“You’ve got something for me?”
“Yes, sir,” said Chris, stepping forward and handing him the sheets. “Skip to page two.”
Morrison set the first page aside and began to read, his eyebrows climbing as he did so. When finished, he looked at the top of the first page where the parties involved in the conversation were identified.
“You’re sure about this?”
Chris nodded. “Echelon positively ID’d the participants. There’s no doubt.”
Morrison leaned back in his chair, holding his forehead in his hand, massaging the worry lines. Chris had a feeling he’d have more after this was done.
“If this is true—”
“It is.”
“—then this is way bigger than we thought. This isn’t a foreign operation.”
Chris shook his head. “No, sir. This is domestic.”
Morrison leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk, still holding his head. He pointed with his free hand at Chris. “We need to figure out how far this goes. Track back this conversation. See who else they called since and in the weeks leading up to the abductions. See if we can find anything on them referring to the operation, to the scientists. Anything. I don’t care if you have to break laws; we don’t have time to wait for court orders. I need more to go on before I accuse the Secretary of Defense of treason.”
Chris gulped as the implications of what he had found hit. In the excitement he hadn’t truly acknowledged who the conversation was between. But if it involved the Secretary of Defense, it was almost as high as it could go.
There’s no way they’re going to let us live.
Chris Leroux Residence, Fairfax Towers, Falls Church, Virginia
Chris dropped on the couch, shoes still on, and feigned death. It had taken Sherrie ten minutes to clear the apartment, and they had just made idle chitchat the entire time. It was rather one-sided if he recalled, his side lacking. Idle chitchat was something he didn’t do well.
“Tired?”
“Are you kidding me?” he replied, his eyes still closed. “I’m exhausted. I think I was running on adrenaline all day. I didn’t sleep a wink last night, and ever since I found that transcript with the Secretary of Defense, I’ve been scared shitless!”
He felt the couch shift as Sherrie sat down, then his leg jerked as she took hold of his shoe. He sat up on his elbows, eyes opened, and she smiled at him.
“Relax,” she cooed, pulling off his shoe, then massaging his foot.
“Uh, you probably don’t want to go anywhere near those. My dogs have been barkin’ all day, and right now they probably warrant quarantine.”
Sherrie chuckled and pulled off the other shoe, giving his other foot a few good squeezes. “You worry too much about trivial things.” She stood up. “I’m going to get changed and have a shower.” She pointed a finger at him. “Don’t answer the door for anyone.”
Chris nodded, and leaned back again, closing his eyes. A few moments later he heard the shower running, and his mind wandered to what she looked like with water and soap pouring over her firm body. The image was too tantalizing. He stretched his arms out above him, bending his feet up to stretch his calves, and sighed.
He could get used to this. But he knew it was a fantasy, played out for anyone who might be watching. And it was a fantasy that was better than any reality he had ever had, which was what truly made him sad when he thought about it. Once she was gone, he would have lived something he never should have, and he would know what he was missing. Would that make his current day-to-day existence seem pale in comparison?
Definitely.
So you’ll just have to find someone else.
He nodded to himself, sucking in a deep breath, making a promise to himself to find someone to share his life with, no matter how many times he might be rejected.
There was a click at the front door.
His heart slammed against his chest and he opened his eyes. Four men rushed into the apartment, one raising a weapon and firing at him. Chris rolled off the couch and hit the floor as the leather couch was torn two new holes, and scrambled under the table.
“Sherrie!” he yelled, hoping she’d hear him over the shower but it was too late. He heard gunfire rip through the other end of the apartment, tile shattering in the bathroom. The table he was under suddenly lifted in the air and was tossed aside.
He squeezed his eyes shut and held up his hands to cover his face.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Chris opened his eyes and looked toward the door, jaw dropping in shock.
What the hell is he doing here?
International Cooperation Center, North Korea
Four Days after the Kidnappings
“Where’s the EMP?”
It was a simple question that seemed to cause the handlers to squirm, which was odd, since the lab had been pretty much taken intact from Ogden and recreated here. In fact, when Jason had walked in this morning, he had gasped aloud, the resemblance uncanny. Even the colors had been matched meticulously.
Except there was one critical component missing.
“Yeah, I knew something was missing,” agreed Carl from his perch at the end of one of the lab counters.
“It was too big to take,” said Phil. “They’ve promised me another one. Maybe tomorrow.”
Jason folded his arms and sat on a nearby stool. “You do realize we can’t work without an EMP. It’s too dangerous.”
“Nonsense. We’re weeks if not months away from even activating a device.”
“Are you sure about that? They took the entire lab. Even the drawers have the same things in them, including my Big Red gum,” said Carl, pulling open a drawer and pointing.
Which was when Jason twigged on something. If they had indeed taken everything, and just dumped the contents of the old lab drawers into the new, they might not have searched the items thoroughly, which meant—
“What?”
Jason looked up at Phil. “Huh?”
“You were thinking about something, smiling. What is it?”
Jason had to think quick.
“Oh, I was just thinking that if everything is here, and I mean everything, then that means our prototypes are here.”
“Uh huh,” agreed Phil, his head bobbing.
“Then we might only be days away from moving forward. We still need that EMP, but at least we might be able to get out of here in a few months rather than a year.”
Phil smiled. “I’m glad to see you’re getting into the spirit!”
Jason shrugged, playing along. He wasn’t getting into the spirit of anything, but he had to figure out a way out of this situation. At least with an EMP in position he could trigger it and wipe out everything. There would be no second lab to steal, and by now, he was certain all of the research back home would be sealed up and secure due to their disappearance. And with the three of them dead, there’d be no point.
Because he was certain if he was able to activate the EMP, they’d be shot. At least himself, along with Carl. And Phil was right. He couldn’t do the job without them.
“When can we call our families?”
The question came out of the blue, and caught Phil off-guard, as well as Jason. Jason looked at Carl and prayed he wasn’t thinking of what Jason remembered might be in one of the drawers.
A satellite phone. He had bought it for their fishing trip, but had forgotten it, leaving it in his drawer. He knew how Maggie worried so he had planned to surprise her with a phone call. It wasn’t to be.
“If you continue to cooperate, you will gain privileges,” said Phil’s handler. “Eventually, you will be able to contact your families.”
“And when can we expect that?” Carl didn’t sound convinced.
“In time.”
“That’s not much of an answer,” mumbled Carl.
Phil held up his hands, trying to head off another argument. “But I think we can all agree it is a reasonable one. They need to see we can
be trusted, and the best way to show that, is to show some progress. So why don’t we get started by inspecting the work our friends did last night?”
Jason nodded, and retrieved the list they had prepared before leaving yesterday, and began calling off the items in order, pen in hand. Phil, and eventually a reluctant Carl, double-checked each item, and Jason checked it off the list. After about half an hour of this, their handlers left the room, perhaps to chitchat amongst themselves, or more likely, to listen in on any chatter that might occur when their captives were alone.
As each item was read, Jason looked for an opportunity to get into the drawer where he had left the satphone back home. If it was there, he might be able to make a call back home, and ask for help. But if he were caught, they might hurt one of the kids, or Maggie. Which isn’t acceptable. He needed to make a call that if intercepted, he could claim was harmless. And he had to call someone harmless.
Mom!
He did a quick mental calculation in his head and realized that if he were able to call when he got home, and time it right, his dad would be sound asleep, and his mom the night owl would be reading in the living room. It was best to talk to her, because his father would ask too many specific questions that he couldn’t innocently dodge.
Mom will care more if we’re okay, as to where we are and why.
So his mother it was. Now he just needed to figure out how to get the phone. And he saw his opportunity when he read ahead to the next item.
“It’s good,” said Carl to the last item, and Jason checked it off. So far, everything had been done properly, much to his surprise. He had expected sloppy work, much like he had seen in several former communist countries, but the work here was topnotch. He tapped his forehead with his pen as it suddenly occurred to him why everything was done so well. They have foreign workers here. They’ve probably kidnapped people from the West that specialize in this stuff! He quickly dismissed his epiphany as he began to read the next item.
“Welding at floor on lab containment shield shoddy.”
Both Carl and Phil disappeared from sight as they dropped to the floor. Jason quickly pulled the drawer open and nearly beamed a smile when he saw the phone sitting there. He grabbed it, slipped it into his pocket, and slid the drawer closed just as Phil’s voice called out.
“Looks good to me.”
Both heads popped back into view as Jason tried to calm his heart slamming into his chest.
“You okay?”
It was Carl.
Christ, Carl! Are you trying to get us killed?
“Huh? Yeah, fine, why?”
“You just look a little flushed.”
“Yeah, you don’t look so good.”
Jason waved them both off, his heart a frenzy of palpitations. “Just having a moment, that’s all. I’ll be alright.”
Jason read off the next item on the list, then eyed the clock.
In eight hours I’ll make the call.
He knew it was a risk, but he also knew they were going to die anyway, since there was no way he was going to help finish the research. He just prayed his parents’ phone was being monitored.
And a rescue might be possible.
Chris Leroux Residence, Fairfax Towers, Falls Church, Virginia
Today, Six Days after the Kidnappings
Kane aimed at the man pointing a weapon at Chris and fired two shots, dropping the startled target. He quickly dropped a second target standing not five feet away. Several shots erupted from the bedroom, and Kane rushed past Chris, who was still covering his face, his eyes only half opened, and into the next room.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
He smiled at the near naked form of Sherrie. Chris, if you’re getting some of that, you are a fortunate man. Following where she was aiming her weapon, he looked into the bathroom and found two more bodies, the shower torn to shreds from gunfire, broken tile scattered in the tub and on the floor.
“Get dressed, we need to get out of here, now!”
Sherrie tossed her weapon on the bed and immediately began to pull on clothes as Kane left the room. Chris was still on the floor. Kane extended a hand which Chris grabbed, then hauled his friend to his feet. Kane retrieved a weapon from the nearest body and checked the magazine. Fully loaded. He handed it to Chris. “Do you know how to use this?”
Chris nodded. “I had basic firearms training when I joined the agency.”
“Good. There’ll be more.” Kane turned to the bedroom. “Hurry up!”
“She’s alive?” whispered Chris, his jaw dropping as she stepped into the living area. “I thought you were dead!” he said, stepping toward her and giving her a hug that seemed to surprise Sherrie, and definitely surprised Kane. Sherrie returned the hug, holding Chris tight with one hand, the other gripping her weapon. She gave him a kiss, then pushed him away gently.
“Let’s go, you two lovebirds can get reacquainted when we get you someplace safe.”
Kane stepped toward the closed door leading to the outer hallway then held up his fist, signaling for silence as he heard something on the other side. He aimed where he himself would have hidden, and squeezed off two rounds through the gyprock. He was rewarded with a cry and a thud as he aimed at the door, firing two more rounds.
This time bullets ripped through the door as those on the other side returned fire. Kane dove to the side, rolling on the floor as Sherrie shoved Chris down, and returned fire. The two emptied their mags into the door and surrounding walls, then reloaded. Footsteps could be heard pounding down the hallway, growing fainter, as their would-be attackers fled.
He counted two sets, and he knew they would have been a team of four. He approached the door, pulled it, or what was left of it, open, and found two bodies lying on the ground, dead. He holstered his weapon, pulled the two inside, then motioned for Chris and Sherrie to follow. Kane led the way down the hallway now filling with curious heads poking out doors, and toward the emergency exit at the end opposite to where he had heard the hostiles flee. The last thing he wanted was a stairwell shootout. Those were never good, and ricochets were too unpredictable.
He paused at the door, looking through the tiny window of glass and seeing nothing. Pushing the door open slightly, he listened, but heard no evidence of anybody in the stairwell. He cautiously entered, well aware that a stationary target that was leading them into a trap would make no noise either, and began down the stairs.
Thankfully the exit proved empty, and a minute later they were outside, the cool evening air brisk on the skin. Kane turned to Chris and Sherrie. “You two wait here, I’ll go get my vehicle. They shouldn’t be looking for me, so I should be safe. I’ll pull up, then you two get in as fast as possible, Sherrie in the passenger seat, Chris, on the floor in the back.”
Kane didn’t wait for acknowledgement, instead holstering his weapon, then sauntering out from the shadows. He crossed the grass and stepped onto the road, crossing it, and approached the SUV he had rented earlier. He was supposed to be on his way to North Korea to retrieve or eliminate the scientists, but he had known full well that an attempt would be made on his friend’s life the moment they began looking into who was behind this.
It was too big to look into without easily being noticed. One problem with random data searches was they could be monitored easily, and obviously his hunch had paid off. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours before the first attempt had been made. He knew they’d be safe while at Langley, it was the in between time. Why Morrison hadn’t insisted they simply remain there until the dust settled, he’d never know, unless he wanted exactly this. Have someone play their hand, proving that something Chris had turned up was genuine, and they would be able to figure out who.
Morrison, you’re a devious son of a bitch. Using your own people as bait.
But it hadn’t worked. Kane had spent the day putting in place his transportation to Korea, then set up camp in his blacked out SUV across the street from his friend’s apartment.
He had watched them arrive, their escort in tow, but had also observed, an hour earlier, two SUVs full of men arrive, parking at opposite ends of the outdoor parking lot. Two men had immediately gone inside, then, a few minutes later, the other two from the same vehicle left and presumably joined the first two.
If it was him running the op, he’d have sent the first two in to plant a bug and perhaps a camera so they’d have eyes and ears on the place, then holed up in the stairwell, awaiting the arrival of their targets.
Which it appeared is exactly what had happened. When Chris and Sherrie had arrived, Kane had followed them in a few moments later, but not before he heard the shattering of glass and popping sounds as the team of CIA escorts was taken out by the occupants of the second SUV. It had pained him that he was unable to stop it, but the bottom line was that he himself was a wanted fugitive in their eyes, and they should have known better than to sit in plain sight without surveying the other vehicles properly.
That was the problem with using domestic teams. They rarely had any dangerous duty, so were too complacent, too comfortable. Too trusting. Four guys get out of an SUV and walk by your vehicle? You don’t sit there wondering what they’re up to, you ready your weapons, and the two of you who are already out of the vehicle, covering the area, take out the targets the moment they make a move.
Instead they had all remained inside, cozy and warm, on their babysitting duty, and now were dead.
As he climbed into his own vehicle, he noted that the SUV that had contained the CIA team was gone, probably moved into some alleyway somewhere so as not to interfere with the operation. But since he knew there had been two full teams of four involved in the assault, it couldn’t be far.
He started the engine, pulled out onto the street, then drove about ten yards before pulling into the far end of the parking lot in front of the building. He drove along the front of the building, then came to a stop as close as he could get to the stairwell exit without actually pulling onto the grass.
He unlocked the doors, and saw Chris and Sherrie bolt from their hiding place toward the waiting vehicle. Immediately gunfire erupted, tearing into the windshield. He ducked, cranking the wheel and gunning it. The SUV jumped the curb and bounced onto the grass, covering the distance between the stairwell and the pavement in seconds. He hit the brakes, bullets continuing to hit the front of the vehicle as Chris and Sherrie piled in. Slamming it in reverse, he pulled back onto the pavement and reversed the length of the parking lot.
Rogue Operator (A Special Agent Dylan Kane Thriller, Book #1) Page 17
