by Laura Scott
Her mother had refused to give her any information related to her biological father, claiming the truth was too dangerous to those who support the regime.
The fear in her mother’s eyes had been so real that Sun had clamped a lid on her innate curiosity. What did it matter who her father was? If she couldn’t have any sort of relationship with the man, there was no point in wondering about him.
“We need to plot the most likely places in the city that could be used as a launch point for the bomb,” Mack said, interrupting her thoughts.
“Do you really think that’s easier than searching for the hiding spot?” She let out a harsh laugh. “Come on, there are millions of places around DC where this thing could be launched. The whole point is that it’s a nuclear bomb. Even a small one can do a considerable amount of damage to the city.”
“Okay, then what’s your idea?” He sounded tired, which she knew from experience made him cranky. “We need to do something, we can’t just sit in a motel room somewhere and twiddle our thumbs.”
“What about that phone you took off the assailant? You’re the hacker, there must be something you can do with it.”
He pulled the device from his pocket. “Maybe. Although finding out who hired the assailant may not get us anywhere near the location of the bomb.”
“It’s the only lead we have at the moment. I mean, sure, we can wander around DC looking for the perfect launch site, but we could get to it too late. We know the North Koreans are involved somehow. At least according to the chatter transcript Jordan sent me.”
“I’d like to hear that transcript for myself,” Mack said.
“Don’t trust me?” She inwardly winced at how defensive she sounded.
“Of course I trust you, but sometimes two people can hear subtle differences and nuances in speech patterns.”
“That’s a poor use of resources when you have the assailant’s phone in your hand.”
“Not much I can do without a computer.”
He was right. “Yeah, okay. I’ll get Jordan to supply us with a sat computer.”
Neither of them spoke as she drove to the motel. As before, she went in to secure the room while Mack waited in the Chevy.
Once they were settled in the motel room, Mack began playing with the assailant’s phone. Curious, she crossed over to sit beside him to watch.
“Are you trying to break the passcode?”
“Yes.” His fingers flew over the buttons.
She frowned. “Is there a specific method to do that?”
“Not really, but I’m a patient man. One of these will work.”
Sun couldn’t believe he was really going to try every possible number sequence to get into the device. That would take hours, although really, she wasn’t sure what else they could do. Poking through warehouses along the shoreline seemed even more of a long shot than Mack’s attempt to break into the assailant’s phone.
Moving away from where Mack was working, she used her own disposable cell to call Jordan about their need for a satellite computer and more cash.
“Okay, I can get you what you need. Where do you want to meet?”
Sun thought for a moment. “Remember the motel near the freeway exit ramp? The one where we ended up exchanging gunfire? We’re at the same place.”
“I remember it very well,” Jordan said dryly. “See you soon.”
“Thanks.” She glanced at Mack, who was still working the phone. “Don’t break your fingers, Jordan will be here shortly with a satellite computer and more cash.”
“Got it,” Mack announced with glee, a wide grin slicing his features.
“No way.” Sun was impressed with his tenacity.
“Always helps when they start with a low number,” Mack said modestly. “I usually pick a number in the middle followed by a high number and a low number. Makes it harder to crack.”
She didn’t want to admit she never considered a hacker’s perspective when creating her own passcodes. Sliding close, she leaned over to see the flip phone. “Now what? Is there a way to track incoming calls?”
“Yes, but just know there could easily be another disposable phone on the other end, which makes this less likely to be helpful.” She watched as Mack found the menu screen. “See here? These are all the calls coming in and going out, and they have Washington, DC, area codes.”
“Not surprising, why wouldn’t they pick up phones here in the city?”
“Oh, I’ve had the gamut. Some people buy them from cities they’re not working in as a way to cover their trail.” He looked up. “There are only two different numbers here, and not that many calls to each of them.”
“And that means what?”
He shrugged. “In my humble opinion? Means the guy in charge is keeping a tight rein on his hired help.”
“Are you going to call the numbers?”
“Yes, but don’t get your hopes up. This likely won’t yield much.”
“It’s more than we have now,” Sun pointed out.
Mack punched in the first series of numbers, the last call the assailant had made. She leaned close to hear better.
“Is it done?” a deep voice asked.
“Yes, but there was a complication,” Mack said in a clipped tone. She was impressed there was no hint of his New York accent.
There was only the slightest hesitation before the call abruptly ended. When Mack tried the number again, there was no response. Then he tried the second number, but that call went unanswered.
“You’re right,” she said in disgust. “That wasn’t much.”
“On the contrary, we learned two things,” Mack said. “One, the job is likely to kill you.”
“We already kinda knew that.” She furrowed her brow. “What’s the other thing?”
“The guy in charge didn’t recognize my voice and quickly aborted the call.”
She threw up her hands. “That’s nothing!”
“We might find out more when Jordan brings the computer. I may even be able to hack into the cell tower database to find out where the disposable phone he was using on his end was last located.”
Might? Maybe? Not encouraging.
Then again, Mack had surprised her by getting into the phone in the first place. Maybe she was selling him short.
It was both humbling and annoying to realize how much she needed his help working this case.
Maybe he could even help find her mother.
Chapter Seven
January 19 – 3:24 a.m. – Geneva, Switzerland
Hana slowly made her way over to stand in the boarding line, making sure she moved like an old woman with severe arthritis. A sweet man gestured for her to cut in front of him, and she gave him a nod.
“Thank you, kind sir.” She kept her voice low, knowing that her disguise didn’t cover the nuances of her voice. It was the most difficult thing to change, which is why voice recognition had become so important in solving crimes.
“You’re welcome.” The man hesitated, then said, “If you’d like to sit, I can save this spot for you.”
As much as she appreciated his concern, a humbling if rare thing to experience in the midst of running from men trying to kill her, she shook her head. “No, thank you. I’ll be sitting long enough on the flight.”
“Yes, I’m sure we all will.”
She fell silent, shuffling forward a foot at a time as passengers boarded the plane. She’d left her book behind in order to keep her hands free in case she was attacked. Despite how badly she wanted to turn and search the area for the Koreans, she purposefully kept her eyes facing forward.
Moving stiffly wasn’t a problem, she was so tense it felt as if her joints were rusted in place like the tin man in the Wizard of Oz. Any moment she expected to feel a hand on her shoulder, two men flanking her as they attempted to force her from the line.
Time seemed to stand still, but eventually the people in front of her moved enough that she was next up to board. When it was her turn, she scanned her boar
ding pass and was waved through.
Still, she didn’t dare increase her speed, needing to stay in character until she was safely on US soil. At that point, she might feel safe enough to shed her disguise.
She found her window seat in the middle area of the plane. Edging into the spot, she sat with a soft groan. The tightness of her chest eased, and she risked a quick glance around at her fellow passengers.
So far, so good.
For a moment, she rested her forehead against the glass window, looking out at the city she’d used as her home base over the past few weeks. Ridiculous to feel sad about leaving when she’d really never had a place to call home.
The closest she’d come were those months in Chicago with Jarek thirty years ago.
Yet this was the life she’d chosen. Making the best out of an impossible situation. And even knowing what she did now, she couldn’t necessarily say she wouldn’t have made the same decisions again.
If she’d saved at least one life by her actions, it was worth it.
Shaking off the maudlin thoughts, she tried to think about what she would do once she landed in Chicago. Oh, it would be hours yet, but still, she needed to think of some way to get in touch with Jarek.
Thinking of the man she’d once loved made her smile. She lifted her gaze, then froze, the smile seemingly a horrific caricature on her face.
One of the North Koreans was walking down the center aisle of the plane!
Her heart thudded painfully, fear gripping her by the throat. No! It couldn’t be! They couldn’t have found her on this flight.
Or were they just walking through each plane, searching for her? But who would let them do such a thing? With all the security in place, you couldn’t get onto a plane without a boarding pass.
She forced herself to lower her gaze, reaching forward casually to pick up the magazine from the seat pocket. Sitting there calmly reading was the hardest thing she’d ever done.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the Korean move past her, disappearing from view.
He didn’t leave the plane either. Within ten minutes, the flight attendants closed the doors and did their final preflight check.
She was stuck with the Korean, at least until they landed in London.
There had to be a way to lose him in England. No matter what happened, she couldn’t allow him to follow her all the way to Chicago.
She’d rather die than allow harm to come to those she loved.
* * *
January 19 – 3:51 a.m. – Washington, DC
Mack eyed Jordan Rashid curiously as he set the satellite computer on the desk in their room.
“Jordan, this is Macklin Remington. Mack, my boss, Jordan Rashid.”
He’d nodded in response to Sun’s brief introduction. He had to remind himself there was no reason to be jealous of the guy. After all, Jordan was married with a daughter and a baby on the way. Mack forced a smile. “Nice to meet you. Have you spoken to Yates recently?”
“No, why? You have something I need to report?”
He glanced briefly at Sun, then shrugged. “No, but we need more intel to go on or this mission will be a complete bust. There must be more chatter out there about this alleged nuke.”
“Mack’s right,” Sun added. “My only contact, the North Korean defector named Hyun-woo, has been murdered.” She went on to explain how they’d disarmed the assailant and escaped.
Jordan blew out a heavy sigh. “That’s not good.”
“No, and without a lead, we’re spitting in the wind.” Mack gestured to the computer. “I’m going to try to hack into the assailant’s disposable phone carrier in an attempt to trace the number, but if that doesn’t turn up something good, we’re stuck.”
“You can do that? Hack into the phone account to trace a number?” Jordan looked impressed.
“I can try,” he admitted modestly.
“Mack started his career with NSA as a hacker,” Sun added helpfully. “If anyone can do it, he can.”
He was touched by how quickly Sun defended his skills, especially since she hadn’t seen them in action. His feelings toward her vacillated between wanting to throttle her and kiss the daylights out of her.
If he tried the latter, he felt certain she’d clip him under the chin in response. The thought made him grin.
“Would you send the transcript of the earlier chatter?” Sun asked. “Mack wants to listen in as well.”
Jordan raised a brow. “You think that’s necessary?”
“It can’t hurt,” Mack retorted.
Jordan’s gaze shifted between the two of them. “It’s interesting you both share that same ability. I couldn’t believe it when Sun began to speak Arabic.”
Mack grinned and winked at Sun. “It came in handy when we were young and wanted to talk about stuff we didn’t want anyone else to know.”
Sun elbowed him in the ribs. “Don’t tell him that. We should have been more inclusive.”
“Hey, we were the odd ones out, remember?” Mack had protected Sun more than once from kids who’d called her all sorts of derogatory names because of her Korean heritage. And they’d both had the lack of family in common. Mack’s parents had passed away in a horrible car crash, leaving him with an inheritance and a chip on his shoulder, while Sun’s mother had dropped her off and never returned except for two occasions that he knew of.
“Okay, let me log in and I’ll send you the transcript.” Jordan opened the sat computer and waited for the device to find a signal before logging in. “Hmm, that’s weird.”
“What is?” Sun leaned over his shoulder to peer at the screen.
“The file won’t open.” Jordan turned to look at Mack “You wanna try?”
“Sure.” Jordan moved away so he could take over. Sun stayed where she was, resting her hand lightly on his shoulder. The warmth of her palm and the hint of citrus that clung to her skin was distracting, and he focused on the screen with an effort. He made several attempts to open the file but without success. “Looks like the file is corrupt.” He frowned and glanced at Jordan. “Who sent this to you?”
“One of Yates’s agents, guy by the name of Ian Chandler.”
“Sun, see if you can get at it from your email.” He moved aside, missing her touch when she dropped into the seat.
After several attempts to access her file, she looked up at him. “Mine’s corrupt too. But I don’t understand how this could happen.”
Mack grimaced. “The file must have had some sort of self-destruct command built into it. That’s why I asked who sent it to you. The Feds don’t usually do that kind of thing.”
“Then who did?” Jordan asked.
It was a good question. Unfortunately, Mack didn’t have a good answer.
“Someone who’s trying to sabotage our attempt to find this nuke.” Mack glanced between Sun and Jordan. “And from what I see here, it must be a person with access to federal government files, likely a government employee.”
* * *
January 19 – 4:05 a.m. – Washington, DC
He’d done nothing but pace the room since receiving the call from the stranger who must have gotten ahold of his fixer’s disposable phone.
It had been difficult not to call the number back, demanding to know whom he was speaking to. Stupid idea, since he knew the strange voice wasn’t going to admit anything.
Now what? He needed a backup plan, someone competent that would take care of this mess once and for all.
But he was hesitant to make the call. Once he made contact with the guy, there would be no going back. And such a move would also put his own life on the line, forging a bond that would never be broken.
He knew these types of people were used only as a last resort. A deal with the devil always was. He should know as he’d done this before. Maybe not to this extent, yet he hadn’t gotten to where he was today without crawling over the backs of those who weren’t as determined as he.
But timing was everything, and he couldn’t let
this opportunity go. Not now. Not when the next inauguration was four years away.
Besides, the current political environment was perfect. There would never be a better time.
He needed to act now.
A wave of dread hit hard as he picked up the disposable phone and punched in the number he’d memorized. Ironically, making the necessary arrangements didn’t take as long as he’d expected. Half the money to be wired now, and half when the job was complete.
Without hesitation, he logged into his laptop and sent the cash as directed.
When he’d finished hitting the send button, he sat motionless for a moment staring at the screen. Then he abruptly stood and bolted to the bathroom, losing the contents of his stomach in the toilet.
Too late to back out now.
It was done.
* * *
January 19 – 4:11 a.m. – Chicago, IL
A muffled thud woke Jarek, sending his pulse into triple digits as he swept his gaze over the darkened room. He must have fallen asleep, exhaustion combined with his physical exertion catching up to him.
But he was wide awake now.
Crawling from the bed, he inched toward the window, wondering what he would do if the Asian had found him here. After all, there was nowhere to run. The only windows in the hotel faced the front and the parking lot, which is where the sound originated. Hiding in the bathroom would be of no use.
He was trapped in the room like a mouse who’d tried to steal the cheese.
And wasn’t that what he’d done? Tried to steal a piece of his past? Reunite with the woman he still loved? The cancer scare had turned out to be nothing, but he’d decided then and there to live what was left of his life to the fullest.
Starting with finding Hana.
Selfish. How could he have been so stupid? Hana had told him she would be in danger from the regime; he should have listened to her. In his defense, he hadn’t considered his trying to find her thirty years later would cause this surreal sequence of events.
