by Tom Clancy
Jack putted down the cobblestone road through the enclosed square. “If you pull a quad, cuz, I can run down to the store and pick you up some Bengay.”
“Kiss my ass,” Dom grumbled.
As each operator moved through a different section of the square, all closing in on the National Monument and the steps there, the men talked over their comms at length about just why, in this day and age, this meeting to transfer classified material would be done in public, by hand. These things usually happened electronically these days, so this felt like the makings of an eighties spy thriller.
Dominic was the first to come up with a plausible answer. “You know what I think? If this dip e-mails documents there is the deniability factor. He can say he didn’t do it, his password got hacked, it’s a damn setup. Hard to catch someone red-handed clicking the send button.”
Chavez followed up on this line of thinking. “The North Koreans want photos of a handover.”
“Right,” agreed Jack. “And they want to do this so they can own this guy. Use that against him for further intel handoffs.”
Chavez immediately said, “All right, boys, let’s proceed on that assumption and hunt for the photographer of today’s event. We’re now looking for a standoff position, at least two hundred yards away, where a guy can use a long-range lens to get shots of the transaction. This is an outdoor pass, so it’s going to be tough to pin down the photog, but he is every bit as important as ID’ing the other DPRK guys involved. We don’t want them getting glamour shots of us, even if we do have these paper masks on.”
Immediately Dominic and Jack began scanning the area.
Jack said, “Hey, Ding. Did you read the info on this location? It’s five times the size of freaking Tiananmen Square.”
Chavez replied, “Yeah, I read it. Got eyes, too. This is too big for three of us to cover the entire square.”
Dom said, “I wish Gavin was here with a drone.”
Chavez said, “We can handle it. Just use process of elimination. The pass is supposed to be on the north side steps of the National Monument. Even though the photographer might be able to get shots of the State Department dip from most any direction, he’ll probably be following the guideline of sticking to the north. That cuts our hunt in half. He won’t be far back in the trees, and half of this place is trees, so cut it in half again.”
Jack said, “There is an observation deck on top of the monument.”
Chavez replied, “Wouldn’t make for a good picture, and it would be damn hard to exfiltrate in a rush. I wouldn’t put my overwatch there, and doubt the DPRK would, either.”
The three men moved around on the north side of the monument. After a few minutes Jack said, “We don’t know where on the steps the meet will take place, and it’s a big monument. But if you think about it, the U.S. embassy is to the southeast, so they might want to meet the American to the northwest, just in case there was any long-range monitoring from the roof of the embassy that could see over the trees. They’d have to at least account for the possibility that this guy tipped off American authorities.”
Chavez said, “Makes sense to me, Jack. Also makes me think they will put the monument between the embassy and the photographer. You’ve got the wheels, so why don’t you head to northwest and see if your theory holds water.”
Ryan began driving along the long straight road to the exit of the enclosed square to the northwest. He’d made it two-thirds of the way there when he looked to his right, just inside the line of manicured trees running along the road. There, two men who looked like they could be North Korean stood with a camera on a tripod. The camera had at least a 500-millimeter telephoto lens. At the moment it was pointing due south, not in the direction of the monument, but the camera and the men were far back enough in the trees to where it didn’t make sense to have the camera positioned there in the first place.
Jack said, “I think I’ve got eyes on the overwatch. Two subjects, say three hundred yards, maybe a little more, from the monument. They’ve got the lens to get great shots if they move it out to the road.”
Chavez said, “Good. Remember, we aren’t here for the DPRK guys. We want to ID the diplomat, bag him before he makes contact, and get him out of here, if there is any way that’s possible.”
Dom was up closer to the steps to the monument now, just fifty yards or so from the northwest corner where the men suspected the pass would go down. He said, “I’m in position where I can close down on the guy right up until the moment of the handoff. But if he gets this close, it’s up to the North Koreans how much noise this whole thing is going to make today.”
Chavez was near a fountain one hundred yards to the west of the monument. He slowed his jog, stopped and sat on a bench, and pretended to lean over as if from exertion. While he did this he pulled his small binos from inside his shirt, then brought them up to his eyes, hidden in his hands. “I’ve got six, repeat, six men moving together, approaching the fountain. They could be Korean, hard to say. They are all wearing civilian clothing, nothing uniform about their appearance, but they are all carrying either backpacks or briefcases.” After a few seconds he said, “They entered the park together, but now they are splitting up into three groups of two.”
Ryan said, “Are these guys dumbasses, showing up together like that?”
Dom answered this. “Makes me think there are others around here with eyes on. We haven’t been made, so these guys have been waved onto the X with an all clear.”
Chavez agreed. “It’s still twenty-five minutes till. With these six, Jack’s two, and the unknown other ones who gave the all clear, this is a lot of oppo.”
Jack said, “Do we want to think about doing something crazy to get this pass shut down? We’ll lose our chance at grabbing the American, but at least we’ll prevent a handoff of classified intel. One of us can flag down a cop and report a bomb.”
Dom came over the net. “Not it!”
Chavez thought it over for a second. “For now, we hang tight. We try to ID the American. If we can grab him before the pass, we do it, but if it looks like he’s going to make it to the North Koreans, one of us will pull his piece and fire off a full mag dump into the dirt. That should break up the party.”
There were a couple local cops around on motorcycles, but as this was a huge area, Chavez thought he could avoid a direct confrontation with the police.
At least he really, really hoped so.
He said, “Stay low pro, but keep your eyes peeled. This whole thing rests on getting this guy before he gets close to the North Koreans, and then getting out of here before the Indonesians get involved.”
18
Dominic Caruso had jogged a mile and a half in the past twenty minutes, which was nothing to brag about, but he wanted to be fresh if things got crazy at nine a.m. He was taking lots of breaks along the way to walk, tie his shoes, stretch, and otherwise try to fit into his surroundings here at Merdeka Square. Plus he was on his second paper surgical mask over his face, as the first one had torn due to his sweat and heavy breathing.
He stretched against the western steps of the tower, and he spoke softly after checking his watch. “It’s straight-up nine, guys. I’ve got nothing on my side.”
Jack was to the northwest, still riding around on his scooter through the increasing number of other two-wheeled vehicles and pedestrian traffic. “I’ve got eyes on some of the DPRK guys. The camera crew is remaining in the trees for now, so I don’t think the Koreans have ID’d their target, either.”
Chavez was on the far northwestern side of the square on the opposite side from where today’s target worked at the U.S. embassy.
He saw a tall man walking alone on the sidewalk toward the National Monument, fifty yards ahead of him. He wore a black trench coat and had a black backpack slung over his shoulder.
“I’ve got a possible. Northwest side of the square. Still two hundred
yards from the monument, moving south down the eastern side of the road.”
Dom had moved around to the south side of the monument, so he had no view, but Jack turned his scooter around and approached from the northeast with his binos out and up against his eyes.
He saw the tallish man walking with his hands shoved into his pockets, his body slumped forward and his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him. As he watched, the man scanned all around, even turning to walk backward for a second.
“Yeah . . .” Jack said. “That could be him.”
Chavez quipped, “And I’m gonna go out on a limb and say he’s a first-timer at this spy shit.”
“First time for everything,” Dom replied.
Chavez stepped out of the trees and began following behind the man, jogging along slowly enough to where he wouldn’t overtake him at this speed before he arrived at the monument.
He said, “Okay, our target is ID’d, let’s get another check of all the oppo we can see.”
Among the three of them, Jack, Dom, and Chavez counted ten men in the square who might have been DPRK operatives. “Christ,” Chavez said when the number was confirmed by the others, and he did some quick thinking. If Clark were around he’d defer to him, but Chavez was the senior operative now, and it was his call. He looked over the North Koreans in sight, and he took them for serious men. The fact there were at least ten involved with this also told him this pass was damn important to them. Chavez knew if he just grabbed the American diplomat and started ushering him back to the car, these ten men would intercede, probably with weapons.
Chavez wanted the traitor, he wanted the intelligence the man brought with him, and he wanted to get himself and his men out of this alive.
The scope of this operation had just increased before his eyes.
He said, “Jack, here’s how we’re playing it. Haul ass to the car. It’s behind me. Pass close to me and I’ll toss you the keys as you drive by. Bring the car here to get us all off the X.”
Ryan went full throttle on the scooter, began racing toward Ding, which meant he’d race right by the tower on his left with the North Koreans standing around and the American diplomat walking south toward them on his right.
But while complying with Ding’s orders, he said, “You do know there are no cars allowed here on the square. Local po-po is going to get interested if I get in the car and then plow over the wooden barricade to come back in here.”
Ding said, “I know. Be ready to do some Fast and Furious shit, because this isn’t going to be pretty.”
Caruso muttered, “That’s not gonna stand out.”
Chavez replied, “Five minutes from now, the first thing on everyone’s mind around here is not going to be the car driving in the pedestrian-only zone, I can promise you that.”
Jack passed the target, who by now had his eyes locked on the northwest corner of the steps to the monument. He was standing more erect, looking directly at his destination, still 150 yards away.
Five seconds later, Jack rolled past Chavez, who jogged along at a relaxed clip in his black warm-up pants and black zip-up hoodie. Jack reached a hand out and Chavez tossed a set of car keys through the air. Jack caught them deftly and headed for the exit at the northwest.
Chavez was closing on the subject slowly. He was just a hundred feet behind him now, and he knew he still had time to draw his gun and grab the man, then pull him back away from the monument where the North Koreans were waiting for him. He decided to do just that, but before he did so, he called for some backup.
“Dom, I’m going to take him in one minute, give Ryan a little time to grab the car. We’ll be just across the wide street north of the monument, and in the open. The DPRK guys are going to see us, plain as day, and they aren’t going to like it.”
Dom said, “Roger that. I’m behind the action on the south side, and I’ve got the bad guys in sight. Nobody’s got eyes on me, so I can get the drop on them if they pull weapons.” He added, “There are a whole bunch of them so I’d rather not.”
“Don’t draw, just keep reporting what they’re doing.”
“Understood.”
Ding said, “When I grab the target I’m running for these trees to the north. That should give me some cover. I’ll link up with Ryan when he gets the wheels. This might turn into a foot chase.”
Dom groaned. “Why does everybody have to run all over the place this morning?”
—
Jack Ryan, Jr., raced his scooter past the red plastic and wooden partitions keeping cars off the street that went into the square, heading for the parking lot where Chavez had left his rental. He heard Chavez’s transmissions to Dom, and knew the grab was going to take place in just a minute, but while he was listening to this he noticed a black Mitsubishi Pajero minivan idling in a no parking zone right next to the entrance to the square. The vehicle was empty aside from the driver, an Asian man wearing sunglasses.
There were other vehicles around, but not in this area. To Ryan this guy looked like he could have been North Korean, perhaps the driver that just dropped the six guys off at this entrance, and now he was just waiting to pick them up after the exchange.
Jack said, “Ding, what if I was able to get us some wheels that the local police couldn’t trace back to a rental company we used?”
“We rent cars through shell companies. You know that.” Then Ding said, “Goin’ radio silent, grabbing this asshole in thirty seconds.”
Ryan said, “What if I was able to take a set of wheels away from the North Koreans?”
When Ding said radio silent, he meant it, because he didn’t respond to Ryan. He was closing in on the American on the sidewalk, and couldn’t let himself be heard chatting while trying to pass himself off as a passing jogger. But Dom Caruso came over Jack’s earpiece. “You have to make that call, cuz. You don’t want to be wrong, and you don’t want to get into a fight on your own.”
But Jack had already made the call. The man behind the wheel of the minivan put a walkie-talkie to his lips, and Jack was even more certain he was a DPRK agent.
He drove the scooter in a tight U-turn through the morning traffic, parked behind the vehicle, and climbed off his bike.
On his left scooters rolled by, and a green truck that said POLISI on the side, which obviously meant “police,” drove on, but continued past the entrance to the park.
Jack realized that, whatever he did, he wasn’t going to be invisible while doing it, so he’d have to do it quick.
—
Domingo Chavez didn’t go for his gun. This man ahead of him had his hands out of his raincoat now and they swung with his walk, and Ding knew he would be able to stop the man from reaching for something, in the unlikely event the man even had a weapon. Instead, he picked up the pace of his jog and came up alongside him. They were two hundred feet from the National Monument and the DPRK men standing among the tourists there, split up in groups of two.
Ding put a tight grip around the walking man’s shoulders, and spoke to him in a voice that meant business.
The man lurched with surprise.
“You say one word and I kill you.”
Ding spun the man around and began guiding him quickly off the sidewalk and toward the trees that ringed the square.
The man did not speak at first, he seemed utterly panicked, and Ding spoke for benefit of his earpiece now. “What are they doing?”
Caruso responded. “Shit, Ding. They are coming your way. Walking. Wait . . . Nope, it’s official . . . they’re running.”
“How many?”
“All of them. Eight guys.”
“Shit!” Ding said, and grabbed the taller man around his waist and took off for the thick grove of trees.
—
Dom Caruso sprinted across the road that ringed the National Monument, chasing fifty yards behind the eight North Koreans
just now disappearing into the trees. Chavez had a thirty-second head start on them, but Dom knew he had to get closer in case things went loud.
He decided he’d run straight up the road to the northwest that ran to the left of the trees. That way he could move faster, to get ahead of the North Koreans, and be in a better position to help Chavez out when he came out of the trees and into the vehicle Jack was supposedly in the process of securing right now.
Dom sprinted as fast as he could go, arms and legs pumping with the effort. He saw a police car parked across the road and facing away, but he wasn’t that worried about stationary Indonesian cops at the moment, so he just ran on.
—
Chavez had pulled the man in the trench coat a good hundred yards through the trees now, but it had been work to do it. The American traitor obviously knew he was busted, and he tried to pull away more than once. Chavez shouted at him, knowing the enemy was close behind. “Come on, man. Run!”
The man in the raincoat tried to pull away now. “No!”
Chavez brandished the Smith & Wesson in his right hand while holding on to the man with the left. Without breaking stride he said, “Not asking you.”
The man looked terrified, but again he said, “No! I can’t! I have to—”
“You can and you will!” Chavez jammed the gun tight in the man’s side and ran even faster. “How long on the wheels?” he asked Jack over the net.
“What?” the American traitor asked.
“Not talking to you, asshole. Just keep running!”
Now the man in the trench coat heard the shouts in the trees behind, as the North Koreans got closer.
To Chavez’s astonishment, the man shouted out to them, “I’m here! Help me!”
Chavez punched the man in the nose as he ran with him, silencing the shouts. “You do that again and I’ll shoot you in the knee and carry you.”
—
Jack walked silently and quickly up the driver’s side of the Mitsubishi Pajero, knowing he would be visible in the rearview mirror and visible to passing traffic on the street. He would have much rather come up the far side, but the driver’s window was partially down, and Jack needed access to the driver to pull this off.