by Laura Scott
If only she’d come to him before now. He’d told her how he’d always stay in Chicago at the address he’d forced her to memorize. That he’d be waiting for her if she should ever need him.
Yet thirty years was a long time.
For all he knew, Hana had forgotten all about him by now.
His heart didn’t want to believe it, but his brain reminded him that holding on to young love was incredibly foolish. Hana was stunningly beautiful. She could have anyone she wanted.
Plenty of men who were not in their late-fifties working as a boring professor of English literature.
A loud noise made him suck in a harsh breath, his heart jackhammering in his chest. If this kept up, he’d have a heart attack for real.
He slipped from the bed, glad he’d remained dressed in his clothes. The guest bedroom had an adjoining bath and a large walk-in closet. Neither offered a good hiding spot. Both areas would be the first place to look for him.
Easing the door open, he listened intently. The upper level of the house had a total of four bedrooms. The master, which Geoff was using, and three guest rooms. Jarek had been there enough to know that the lower level housed a living room, kitchen, dining room, and study.
What Geoff did with all this living space was beyond him. As a single guy, his condo was almost too big.
Stepping carefully, Jarek entered the hallway and closed the guest door softly behind him. For the first time in his entire life, he wished he owned a gun. Oh, and it would be nice to know how to shoot it too.
Not that he was capable of killing another human being.
The face of the Asian flashed in his mind. Okay, maybe if someone was going to shoot him, he’d be able to fire in self-defense.
Stupid to philosophize about gun control now. He made his way toward the door leading to the master bedroom. He turned the handle, wincing at the slight click.
The room was dark, blinds covering the windows so that no ambient light from the moon or early morning sunlight would show through. He could just make out the lumpy form of Geoff sleeping in the center of the king-sized bed. Jarek slipped into the bedroom, closing the door behind him, before making his way over to Geoff’s bedside. He’d have to wake him while forcing his friend to remain silent.
He froze when he heard another creaking sound.
The stairs! Someone was coming up the stairs to the second level!
The Asian? Or someone else?
Jarek had no idea what to do. If he woke Geoff, his colleague might do or say something to draw the intruder’s attention. Instead, he felt for the bed, then dropped to his knees beside it.
There was just enough room for him to slide beneath the frame. Without thinking through his actions, he went down on his stomach and crawled beneath it, shivering like a six-year-old boy afraid of monsters.
What kind of coward was he?
Before he could rethink his position, he heard the sound of the bedroom door opening. Every muscle in his body froze, he didn’t dare breathe, as he heard the padded footsteps enter the room.
Then he heard it. A gunshot, but not very loud, muffled as if the barrel of the gun had been covered by a pillow.
No! It couldn’t be! Not Geoff! The horror was too much to comprehend.
Still frozen, he listened as the footsteps retreated. There wasn’t a moment to lose.
Wriggling out from beneath the bed, he kept his gaze averted from Geoff Webber’s inert body and crept to the door. His heart was beating so loud he couldn’t hear what the gunman was doing.
He opened the door, saw that the hallway was empty, and left the master suite. The only advantage he had was that he knew the house and the surrounding area extremely well, whereas the intruder likely didn’t.
When he reached the bottom of the stairs, another muffled gunshot rang out, but he didn’t dare stop.
Within seconds, Jarek was out the door and running for his life.
Chapter Five
January 19 – 1:18 a.m. – Washington, DC
The ringing phone pulled him from sleep. He scowled at the number on the screen, sensing he wasn’t about to receive good news. “What?”
“We lost her.”
He locked his jaw to stop himself from raining angry epithets down on the idiot’s head. “How?”
“She has help. Some guy. And her car blew, too, without her in it.” There was a pause before he added, “She shot me. Thankfully, it’s just a flesh wound.”
His fingers tightened on the cell. “I don’t care if you’re injured or half dead! I need you to find her and finish the job I hired you to do, understand? This is critical to my mission. We don’t have much time.”
“Yes, sir.” The wounded idiot disconnected from the call.
Fury made it impossible to get back to sleep. He’d needed this guy to take out one tiny little woman. How difficult could it be?
Oh, he knew Sun Yin was well trained, he’d put his sources to good use, hearing about this elite company called Security Specialists, Incorporated. But he’d come up with a surefire plan to kill her. First by planting the car bomb, and if that didn’t work, by staking out her so-called safe house. It had been a stroke of luck that his man had followed her there a month earlier and knew to hide there to find her.
It was the perfect setup. And should not have resulted in failure.
But somehow she’d stayed one step ahead of him.
How had she escaped? And who was this man who was helping her?
He didn’t like surprises. Especially ones that threatened his carefully thought-out plans. This had to work, or he and his cohorts would not get what they wanted.
Everyone thought the president had the most power.
Oh, but how wrong they were. It was those who survived and thrived in chaos that possessed power and control.
Soon, very soon, he’d have everything he needed.
At least, once he’d eliminated the one tiny, frustrating, pesky woman who dared to stand in his way.
* * *
January 19 – 1:26 a.m. – Geneva, Switzerland
Hana spent several minutes in the women’s restroom at the Geneva station changing her appearance to match the photo on her fake passport.
Ignoring the tremor in her hands, she added the molded plastic to the upper ridge of her mouth to change her facial features. When she was satisfied that her face looked rounder and puffier, she used makeup to add to the slant of her eyes and deep creases to her face, which managed to add several years to her current age of fifty-three.
Disguises were her specialty and had kept her alive for this long. She hoped and prayed it would help her now.
The cold January weather was useful. She wrapped a long woven scarf over her head, crossing the ends around her neck, in an effort to cover most of her hair. Lastly, she added the bulky sweater beneath her jacket, adding the illusion of several pounds to her normally lean frame.
When she emerged from the restroom, she took on the air of an older woman, walking slower and slightly bent at the waist. There hadn’t been enough room in the locker for a cane, so she leaned on the wall when the opportunity presented itself as she slowly made her way to the counter to purchase a bus ticket.
After boarding a bus for the airport, she dropped heavily into her seat, making a soft groan as if her old bones ached. But her mind was elsewhere, anticipating what the weather would be like in Chicago this time of year. Much colder, she knew, than what they experienced here in Switzerland, along with the chance of snow. Any snow that fell in Switzerland tended not to stick around for very long.
She tried not to imagine Jarek’s reaction to her arriving on his doorstep after all this time. Especially because she desperately needed his help. She’d traveled the world but had only spent six months in the United States. Thirty years since they’d been together, although they had spoken on a rare occasion, but not recently. As much as she’d missed him, she’d done what had been in his best interest.
The only thing she knew f
or certain was that he was still alive and living in Chicago. The city where they’d met and fallen in love. She didn’t think he’d married or had children but mentally braced herself for that news in case she was wrong.
Just because he’d claimed to love her didn’t mean he hadn’t moved on with someone else. She would never blame him if he had. In fact, she’d told him to move on without her.
As she walked into the airport, she found herself hesitating, wondering if she was making a mistake. What if she brought danger to Jarek’s doorstep? Despite her disguise and traveling under the name of Mi-Cha Kung, she couldn’t be absolutely certain the regime hadn’t found a way to follow her.
Hana leaned heavily against the counter as she purchased a one-way ticket to Chicago using cash, ignoring the raised eyebrows of the woman standing behind her. Normally, the airlines didn’t allow you to travel without purchasing your ticket online, but slipping extra cash while murmuring about an abusive ex-husband seeking revenge was enough to convince the clerk to break the rules for an older Asian lady.
Her flight didn’t leave for several hours, but that was okay. She planned to sit in a corner, keeping a wary eye out for anyone who looked as if they didn’t belong.
At least Chicago was a city large enough to get lost in. If she didn’t find Jarek, or he was married with a family, then she would find a way to locate Sun on her own.
Praying the regime didn’t find her first.
* * *
January 19 – 1:48 a.m. – Clarksville, MD
Mack couldn’t shut off his brain, a common problem when he was knee-deep in a case. If there really was a small nuclear bomb hidden in DC, their hopes of finding it before the inauguration at noon on January 20 was slim to none.
But bringing the bomb in via the water was an intriguing idea. If he’d planned something so outrageous, where would he hide such a device? Many of these bombs were small enough to be carried by one man, yet bulky enough to draw attention.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Sun complained.
He smiled in the darkness. “Sorry.”
“No you’re not.” He glimpsed her shadow sitting up and reaching for the light. He squinted in the sudden brightness. Sun frowned at him. “Let’s talk it out.”
“Okay.” Better to talk about a nuke than notice how beautiful she was. Her silky hair was cut chin length, making her look even more like the teenager she’d once been. She’d been like a younger sister, yet somehow after breaking up with Abigail, his feelings for Sun had morphed into something more. Unrequited feelings, as he knew she considered him to be the annoying big brother she’d never had.
Enough, this line of thought wasn’t going to help. He dragged his attention back to the important matter at hand. “What kind of nuke are we talking about? A backpack device that a single man could use while walking into a crowd? Or something that would be shot out from the back of an SUV?”
“You think North Korea made a new and improved version of the Davy Crockett?” Sun’s eyes widened with concern.
“The old Davy Crocketts weren’t all that small,” he pointed out. “They shoved enough uranium and plutonium to yield twenty tons of explosives in a container that was still too heavy for one man to use without being noticed.”
Sun’s expression turned thoughtful. “It’s interesting, though, isn’t it? I mean, Kim Jong-un made a big deal out of testing large nuclear rockets not small nukes. Almost as if he were testing his ability to strike the US from his homeland. I never would have thought he’d create a new smaller device that could be sneaked into the country.”
“You have a point,” Mack agreed. “And Kim Jong-un also signed the nuclear bomb treaty with South Korea last year, giving at least the appearance of not wanting to go to war.”
There was a moment of silence before Sun spoke. “Well, Kim Jong-un isn’t known for keeping his word, so I’m not sure that means much. Trust me, his regime is extremely corrupt. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he’d managed to create a small nuclear bomb.”
“Unless it’s all a figment of someone’s overactive imagination.” The weight of responsibility was staggering. At first, he hadn’t really believed in the nuke’s existence. But now? He had to admit the possibility was all too real. And they couldn’t forget about the North Korean threat to Sun personally. Which was likely related to their case. “If there really is a device here, we need to find it as soon as possible.”
“I know, but where?” She spread her hands helplessly. “The only theory, if you want to call it that, is that someone brought it in via boat. And even if that’s true, it’s not enough. Do you have any idea how many warehouses and boarded-up buildings there are near the shoreline? I spent more hours than I care to remember searching for a missing child in those warehouses, and we barely scratched the surface of what’s out there. Not to mention, anyone with a truck could bring that device in from a pier located just about anywhere—Virginia, Maryland, Connecticut . . .” She shook her head. “Anywhere.”
She was right, the possibilities of a hiding place for this thing were endless. “We need Hyun-woo. He must know more than what he’s told you.”
Sun looked thoughtful. “I don’t know, Mack. He was deeply afraid, and I assumed his emotion stemmed from the overwhelming power of the regime. It’s something my mother spoke about often and hard to imagine unless you lived through it.” She shrugged. “But you could be right, it’s possible I didn’t ask the right questions.”
“Any idea where we can find him?”
There was a slight hesitation before she admitted, “I followed him after our meeting.”
He stared, doing his best to keep a lid on a flash of anger because she hadn’t mentioned that small fact earlier. What else was Sun holding back from him? He managed to keep his tone level with an effort. “Really?”
“Yes, so I know where he was staying at least as of yesterday. He could have moved, but maybe not since we met in a neutral location.” She shrugged. “I guess it can’t hurt to pin him down to press for more information.”
“Let’s go,” he said tersely. The sense of urgency was impossible to ignore.
The North Korean defector was their only potential lead. And if they didn’t find Hyun-woo and get something more out of him, they were right back at square one.
If the bomb was here, he couldn’t begin to fathom what life would be like after a nuclear explosion took out a group of politicians, including the incumbent President of the United States.
Unimaginable mass chaos.
* * *
January 19 – 2:06 a.m. – Chicago, IL
Jarek felt certain God was watching over him. He’d stopped his mad rush deep in the park and had hidden behind a trio of trees when he caught a glimpse of a taxi slowing down at the intersection. Lunging forward from the woods, waving his arms like a mad man, he almost wept when the driver lowered his driver’s side window, eyeing him with suspicion. “Where you headed?”
For a moment, his mind went blank. He had no idea where to go other than away. Far, far away. “Do you know where I can get a cheap motel room?”
“Sure, there’s a Motel 8 about ten minutes from here. Hop in.”
Jarek gratefully pulled open the back passenger door and slid into the taxi, glancing over his shoulder to be sure the gunman hadn’t managed to follow him. If not for knowing his way through the park, Jarek didn’t think he’d have made it without being shot or worse. He relaxed against the seat, every muscle in his body wailing in pain. He hadn’t sprinted for that long of a distance since his college days of running track.
Clearly he needed to make better use of the gym in his condo. If the gunman had caught him—he shivered and dragged his hands over his face.
Geoff was dead! Because of him. His dear friend, shot in his bed, and for what? Inviting Jarek in? Being kind to a colleague? What kind of monster did such a thing? Had he been followed to Geoff’s home? If so, how?
Or was it possible the Asian knew who his fr
iends were prior to all of this? The same way they’d known he’d purchased a plane ticket to Geneva, Switzerland.
Who was this man? Why did he kill people without blinking an eye?
Why, Lord, why?
“You okay, buddy?”
The driver’s question helped him get a grip on his spiraling emotions. He couldn’t fall apart, not yet. Not until he was safe. He met the guy’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Yes, I’m fine, thanks for asking. But would you mind finding a different cheap motel? Something farther away perhaps?”
The driver shrugged. “Hey, it’s your money.”
“Thank you.” Jarek swallowed hard and stared out the window at the various homes they passed along the way.
Obviously, after this, he didn’t dare call any of his other friends or colleagues. Any contact from him would place a giant target on their backs. In fact, it may even be too late. A gunman could show up at their homes at any time, killing senselessly while searching desperately for him.
Another shiver rippled over him, and he almost threw up right there in the back of the taxi. Despite the chilly January air, he was sweating beneath his clothes. He took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself, but he couldn’t escape the horrific memories flashing through his mind.
Geoff Webber was dead, and it was only by God’s grace that he hadn’t been killed too.
And the worst thing about this entire situation was that he knew without a doubt that his meddling had put Hana in danger. In fact, he couldn’t seem to shake the sense of keen desolation that she may already be dead.
His chest tightened painfully to the point he thought this is what it felt like to have a real heart attack. He bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut tightly to prevent unmanly tears from streaking down his cheeks.
Forgive me, Hana, my love. Please, forgive me.
* * *
January 19 – 2:19 a.m. – Washington, DC
