Target For Revenge

by Laura Scott

  One in which a stranger brutally killed his friend.

  Jarek ruthlessly shoved the image away. Staying here would only provide a false sense of security. He clearly couldn’t live in the motel forever. What if the Asian showed up? As distasteful as it was, he needed a weapon.

  And the only place he could imagine getting one was from his neighbor.

  When he’d finished ironing, he dressed, then eyed the family restaurant across the street. Walking over to eat breakfast shouldn’t cause anyone to look at him with suspicion. Isn’t that why restaurants were located next to hotels? To provide guests convenient access to meals?

  From there, he could call a taxi to head back to his condo. The thought of approaching the place he called home filled him with a dark sense of foreboding.

  A quick stop, he promised himself. In and out before anyone knew he’d been there. Was such a feat even possible? Jarek wouldn’t know until he tried.

  But first, breakfast.

  Jarek pulled the heavy chair away from the front of the door and slowly unlocked the chain and dead bolt. Drawing a deep breath, he cracked the door open, looking around cautiously before stepping outside.

  He could see his breath in the cold air, but the frigid temperature didn’t register, every nerve in his body stretched to the breaking point as he searched for the Asian.

  Leaving his key behind, he closed the door and began walking to the restaurant. When he reached the building unscathed, he relaxed and requested a seat in the back of the dining room.

  So far, so good.

  Yet Jarek knew the real test of his courage was yet to come.

  One he felt woefully unprepared for.

  * * *

  January 19 – 7:36 a.m. – Washington, DC

  Sun pushed the computer away with an aggravated sigh. “I can’t find him on the Congress website.”

  Mack frowned. “I guess he must be an aide of some sort.”

  “If so, it won’t be easy to find his identity. I don’t think there’s a general listing of aides anywhere on the internet. The only reason they list senators and representatives is because they’re elected officials and must be accessible to all.”

  “Do you mind if I take a look?” Mack asked.

  She lifted a brow. “You think I missed something?”

  “No, but I’m curious when the website was last updated. It’s possible the newly elected officials haven’t been updated in the system yet.”

  She felt foolish for not thinking of that for herself. She pushed the computer toward him and finished her coffee.

  At the moment she felt as if they were chasing ghosts.

  “The site was last updated before the November elections,” Mack said with satisfaction. “Our guy might be new to the political scene.”

  “And he just happens to speak North Korean?” She couldn’t hide the doubt in her tone. “I find that highly unlikely.”

  “Okay, maybe not new to the political scene,” Mack amended. “Could be he lost his seat a couple of years ago and ran again to gain it back.”

  She was forced to admit his theory had merit. “Okay, I guess we can run a search on congressmen who’ve been re-elected after losing a previous term in office. There can’t be that many of them.”

  Mack was already typing in the search command. After several long minutes, he sighed. “There is only one, and he’s not our guy.”

  Disappointment stabbed deep. “So either our blond is a freshman in Congress or he’s one of the aides. Not helpful.”

  “I know.” Mack pushed the computer back toward her. “It was worth a shot. Do you have any other ideas?”

  “I wish I did.” She stared morosely at the computer screen, then pulled it close and began typing.

  “What are you doing?” Mack asked.

  “Going state by state to see who was newly elected.” She keyed in Alabama. “Starting at the top of the alphabet and working my way down.” She met his gaze. “Unless you have a better idea?”

  “Nope.” He glanced at his watch. “We should finish up though. We need to meet Chandler soon.”

  “I know.” Sun did her best not to lose hope, but it wasn’t easy. This case had more holes than a teenager’s jeans. What made it worse was that she had no way of contacting her mother to put her on notice of the danger.

  Sun had never felt so helpless in her entire life. Not even the day her mother sent her off to Mensa school, then allowing years to pass by before coming back to see her.

  * * *

  January 19 – 7:59 a.m. – Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean

  Hana was doing the math in her head, estimating the time she’d land in Chicago’s O’Hare airport. London was six hours ahead, and the flight was roughly eight hours, so she figured they’d land around eight forty-five in the morning.

  How long to get through customs and out of the airport? Probably the same amount of time as it had taken in London, maybe a little less. The good news was that she had no baggage with her, so a luggage search wouldn’t slow her down.

  And what if she saw the North Korean? She tried not to borrow trouble, to put her worries in God’s hands, but it wasn’t easy.

  A hint of a smile creased her features. Jarek had been the one to teach her his Christian faith. It was easy enough to turn her back on the religion her family had taught since they were dictators who thrived on power and violence.

  God and prayer had helped keep her sane over the years. She would be forever grateful for Jarek showing her the way.

  She wondered again what Jarek might think of her showing up after all these years. Would he be upset? Angry? Or happy to see her? Was she making a mistake taking this detour rather than going straight on to DC?

  Her smile faded as she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. A man was walking slowly down the narrow pathway on the other side of the plane. A glimpse of dark straight hair and slanted eyes made her stomach tense.

  No, it couldn’t be. The Korean couldn’t have followed her onto this flight. What were the chances?

  She didn’t dare lift her gaze to get a better look. Instead, she tucked the pillow against the headrest so that her features were obscured from his view.

  How many people were on this jet? At least 350, maybe more. There weren’t any empty seats that she could see, and the pamphlet claimed a total of 400 passengers could be accommodated.

  Three fifty to four hundred people. The dark-haired man could be anyone. There was no reason to panic.

  Still, Hana planned to keep her face buried against the pillow for the remainder of the flight.

  * * *

  January 19 – 8:13 a.m. – Pyongyang, North Korea

  He didn’t want to face the Supreme Leader, but he had little choice as the men on either side would drag him by force if he didn’t walk under his own power.

  “Have you found the traitor?”

  He swallowed hard, staring at the floor. “We only know she is flying to the United States. Our source has indicated she is using yet another alias, and we believe she will land in Chicago soon. We will be ready.”

  There was a long pause. He didn’t move, not even to breathe.

  “Return with news of her capture or die.”

  He remained in a submissive position, his heart hammering with fear. From the corner of his eye, the Supreme Leader made a gesture, indicating he should be removed from the room.

  Again, there was something off about the encounter, but there wasn’t time to think it through at the moment. Getting the results the Supreme Leader expected him to deliver was all that mattered.

  * * *

  January 19 – 8:19 a.m. – Washington, DC

  They’d returned to the coffee shop that was their designated meeting spot, and Chandler would be there soon. Mack watched the steady stream of pedestrian traffic pass the coffee shop window. “You might want to take a break from the computer and help me watch for Chandler.”

  Sun had been methodically working through the state
s in what he now believed was a hopeless effort to find their blond North Korean–speaking guy. She blinked at him, her eyes glassy. “Huh?”

  “Take a break,” he repeated, concerned about Sun’s ability to keep going in her current state.

  And frankly, his wasn’t much better. Going without sleep was one thing, but trying to do something sedate like reading names on a computer while being up for more than twenty-four hours was nearly impossible.

  “I don’t have that much further to go.” Her slender fingers flew across the keyboard. He ground his teeth over her stubborn streak and glanced back at the people milling about outside. It was a little surprising to see so many walking around despite the cold January weather.

  Then again, it could be that the impending presidential inauguration had brought a renewed energy to Capitol Hill.

  He could only hope that the energy wouldn’t be transformed into something as horrible as a nuclear bomb being detonated.

  “How much further?” he asked.

  “I’m on the V’s, so almost finished.” She stubbornly continued her task. “Although I’m not finding anything even closely resembling our guy.”

  “Another dead end.” He was beginning to think this entire case was hopeless. Unless Chandler pulled some kind of rabbit out of his hat, they’d be back to having nothing.

  Other than an exploded Jeep, a man with a gun who shot at them at Sun’s so-called safe house, and a dead informant.

  Clearly something was going on, but what? And how was this all connected to the chatter about the nuke?

  Mack caught a glimpse of a man walking slowly toward the coffee shop. He raked his gaze over him, easily recognizing the federal agent.

  “Sun? He’s here.” He tipped his chin toward the window. “Coming in from the west.”

  She swiveled in her seat to see for herself. She shut the computer and stood so she could move to the stool in the corner. “You have your list of questions?”

  He tapped his temple with a lean finger. “Right here.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  Mack was tracking Chandler’s progress when suddenly a man brushed against him, causing Chandler to stumble and clutch at his side. The hair on the back of Mack’s neck lifted in warning.

  “He’s hurt!” Mack leaped to his feet, staring in horror.

  Bright red blood pooled on the ground beneath Chandler, where the man lay motionless on the sidewalk. People clustered around the fallen man. He could hear Sun calling 911, but he bolted to the door, trying to find the guy who’d obviously stabbed Chandler.

  He caught a glimpse of a man wearing a dark coat and a black knit hat moving swiftly through the crowd and took off after him.

  Chapter Ten

  January 19 – 8:37 a.m. – Washington, DC

  After calling 911, Sun shouldered the satellite computer and rushed outside several seconds behind Mack. She didn’t join the chase but pushed her way through the crowd to kneel beside the injured Chandler.

  “What happened? Ian? Can you hear me?” The amount of bright red blood oozing from his side indicated an artery within his liver had been hit. She quickly pulled up the bottom part of his trench coat, balling it up and shoving the fabric against the jagged knife wound along his right side, putting as much pressure against the injury as she could.

  Ian Chandler’s gaze was wide with fear as he looked up at her. “I—I . . .”

  “Do you know who did this?” She needed to get something from Ian. Anything. “Did you see the man who hurt you?”

  “No.” The word was barely a whisper. His eyes slid closed, but she gave him a shake.

  “Ian, stay with me. Did you realize the chatter transcript had a self-destruct command embedded in it?”

  He looked so pale, as if he’d lost half his blood volume right there on the sidewalk. And maybe he had. Sun began to feel desperate.

  “Ian, please. Tell me who sent the transcript to you.”

  He stared blankly for a moment, then whispered, “Allan.”

  “Allan who? Do you have a last name?” She felt bad for pressing so hard for information, but she had a sick feeling Ian Chandler wasn’t going to make it. In the distance, she could hear sirens and prayed the ambulance was on its way. “Do you hear the sirens, Ian? You need to stay with me, help will be here soon. Tell me who sent the transcript, Allan who?”

  His gaze clung to hers for a long moment, but then his eyes drifted shut again. Sun shook him, but his entire body went limp.

  Chandler had fallen unconscious. She glanced around at the pedestrians gathered around, gawking. “I’m with the FBI,” she fibbed. “Did anyone see what happened?”

  Several people shook their head no, and others commented about how they had noticed Ian stumbling but not the attack itself. It was about what she’d expected, but frustrating just the same.

  While continuing to put pressure against Ian’s wound, she subtly checked his pockets to see what, if anything, he may have brought with him. When her fingers closed around a USB drive, she felt a surge of hope. As inconspicuously as possible, she palmed the drive and removed it from Chandler’s pocket, placing it into her own.

  “Ian? Come on, stay with me.” She put her fingers against his neck but couldn’t feel a pulse.

  The sirens were louder now, but she knew they would be too late. Ian Chandler had already lost too much blood. Of course there was always a chance, but she felt certain whoever had stabbed him had known exactly what he was doing. Striking deep into his liver hadn’t been an accident.

  The clear intent had been to kill him. To keep Chandler from sharing whatever he might have known about the transcript.

  Who on earth could have done this? Had Chandler mentioned the meeting to someone? Or was his phone tapped? It had to be one of those things because the only people other than her and Mack who knew about this meeting was Jordan, Yates, and Chandler himself.

  Still, even with a bugged phone, how had he been ambushed so quickly?

  The USB drive was burning a hole in her pocket. Glancing up, she could see the ambulance, followed by two Capitol Hill police cars, heading toward them. Several of the bystanders were moving away, so Sun went along with them carrying the computer, deciding it was best to slip away to avoid being interviewed by the cops.

  When she was several blocks away, she called Jordan. “Someone got to Chandler before the meeting.”

  “How?” Jordan asked incredulously.

  “I don’t know, but he’s lost so much blood I don’t think he’s going to make it.” She hesitated, then added, “You better let Yates know since Chandler is with the Bureau. The cops are going to jump all over that. I left the scene to avoid being questioned, just in case you hear something about an Asian woman being there too.”

  Jordan sighed heavily. “Okay. Did he tell you anything?”

  Sun kept walking, putting more distance between herself and the crime scene. It disturbed her to know she still had Ian’s blood on her hands and glanced around for a place with a restroom. “Only that someone named Allan sent the transcript to him, although truthfully, I don’t know how with it he was. And I also don’t know if Allan is a first or last name. Mack took off after the guy, but I’m not sure if he’s caught up to him or not.”

  “Maybe Mack will learn something.”

  “Maybe.” She could only hope. “I need you to see if Yates can verify if someone named Allan works in the cyber security department?”

  “Yes, right away. And Sun? Be careful. This job is getting more dangerous by the minute. Especially since there seems to be multiple threats.”

  “I will.” She appreciated Jordan’s concern; frankly, it mirrored her own.

  The way Chandler had been brutally silenced mere minutes before their meeting was deeply troubling. And what was worse is that they didn’t have much to go on.

  Other than the USB drive.

  Another quick glance around revealed no sign of Mack. She did, however, see yet another café, one that served
breakfast and lunch. She went inside to use the restroom, hoping Mack would call soon.

  She could use Mack’s expertise to view whatever was on the USB drive.

  And she desperately wanted to know Mack was safe.

  * * *

  January 19 – 9:01 a.m. – Washington, DC

  He’d lost him.

  Mack wasn’t sure how, one minute he had the guy with the black knit cap in his sights, the next he was gone. Mack had thought he’d left the street level to catch the Metro, but when he’d headed down to check, there had been no sign of the assailant.

  Inwardly railing at himself, he returned to the street and began making his way back toward the coffee shop where he’d left Sun. He was somewhat surprised she hadn’t followed him, she was fast enough to have caught up without a problem.

  But knowing Sun, she’d likely stayed back to check on Chandler.

  His phone rang, and he grinned, recognizing the number of Sun’s disposable phone. “How’s Chandler?”

  “Dead. What about you? Did you catch the guy who knifed him?”

  “Unfortunately, I lost him. I thought he went onto the Metro, but I couldn’t find him anywhere.” He hated admitting failure. “I’m sorry, Sun. We lost our best lead.”

  “Not entirely,” she said, surprising him. “I found a USB drive in Chandler’s pocket. Where are you right now?”

  “Um, good question.” He glanced at the street sign and brought up the map of Capitol Hill in his memory. “I’m probably fifteen minutes from the coffee shop.”

  “I’m not at the coffee shop, I’m at a breakfast café.” She gave him the name and street. “I’ll wait here for you.”

  “I’d rather we meet back at the Chevy.” After the way Chandler had been stabbed so close to their meeting location, he felt certain they weren’t safe in this area.

  “Not yet. See you soon.” Sun disconnected from the call.