___________________
Proctor had just given the standby launch alert to Yokota for the surface-to-air missile (SAM) when he got word that the Predator had gone into its full-engine dive. The UAV apparently had been programmed to hover until a certain point had been reached and then to come straight down at the stadium. Proctor spoke to the commander at Yokota. “Launch SAM on my three. One, two…”
“Sir, wait,” the Yokota commandant called over the mic. “The drone’s engine just shut off. There’s no heat sig for a SAM to track.”
“What? Well, what about a visual, for god’s sake?”
“It’s free-falling at three hundred miles per hour. There’s no way we can guarantee a hit at that speed. If we miss, the SAM could come down in a populated area.”
“Let me worry about that, dammit. I want a SAM launched at best visual. Do you understand? We have to mitigate the destruction!”
“I’m very sorry, Mister Proctor, our defense pact with Japan prohibits any launch over a populated area that’s not one hundred percent certain of success.”
“Screw the defense pact, that Predator needs to be destroyed now, do you hear me? Hello? Hello?”
___________________
As soon as the drone had gone into its full-power descent, Tyler used the app he had created to send a general override command to shut off the propeller and also signal the left elevator to go full up simultaneous with the right rudder going full down. This sent the UAV into a tailspin at terminal gravitational velocity, as opposed to with full power. At least now Tyler had more of a cushion of time as it got closer to the ground. Then he peered around the environs of the stadium. Spying the large lake on the grounds of the Akasaka Palace lying slightly to the east, he did a mental calculation of its distance from the stadium.
He picked up his M24 rifle which had been rechambered from its original NATO round to one that could accommodate .458 Winchester Magnum rounds, giving it a range of one thousand meters. His breathing became faster as he considered the task in front of him. His longest shot had been just over a mile. But that had been more or less on a level plane. For what he contemplated now, he would be firing almost straight up, probably no more than one thousand meters, but with the wind taking the rounds in completely unpredictable directions. And he would need the drone to come to a near standstill for him to have anything close to a shot at it.
He peered through the scope at the coordinates his app had calculated. Then he saw it. A small white object getting larger by the second. He wiped his palms, and taking the phone in his hands, sent a signal engaging the left rudder full up while simultaneously restarting the propeller engine, but in reverse rotation to produce thrust to the rear rather than pushing the drone to the front. Immediately the UAV began turning in midflight until it flipped topsy-turvy and was pointing straight up. At that point, its downward momentum was approaching the point where it was exactly canceled by its upward thrust. He sent one last signal nudging the aircraft a single degree east toward the lake, dropped his phone, and picked up his M24.
He caught the drone in his sights at around eight hundred feet and took one last deep breath. When the drone reached a zero G standstill at the top of its parabola, he fired four shots at the propeller, destroying it so that no autorotation could affect its final vector. The drone hung suspended in the air for a moment and then began a tight corkscrew. Nine seconds later, it reached its terminal velocity of two hundred miles per hour and plunged tail-first into the lake.
CHAPTER 50
After all the threats had been neutralized, Patrick made a phone call and sent a text. No response to either. He ran to his motorcycle. Twenty minutes after leaving the stadium, he pulled into the parking area next to Toyama Storage, making no attempt to hide his arrival. He had his Glock out with the safety off, and he half hoped that there would still be someone from Chosun Restoration at the corpse hotel to give him what would surely be a one-sided fight. He ran around to the front door ready to kick it in when he saw that it was half open. To the side of the door lay a Suzuki Bandit motorcycle on its side. His heart sank. The owner would never have willingly left it like that. He dreaded going inside but forced himself up the steps.
Bozu lay bleeding on the floor with a sucking chest wound. The SIG Sauer P226 Patrick had given him lay on the floor. When Bozu saw Patrick, his eyes opened as much as his waning strength allowed, but Patrick put his hand on his head.
“Shhh.” He keyed in 110 for emergency and told the operator to send an ambulance as quickly as possible. Then he grabbed the tablecloth off the long banquet table and applied direct pressure to Bozu’s wound. Bozu tried to speak, but Patrick shushed him.
“Just wait, help is coming.”
Bozu’s eyes went to the opposite side of the room where two bodies lay on the ground.
“I ran away…but then I came back…I couldn’t leave my father and brother…when I got here…Pung had just shot them…I tried to shoot him…but he got me first. I made believe I was dead. It was easy.” He managed a wan smile. “I think I might have slowed him down a little bit.”
Patrick nodded his head as he held Bozu’s hand. It was true. Pung had arrived late on the scene at the stadium. Had Bozu not put up a fight, Pung might have been able to cover for any of the other would-be assassins, and Dillard might now be dead. Patrick too.
The dopplering of sirens in the distance got closer, and less than a minute later an ambulance and a police car came to a screeching halt in front of Toyama Storage. Even if they had arrived right after Bozu had been shot, it would have been too late. After the bodies of Bozu and his father and brother were taken away, police strung crime-scene tape across all the entrances. The CSI with the tape looked at Patrick expectantly but didn’t hurry him along. Just as Patrick was about to leave, he noticed the casket in the middle of the viewing room. He walked over and lifted the lid. Just as he thought. Empty.
CHAPTER 51
Three days after the close of the most tumultuous Olympics in history, the combined security command met one last time, this time at JIA headquarters in central Tokyo. Following an outcry of wounded patriotism when word got out in the media that the American embassy had been the forward operating base for security during the Games, Director Hayashida moved all remaining meetings to his home turf, especially since the Paralympic Games would begin in less than three weeks, and his office was again charged with security but without Patrick, whose contract was officially over after this meeting. As Patrick looked around the room filled with faceless bureaucrats, he envied Kirsten, Tyler, and Choy, who had hightailed it home two days earlier.
Patrick had finally persuaded Yumi to see a doctor, and she was now waiting for her appointment at Kamakura General Hospital. She texted him that she was just exhausted, and there was no reason for Patrick to hurry home. The doctor had been called away on an emergency, but she was being well looked after. Patrick promised to come directly to Kamakura as soon as this final meeting was over.
When the last member of the combined security command entered the large meeting room at JIA headquarters, Hayashida called the summary-and-review session to order.
“What can I say?” he began, and the silence in the room became even more pronounced. It was a rare day that Hayashida was at a loss for words. The next hour was largely filled with the ritual blowing of smoke up any convenient posterior with the exception of the announcement that Hayashida was retiring and Minoru Kaga would be in charge of security for the Paralympics that began in a matter of weeks. Everyone silently wondered if Hayashida’s retirement was voluntary.
When the meeting was finally coming to a merciful close, Hooper signaled Patrick that he’d like to meet briefly afterwards. He held up the fingers of both hands and mouthed, “Just ten minutes.” Patrick nodded and looked at his phone for a text from Yumi. Nothing. He limped behind Hooper into a nearby empty room with two pains, one in his head
from the glancing headbutt he’d taken from Pung, and the other in the foot that Pung had stomped on. The two pains throbbed in time with his pulse but a split second apart since it took the blood longer to reach his foot than his head.
When they were inside the room, Hooper closed the door. “Well, I suppose I have to eat the proverbial crow and thank you,” he said without meeting Patrick’s eye. Patrick said nothing. He wanted Hooper to twist in the wind a bit. “I guess I should also apologize for suggesting that you might turn Tokyo into a replay of Pyongyang four years ago.”
“Apology accepted,” Patrick said. He briefly looked out the window and turned back again. “So what’s the upshot on everything? I take it that Liu Jintao wanted Dillard and Coppinger dead so that the next person in line would accept the China Solution.”
“That’s not the half of it. The documents your man Choy got hold of were the tip of the iceberg. Our analysts found a ton of other stuff that laid out the rest of the plan: Liu Jintao and his gang were planning on assassinating President Nahm of North Korea once the China Solution was in force and then installing Liu Jintao as the new leader. We don’t know how far up the chain of command that went, though, they hid their tracks pretty good. It’s within the realm of possibility that Liu Jintao and his people in the Chinese military were going rogue. We’ll have a clearer idea soon, though. Our guys are analyzing the rest of the files as we speak.”
“Holy shit. And what about North Korea? Any prospect for things settling down a bit? They were looking at civil war before all this….”
“Oh, hell yeah. Now that they’ve got all those minerals—and it’s not just rare earth, by the way, there’s also literally tons of gold and platinum in that mother lode—countries are lining up right and left to offer aid until they’re able to mine the stuff. Out of the goodness of their hypocritical hearts, of course. Nobody ever heard from them until the mineral deposits came to light. The biggest loser in all this is China. Between you and me, Dillard got Nahm Myung-dae to agree not to give them even a speck of the stuff. That wasn’t a hard sell, Nahm hates China for propping up the Kims for so long.”
“And Liu Jintao?”
“Escaped. Nobody knows how, but he and one of the young kids…”
“Casanova.”
“Is that what he called himself? Jesus. Yeah, Liu and ‘Casanova’ are nowhere to be found. Hey, by the way, let me show you something.”
Hooper opened his briefcase and took out a multi-paged file. He wetted his thumb and riffled through it until he found what he was looking for.
“Here, take a look at this. I know everyone thinks Phibbs is a total fuckup, but the man’s got damn good research skills. Here’s his analysis of what’s been going on in China.”
Patrick took the file and began reading. Under the heading “Dual Use Technology,” the file was a detailed breakdown of the alliance in China between the People’s Central Bank, the People’s Liberation Army, and various allegedly civilian corporations, foremost being Wuahei and Daibu, which worked behind the scenes on military applications for their artificial intelligence projects.
Patrick looked up when he finished reading. “And all they needed to take everything to the next level was another source of rare earth.”
Hooper nodded. “They’ve had their hands in the fortune cookie jar all along, although again, we don’t know yet if Zhongnanhai was involved.”
Patrick closed his eyes and snorted. “Oh, by the way, since we’re on the subject of Phibbs, I had a drink with him last week.”
“Lucky you,” Hooper said, rolling his eyes.
Patrick ignored the comment. “Did you know him in Serbia? He told me we were all there at the same time, you, me, Tyler, Fitz….”
Hooper scratched his face and looked away. “Sure, I knew him. He was new back then. Hadn’t gotten that layer of personality that we’ve all come to know and love.” He smiled with everything but his eyes.
“He said he knows where all the bodies are buried….”
Hooper spat air. “That’s so typical of our Harmon. He still thinks he’s in deep cover. I think he misses the intrigue.”
“He said that if anything happens to him, he’ll spill the beans. He’s got information somewhere, and if he turns up facedown in a ditch, it’ll be released somehow.” Phibbs hadn’t actually said that last part, but Patrick wanted to see Hooper’s reaction.
Hooper’s face darkened, and he turned to one side. Then he turned back. “Alright. Here’s my take on Phibbs. I’m only telling you this because I can see that you’ve got all sorts of suspicions, no doubt about me too. I’ve also heard that he’s got damaging information on people, some of whom are still in the Agency. My guess is that being a douche bag is his way of throwing people off the scent. He’s never come out and said it point blank, but my feeling is that he’s working for someone very high up. In what capacity, I don’t know. To what end, I don’t know. But it’s an ongoing kind of thing.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning ongoing,” Hooper said with a note of impatience. “Again, I don’t know all the details, but you hear bits and pieces here and there. That’s really all I know, promise.”
Hooper’s eyes were steady, as was his body language. No apparent deception. On the other hand, Agency guys were good at that. But Patrick decided to take him at his word.
“Well, when he gets back, tell him I said thanks.”
“I’ll do that.”
There was an awkward silence. Neither of them knew how to end this impromptu meeting. Finally, Hooper put his hand out. Patrick shook it with half a grip and left the room.
Once outside the room, his phone vibrated. It was Yumi texting from her doctor’s appointment. “All done!” the text read, exclamation point and all. Patrick took a deep breath and slowly released it.
An hour later, he arrived at Kamakura General Hospital. Yumi was waiting in front.
“You look so much better,” he said as he took her in his arms.
She beamed up at him.
“I was worried about you, you know,” Patrick said, pulling her head into his chest. “I love you so much,” he whispered, rocking her gently from side to side.
“I love you too,” Yumi said.
Patrick pulled back to look at her. It was the first time she had used those words since before he had broken off their engagement years before. Then she lifted her head, looked deeply in his eyes, and took hold of his hand. She placed it on her belly.
“Appa,” she said, with a warmth he’d never heard from her before.
EPILOGUE
The White House
One week later
“Your 11 a.m. is here, Mister President.”
“Send him in.”
President Evan Dillard remained seated as Ambassador Wu entered. Wu’s usually upbeat demeanor was nowhere in evidence.
Dillard indicated a seat across from him at a worktable.
“Did you do what I asked?”
“Yes,” Wu replied sullenly. “Zhongnanhai is willing to comply with your request in the interest of regional stability and also as a gesture of thanks for helping us uncover the rogue element.”
“‘Rogue element.’ You mean General Liu Jintao?”
Wu nodded and looked long and hard at Dillard. “The traitor. You do understand, I’m sure, that he was acting completely on his own without the knowledge of the Chinese government.”
Dillard held his eye for a moment. Then he smirked and held out a pen.
Wu signed the document in front of him, rose, and exited the Oval Office.
An hour later, regular programming on BBC International was interrupted for breaking news.
This just in from our Asia Bureau. We have received unconfirmed reports that the People’s Republic of China agreed this morning to reset its territorial borders in the South China Sea
back to those of 2011. The same source tells us that General Liu Jintao, alleged mastermind of the recent attacks on the Olympics, along with a number of co-conspirators, were arrested last night and put on trial where a military tribunal found them all guilty of treason. They were summarily executed without making final statements. Stay tuned for confirmation of these reports.
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The author gratefully acknowledges a number of people who helped bring this book to fruition, especially my literary agent, Susan Gleason, for her expertise in identifying areas where the dramatic thrust of the story could be enhanced and the characters brought into sharper focus.
Many friends and colleagues were of immeasurable help in reading through the manuscript and offering critical insights and corrections, and to them I extend my deepest thanks. Among these were Michael Breen, Monica Chung, Thomas Grollman, David Hagberg, Dale Hall, Deborah Hayden, Gary Hughey, Richard Lessa, Bradley K. Martin, Barbara Phillips, Naomi Shepherd, Todd Shimoda, Robert Vieira, and John Wehrheim.
Rings of Fire Page 28
