by Laura Scott
“No. You stay here, I’ll go.”
He was getting mighty tired of her obstinacy. Why had he ever thought it cute? It wasn’t. At least Abigail had been sweet and nice. Which was likely why their relationship hadn’t lasted more than six months. Cute and perky only took a relationship so far.
“Wait. Use your key fob from here.” Maybe he was being paranoid, but that’s what happened when you learned the woman you grew up with was in danger.
Sun dug in her pocket and pulled out her keys. She pointed the fob in the general direction of the structure and hit the button.
The resulting explosion shook the earth beneath their feet, sending them backward onto the unforgiving and frozen ground. A ball of fire lit up the sky.
For a moment he was stunned speechless, then he scrambled upright. He grabbed Sun’s arm and drew her onto her feet.
“Let’s go,” he said hoarsely. “Hurry!”
Without hesitation, they turned and ran in the opposite direction from the burning vehicle.
Mack found himself being grateful her Jeep had been rigged to blow rather than her house.
Or they’d both already be dead.
Chapter Two
January 18 – 7:54 p.m. – Washington, DC
“This way.” Sun grabbed Mack’s hand and tugged him around the corner and down two blocks before turning into a narrow alley. She knew the neighborhood far better than he did, and she always had a backup plan. Not that she’d expected her car to blow up with the click of her key fob.
The regime knew where she was.
The realization was horrifying, but she couldn’t afford to worry about it now. She and Mack needed to get far away from the explosion before the cops and fire trucks arrived.
She could already hear the faint wail of a siren in the distance, which galvanized her into moving even faster.
To his credit, Mack allowed her to take the lead without complaint, easily keeping pace with her. She headed toward a rather rough neighborhood that wasn’t too far. The duffel bounced against her hip, and she didn’t argue when Mack took the bag from her. It occurred to her that he was still in prime physical condition, maybe even more so since the last time she’d seen him. At the end of the alley, she made another turn and led them down a street with several low-budget homes lining each side of the road.
After three blocks, she slowed her pace, mentally counting the houses. Passing the fourth house from the corner, she raked a quick glance over it, checking for any signs it was compromised. She couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but that didn’t mean much.
If Kim Jong-un and the regime had sent assassins after her, they wouldn’t sit in the living room with the lights on, waiting for her to arrive.
Mack slowed his pace, matching hers, waiting with uncharacteristic patience for her to make the next move. She went past the house and turned at the next corner, intending to approach her secondary hideout from the rear, just in case.
The lack of pedestrians was concerning. In this area of town, the cold weather didn’t keep people from buying or selling drugs, gathering at street corners with said drugs or liquor, finding a myriad of ways to get into trouble. It was almost as if there was a pall hanging over the neighborhood, a warning of bad things to come.
Normally, she wasn’t the type to believe in bad omens. But fear for her mother’s safety had dredged up decades-old superstitions.
The wail of sirens grew louder, and she could see the orange glow in the sky behind them from the car fire. Time was running out. She eased through the property of the ramshackle two-story home located behind her safe house, coming to a stop in the shadow of an ancient cherry tree. Mack slipped in behind her, remaining silent as she once again checked the place she used as her backup safe house.
It appeared undisturbed.
Sun stepped forward, but Mack clamped his hand on her arm, preventing her from moving. She shot him a narrow warning glare over her shoulder.
But his gaze was focused on the dilapidated house beside them. She frowned, following his gaze to understand what had caught his attention. Then she saw it. The barest flicker of a light from the upper level window. It was off so quickly she could have imagined it.
She hadn’t. And neither had Mack.
Someone watching? Or was the person upstairs simply one of the residents living there?
She blew out a silent breath, relieved he’d noticed the light before they’d made a mad dash for the safe house, even as her stomach knotted with frustration.
No one knew about this place. It wasn’t under her name or that of Security Specialists, Inc. If someone was watching her backup safe house, how had it been found?
No clue, but their options were limited if she couldn’t access the items and extra funds she’d hidden inside.
Torn with indecision, she tried to come up with another plan. It was tempting to break into the house where they’d seen the light, if only to find out who was up there. Confronting your enemy was often the best way to know exactly who you were dealing with.
Mack touched her arm, drawing her gaze. He leaned down, his mouth near her ear. “We need a diversion.”
His suggestion sparked an idea. Dropping to one knee, she patted the ground, searching for a rock. The ground was frozen, but thankfully there wasn’t a lot of January snow to deal with, just a few patchy areas that hadn’t melted during the heat of the day when temperatures managed to sneak a degree or two above freezing.
Closing her fingers around a large rock, she eyed the window, estimating the distance. Mack plucked the rock from her hand.
“You decide whether or not to make a run for the place while I distract whoever is up there,” he whispered. “I’ll go around front, hopefully draw him that way.”
Since she knew where she’d hidden her things, including the safe house key, she nodded. “Okay.”
Mack slipped back in the direction from where they’d come. Staying put was difficult, but she had to trust he’d do what was necessary.
Sending up a quick prayer that he’d be safe, she waited until she heard the loud crash of the rock sailing through one of the lower-level windows. Instantly, the light in the upper window flashed on as the person up there went to investigate.
Without hesitation, she ran, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. Kneeling beside the porch, she found the key and quickly inserted it in the lock. Seconds later, she was inside the safe house.
There wasn’t a moment to waste. Without using any lights, she made her way through the kitchen and into the living area, to a specific floorboard along the wall. Wedging her fingernail beneath the lid, she flipped up the floorboard. She pulled out the cash and disposable phone, along with the keys to a backup vehicle.
Less than two minutes later, she was back outside, making a mad dash to the shadow beneath the cherry tree.
Her breath hitched in her throat as she crouched in the shadow.
Where was Mack?
* * *
January 18 – 8:22 p.m. – Washington, DC
After tossing the rock through the window, Mack dropped behind a small pine tree as a dark figure emerged from the doorway of the house. He couldn’t tell the gender of the person standing there, but he could make out the outline of a something small and dark in the guy’s hand. Likely a gun.
How long would Sun need?
He lifted his arm and threw a second rock directly at the figure standing in the doorway. It hit its mark, right in the center of the chest. In return, the guy fired the weapon, aiming in Mack’s general direction.
Well, okay, if that’s the way he wanted to play. Mack waited another ten seconds, then lifted his weapon. He didn’t like killing people, especially since he didn’t know for sure this guy was their enemy, but he would do whatever was necessary to protect Sun.
Before he could pull the trigger, another gunshot echoed loudly. He ducked at the same instant Sun sprinted toward him. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he realized she was the one who’d f
ired at the guy in the doorway.
They needed to get out of here, pronto.
Another gunshot rang out, even as the wail of sirens echoed through the night. When would the gunshots garner attention? They couldn’t stay behind the small pine tree for long.
Sun peered through the tree branches and lifted her weapon, aiming carefully. He tensed, ready to run. Upon hearing the crack of gunfire, followed by a howl of pain, Mack stood and ran down the street with Sun hot on his heels.
With a burst of speed, she passed him, which was good as he would rather protect her back from the guy in the doorway. A bullet would have to go through him first to get to her. The way the guy had yelled out meant she hadn’t tried to kill him, only to slow him down. He liked her aversion to killing unless absolutely necessary, it was his philosophy as well. He gladly followed Sun. This time, she headed down another street, then cut through more backyards as if she knew exactly where she was going.
Oddly enough, he was exhilarated being with her, despite the lack of contact over the past five years.
They’d nearly blown up in a car bomb and had now been shot at, yet he felt reasonably confident they’d find a way to escape the bad guys nipping like Chihuahuas at their heels. As crazy as it sounded, he wanted to grin like a loon.
Sun slowed to a walk as she approached a corner tavern. Before he could ask what they were doing there, she crossed the parking lot to an old, rusty dark-colored Chevy.
“Get in,” she said, pulling the driver’s door open. He didn’t hesitate to get into the passenger seat, tossing the duffel into the back.
“Yours?” he asked incredulously as she inserted the key into the ignition. Despite how rusty the vehicle looked on the outside, the engine started right up. And moments later, they were out on the street, heading away from the source of the fire.
“Yes.” She frowned at him. “There’s no way anyone should know about my backup safe house.”
He wasn’t sure how to respond to that since it appeared someone had been watching the place. “What about Security Specialists, Incorporated?”
“I never told anyone I work with about it. It’s always been a backup for me, personally, just in case of situations like this. It’s a tactic I learned from my mother.” Her scowl deepened as she navigated the side streets, taking so many turns it made his head spin.
“I suppose it could be a coincidence,” he said, knowing full well that wasn’t likely.
“Maybe.” She took yet another turn. “To be honest, I’m surprised there was only one guy watching the place.”
“Only one that you saw.” He twisted in his seat to look out the back window. “There could be others.”
“I know.” Sun’s easy acceptance of the possibility sent a warning chill down his spine.
Whoever had come after her had more resources than he’d anticipated.
How long before they were captured, or worse, silenced for good?
* * *
January 18 – 9:01 p.m. – Chicago, IL
Jarek Zeman paused in front of the airport gate, glancing at his watch. His flight to Geneva, Switzerland, was due to leave within the hour.
But now there was a delay posted on the screen. With no specific time designated for takeoff.
Despite the hour, the Chicago O’Hare International Airport was always teeming with people. They might not have quite as many citizens as New York or LA, but Chicago could hold its own with the other major cities.
Frustrated with the delay, he turned away from the counter. A man of Asian descent caught his attention, making him frown. The guy looked familiar, as if he’d seen him before. Maybe going through the TSA security checkpoint.
Jarek knew it wasn’t unusual to see familiar faces in an airport, after all, they were all flying somewhere, and it was entirely possible for him and the Asian to be on the same flight. But a warning tingle had him turning into the closest restroom, his heart thudding painfully against his sternum.
Was it possible he was being followed to Geneva? And if so, why? Because of Hana?
Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he silently rebuked himself for being paranoid. It had been thirty years since Hana had left him. Three decades! Why on earth would anyone follow him now?
Unless he’d somehow triggered the dangers of the past by secretly searching for Hana. It seemed impossible, but according to Hana, she would never be safe, which was why she’d left him in Chicago all those years ago.
Fully expecting him to move on with his life, without her.
And he had, until his recent cancer scare had made him realize what he might be missing.
What if going to Switzerland caused harm to come to Hana? Bitter fear lodged in his throat.
As an English professor, he wasn’t an expert at all this cloak-and-dagger stuff. Yet there was no denying he had the distinct sense he should try to leave this area of the airport without letting the Asian know he was onto him.
But how?
He splashed cold water on his face, then came up with an idea. Albeit an outrageous one. If he was right about the Asian tailing him, he needed to do something drastic.
Emerging from the restroom, he pulled out his phone, staring down at the screen as if reading a text or an email. From the corner of his eye, he noted the Asian had taken a seat at the end of a row, holding an open newspaper up so that it partially covered his face.
Not enough, though, to prevent Jarek from recognizing him.
The newspaper was the New York Times, which piqued his interest. Why not the Wall Street Journal? Or the Chicago Tribune? Was the man originally from New York? Or just preferred the Times?
Maybe he was making too big of a deal out of the Asian’s choice of reading material. What did it matter? Jarek turned and idly walked in the opposite direction, glancing at various kiosk stands pretending to look for food.
When he was far enough down the terminal that he couldn’t see the Asian any longer, he ducked into a bar and waited for the guy to emerge.
It didn’t take long. Ten minutes later, with the Times tucked under his arm, the Asian strolled by as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Jarek wasn’t buying his act.
He could only think of one way to get out of the airport without his tail following his every move.
Turning toward the bar area, he abruptly clutched his chest and moaned. “Help me,” he said in a strained voice. “My chest hurts. Please, help me!”
Instant pandemonium broke out around him as patrons sprang into action.
“Call an ambulance,” someone shouted.
“Where’s the defibrillator?” another asked.
He continued moaning as people crowded around him. He noticed the Asian scowl in his direction before taking several steps away.
Still, Jarek knew he wasn’t safe yet. When someone arrived with one of those portable defibrillators, he hoped and prayed they wouldn’t shock him into having the heart attack he was pretending to have. After being checked out from head to toe during the cancer workup, he knew his heart was actually in good shape.
Thankfully, they didn’t. Within ten minutes, the ambulance crew arrived. Two EMTs young enough to be his kids, if he had any, quickly packed him onto a gurney and wheeled him down the airport terminal. Through a slit in his eyes, he could see the Asian watching him go by with obvious displeasure.
Jarek didn’t relax until they’d stuffed him into the back of the ambulance, slammed the doors shut behind him, and drove away. He felt certain he was being taken to Loyola Medical Center as it was the best place to go for cardiac care, and not far from O’Hare.
As the EMTs checked his vital signs and asked questions about his health history, his mind whirled.
If his searching for Hana had placed her in danger, he needed to find a way to warn her.
Before it was too late.
* * *
January 18 – 9:25 p.m. – Washington, DC
Sun gripped the steering wheel of the old Chev
y with both hands to keep them from shaking bad enough for Mack to notice.
Her goal had not been to kill the person at the ramshackle place, only to scare him or her off.
But her bullet had hit flesh and bone rather than the wall or doorframe.
There was a sour taste in her mouth. What if she’d shot an innocent person? Someone who wasn’t mixed up in all of this?
Her mind veered sharply from that thought. It was too much of a coincidence that an armed person had come outside after being on the second floor overlooking her safe house. An armed man who’d taken a shot at Mack was hardly innocent.
Innocent until proven guilty, reminded a tiny voice in the back of her head.
“Do you have a destination in mind?” Mack asked, interrupting her troubled thoughts.
“Out of DC,” she responded curtly. She thought about the motel she and her boss, Jordan Rashid, had used a few months back. Clarksville was about halfway between DC and Baltimore. It wasn’t that late, but she wanted a few minutes of peace and quiet to regroup.
They needed a plan. A way to reach her mother before anyone from the North Korean regime found her.
And she needed to call Jordan to let him know she may not be able to work the possible nuclear bomb case, although she hated disappointing him. This particular case was right up her alley.
Being torn in two directions, between her work and her personal life, reminded her of the series of events that had unfolded just a few months ago when Jordan had been trying to infiltrate a terrorist cell only to have his daughter kidnapped and held for ransom. Only to learn his daughter had been captured by the same terrorists.
Was she walking into a similar scenario? Something created by the regime to keep her from uncovering the truth about a possible nuclear threat?
“Sun?” Mack’s deep voice had her glancing toward him. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head. “We’re going to head to Clarksville, but we’re taking the long way, just in case we’ve picked up a tail.”
“What’s in Clarksville?” His tone was curious, as if there was something important they were heading toward.
