter killed. Turn over the container, but I think then we have to pull you out.”
“So you’ll give me until the end of the day?”
“If that’s how long it takes to get the container processed and unloaded, you have until the end of the day.”
“Okay. Midnight. That’s all I need.”
As the server approached with their plates, Jake stood up. “I hate to ask this but an emergency just came up at work. Could you box this up for me?”
Jake smiled at Knox as he followed the server to the swinging doors into the kitchen. Before leaving the restaurant via the same back door he had used to enter, Jake waved to Olivia, mouthed the words “Thank you” while holding up the Styrofoam container, and blew her a kiss—hoping it would drive her a little bit nuts.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
As he started the Range Rover, Jake heard his backup cell phone, the one Katie used to carry, chirp in the door pocket. He pulled it out—saw the caller ID was blocked—and answered with a curt “Hello.”
A voice he recognized said, “It’s Grizzly Six. If you’re not alone, just answer ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ ”
Jake smiled. No one who ever served with Peter Newman would ever forget his radio call sign.
“I’m alone. Good to hear your voice, sir.”
“And yours, Jake,” said the retired Marine major general. “I’m calling because I just left a meeting where your name came up several times.”
With a hint of levity, Jake said, “I hope you weren’t meeting with bill collectors or IRS agents.”
