Daughter of War

by Brad Taylor

  Knuckles set to work, and Veep withdrew what looked like an old-fashioned beeper with a flat one-inch-wide cable running out attached to a credit-card-looking gadget.

  Knuckles said, “It’s open,” and I saw the plate of the keypad dangling down. Veep placed the card against the guts of the system, lining up the copper leads with a circuit board. He hit a button on the beeper thing and said, “Let’s pray Creed’s right.”

  It was a brute-force device that would spin through codes much faster than a human ever could. Basically, it went through every possible combination, not unlike someone punching in numbers one at a time, hoping the door would open. Only our system punched them in at a rate of fifteen a second.

  We had two worries. One, that the keypad would have a fail-safe, whereby after x number of attempts, it would shut down. Two, that the code was more than four digits. Creed had assured us that number one wouldn’t happen, but he wasn’t sure about number two.

  After two seconds, Veep said, “We’re good. If it were going to lock out, it would have by now.”

  We waited for five minutes, the machine working through the combinations, and I began to think the code was more than four numbers, which was not good. Each new number string increased the combination choices exponentially. A four-digit combo had ten thousand choices. A six-digit had one million. Ten thousand would take minutes. One million would take hours. If it was more than a six-digit code, it would take days.

  At nine minutes, I said, “You sure Creed’s right on this?”

  And the light on the keypad flashed green, an audible snap echoing as the lock cleared.

  Veep grinned at me and pulled down on the handle, saying, “O ye of little faith.”

  He opened the door, and we saw an Asian man standing in front of us, his eyes as wide as ours were at his appearance.

  We snapped into action at the same time, him pulling out a pistol and Veep charging forward. Veep slapped the gun to the side, and the man squeezed the trigger. The bullet struck the ceiling, leaving a loud ricochet. I leapt through the doorway and hammered him in the face. He slammed against the stone wall, bounced back, raised his pistol, and Veep put a barrel against his head, dropping the hammer.

  The man crumpled to the ground, the smell of cordite and blood filling the small room. Veep looked at me, wondering if he’d done wrong. I said, “Good shot.”

  Veep nodded, his eyes wide. I said, “Although it would have been nice to talk to him.”

  Veep looked deflated, and Knuckles said, “Don’t let him get to you. Very few people he meets live to talk.”

  I said, “Maybe true. Maybe not. Let’s search.”

  The first thing we found was a makeshift bedroom complete with a cooking stove and fourteen cases of bottled water. I said, “That’s good news. He’s here guarding the place. They must not have trusted the bank. Nobody’s going to miss him until they come back.”

  Veep said, “Over here. Look here.”

  I went to him and saw two racks of the same thermos-type thing we’d sent to Kurt. It was shelf upon shelf of Red Mercury.

  And five cylinders were missing.

  64

  Song listened to the diatribe on the phone, and eventually had heard enough. He said, “Hey . . . Hey . . . Be quiet!”

  The line went clean and he said, “What I’m telling you is a fact. The Americans were in Stans today. They were on the same cable car as the ghost team. You can blame me all you want about ‘controlling the situation,’ but the fact remains that I have the girl, and the Americans didn’t stay in Geneva. This is your plan. I’m just executing.”

  Not many would ever deign to be so abrupt with the power structure of the external security of the DPRK, but Song knew his pedigree. He had a direct line to the Supreme Leader. They had nothing but a military rank. And Kim Jong-un had shown a propensity to annihilate military leaders who displeased him in the most obscene ways.

  He heard, “How do you know it was the American team? Maybe it was just a tourist.”

  “Our men on the cable car thought they recognized him from the restaurant in Lucerne. The female who was with him conducted what they believed might have been a brush pass. Before the cable car had reached the end, they searched each other and found what they think is a tracking device on one of the packs.”

  “What? Where is the team? Is the United States tracking them right now?”

  “Yes, calm down. They’re following my lead. I sent them to Zurich and had them check into a hotel. The beacon—if it was one—was left behind in the room. We’re clean again.”

  “How can you say that? This is a disaster.”

  “Let me speak slowly so you’ll understand. They went to Zurich and checked into a hotel, leaving a trail with a reservation of three days. Immediately after that, they left the hotel and came to Geneva. The beacon is in the hotel. They are not. They have disappeared.”

  Song heard, “Don’t insult me. Do not insult me.”

  He realized he might have overstepped, knowing the power those men held, but he didn’t regret it. Song held a dim view of the men running the ghost team. They seemed to believe they understood the world of espionage, when they’d never stepped outside of the Hermit Kingdom. They had no idea what went on in the real world.

  He was the one executing policy around the globe. He was one of the few who could fade into the background in the countries where the Supreme Leader wanted action. And because of it, he was a favored son. Well, that, and his familial pedigree to the ruling power.

  Song backed off a bit, saying, “I’m sorry. I meant no disrespect, but we’ve done what we could here. We executed with precision. You should be proud that the ghost team recognized the threat.”

  “I will be more proud when they execute the attack. We cannot afford any interference, and the Americans clearly want to do that.”

  Song looked toward a chair in the dining room, seeing the small child chained to it. Seeing the fear on her face. He said, “We have what that team holds dear. We have the child.”

  “Apparently not. They didn’t remain in Geneva like we asked. They’re out running amok, looking for ghosts.”

  Song said, “That’s true, but they didn’t try to interfere with our team, which means it was an initial effort. Right now, they are probably planning against Zurich.”

  “That deception may not be good enough. What if they determine it’s a false trail today? They’ll be back on the hunt immediately.”

  “We only need to stop them for a couple of days, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Zurich might not be enough, you’re right, but I think I have the means to stall them longer.”

  “How?”

  Song returned to the child in the chair. He said, “Let me give them something to consider. Let me give them a ransom demand with bite. Permit me to leverage the child. You haven’t let me do that. And I can.”

  He heard nothing for a moment, then, “Okay. Do what you must.”

  Song said, “You’ve made the right choice. We have a mission, and brutality will be the way it is executed.”

  He hung up the phone and said, “Where is the girl’s cell phone? It’s an iPhone, yes?”

  A member of the ghost team brought it out, saying, “Yes it is.”

  Song said, “Leave it in airplane mode and put it on video, the slow-motion setting, but no sound. And don’t capture my face.”

  The man did so, saying, “Why?”

  He moved to the chair, placing his hand on the child’s shoulder, feeling her tense up. Speaking in Korean, he knew she had no idea what he was saying, but she understood it was bad.

  He said, “Because I want the man who’s going to receive it to see the punishment. I want absolute compliance, and this video will provide it.”

  He turned toward the child, her face spilling terror. He said, “
Capture that. No sound. Just capture the look.”

  The man said, “I’m taping. I have it.”

  The child looked at him in dread, and Song wrapped his left hand in the girl’s hair, holding her head steady. He swung his right hand hard, slamming it into the girl’s cheek.

  65

  I ran my key card on our hotel room door and entered, saying, “Do you believe I’m right?”

  Jennifer said, “Yes, I think you are.”

  I closed the door and said, “Think isn’t going to cut it. Am I right? Or am I just pulling off for Amena? I can’t tell anymore.”

  She took a seat on the bed, looked at me, and said, “Pike, you’re right. This is bigger than us. We can’t contain it, regardless of Amena.”

  I’d come down from the mountain, leaving the OP in place, and met her at the hotel. She’d tracked the North Koreans to the train station, and watched them board a train to Zurich. They’d rolled away with their cargo, and she’d let them.

  I’d left the rest of the team up high, keeping eyes on the bunker, because what was inside there was decidedly deadly. I didn’t think anyone else would appear to retrieve it, but I now had a responsibility to prevent that probability. We had a beacon on one team, and I couldn’t predict if there would be others coming. I’d told them to interdict anyone who entered. Disable them if possible, but kill them if not.

  Now I had to get the authority to do such a thing.

  I’d decided to call Kurt and trigger a bilateral operation using Swiss assets. It was something he wasn’t going to want to hear, but this had exceeded the Taskforce. We were talking about a massive cache of WMD and a state force willing to use them. With at least one team on the loose that had them on their backs.

  It was beyond our control. But a part of me wanted to be let free to find Amena.

  I sat down in front of our laptop and rubbed my face, trying to reconcile that I was doing the right thing. Would a unilateral Taskforce operation have more chance of success? Trying to involve another state system without exposing Taskforce operations was very hard to do—and laying the foundation was time-consuming. Was I endangering lives by my course of action? I was honestly torn, but I’d made my decision. I dialed the VPN.

  It connected, and I was forced through a dance to prove I wasn’t under duress, a Taskforce SOP that aggravated me in the moment. After answering one too many bona fides questions, I said, “Get Kurt Hale, right fucking now.”

  The guy on the other end looked like I’d slapped him. He said, “Roger that. Stand by.”

  Off the screen, Jennifer said, “Hey, that’s not going to help here.”

  I turned to her and said, “Nothing’s going to help here. I think this is going to go bad all the way around. We’re going to find Amena’s body in a dump, and they’re going to kill a shit-ton of people.”

  She recoiled and said, “What’s that about? You’re the guy who’s always confident.”

  I felt the blackness returning to my soul, eating at me. I knew what it wanted, and I thought it was going to win. I said, “I don’t know. I just feel it. I abandoned Amena, and that’s going to haunt me forever. And because of it, I’m going to reap the rewards for the deaths that are coming.”

  She came to me and put a hand on my shoulder, saying, “That is not fair. You didn’t abandon her. You can only do so much. Do what’s right now.”

  I saw the trepidation on her face, the same dread from when we’d first met, when I was out of control, killing everyone in sight.

  I said, “I don’t know what’s right anymore.”

  She said, “You do know what’s right. You do. Trust yourself.”

  I put my hand on hers and said, “Maybe. But I don’t think it’s up to me.”

  A shadow appeared on the screen, and Kurt Hale sat down. He said, “Hey, what’s the emergency? I have the SITREP and we have the track from the Cotton Mouth. Is that it?”

  I said, “Sort of. I didn’t put everything in the SITREP, because I didn’t know who would see it. I wanted a face-to-face. Sir, we’ve found a significant threat. That bunker is full of Red Mercury, much more than we can take out. This is much bigger than the Taskforce.”

  I saw Kurt’s face go through about twelve different emotions. He finally said, “You found what?”

  “We found a bunker full of WMD. I’ve got eyes on to interdict anyone else who approaches, and I need Omega to take them down. I’m telling you that this is a major shit storm. We have to shut it down, and I don’t have the men to do it. Give me in-extremis authority, but get the Swiss on this right now. That bunker is a time bomb.”

  Kurt said, “What about the men on the loose? Do they have it?”

  “I think so, but once again, this is no longer a Taskforce mission. Get the Swiss on the tag. Assault them. I can’t do it alone.”

  “The tag ended in Zurich. We lost contact there.”

  I said, “That makes sense. Jennifer followed them to the train station, and they took a train to Zurich. Do you have fidelity of the final resting place?”

  “Yeah. It’s a hotel.”

  “Hit that fucker. Right now. We’re losing control of this thing. Get the Swiss involved. I don’t care how. Make it a CIA leak or whatever, but we can’t stop what’s about to happen by ourselves.”

  He went into commander mode immediately, no hesitation, no dithering. It’s why I followed him. He said, “Okay, okay. I’m giving you Omega for the bunker, right now. Anyone else enters it, take them down, but I need you to go to Zurich. I’ll get the machine in motion, but it won’t be immediate. Find those guys, right now. Give the Swiss a target.”

  “Sir, I can’t do both missions. I have a single team.”

  Kurt sagged back in his chair, thinking, and then came forward, his decision made. He leaned into the screen. “You need to do it. I’ve got nobody else. Figure it out. Give me some Pike magic.”

  I felt the pressure, and knew I should tell him no, for Amena. But I didn’t. I said, “Okay, send me the hotel information, and I’ll get eyes on the Koreans in Zurich, but I cannot execute. It’ll be just Jennifer and me. Maybe Knuckles. I’ll set them up for the assault force, but I can’t interdict. Tell me you’re going to get the Swiss on this. Somebody with WMD experience.”

  He said, “I’ll work it. I’m on it.”

  We paused for a heartbeat, and he repeated, “I’m on it. You need to get moving.”

  I said, “What do you have on Amena?”

  He closed his eyes and said, “We have nothing, Pike. Nothing. She’s disappeared. Did you ever get anything on your phone? That’s the one contact we have.”

  I gritted my teeth and spat out, “Fuck my phone. They never sent anything. You guys aren’t looking hard enough. We find terrorists all over the world. Find her.”

  He raised his hands and said, “Pike, I understand the regret, but we have bigger problems right now.”

  My voice cold, I said, “So you’re not even looking?”

  “We are looking, but I’m not going to dedicate the entire Taskforce to find a child abduction when I have a group of North Koreans running around with WMDs. Come on, Pike. Look at the choices here.”

  I said, “The choices we make define us. Don’t let this define me. Find her.”

  “Pike, unless they contact you, we have no ability to connect. Stay on the mission.”

  I squeezed my fists and said, “Okay, sir. I got it. But if they do contact me, I’m going after her.”

  Alarmed, he said, “No, Pike, no. You’re not.”

  “Sir, don’t put me there. I’ve done what I was supposed to do. I’ve found the WMD, and gave you the bed-down in Zurich. Amena stopped the WMD in Nice. She saved countless lives. Don’t make me give that up. I won’t give that up.”

  “Pike, listen to me. She saved lives, yes, but the threat isn’t gone. I can’t let you ch
ase a ghost hoping to save a child. You won’t live with yourself if this goes wrong and people die.”

  I felt the words in my soul, knowing he was right, my body physically revolting at my choices. A calm settled over me. I said, “Okay, sir. I’ll get it done. But I don’t think I can live with myself either way when this is over.”

  Before he could answer, I disconnected from the VPN. Jennifer squeezed my shoulder, blinking a tear away, my pain flowing into her.

  And then my phone vibrated with a message.

  66

  Amena saw the gloom beginning to dissipate in the dining room, and knew another day was upon her. She dreaded the sunshine, because it meant the men holding her would be waking up. She’d been scared earlier, but it was nothing compared to the terror she now felt.

  She’d been handcuffed to a chair since they’d taken her, only removing the manacles when she needed to use the bathroom or eat. Every other moment she was in the chair, staring out at a bay window toward a vineyard that stretched down to a road far below. She had no idea where she was, but she could see Lake Geneva in the distance, past the road. Nobody was going to drive up to this house and knock on the door by mistake. She’d waited on Pike to find her, but that hope had faded. If he were coming for her, he would have by now. She believed he was searching. After her conversation with Jennifer, she knew in her heart that he would move heaven and earth to find her, but he had no more idea than she did of her location.

  And she had no idea why she’d been taken at all. At first, she thought it was because she was an illegal refugee, but then all of the men in the house had turned out to be some sort of Asian, speaking a language she had never heard before. It made no sense, especially with the way they treated her. They never asked her any questions, and didn’t appear to even care about her at all. They’d simply chained her to the chair, and then had treated her like some macabre pet. That had changed last night.