The Korean Gambit

by Charles DeMaris

  “No such thing as just good timing with the Lord.”

  “I wish the Lord would have seen fit to save everyone else too,” Jefferson said.

  “Sometimes his ways are above our understanding,” Laverne said.

  “Yep, you not only cook like my mom, but you talk like her too,” Casey said.

  “Your mom knows the Lord?”

  “They’re on a first name basis.”

  “How about you? You right with him?”

  “Yes ma’am. Since I was twelve years old.”

  “That is certainly good news. You going home in the morning?”

  “We’ll need to head out pretty early.”

  “We?”

  “I’m going with him,” Jefferson said, “Gonna work with him.”

  “What about school?”

  “Only got a semester left to graduate. I can transfer, since I’m not playing football.”

  “Well…I can’t say I’m happy about that, but if you got a good job lined up…You don’t finish school I’m gonna come up there and kick your—”

  “I’ll finish school Mom.”

  “How about your neck?”

  “They got doctors up there too. I’ll call Dr. Anderson and get a referral.”

  “He wasn’t at the hospital?”

  “No, he checked on me in the morning and went back to his office.”

  “What kind of work you do, Casey?” Monica said.

  “Pretty boring stuff really, but it pays well,” Casey said.

  “How boring?”

  “Cyber security. We look at a company's network and see where the security holes are and help them fix it.”

  “Like protecting them from hackers?”

  “That’s pretty much it.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “It can be, but it can be kind of boring at times too, but we have great people working there.”

  “You think Jeff can learn that kind of work?”

  “They taught me. He’s not that dumb. I think he’ll do okay.”

  “Will he have to wear a suit?”

  “If we can find one in his size.”

  “I got a couple here that fit me,” Jefferson said.

  “Where’d you get those made,” Casey said, “local tent maker?”

  “Hey, just ‘cause I ain’t some scrawny runt like you—”

  “Ten pounds lighter and you would have got me before I completed that pass.”

  “And we’d be champs and you’d probably be in the NFL now.”

  “Water under the bridge. What are you, close to 300?”

  “I’m a trim 280.”

  “If you ate like this every day, you’d be 300.”

  “I don’t cook like this every day,” Laverne said, “It’s not every day someone saves your son’s life. Still wish you could finish school here.”

  “They got me a good job there, and I can work around my school schedule…and I get to work with my best friend.”

  “Well…that seems like you’ve thought it all through.”

  “We talked it over pretty good on the drive here, until he decided to sleep on it for the last hour,” Casey said.

  “That’s my boy, can’t stay awake on a car ride. Been like that since he was little.”

  “Was he ever little?”

  “Not really, always was a big boy.”

  “Thank you again for the meal. If you don’t mind, I’m going to bring my things in.”

  “Don’t worry about that. Monica honey, be a dear and bring the boys’ things in from the car, will you? Casey can have the back bedroom.”

  “You don’t have to do—”

  “Yes we do. You’re my guest. Allow me to show some gratitude.”

  “You’ve already shown a lot.”

  “I don’t think I could ever do enough. When you leaving?”

  “Around five.”

  “Five o’clock in the morning?”

  “Yeah. Got a couple people out sick. If I can get there around lunch time—”

  “So, I suppose you’ll be turning in early, too.”

  “After all that food, I’m already half asleep.”

  Casey woke up at 4:15, a full fifteen minutes before his alarm was set to go off. What woke him was a mild din coming from the kitchen, the noise of someone trying to be careful not to make any noise. The sounds from across the hall told him that Jefferson was awake as well. Figuring it would be useless trying to go back to sleep, he got up and packed his bags, then headed for the shower. By the time he was dressed, he detected the unmistakable aroma of bacon coming from the kitchen.

  He came in the kitchen to find Jefferson and Monica already sitting at the table and Laverne laying out bacon, eggs, biscuits, coffee, and orange juice.

  “Can’t let you boys leave hungry,” she said with a grin.

  “I’m still stuffed from last night,” Casey said.

  While they were eating, Monica took their bags to the car and when they were done, she hugged her brother and Casey in turn, whispering in Casey’s ear, “I won’t tell nobody about the gun in your bag.”

  ‘How did she notice that?’ he thought to himself.

  Laverne hugged Jefferson and Casey as well, once again wiping a tear from her eye.

  “You boys have a safe drive, and you take care of my son.”

  “Will do ma’am.”

  “Please, just call me Laverne.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “You take care Mama,” Jefferson said as he enveloped her in another hug, “I’ll be okay. I love you.”

  “Not half as much as I love you. You call me as soon as you get there.”

  “I’ll make sure he does,” Casey said.

  More hugs, more tears, and finally they were in the car and pulling out.

  “Man Jeff, your mom is something else.”

  “You can say that again. Nobody ever loves you like your mama…nobody ever sacrifices more than a mom, too.”

  “Sounds like you’re talking about my mom. What she gave up to raise me and Keisha.”

  “She raised you by herself? What about your dad? He walked out?”

  “Left when I was small. I never knew him. Dude showed up when I got the Heismann. Didn’t know what to say. We haven’t spoken since.”

  “I’ve never met mine, not since he left. He left when Mom was pregnant with Monica. I was six. Not sure where he is now.”

  “You turned out okay. Says something about your mom.”

  “She had me in church every time the place was open. That and some good coaches.”

  “You got that right. Here’s to good coaches.”

  “Anyway, you did all the driving yesterday. You get tired—”

  “Might have to take you up on that. I’ll get into Kentucky and you can take over.”

  “Sounds good. Wake me up in Kentucky.”

  15

  Rachel drifted up slowly out of a deep sleep and opened her eyes, trying to clear the cobwebs. She had a splitting headache and her mouth was dry. She looked around the small room she was in, not unlike a jail cell, with a wash basin and a toilet in the opposite corner from the small bed she was lying on. She had no idea how long she had been here. The last memory she had was killing the thug at the safe house and then someone coming up behind her.

  How could she have been that careless? She should have checked the rest of the room or made sure nobody was near the entrance. Dad had taught her better. She couldn’t dwell on that now, not if she wanted to live to regret her mistake. She checked her pockets—nothing. Of course, they had taken anything she had on her, at least what she hadn’t left in her room at the safe house. She was being held somewhere and she had no weapon, no passport, and no money. Even if she did get out, things could be tricky, depending on where she was.

  It had to be the Russians, or more precisely Yuriy. That much was obvious. Yuriy no doubt knew Anatoly’s fate by now and he would not be happy. She tried to prepare herself for the worst. She also knew
that getting out of here alive would be up to her. They would question her, of that she was certain, but there was no way Yuriy would just let her walk after she talked.

  While she was contemplating these things, the door to her room opened and two bruisers entered. Without a word, they lifted her up, secured her wrists behind her back with a zip tie, and walked her down the hall where they sat her in a chair with her arms secured behind the back of the chair. They stood on either side of the door to the room, still not saying a word.

  “You guys aren’t very chatty,” Rachel said.

  No reply.

  “Wow, real life of the party.”

  This room was the epitome of an interrogation room. She sat facing a table that had two chairs on the other side and there was a mirror on the opposite wall, no doubt two -way glass behind which there would be others observing. There was even the requisite bare light bulb hanging just above the table.

  ‘I wonder who will be first, good cop or bad cop,’ she thought to herself.

  She didn’t have to wait long before a small man with wire rimmed glasses came in and sat down opposite her. She recognized him almost immediately, the computer guy who got away from the safe house in Paris. What was his name again, Pavel…yeah, that was it. Grigory said he was the key to the whole thing, knew everything that Yuriy did.

  “You have been a very busy girl these last few days. Suppose you tell me why you were in Paris,” he said. His English was impeccable, with a slight hint of a British accent.

  “Suppose you tell me why your goons were set on ruining my vacation.”

  “I’m afraid you don’t know how this works. I ask the questions and you answer them. What were you doing in Paris?”

  “Trying to take a few days off and unwind, until your thugs took an interest in me.”

  “Why did you kill Anatoly?”

  “Anatoly?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me. I know you killed him.”

  “Do you? Maybe you can start with telling me who he is and why you think I killed him.”

  “I am not here to play games with you.”

  “Then maybe you can tell me why you were after me.”

  “I already told you. You killed Anatoly.”

  “And I already told you. You’re going to need to tell me who the hell Anatoly is and why you think I killed him…Oh…I get it. You and Anatoly were close. You had a hot date and someone ruined it, huh? You had the whole dinner for two set up at your place…bottle of wine, candles on the table—”

  Pavel reached across the table and backhanded Rachel across the face.

  “Enough of that. Why did you kill Anatoly?”

  “You’re going to have to do better than that. If you had any proof, you would have produced it by now.”

  Pavel opened a briefcase and pulled out a photo, sliding it across the table to Rachel. She recognized it, but did well enough not to let that show on her face. It was taken shortly after she had left the scene, a close up of Anatoly with the wound in his neck.

  “Nasty cut there. He really should have been more careful shaving.”

  Pavel slammed his fist down on the table.

  “Enough of this. Tell me why you killed him.”

  “Tell me why you think I killed him. What’s wrong…didn’t catch your name by the way…you don’t have any more evidence than a photo of a dead dude?”

  “My name is not relevant. Answer my questions.”

  “You first.”

  Pavel slapped her again across the face.

  “You do that a bit harder and it might sting a bit. I’m beginning to think that interrogation isn’t your strong suit.”

  He slapped her again, harder this time, and this one did sting a bit.

  “There you go, you’re getting the hang of it. Let me guess. You didn’t learn English in Russia. London maybe?”

  “Look, young lady, you are in no position to be asking questions. We will ask the questions and you will answer them. We can make it easy, or difficult. The choice is yours.”

  “You guys are a hoot. You’ve been reading too many spy novels. You need to be more original than this.”

  “We’ll see just how original we can be,” Pavel said before leaving the room.

  Pavel went into the next room and approached Yuriy.

  “Do we have proof that she killed Anatoly?”

  “The only witnesses are Anatoly and whoever killed him, but he was after her and he ended up dead…and you saw the body. It wasn’t an accident that killed him.”

  “His legs were shot up and he had a wound in his neck, probably a knife. Could this girl take someone out up close?”

  “She’s had training. Knowing who her father was, we can assume it was more than rudimentary.”

  “You need to know what she knows. How do you plan on getting her to talk?”

  “We’ll let Oleg have his way with her. I’m sure he’d like that; pretty thing like her.”

  “If she’s that skilled—”

  “Oleg is skilled too. Give him the key to her room, and have him go in when she least expects it. Keep her off balance. Better idea, let Oleg and Gennadi take turns. Then when she talks…just make sure nobody finds her.”

  Rachel tested the zip ties to see if she could get out of them, but they were too tight, and she had no idea what she would do if she managed to get her hands free. The two thugs by the door looked formidable enough, especially the ugly one with the cauliflower ears and the crooked nose. Both were over six feet and probably on the plus side of 220. She’d never make it out of the room.

  The door opened and Pavel stuck his head in long enough to whisper something to the ugly one before closing the door. Ugly leaned over and whispered something to his friend and they both smiled. The other one fixed her with a leer and grinned again. She had seen that look from men before, and it sent a chill up her spine. She knew the first man wasn’t the interrogator. He clearly had no idea what he was doing, but she had no illusions that there weren’t other people here who would know what they were doing. She also had no illusions of them letting her go, no matter what she told them or how soon she talked.

  Things would get pretty rough if she couldn’t think of a way out, and she had no idea of the layout of the building or how many men were there. She would have to improvise, and her options were limited at best.

  The two thugs approached her, still grinning, and lifted her from the chair, one on each side. They walked her back to her room, cut the zip tie, and locked her in. She sat down on the bed and took stock of everything in the room. She had to find something to use as a weapon. She knew those two would be back, and judging by the way they were looking at her, she knew what would be on their minds. Torture was one thing. She knew she would probably talk eventually, but she could steel her mind to the ordeal and hold out as long as possible. The other option seemed somehow worse.

  The bed frame was part of the wall and had no legs or any parts she could see that could be removed, so that was out of the question and the mattress was a simple thin piece of foam, no springs that would come in handy. That left the sink and the toilet. The toilet was the standard tankless variety you would see in public stalls, and the seat and lid had even been removed. These folks had thought of everything. She had to think. She also had to use the toilet.

  She did her business and went to the sink to wash her hands. The darn thing had a slight clog in the drain and the basin started to fill up with water when she let it run too long. She shut off the tap and reached behind the faucet for the handle to manipulate the drain and she froze. She remembered helping her dad replace a pop- up drain assembly once and this looked like the same thing. She pulled it up and down and saw the drain plug in the bottom of the sink move up and down.

  She tried to remember the parts. The part she pulled up and down to plug and unplug the sink was connected to the pop- up plug with a thin metal rod, at least the one at her house had been. She sat down under the sink to see if she could get the as
sembly loose, but she had little luck with her bare hands. She dried her hands as best as she could and tried again, working it back and forth to see if she could unscrew it. What she wouldn’t give for a wrench right now. She felt that if she could get a better grip, she might be able to get it. The sink looked old and no doubt nobody had replaced the -pop- up drain in years. It might not be that tight.

  She tore a piece of fabric from her sleeve and wrapped that around her hands and gave it another go. The grip was better, but she still couldn’t get it to budge. She worked it for thirty minutes and had to stop to give her fingers a rest and to get more fabric around her hands. Another thirty minutes and she felt it give. She wasn’t sure at first if it really gave way or she was imagining things, but eventually she had the entire assembly removed. It was just as she remembered and soon enough, she had the thin metal rod separated from the rest. The piece the rod went into might also come in handy. She placed the drain plug back in the sink and kept the other two pieces, hoping that when the thugs came, they wouldn’t notice anything missing.

  She had no idea how long she would have to wait, but she knew they would be coming, so she secured the metal rod as well as she could inside her sleeve and waited. Sleep was useless. For one, she wanted to be ready when the moment came, and they had also disabled the light switch so she couldn’t turn the light off in her room. It didn’t matter. If she wanted to sleep, that wouldn’t get in her way. If sleep deprivation was what they were after, she half expected the loud music as well as the lights.

  She waited for what seemed like a couple hours before she heard a sound at the door. It was Ugly. He came in quickly and locked the door behind him, still wearing the grin he had earlier when Pavel had spoken to him. She started to get up from the bed when he motioned for her to stay where she was.

  “Stay there,” he said as he took one hand and shoved her back onto the bed.

  “So, you speak English?”

  “We can talk later.”

  He pushed her off the bed and onto the floor, then knelt down and put his weight on her, pinning her to the floor with his knee.

  “You will talk to me. Yes, you will talk. Gennadi is waiting outside. When he’s done, you’ll talk,” Oleg said, his face so close to hers that she could smell the Vodka on his breath. He brought his face closer and put his lips to hers, trying to force his tongue into her mouth. She rewarded this by biting his lip, causing him to jerk his head back from the pain.