Rogue Operator (A Special Agent Dylan Kane Thriller, Book #1)

by J. Robert Kennedy

  “N-no?”

  He gasped as she found her prize with her hands.

  “Agents. Tell me about your friend, and I’ll make you feel like you’ve never felt before.”

  She squeezed and he moaned, her lips continuing to work their way up and down his neck, then she slowly began to move from behind him, and within moments was straddling him, her lips hard against his, her tongue probing his mouth, kissing him with a passion he had never experienced, his own youthful follies always with girls as equally inexperienced as him.

  This was a woman, who knew what she wanted, and how to get it.

  And he was putty in her hands.

  She slid down his lap and knelt between his legs.

  “Tell me about your friend,” she whispered, her eyes boring into his, the seductive smile as she licked her lips causing his hips to involuntarily thrust toward them. She undid his belt, then reached for the button of his pants as she kissed his stomach. “Tell me.”

  Visions of Kane flashed through his mind. Kane the jock, Kane the high school hero, Kane the war hero, Kane the special agent. Kane who always got what he wanted, whether it was women or admiration. Kane who had protected him, Kane who had always treated him as an equal.

  Kane who was his friend.

  “No!”

  Chris placed his hands on her shoulders, pushing her slightly away. His action shocked him as much as it seemed to shock her. She smiled, lifting her hands to remove his from her shoulders, then rubbed his crotch through his pants. It was the most exquisite feeling imaginable, and he lost himself in the intense pleasure for a moment, then stood up, stepping over her and placing the couch between the two of them.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, standing up, her naked body noticed for the first time.

  “Listen, Sherrie, I like you. Oh Gawd do I like you. And you have no idea how much I want this to happen, but I can’t betray my friend.”

  “Are you serious?”

  She seemed stunned.

  He didn’t blame her. She was a ten. Standing naked in front of a guy who hadn’t had sex since Obama had come into power. Every fiber of his being wanted to take her, to give into his carnal desires, to satisfy a lust that had been building for years, to take what was so freely being offered him.

  But he couldn’t betray his friend.

  Suddenly the front door burst open and four men rushed toward him. Sherrie screamed, covering herself, and Chris, acting on instinct, put himself between the intruders and Sherrie, but his bravado failed when the gun was placed to his forehead. He heard two loud pops as one of the men’s guns fired, the suppressor only taking the edge off the sound of the bullets. Sherrie cried out and dropped to the floor, moaning, as Chris was shoved to the ground behind the couch.

  Two men stood over him, their weapons pointed at him, the other two out of sight. He could hear Sherrie moaning in pain from the gunshot wounds, but couldn’t see her, the couch in the way.

  “Tell us where Kane is,” said the man who had shoved him to the floor.

  Chris’ mind raced as he tried to piece together what was happening. Sherrie had been trying to get information on Kane all night, and then here were four armed men, asking questions as well. But they had shot Sherrie, which meant they weren’t working together.

  Was Sherrie innocent? Were her questions merely part of her sexual games? He felt part of him, despite the situation he was now in, regretting his having pushed her away, and wondering if there was any way to salvage the evening.

  Sherrie cried out in agony.

  “Don’t make us cause her any more pain than she’s already in,” said the man.

  “What do you want from us?”

  “I don’t want anything from her,” said the man. “This is all about you. I want you to tell me everything you know about Kane.”

  He had to think fast. They obviously knew he knew Kane, but did they know what he knew about Kane. What the extent of his knowledge was. Where he was now. The fact he had come back to the country as a favor to him.

  “Do you mean Dylan Kane?”

  The man fired a shot that tore into the carpet inches from Chris’ ear. He nearly pissed his pants.

  “You know exactly who we mean.”

  “I-I knew him in high school. I tutored him, that’s all.”

  “Bullshit. He’s an agent and you know it. You two are close.” Sherrie cried out again.

  The fear in Chris’ eyes and on his face didn’t need to be faked. His emotions were completely genuine, but he was determined not to betray his friend. Kane had always been there for him, and now it was his turn. He didn’t care what they did to him, and he knew if Sherrie had taken two bullets, she was going to die anyway. In fact, he was quite certain from the case files he had read over the years, that as soon as he gave up the information these men were looking for, he’d be dead. The only question was whether or not the bodies would be found, and his soul would rest in peace knowing it hadn’t betrayed the confidence of a friend.

  “I-I didn’t know he was an agent, I swear. He’s just a friend!” Another shot ripped into the carpet, this time he swore it was closer. “I swear! He’s just a friend, I don’t know anything about what he does!”

  Sherrie screamed in pain. “Tell him, Chris! Oh God, please tell him!” She howled again, the agony heart wrenching.

  The gun moved slightly, aiming directly between his eyes.

  Chris stared at the barrel, it filling his field of vision, and he felt tears roll down the side of his head. “I swear, I don’t know anything! He’s just a friend.”

  The finger squeezed on the trigger, and Chris closed his eyes, regretting he hadn’t called his parents last night like he had planned. But the shot never came.

  He opened his eyes slightly, and saw the man smiling, his hand held out, the gun held at his side.

  “Wh-what’s going on?”

  “You passed.”

  “Wh-what are you talking about?

  “Get up,” said the man, flicking his fingers. Chris reached up and took the man’s hand, and was hauled to his feet.

  “Sherrie!” he yelped, turning toward where he had seen her fall.

  “Can someone get me a blanket or something?”

  There was no pain in her voice, and the man who had helped him up tossed a blanket from the back of the couch onto the floor. Sherrie jumped up, wrapping it around her, her bout of sudden modesty confusing Chris even further.

  “Will someone tell me what the hell is going on here?” he demanded, anger mixing with fear.

  “This was all a test,” said Sherrie as she rounded the couch, then, patting his cheek. “Well, most of it was.” She winked, and disappeared down the hallway toward her bedroom.

  “Get dressed,” said the man. “The Director wants to see you.”

  Chris gripped the back of the couch with both hands, trying to calm the drummer in his chest, and focus his swimming vision. He was alive. Sherrie was alive and unhurt.

  He had just survived a test, and now the Director wanted to see him.

  This makes no sense!

  “What kind of test?”

  “The Director wanted to know if you’d break under pressure, and you didn’t.”

  “But why?”

  The man shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him that.”

  “But wouldn’t someone who wants information from me just torture me?”

  The man smiled at his companions. “Are you asking us to continue the test?” There were chuckles, and even Chris had to laugh as he pushed himself away from the couch and stood up straight, taking the shirt that was being held out by one of the men.

  “What I mean is, isn’t the test incomplete?”

  “She tempted you sexually, and you resisted, which, if you ask me, is unbefreakinlievable, then we scared the shit out of you, and you didn’t break, then we made you think we were torturing a woman you cared about, and you still didn’t break, but gave us a little info that you thought might satisfy us. Th
e only thing left was to torture you.” The man leaned in and lowered his voice. “And trust me, if that were the next step? Pretty much everyone breaks eventually, so there’s no point in testing you on that.”

  “But why is it necessary?”

  “I’m guessing that whatever the Director has in mind for you, he thinks it could end in a situation similar to this.”

  Chris grabbed the back of the couch again.

  All I wanted was to go on a date, and maybe get a kiss goodnight!

  International Cooperation Center, Somewhere in North Korea

  Three Days after the Kidnappings

  The door burst open as Phil hit the ground, Carl on top of him, wailing punch after punch on their friend. Jason simply sat there, not sure whether or not he should jump in and add to the blows, or stop it.

  He was saved the decision by the handlers.

  Carl was grabbed and held tight by two of the handlers, as the third picked Phil up off the floor. Phil seemed none the worse for wear, having shielded himself from the blows by curling into a ball and covering his head with his arms and hands. The only blow that seemed to have landed was the initial one. As well, Jason had to admit Carl wasn’t exactly the physical type, so any punches probably weren’t very hard.

  Phil dusted himself off, then straightened his tie, sitting back down in his chair. Carl was pushed down into his own, and the handlers stepped back, but didn’t leave the room.

  Phil smiled. “I guess I deserved that.”

  “You deserved a lot more!” spat Carl, leaning forward but not leaving his chair.

  Phil’s eyes for a moment seemed to convey genuine regret, and a hint of self-doubt. Jason had known him longer than he had known anyone besides his parents, and could read him like a book, or at least he thought he could. He had had no inkling this defection was in the offing. But the moment was fleeting, as Phil looked at his handler, the plastic smile cracking slightly.

  Phil looked at Jason.

  “I think we need to move beyond what I did, and why. I always realized, we all always realized”—he looked at his handler, the last comment apparently meant to remind the North Korean—“that you wouldn’t agree to this, and wouldn’t want to be a part of it. And that’s fine. The point is, you’re here now, your families are here now, and it’s too late to do anything about it. So now we have to move forward. The sooner we get the work done, the sooner we can all go home. Rich.”

  “And traitors,” mumbled Carl.

  Phil ignored him.

  “So what do you say, Jason? Shall we finish our life’s work, and go home to enjoy the rewards that go with it?”

  Jason knew there was no point arguing, especially with the three handlers, or guards, in the room. And he realized he had no choice. He knew these barbarians wouldn’t hesitate to hurt or kill his family to make him do their bidding. All he could hope for was rescue, and if that weren’t possible, that the North Koreans would honor their commitment when the work was completed.

  The work!

  It terrified him. There was so much potential for good, but in the hands of the North Koreans? The thought of them having this technology sent his stomach into a tailspin. The only good thing he could see in their situation, was that their Supreme Leader, or whatever the hell their latest in that insane family called himself, loved himself too much to die. Which meant they were probably safe from him actually unleashing the weapon on the world until it was safe to do so.

  And that was the key. They had to correct the problem that had happened in the lab, and make it so that it could never happen again, intentionally or accidentally.

  Jason looked at the still fuming Carl, then at Phil.

  “I don’t see that we have a choice.” He stood up. “The sooner we get started, the sooner we can go home.” He looked straight at Carl, his friend’s expression one of shock that he would agree so easily, then realization that there was no point in continuing, and if there was any hope, it would be found outside of this room, and away from prying eyes. Carl stood.

  “Agreed. Let’s get the job done and go home.”

  Jason turned to his handler.

  “So, what are the rules outside of this building?”

  “You are residents of the town, free to go about your daily lives as you wish. The town is fenced in for your protection”—Yeah right!—“and there is a curfew from eleven at night to six in the morning. We expect you to be ready for work at seven each morning, to be returned home at five, Monday through Friday. Your children will go to the local school, your wives will remain at home and take care of the household.”

  “Our wives are used to working. They’re Western women. They will need something more to do than just cook and clean for the next year.”

  “Your wives will do what they are told!”

  The forced, practiced smile, seemed to be cracking under an apparent frustration with Western values.

  “You’ve never met my wife,” said Carl, looking at Jason.

  “Make them cooperate, otherwise they are no longer useful.”

  Carl began to jump from his chair, shouting, “What the hell is that—” before Phil interrupted, pushing Carl back into his seat.

  “I’m sure we all understand, and there will be no problem,” said Phil, trying to restore calm. Jason said nothing, realizing the futility of the situation, but he was concerned if Carl didn’t calm down, he might get them all killed. Jason decided to change the topic from spouses, to work.

  “Where will we work?”

  Phil’s handler shifted his attention, the practiced smile restored, and held out his arm, indicating a door he had noticed before, but paid no attention to.

  “Through here, if you please.”

  Jason’s handler opened the door and stepped inside, holding the door for the others. Jason entered first, gasping.

  “It’s our lab!”

  Leif Morrison Residence, River Oaks Drive, Mclean, Virginia

  Today, Five Days after the Kidnappings

  Kane looked at the woman he had been just introduced to as Sherrie White. She was gorgeous, and if his buddy Chris had managed to resist her pulling out all the stops, Chris just might be a better man than he. He looked at Chris, who seemed a little paler than his usually pale self. Every time Kane saw him, which was infrequent, he told the poor kid to get some sunlight. It would improve his mood and make him look better to the ladies. He felt bad for the guy. He knew Chris had probably fallen for this girl hook line and sinker, and now he had found out it was all bullshit.

  Then he remembered the one-sided conversation he had heard. I don’t care if you like him. Maybe the girl actually was into him. Way to go, Chris! It was too bad though that she was most likely an agent. It meant there was no future for them, not that Chris would ever trust her again.

  Director Morrison pointed to a couch, and Chris sat down, with Sherrie sitting right next to him. Chris tried to move further into the corner, to no avail.

  “I’m sorry we had to put you through that, Mr. Leroux.”

  Chris shrugged, but didn’t say anything. Kane’s well trained eye knew his friend was humiliated and ashamed. And he didn’t blame him. What had been done to him was equivalent to a high school prank, setting up someone with a girl, then jumping out of the closet or the next room, laughing and pointing.

  He felt for the guy.

  Morrison thankfully continued, ending the awkward silence.

  “As you may have figured out by now, you stumbled upon something you weren’t supposed to know about, which is why I told you to back off, but of course, you, like your friend Dylan, here, don’t always follow orders.” Morrison sighed. “Perhaps that’s why you’re both two of my best assets.” Morrison pointed at Kane. “Don’t get any ideas. That wasn’t a license for mayhem, it was a compliment.”

  Kane smiled and gave his best “who me?” expression.

  “Uh huh.” Morrison didn’t seem convinced, but he continued, filling Chris and the female agent, Sherrie W
hite, in on everything he and Kane had been discussing. When brought up to speed, Chris seemed to have visibly relaxed, having even lost his aversion to Sherrie, he no longer pressed into the couch corner, rather now leaning forward, eagerly absorbing everything, occasionally exchanging awestruck glances with Sherrie and Kane. With everybody read in, Kane knew it was time for the bombshell question that Morrison had been saving.

  “Chris, I need your help.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “It could be dangerous.”

  Chris nodded. “I understand.”

  “Very dangerous,” said Kane. “Like you could meet your maker type stuff.”

  Chris gulped. “I understand.”

  He didn’t sound as confident the second time.

  Morrison scowled at Kane.

  “Which is why I’m assigning Agent White to be with you at all times. She will protect you, and there will be a detail nearby as well. We’ll keep you safe. All I need from you is that brain. I need you to go through the intel; anything and everything we’ve got access to, you do too. I need to find out about that chopper, the transport plane, BlackTide, everything. Who does it all link back to? If we can find out the who, then maybe we can find out the why. But until we bring them down, we have to assume we’re all at risk. So until further notice, you two are a couple.”

  Sherrie squealed in delight and threw her arms around Chris, hugging him and pecking him on the cheek. “Now you get to know the real me!”

  Chris didn’t seem thrilled with the idea, but he also didn’t seem too repulsed by it either.

  He just blushed.

  Morrison ignored the display, and turned to Kane.

  “Kane, I need you—”

  “In North Korea, I know. Sanctioned?”

  Morrison shook his head.

  “Right now you’re a rogue operator suspected in the killings of three CIA agents, and one BlackTide contractor. We’re going to keep it that way. If anyone tracks you, they’ll think you’re on the run, and where better to run than your familiar stomping grounds of Asia. Do you need anything from us?”

  Kane shook his head. “Nope. Just a code name for when I call for extraction.”

  “Extraction from inside North Korea most likely won’t be possible.”

  Kane had figured that would be the case. “Never mind then. If I can get out of there, I can get out of anywhere. You’ll hear from me on that”—he pointed at the Director’s cellphone sitting beside the second empty beer bottle—“when I’ve completed the mission. If you don’t hear from me, I’m dead.”