by Terry Toler
THE INGÉNUE
An Alex Halee Thriller
TERRY TOLER
The Ingénue
Published by: BeHoldings, LLC.
Copyright ©2020, BeHoldings, LLC. Terrytoler.com
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First U.S. Edition: October, 2020
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
BOOKS BY TERRY TOLER
Fiction
The Longest Day
The Reformation of Mars
The Great Wall of Ven-Us
Saturn: The Eden Experiment
The Late, Great Planet Jupiter
Save The Girls
The Ingenue
The Blue Rose
Non-Fiction
How to Make More Than a Million Dollars
The Heart Attacked
Seven Years of Promise
Mission Possible
Marriage Made in Heaven
21 Days to Physical Healing
21 Days to Spiritual Fitness
21 Days to Divine Health
21 Days to a Great Marriage
21 Days to Financial Freedom
21 Days to Sharing Your Faith
21 Days to Mission Possible
7 Days to Emotional Freedom
Uncommon Finances
Suddenly Free
For more information on these books and other resources
visit TerryToler.com.
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“Blessed be the Lord my strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight.”
Psalm 144:1
.
Ingénue: a young and naïve girl.
Contents
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13
14
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21
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About the Author
1
“With some degree of confidence, I can say that the wars of the future will not be fought as much with bombs, guns, missiles, and tanks. It will be fought with code. Cyber war is the greatest threat our country faces.”
Jack Winters, Secretary of Defense, United States of America.
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
Now, sitting in a dark, dank basement—essentially a makeshift North Korean interrogation room—with my arms and legs strapped to a chair, I wasn’t so sure. Blood oozed from the wounds from my last beating. I was rethinking the strategy that got me into this predicament.
A waste of time.
Thinking about how to get out of the situation instead of second guessing what got me into it was a better use of my energy.
“What is your name, and who do you work for?” the North Korean asked roughly.
“I told you. My name is Joe Hardy, and I want to work for you.” My real name was Alex Halee. I was a senior officer of the CIA, specializing in cyber espionage.
“I don’t believe you,” he said, swatting away a fly that had annoyed me only seconds ago.
The inside of the room was hot and humid. Sweat poured off my head, arms, and bare chest. The Korean had unbuttoned my shirt. I still had no idea why. One lone bright light was shining in my face, an obvious flimsy attempt to duplicate an interrogation they had no doubt seen in an American movie.
The Korean was short, not muscular, small build, thin like a bird, clear glasses with jet black hair. Totally unsophisticated in interrogation and torture techniques. That didn’t mean his strikes didn’t hurt. They did. It’s just that I had an advantage the man wasn’t aware of.
The bindings on my legs and hands were already loosened enough to where I could easily escape and kill him any time I wanted. But that wasn’t my plan. If I kept the ruse up long enough, I might salvage the mission.
Is it still considered a mission when I did this without the CIA’s approval?
A debate raged in my head.
What difference does it make, Alex?
The strangest thoughts came in my head at the most unusual times. A child psychiatrist called it ADHD. My CIA handler said I was a genius. My girlfriend said it was my lame excuse for not listening to her when she was talking to me.
Anyway, I saw it as a gift that had gotten me out of a lot of jams over my three years of doing extremely risky things
for my country. The ADHD made me not want to do anything for long. Like right now. I didn’t want to sit in that hot room, strapped to that chair, and let the lowlife hit me over and over again. At some point, my hyperactivity was going to propel me to abandon my mission, or whatever it was, and kill him.
But giving up didn’t come easily to me. Killing the man would mean I failed. Suffered needlessly. I’d give him one last chance.
I was stubborn that way.
“Get me a computer. Let me show you what I can do,” I implored.
Jethro, the name I gave my interrogator, couldn’t bring me a computer that would do what I wanted it to. The computers were in a room somewhere. Probably hundreds of them with thousands of wires and connections and broadband speed I’d need to execute my plan. That’s what I wanted. To get in that room. Into the room where North Korea had launched a cyber war against the United States.
Jethro seemed to be growing impatient. Maybe he had ADHD as well. A man burst into the room, interrupting my thoughts which I was thankful for. I didn’t want to start another senseless debate in my head.
Jethro jumped like he was startled, and I did the same. The new guy made me sit up and focus because he was holding a Type 88-2 assault rifle. The equivalent to the Soviet AK-74, except it held thirty times the number of rounds if modified which this one was. The man had thin combover hair.
Once again, I noticed the strangest things at the strangest times.
Focus.
Combover guy clearly had no idea how to use the gun, which once I did focus, was the only good thing I could think of at that moment. The way he carried and handled it made that conclusion obvious. However, that changed the calculus. A gun could kill me. It could go off accidentally. Or on purpose. ADHD or not, I wasn’t going to sit around doing nothing for much longer.
I quickly assessed the situation. Even though he wasn’t skilled, the man knew enough to aim and fire and probably shoot a bullet through my heart if the rifle didn’t jam which that particular rifle wasn’t known to do. I calculated that would take him at least seven seconds. Maybe longer with the modification, which added almost five pounds to the overall weight. That made a difference for a man who barely weighed a hundred and fifty pounds. Seven seconds was a long time for him to react, aim, and fire. The element of surprise would work in my favor.
Freeing my bonds, crossing the room, and disarming him would take half that time.
Probably.
If I didn’t hesitate.
Or trip.
If my bindings were sufficiently loose.
Fifty-fifty. He might kill me before I could kill him.
Avoid that scenario, Alex. Not a good plan.
Pretending to be scared of the man seemed like a better strategy. Let him think he was in control. If he didn’t feel threatened, then he wouldn’t feel a need to deal with the threat. Maybe he’d relax a little.
Probably.
“Let’s kill the American and get back to work,” the gunman said, and I realized my thinking was flawed. So much for my analysis of the situation.
With that statement, an argument ensued between the two men. Jethro wanted to get more information and find out why I showed up on their doorstep. One of them mentioned the CIA in the argument. He wanted to know how I even knew what the building was.
Combover guy was more impatient than Jethro. Naming my enemy combatants had become a game for me. The name Jethro came from the idiot son on Beverly Hillbillies. Combover wanted to shoot me and go home for dinner. Probably not ADHD. He was just being a jerk. The unskilled and undisciplined often were, I knew from experience. The argument raged on for nearly two minutes. Jethro was clearly the leader, but not asserting himself enough, in my opinion.
Shouldn’t I have a say?
The need to interject myself into their argument rather than let it play out was overwhelming. I didn’t want them deciding my fate.
“I can help you,” I said. “I’m American. I know things you don’t. I’m good at getting around firewalls. Give me a chance.”
Jethro was thinking. Combover guy seemed as if he’d already made up his mind. Unfortunately, he was the one with the weapon. But Jethro had authority over him. Hopefully, the chain of command would win the day. Superior rank would in America. I wasn’t sure how that worked in North Korea.
“Why would you betray your country?” Jethro asked me, leaning close into my face. I could smell his last meal. It was all I could do to keep from gagging. Throwing up on him wasn’t a good strategy at the moment, so I swallowed hard to keep from it.
“Why does anybody do what we do?” I retorted. “For money. I expect to be paid.”
“We don’t need your help,” Jethro shouted.
“You don’t know what you’re doing!” I said, matching his tone in a threatening voice.
The Korean man hit me with his fist. A glancing blow, grazing my chin and lower lip. I could taste blood. Jethro winced in pain as his knuckles cracked, obviously bruised by the contact with my strong jaw. The idiot didn’t know that an open slap with the palm of his hand would do more damage and not hurt his hand. Not that the man could muster enough power to do permanent damage.
I’d been slapped harder by Jamie, my girlfriend back in the states, who was also a CIA officer. Making her mad wasn’t a good idea. This guy was a pansy compared to her. She also didn’t have as much patience as I had. These two yahoos would already be laying on the floor, writhing in pain or worse.
Tension was rising in the room. Combover guy fidgeted with the trigger on the gun.
I was losing patience as well. Getting hit in the jaw wasn’t fun, even if it was by a geeky nerd posing as a tough guy. Anger was building inside of me. Not so much from the hit but from the frustration of going to all this trouble.
This wasn’t the mission.
The mission called for me to fly to South Korea and find the location of the North Korean cyber facility, known as The Judas Group, while working out of a South Korean computer lab. Finding the facility was easy enough even though others had been working on it for several months. That was all I was supposed to do. That’s when I got the not-so-brilliant idea to sneak across the border, walk right up to the facility, knock on the door, and offer them my services.
My plan had worked. Sort of. I was inside a building, but not in the right building and not in the room. Somehow, I needed to talk my way into the computer room housed in the other facility.
“You Americans are so arrogant,” Jethro said smugly. “You think you’re the only ones who know how to use a computer. We have men just as smart. Smarter!”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I continued to implore. “You can do things like phishing and emails. You can create viruses and malware. But you can’t hack into the most secure systems in the world. I can do that. I can hack into a bank and transfer a million dollars into your account. Right now.”
“That’s impossible!” Jethro said with just as much intensity. Spit was flying through the air and into my face.
The worst form of torture.
“The bank's systems are encrypted,” he continued. “How can you do that when the rest of us in the world can’t?”
“I just can. You have to let me show you. Get me a computer.”
The wheels were turning in his mind as he looked up to the ceiling, clearly thinking. He was probably figuring that he had nothing to lose. The thought of a lot of money in his account might be enough to persuade him. The man probably made twenty-five to thirty dollars a month. Twice the wage of the average North Korean since he was in the military but barely a living wage.
“Why would I come here if I couldn’t do what I say?” I added. “I risked my life to work with you.”
“Okay,” Jethro said against Combover’s objections. “How much time do you need?”
“One hour.”
He barked instructions to the man with the gun. “Release his bindings but keep the gun on him at all times,” he said.
&nb
sp; I was going into the room. I hoped it wasn’t a huge mistake.
2
Wonsan, North Korea
The Wonsan Kalma Tourist zone was a huge complex of hotels with a marina, a sports area, and several children’s amenities including water slides, a theme park, and more. Although construction was ongoing and much of the resort area wasn’t open yet, it was still a target-rich environment for Bae Hwa.
The thirteen-year old girl liked to steal backpacks. For no other reason than the thrill of it and the interesting things she found in them.
Tonight, Wonsan Resort was busier than usual. Along with tourists, foreign investors were allowed to conduct their business activities in the area. Which was exactly why it was built. To attract more international tourists and businessmen to North Korea. Min Yang, the “Divine Leader” as he preferred to be called by the people, was looking for more ways to promote economic development and line his pockets.
The heavy UN sanctions had taken a toll on North Korea’s economy and the resort was supposed to be completed, but the construction had slowed almost to a complete stop, much to the displeasure of the “Leader Centre,” Yang’s official title.
Bae took a deep breath of the coastal air and smiled. She’d spent the entire day cooped up in a stale school building, listening to a boring teacher drone on and on, filling the student’s heads with state propaganda. Today’s lesson had focused on the socialist doctrine of self-reliance. That man was the master of his destiny and the North Koreans were to become strong and self-reliant to create a great nation.
A contradiction in practice considering that everyone was dependent upon the state for their very existence. Something she could never express out loud.
Blah! Blah! Blah. She shook her head as if she could rattle the day’s lesson out of her brain.
Out here by the sea near the beach, she felt free. From her vantage point, she had views in every direction. To the east was the Sea of Japan or the East Sea, as it was also known. To the south was the Kalma Peninsula and international airport where planes took off and landed every few minutes.
Looking back to the west and north, the mountains rose in sharp contrast from the city with scenic spots such as Mt. Kumgang, Lake Silung, Chongsokjong, Lagoon Samil and Masikryong Ski resort. She’d been to all of them. That came from being a girl born into privilege.