Retribution - A Special Agent Dylan Kane Thriller Book #7
Page 15
Atlas shrugged, casting his line. “North. South. What’s the difference?”
Niner’s eyes shot wide as Dawson exchanged knowing looks with the others. “Are you kidding me? There’s a huge difference!”
Atlas stared through the glass. “What? A bunch of little people I don’t understand, eating rice.”
Niner’s head tilted forward. “I’ll have you know, the average Korean is almost as tall as the average American.”
Atlas gave him a look. “Oh, so you’re the exception rather than the rule?”
Jimmy snorted. “Someone call the burn ward!”
Niner spun on him. “Don’t you start. I’m liable to get all verklempt.”
Jimmy made a show of searching his pockets. “Sorry, I’m all out of tissues.”
“And tampons,” added Atlas, the rest of the room erupting.
This elicited an over the shoulder glance from one of the interrogators. Dawson raised his hands. “Okay, settle down. Apparently these walls are thin.”
Atlas pressed a hand against the wall separating them from the interrogation room. “Must not have a lot of beatings here.”
Niner eyeballed him. “One’s about to happen if someone doesn’t keep his mouth shut.”
Atlas reached out and grabbed Niner, bear hugging him, Niner’s arms and legs splayed out like a bug on a windshield. “It’s okay, little man, I’m sorry.”
“Can’t. Breathe. Killing. Me.”
Atlas let go, Niner collapsing to the floor.
“Who needs enemies when you’ve got friends like him?”
Dawson’s phone vibrated. He pulled it from his pocket and cursed. “Everyone quiet. It’s Temple.” He swiped his thumb. “Go ahead.”
“This is Davis. We’ve had reports here that Penn is in custody in Washington.”
Dawson frowned.
We’ve got a leak somewhere.
“I’m sure you know better than to trust the press.” He pointed at Niner and Atlas as he covered the microphone. “Get him in here, and keep him quiet.”
“Of course, but Mr. Temple will require proof that you have Penn.”
Atlas and Niner left, and Dawson watched as they entered the interrogation room, grabbing Penn, Atlas holding out a massive hand, ending any protest by the shocked agents.
“Our orders were to kill him.”
“Have you?”
The door opened and Penn was hauled inside, Atlas’ hand clasped over the prisoner’s mouth. “Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“We’re still trying to get the private key information for his Bitcoin account.” He flicked a finger and Atlas moved his hand. Dawson landed half a dozen quick blows until Penn’s nose was broken and bloodied.
“What was that?”
“The interrogation is ongoing. Just a second.” He activated the camera, taking some video of Penn, blood running down his chin, tears pouring from his eyes. He sent the video to Davis’ number. “I just sent you some video.”
There was a pause then a gasp. “Okay, umm, understood. I’ll get back to you.”
“Copy that.”
Davis’ voice faded, as if speaking to someone else. “Excuse me. Can you do that later?”
A man shouted, then a woman screamed.
43
Temple Technologies Corporate Head Office
Mountain View, California
Temple gasped as he backed away, raising his hands as a man shoved aside the janitor cart he had pushed through the door, but not before pulling a gun from the wastebasket. Three others followed, drawing weapons from the cart as well, all dressed as members of the cleaning staff.
Bill Garvin stepped forward. “Hey, what the hell is this!”
Davis screamed as Garvin was cold-cocked. He crumpled to the floor, unmoving, and Temple instinctively took a step toward him as Davis dropped her phone. One of the men stomped a steel-toed boot on it, shattering the device as he grabbed Davis by the arm.
Temple held out his hands, pleading with the men. “Listen, I’ll give you whatever you want. Just let her go.”
None of the men said anything, instead operating with military precision as one kept a weapon calmly trained on him, one held Davis in place with a gun to her stomach, and the other two removed what appeared to be heavy black bags from the cart.
The two men quickly donned the bags, which appeared to be backpacks of some sort. It finally occurred to him what they were when harnesses were fit around their legs and waist.
Parachutes!
His eyes narrowed as the two men swapped positions with their comrades, who then repeated the process, all four soon sporting chutes.
What the hell are they going to do with parachutes?
He glanced at the large windows lining his office and gasped. “Hey, wait a minute, you’re not going to jump off this building, are you?” He stepped closer to Davis as a second man approached her. Each held one of her arms out as the third fit a harness around her. A harness without a parachute.
They’re here for her!
That had to be what was going on. They would be fitting him first, if it weren’t the case. He should be getting fit with the harness in case something went wrong, in case they had to leave quickly.
But why her?
It made no sense. He stepped toward the men, his arms out, when the one holding a gun on him spun, firing half a dozen rounds into Garvin. Davis screamed, and Temple backed away as the weapon was retrained on him.
“Okay, okay, I’ll keep back. But please, don’t hurt anyone else. Take me instead. I’m the one you want. I’m the one with the money.”
He stifled a gasp as Davis’ harness was snapped to one of the men, the other two stepping back and drawing their weapons. Their muzzles flashed as they belched lead in Temple’s direction. He dropped to the floor, covering his head.
“Please stop! I’ll do whatever you want!”
The windows behind him shattered, wind whipping through the office, loose papers on his desk picked up in the vortex as the firing stopped. The man with Davis attached to him grabbed her in a bear hug, carrying her to the window as Temple rose, watching in horror as he leaped out the window, the other three sprinting past him and disappearing from sight.
He rushed to the window, grabbing onto one of the support beams as he leaned out, staring at the city below. He saw nothing at first, then finally spotted four dark rectangles as they floated toward the ground. Screams and shouts caught his ear, and he leaned out even further, staring down at the ground below, the press still gathered, delivering their live reports from the news conference over not ten minutes before. He couldn’t make out what was going on, but it was clear from the sounds that the glass had fallen on the reporters.
A gust of wind caught him and he was nearly swept out the window. He gripped the column as hard as he could as shouts erupted from behind him.
If I just let go now, it’ll all be over. I can be with them.
He closed his eyes, the tears burning.
Just let go.
He loosened his grip when powerful hands grabbed him, hauling him inside.
“Sir, are you okay?”
It took a moment for him to get reoriented, half a dozen members of the security team now in his office, one kneeling over the body of Garvin, the others with their guns drawn as he was led from the room.
“Sir?”
“I-I’m fine.” He glanced over his shoulder at Garvin. “Is he dead?”
The man examining him nodded.
Temple sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “They took Tanya.”
“Who took her?”
“Four men, dressed as janitors. They came in, shot Bill, put on parachutes, strapped Tanya to one of them, then jumped out the window. It was over in a couple of minutes.”
“We saw them on the security cameras. We sent a team right away, but, well…”
Temple shook his head. “They were too fast.”
“Did they say anything?”
The man doing the talking pulled out his radio. “What did they look like?”
Temple’s eyes narrowed as he struggled to picture them. “They all looked pretty much alike. Asian, dark skin, short dark hair, short, slim builds.”
The man nodded as he activated his radio. “They almost sound military.”
Temple’s chest tightened as he remembered the photo of Donald Penn he had seen on a news report. He was Asian as well. Korean-American apparently.
Could there be something more going on here?
Davis screamed until a hand was slapped over her face, her lower lip painfully crushed. The sharp sting silenced her, and the hand was removed as she floated toward the ground, her captor strapped to her back. She glanced over either shoulder, trying to spot Temple, but couldn’t see anything at first until her eyes adjusted, soon spotting the three other parachutes, lone occupants dangling under each as the ground rapidly approached.
They had taken her, and her only.
At least he’s safe.
Yet why? Why had they taken her? She was nothing. Yes, she had money. Through a generous salary from Temple, along with stock options, she was technically a millionaire. But Temple was a mega-billionaire. If they wanted money, they should have taken him, not her.
And who were they? They all appeared Asian, perhaps Korean or Chinese, maybe even Japanese. She was ashamed to think they all looked alike to her, though at this moment she chastised herself for being concerned with political correctness instead of her life.
But they were all short.
Uniformly short.
North Korean?
Penn was supposed to be Korean.
She had met a lot of business people over the years from Asia, and the stereotype of a short Korean was BS. They weren’t short at all. But North Korean men were, something to do with malnutrition during childhood.
Could the North Koreans be involved somehow?
But involved with what? If Penn were North Korean, then there must be more going on here than a simple ransomware attack perpetrated by Ukrainian-based hackers who bought the tools from a corrupt NSA agent.
If the North Koreans were involved, then countries were involved.
And if that was the case, then this thing just became a lot more serious than either she or Temple had thought only twenty minutes ago.
Oh God, what have we got ourselves into?
Then it dawned on her what was going on.
They wanted Penn.
And we have him.
And they took her so that they’d have leverage over Temple.
Yet why would they think that would work? She was nothing to him beyond an assistant. A damned good assistant, but an assistant nonetheless. She cared for him, and she knew, deep down, that he cared for her too. She had been there during his wife’s illness, had helped him through the grieving process, repeating it with his daughter, a young girl whom she had spent so much time with after her mother’s death, she almost thought of the little angel as her own.
She squeezed her eyes tight as she realized that the Temple family was her own family. She was single, her parents lived on the other side of the country, and she had no siblings. Her friends were all from the office, and it was hard to call them friends, as she was so tight with Temple, she was pretty sure they only invited her so they could pump her for information, or try to impress her in the hopes she might mention their name to the big man himself.
Temple was her life.
But what was she to him? Would he give up Penn to save her?
If the roles were reversed, she would in a heartbeat. Yet the roles weren’t. He wanted his revenge. He needed his revenge. And Penn was the man who had caused so much pain around the world, and in Temple’s heart.
Gunfire erupted to her right and she yelped, spinning to see what was going on. Tires screeched below as they neared the ground, a news van careening away from them as bullets tore into the pavement. A stream of vehicles behind came to a halt as her captor banked hard to the left, around a building and out of sight of the camera crews.
“Lift your feet.”
It was the first words said the entire time, and they startled her.
“Now!”
She complied, lifting her knees as high as she could as the sound of the chute changed above her. They hit the pavement, her captor maintaining his balance as two men, again Asian, rushed toward them. She was quickly unhooked then shoved into the back of a black van idling nearby. They pulled away, and she watched through tinted glass as the four men who had kidnapped her shrugged off their chutes before climbing into another vehicle.
She turned to see two men in the back with her.
“What’s the meaning—”
She never finished her sentence, something sprayed in her face causing her to lose consciousness within moments.
44
Bureau 121—Moscow Station
Embassy of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea
Mosfilmovskaya Street, Moscow, Russian Federation
Colonel Park’s heart pounded as he and Captain Tann waited for word on the highly risky operation now being carried out in California. If it went bad, he’d be dangling from the end of a rope before the week was out.
If they even bothered with a public execution.
They were already looking at an international incident with the first failed attempt to retrieve Agent K. Though none of the soldiers dispatched could be traced back to North Korea, the UN ambassador’s son could.
There had been no way to deny his participation. The man—the boy—wasn’t even twenty-five, yet because of his family ties, he was in charge of all clandestine operations on American soil. The retrieval operation had gone through his office as a matter of protocol, and the bastard had attached himself to the unit.
All in search of glory.
The young man clearly had designs on a future leadership position, and proving himself on foreign soil would be one sure way to draw attention.
And he had certainly done that.
The Americans had to know who he was by now, yet there had been no contact. He had made a call to the ambassador’s residence, but had been refused permission to talk to him. He hadn’t protested, not really wanting to be the one to deliver the bad news.
Instead, he sent an encrypted message to Pyongyang, informing them of the failed operation, and that it was his belief the ambassador’s son might have taken part.
It passed the buck, but only slightly. Everyone would know that the son would be in charge of the mission, so if it failed, it was his fault. It would all depend on what the Dear Leader decided. If he agreed, then Park might live. If he didn’t? He was as good as dead.
Unless he could somehow redeem himself.
And that could only happen if he retrieved Agent K, then convinced Pyongyang that the man was a traitor, and he was responsible for the young man’s death.
It was a long shot. Even if he did convince the leadership that Agent K was a traitor, and was responsible for the death, he still might be eliminated.
The phone rang, and both he and Tann flinched. He grabbed it. “Speak.”
“Mission accomplished. No complications.”
The line went dead and Park hung up the phone, a smile spreading. He looked at Tann. “We have her.”
45
Temple Technologies Corporate Head Office
Mountain View, California
Temple sat in the office of his senior vice president, surrounded by police and his own security, as well as at least two FBI agents who had taken charge of the entire operation.
Standard protocol, if his movies hadn’t been lying to him all these years.
All he had gathered was that the men had arrived in a vehicle stolen from the janitorial service employed by his company, the four men assigned to the vehicle yet to be found, though they were p
resumed dead. They had used their IDs to gain access to the underground service entrance, fooled the building security staff by staying in character, and arriving during the confusion of the press conference.
After killing Bill Garvin and escaping out the windows using parachutes, they had shot up at least one press vehicle, then disappeared. Traffic cameras had picked them up, but they had already switched cars somehow, the two vans found abandoned, holes cut in the floor. It was presumed they had used the city’s sewer system to escape.
In other words, Davis, the only person left in the world that he actually cared about, was gone without a trace.
Equipment had already been set up to record and attempt to trace any call that might come in, a ransom demand expected at any time.
And that terrified him.
He was almost certain they weren’t about to ask for money.
They were going to ask for Penn.
And if that were the case, how could he explain that demand to the FBI now standing not five feet from him?
But the kidnappers would know that too, wouldn’t they? They had to know such a high-profile kidnapping would draw attention, that the police would arrive even if they weren’t called, and that they’d be listening in, refusing to cooperate not an option as it would raise suspicions.
These were professionals, and they had to have taken this into account.
Hadn’t they?
His cellphone, sitting on the desk in front of him, rang.
It was Davis’ number.
“It’s her!” He reached for the phone, excitement gripping him, when one of the agents held out a hand, preventing him from grabbing the phone.
“Didn’t you say her phone had been destroyed?”
Temple frowned, his hopes dashed that she had somehow escaped. One of their attackers had crushed her phone under his heel. But how was it showing as her number?
The agent looked about the room. “They’ve cloned her phone somehow. It’s them. Are we ready?”
The personnel in the room nodded, everyone falling silent.