“You know what I want.”
Ollie walked from behind the counter and into a private room off the main part of the store. He returned a moment later holding two bottles of Pappy Van Winkle’s Family Reserve. Burke’s eyes widened. He was more of a Scotch man himself, but he knew enough about bourbon to realize that one of those bottles cost more than his airfare to Australia. Ollie put each in a separate brown paper bag, then slid the two bags into a narrow cardboard box with a divider to keep them from knocking together. Dot snatched a pen from his counter and signed a piece of paper he’d slid over to her.
As they walked back to the car, she said, “I bill this shit to Moore as a ‘miscellaneous expense.’” Burke started to get back into the car. “Nope. Not yet. Now we go there.”
Dot pointed to the apartment building and then ambled to the front door. Burke saw there were four call buttons, confirming his earlier appraisal. She pushed the one marked “3.” A moment later, Burke heard a young man’s voice.
“Hallo?”
“David, it’s Grandma Dottie.”
“Did you bring me a present?”
“Don’t I always?”
There was a buzz, and Dot pulled on the door. They went inside and climbed the stairs. Dot rapped on the door of apartment three and a tall young man with thick glasses and blazing red hair opened it. He held out his arms as if expecting a hug, but instead Dot withdrew one of the bottles and handed it to him.
“Pappy! How I’ve missed you,” he said.
Dot pushed past him into the small apartment. “Invite in my weird companion. He has a thing for loitering in doorways.”
“C’mon, mate,” David said.
Burke entered and quickly looked around, ever the operative, ever diligent to examine his surroundings. What he saw was a tiny but neat apartment, completely devoid of any traces of a woman’s touch. There were a few scientific journals on the cheap coffee table beside the chair Dot had landed on and a Star Trek Deep Space Nine poster on the wall. Burke had all the data he needed and his mind formed its opinion: Unmarried science geek with a taste for expensive bourbon.
“David is our man on the inside at the nanotech lab,” Dot explained as David retrieved three tumblers and opened the bottle.
“You’re looking to get to Allcock, right?” David asked Burke, who nodded. “Then I’m your man. I’ve been with him as a lab assistant since shortly after SpyCo got wind of the direction his R&D was taking. They realized the potential of his micro-guidance system to the countries looking to find a way onto the nuclear stage without the brainboxes capable of developing a viable delivery system.”
“Of which there is primarily the one.”
“North Korea, right. There’s actually one or two others who’ve been testing the waters, but they’re nowhere near as close to the mark as Kimmy-boy.”
Hearing the Korean dictator referred to in such a way, filtered through David’s heavy Australian accent, struck Burke as hilarious.
“So what have you learned?”
“Pretty much what we expected going in. Dr. Allcock’s system makes all prior versions of ICBM navigational systems obsolete. It is tiny and its weight is negligible, allowing for the difference to be made up in additional propellant, vastly increasing the range of the missile.”
“Putting the U.S. in danger should North Korea get it.”
“Not necessarily. Even with the increase, I don’t think they’d have quite the capability to bridge the distance between themselves and the majority of the continental United States. Australia, however, would be within their range.”
Burke frowned. “That makes no sense. This sounds like a giant leap in technology.”
“For the North Koreans, it is. But they’re still unsophisticated in terms of the standard achieved by, say, the United States. You Americans are shooting missiles down with a better batting average than the North Koreans are sending them up. The Hermit Kingdom’s missile research tends to move in spurts, rather than steady progress. They work on challenges and then achieve sudden breakthroughs, either through their own science or espionage.”
Burke nodded. “So this is just one more breakthrough.”
“It would be, if they got it. Alaska is already within their range. This next milestone would put Hawaii and Australia in the crosshairs.”
“Not Los Angeles?”
“Not quite. That one would probably come with the next breakthrough.”
“You sound convinced they’ll get there eventually.”
“If you worked in my field, you would be too. It’s only a matter of time. And the technology in question would set them up for their eventual goal.”
“Which is what?”
“You think they wouldn’t take the opportunity to flatten New York City? Washington, D.C.?”
“Thanks for raising the pressure, David. You make it sound like this technology may be the lynchpin for putting the entire world in North Korea’s crosshairs.”
“Don’t think that it’s not.”
Burke looked at David, hoping to see at least a hint of hyperbole flash over his face. But there was none. David had uttered the statement with complete sincerity.
A chill ran down Burke’s spine. He coughed lightly. “So what you’re saying—just so we’re clear—this might be our last chance to halt North Korea’s nuclear program.”
“Not halt. The only thing that would do that is an overthrow of the government. But preventing the nanotech from falling into their hands would slow them down considerably and buy the rest of the world more time.”
“How much time?”
“That’s difficult to say, since we don’t know the exact state of their program. But official estimates range from ten to twenty years.”
“And if they get the technology?”
“Anywhere from one to five years.”
“Those are ‘official’ estimates. What’s your best guess?”
David looked Burke directly in the eyes. “According to best intel I have, this piece will all but plug and play with Kim Jong Un’s latest missile. If they get the tech, Australia will be in danger almost immediately, literally within days of it reaching the Korean peninsula.”
“And what are the odds Kim would fire on Australia? I’d think he’d rather take on the U.S. Maybe not the mainland, but Hawaii perhaps?”
“One would think so, but there is a difference in position among the muckety-mucks concerning that issue.”
“It seems clear to me, given recent rhetoric. The two countries seem on an almost inevitable collision course.”
David nodded. “It would appear so, but here my expertise begins to diminish.”
“Oh, no,” Burke groaned. “Don’t tell me I need to talk to someone else.”
“Do you want the best information or don’t you?”
Burke’s shoulders slumped. “Fine. Give me the address. And another shot of Pappy, while you’re at it. I have a feeling I might need it.”
7
Park awoke to the annoying realization that James Burke was floating somewhere over the Tasman Sea. No, not floating exactly, but he was certainly moving. The red tracking dot was advancing along at a rather speedy clip and the signal was becoming weaker by the second. An airplane, she thought. The bastard’s on an airplane. But where the hell is he going?
As she watched, the red dot dimmed, flickered, and then disappeared from the screen. Her quarry had flown out of range.
Park had to concentrate in order to keep from throwing the tracker on the floor and stomping on it until it disintegrated into a thousand pieces. That, of course, would serve no purpose, and she might be able to use it again. What if Burke had discovered he was being tracked and this was merely a ruse? But that didn’t make sense. In that case, he simply would have ripped out the devices or thrown away the shirts.
She dialed a number on her phone and waited. Seconds later, a voice said,
“What.”
“Got a minute?”
�
�Speak.”
“I need the destination of a man named Markham who just took off from Sydney airport. Could you perhaps take a peek into a few passenger lists?”
“Airline?”
“I don’t know.”
Annoyed sigh. “Fine.”
There was silence, broken only by the faint sound of rapid typing. Then the voice said,
“Okay.”
“Where’s he going?”
“Hobart.”
“Hobart? Is that in Tasmania?”
“Yep.”
“Why in the hell would he be going to Tasmania?”
“Your problem.”
The connection when dead. Park allowed herself a tiny smile. At least she’d gotten two words in a row out of the hacker. He usually managed to avoid even that much small talk. The man was antisocial as all hell, but he was also the best hacker she knew and he didn’t care where his money came from.
THE HENRY JONES ART HOTEL, one of the few art hotels in the world and Australia’s first, boasts nineteenth century sandstone walls and original windows. The site dates back to 1804 and hosted warehouses and a jam factory before declining fortunes were reversed by the creation of the stunning waterfront hotel.
It was into this bastion of living, breathing history that James Burke strode, fresh off the two-hour flight from Sydney to Hobart. As he walked along the wide hallways, he was struck by the number of contemporary paintings that lined the rough stone walls. It seemed so paradoxical, yet at the same time set the artwork off perfectly.
He came to the room he sought and knocked on the door. A moment later, it opened to reveal an enormous man in a surprisingly well-tailored suit. The man stared at Burke with an expression that made it clear the sight of a newcomer did little to make his cup of joy runneth over.
“Hi,” Burke ventured. “I’m here to see Mr. Margrave.”
“He ain’t seein no one.”
“Ain’t he?” Burke asked and was immediately sorry for his flippancy as the big man reached down, grabbed him by the shirt front, and pulled him into the room.
“You tryin to make a joke?” the big man snarled. “Cause I don’t like jokes.”
“No jokes here,” Burke said, struggling to free himself. “Merely trying to adopt the local vernacular.”
The big man tightened his grip. “I don’t like them big words either. Makes me feel stupid.”
“Oh, sorry.”
If the grip tightened any more, Burke’s oxygen would be completely cut off. He didn’t fancy himself a weakling, but his struggles against the strength of the big man had proved worse than useless. If anything, they had encouraged even more aggression. Resigning to his fate, Burke relaxed. Fighting it was useless; the big man could probably pop his head off his shoulders with one hand if he had a mind to.
“You can let him go, Søren. I’m expecting him.”
Søren grunted but let go of Burke’s collar, which seemed to be at least half removed from the shirt. Burke drew a deep, ragged breath before turning to evaluate his savior.
A man stood in a doorway, one hand in his pants pocket and the other gripping the head of a magnificently carved cane.
“Mr. Burke, I presume?” the man said.
“Yes. And you must be Margrave.”
“I am indeed. I understand you are here to discuss the North Koreans.”
“That’s right. I’d like to find out if—”
Margrave held up his hand. “Not yet, if you please. Søren, please check Mr. Burke for any recording devices.”
Burke frowned. “Recording devices? Surely you don’t think—”
“Humor me, Mr. Burke. Søren, if you please.”
Søren picked a black, wand-like device from a nearby shelf and powered it on. He then began sweeping along the contours of Burke’s body, like a security agent operating a handheld metal detector.
“I can assure you, I don’t have any—”
Burke’s words were interrupted by a shrill shriek from the device.
“I think I got somethin here,” Søren said. “But I can’t get no fix on it. It’s kind like—yeah, it’s kinda like it’s inside his clothes.”
“Inside his clothes?” Margrave sounded impatient, a state Burke could easily imagine becoming standard if one stayed around Søren with any regularity.
“Yeah, like...inside ‘em.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Mr. Burke, you’ll have to humor me once more. Please remove your clothing.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Your clothes. Take them off so we can scan them properly and individually. Søren seems to think you’re hiding something, and I really can’t have that.” Margrave waved his hand at Burke, as if shooing away his garments.
“I really don’t think—”
“Take them off or Søren will do it for you.”
The thought of the hulking brute mangling his wardrobe, and possibly his body, even further at last drove Burke to abandon his last thread of modesty. Feeling extremely self-conscious and more than a little ridiculous, he removed his outer layer of clothing.
“You’re forgetting something, Mr. Burke.”
“Oh my god.”
“Please, you’ve been doing so well. Don’t force us to become unpleasant now.”
“I’m not exactly having a wonderful time,” Burke said, removing his boxer briefs with more than a little chagrin. Trying to remain nonchalant, he dropped them onto the pile of clothing and stood there, naked as a jaybird and feeling twice as silly.
“Go ahead, Søren. Scan the clothing.”
One by one, Søren scanned the articles: shoes, socks, pants, belt, underwear...and finally the shirt. As the wand passed over a side seam, it let out the same shrieking sound as before.
“I got it, boss,” Søren said. “Somethin’s inside the shirt.”
“Can you dig it out?”
Søren nodded, placed one meaty hand on either side of the seam, and ripped the shirt open. He then reached into the mass of ruptured needlework with his large, sausage fingers and pulled out something too tiny for Burke to see. Søren took it to Margrave, who held it between finger and thumb. He examined it in the light, looking both interested and annoyed.
“It appears to be a tracking device,” he said finally. “Not a recorder, but still an unwelcome bit of superfluous trickery. I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Burke.”
“I can assure you I had no idea that was in there.”
“Are you asking me to believe one of SpyCo’s agents has been walking around with a tracking device on his person and has no idea how it got there?”
“It sounds ridiculous and, I admit, puts me in a poor light, but...yes. That’s what I’m telling you. I have no idea how it got there, but I think I know who is responsible.”
“And just who would that be?”
Although he wasn’t sure how much he should tell the man, Burke relayed the information about the agent who had followed him to the debate hall.
He was just finishing when another door opened and a woman stepped out. She wore a flowing Oriental robe and had her dark hair piled high on her head. She looked as if she’d just come from the spa. She stopped short when she saw Burke.
“Well, well,” she said. “This is quite a surprise.”
“He’s not for you, my little blossom,” Margrave said. “He’s a visitor who may have shown other visitors to my door, either through intent or stupidity.”
“Oh, that’s a shame,” the woman said. “I could use someone like him. Are you sure I can’t have him?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Are you going to have to kill him?”
“That remains to be seen.”
“Well, if you do, let me serve him his last meal, okay?”
“Your wish is my command,” Margrave said.
The woman turned and walked from the room, the gown making her appear to float along the floor. Before she disappeared from the room, she gave Burke a tiny, seductive wave and an obvious glan
ce down below.
Without asking, Burke began grabbing his clothes and yanking them on as quickly as possible. “Well, that was humiliating,” he growled.
“You’re much too hard on yourself, Mr. Burke,” Margrave said. “It isn’t quite that bad.”
“I wasn’t talking about my equipment.”
“Ah, modesty, then. You Americans can be so uptight about nudity. I can assure you it was merely a matter of necessity. I myself am a fervent devotee of the female form and therefore had no interest in you as anything more than a possible mole. Anna, on the other hand, seemed to take more than a passing interest.”
“Your wife?”
Margrave emitted a peal of laughter. “Hardly, Mr. Burke. I wouldn’t be caught dead in the throes of matrimonial bondage. Not again, anyway. I learned my lesson. No, Anna is my muse, my partner, my sometimes lover. But I exert no control over her, so if she were to take an interest in you, no jealousy would arise on my behalf.”
“I think I’m good, thanks.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing. Anna possesses a great deal of knowledge regarding men and their desires in the bedroom.”
Even for a man like Burke, who was considered by some to be a bit of a playboy, the conversation was becoming uncomfortable. “I appreciate it, Mr. Margrave, but that’s not why I’m here.”
“All business, then. How dull.” Margrave smiled. He held the bb-sized tracker up so that Burke could see it clearly. “As for this disappointment, even if I were to reject your explanation, the range of such a small device would not be sufficient to lead anyone to me. Very well then, Mr. Burke. What exactly would you like to know?”
“I understand you are the leading expert on North Korea’s dictatorship and might be able to predict how they might react to any situation.”
“I hesitate to refer to myself as an expert,” Margrave said. He then burst into laughter. “I’m joking, of course. I love referring to myself as an expert. And, you are correct—my knowledge of the current regime and its predecessors is eclipsed by none. I have served as ambassador to North Korea for a number of different entities, lived most of my adult life in the region, and developed close ties to many within the WPK.”
Assignment- Danger A SpyCo Collection 4-6 Page 5
