by Terry Toler
“Those are the dots, sir,” Brad said. “I’m trying to decide if the dots should be connected. If not, it’s a pretty big coincidence.”
“Of course, they’re connected! I don’t believe in coincidences,” Grant bellowed, anger building inside of him the longer the conversation continued.
“Halee is supposed to be in South Korea,” Brad said, defensively.
“Damn it!”
“I sent him there to find the North Korean cyber lab. Apparently, he found it and for whatever reason decided to pay it a visit.”
Grant got out of bed now. Paced the room. He was probably going to have to go to the office.
“Is Halee dumb enough to go to North Korea on his own?” Grant asked.
“You know the answer to that question as well as I do, sir.”
“Are we sure Halee is definitely in North Korea?” Grant asked, not hardly believing what he was hearing. For a moment, he wondered if he was still dreaming. “Any chance he’s just pointing his computer there? The man is a magician on a computer. A master illusionist. It could be a ruse.”
There were a lot of unanswered questions that made it hard to come to any conclusions. Grant hated making assumptions, even though his job required him to do so almost every day. Very few things were certain in the world of espionage.
“It’s possible, but I don’t think so,” Brad said, hesitantly. “If it were anybody else, I’d say no. But it’s Halee we’re talking about. I think he found the lab, snuck across the border, and found a way to infiltrate it. My analyst says the request is coming from the North Korean lab. It’s the same lab we believe the Judas Group is acting out of. God only knows how he could’ve infiltrated it and still be alive to tell about it!”
“Any chance it’s not Halee?” Grant asked. “Could Kryptonite be hacked?”
“The person logged in using Halee’s passcode. I think it’s him.”
“He could’ve given it to the North Koreans under duress.”
“I don’t think Halee would cave. Not this quickly.”
“When did you last hear from him?” Grant asked.
“Two days ago. He messaged me that he found the North Korean lab. He sent me the location. It’s about thirty minutes south of Wonsan.”
“The Iranian was killed in Wonsan,” Grant said.
“Yes sir.”
“Like I said, I don’t believe in coincidences.” Grant paused. “The North Korean lab stole the codes and sold them to Iran. The operative was in North Korea to pick up the codes.”
Grant was thinking off the top of his head. It helped him to verbalize it. Brad was as good as anyone in his knowledge of the field. He would have some input.
“Halee discovered the missing codes and learned about the handoff,” Grant continued. “He went to North Korea, stole the satchel. That’s why it's missing. Then he killed the Iranian. I don’t understand why the hell he didn’t get out of dodge right then. Why hang around and try to infiltrate the lab?”
“It doesn’t make sense, sir,” Brad agreed.
“We should let it play out,” Grant said. “If Halee is accessing Kryptonite then let him. Let’s see what happens. If he somehow infiltrated the Judas Group, there would be a treasure trove of information to mine.”
“It’s not as simple as that,” Brad said.
“Why not?”
“Halee is wanting to transfer a million dollars from Kryptonite to a North Korean account that is controlled by Gi Man Pok.”
“What!” Grant exploded in vitriol. “You’re just now telling me that piece of information. You might’ve led with it.”
“He sent in the request a few minutes ago. That’s why I called you,” Brad said, not responding to the outburst. “What do you want me to do?”
“That changes things,” Grant said. “We need to verify that it’s definitely Halee before we do that. Is there any way to get in touch with him?”
“I’ve tried,” Brad said. “I called his hotel and his cell phone several times. I sent him emails. My guess is he went into North Korea without them. In case he was captured. The devices have sensitive information on them. If Halee’s in North Korea, he doesn’t want them to think he’s still with the CIA. That would get him killed in a matter of minutes. I’m assuming he’s trying to convince them that he’s gone rogue and the money is his way of proving it. His way of gaining their trust.”
Grant processed the information. This was a hornet’s nest about to get stirred up. Ever since the US declared North Korea and Iran part of the “axis of evil,” every action had significant ramifications. If the world learned that a CIA officer gunned down an Iranian operative inside North Korea, the world outcry would be overwhelming.
“What do you want me to do?” Brad asked.
“Deny the request.”
“We could get Halee killed, sir.” Brad raised his voice as the tension of the call reached an apex.
“It’s his own fault! No one gave him authorization to go to North Korea. If he’s stupid enough to do so, then . . .” Halee was a valuable asset. He genuinely liked the kid and was impressed with his abilities. But not enough to risk his own career over it.
“I don’t disagree,” Brad said. “Still we can’t hang him out to dry. If we give him the million, and he’s able to infiltrate the North Korean cyber lab, we could set them back by two years. If he killed the Iranian and took the nuclear codes, he’ll deserve a medal when he gets home.”
“It’s too big a risk. He’s on his own. He got himself into this mess, he’ll have to get himself out of it.”
Brad began to voice what was probably going to be a further objection, but Grant cut him off. “Deny the request!” Grant said adamantly.
“Yes sir.”
“I’m going back to bed. Although, I doubt I’ll be able to sleep. Call me if anything else comes up.”
11
Masikryong Hotel
Wonsan, North Korea
Hamid Ahmadi, the Iranian Ambassador to North Korea, sat in his hotel room trying to make sense of what had happened in Wonsan two days before. He met with the investigator, viewed the security camera, and questioned the waiter at the restaurant, along with a shop owner who saw Assad chasing the young girl down the boardwalk with the satchel in her hand.
The pieces started coming together in his mind. He had to get his thoughts crystallized before Amin Sadeghi, the Director of the MOIS, called, demanding answers.
Only one thing made sense, but he hated to verbalize it to his boss for fear of creating an international incident. This crisis had made its way to the top of the Iranian government. Word was that the Ayatollah himself, the Supreme Leader, was aware of the events and wasn’t happy.
Surely, no one was blaming him. He’d know more from the tenor of his upcoming call. He was ready to defend his actions if necessary. All he did was deliver the codes to Assad. He was miles away when Assad was ambushed, and the satchel stolen.
Regardless of how the events unfolded, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. Like his life was in danger. From whom, he wasn’t sure. The North Koreans, possibly, if they were behind the missing satchel, which was the working theory at the moment. Perhaps, an American assassin on the loose in North Korea, determined to kill everyone responsible for the transfer of the codes, including him. Maybe even his own government. If they blamed him in some way.
The drive to Wonsan from Pyongyang had been fearful. He continually looked in his rearview mirror for any sign of a shadowy threat. The North Koreans were ruthless when someone came in their crosshairs. Min Yang and his band of killers made retribution against enemies—routine in North Korea.
The American assassin, if one existed, could strike at any time, and who knew who he might be targeting. The Iranian government would do it by ordering him home. Once there, he would just disappear. Death wouldn’t be immediate, though. It would be long, drawn out, and painful.
His first choice would be the American assassin. That would be quick and
relatively painless in comparison. There might even be an opportunity for a deal. An exchange of information for his life. He’d never betray his country under normal circumstances but wouldn’t hesitate if it meant saving his life. Especially for something he didn’t do.
Actually, his first choice would be to stay alive. Blaming the infidels of America was usually the best way to ensure that. The hatred in his government for Americans ran deep. However, the evidence all pointed to a different conclusion. One he would share with Amin as soon as he called. Sharing those thoughts were risky, but he felt like it was the right thing.
As if on cue, his cell phone rang. An unknown international number appeared on the caller ID.
International calls were forbidden in North Korea, but as a formal diplomat he was given an exception. The call could be closely monitored by the government, although it took them days to decipher phone calls and create transcripts, if they even bothered. The powers that be were more concerned about cracking down on illegal phones smuggled in from China than they were about foreign diplomats of allies such as Iran. High tech devices that jammed the communications and tracked the illegal phones had been deployed all across North Korea with some degree of success. He was certain they wouldn’t bother with his phone.
Even so, just in case, they spoke in Farsi, a native Iranian language, knowing North Korea wouldn’t have a translator readily available to decipher that language.
“We’ve been double-crossed,” Hamid said, getting right to the point after the formal greetings.
“By whom?” Amin asked.
“By the North Koreans.”
“That’s impossible!”
“It’s very possible. I’ve seen the video from the security camera.”
“So, have I,” Amin retorted. “All it shows is that the satchel was stolen by a young girl.”
“I know who the young girl is,” Hamid said. He’d been sitting on the edge of his bed. After saying that, he walked over to the window and looked out onto the street. The Masikryong Hotel was a luxury hotel in Wonsan. He could’ve requested a room with a better view but chose the street view on purpose. From his vantage point, he could see who might be parked on the street, watching the hotel. So far, he hadn’t seen anyone, although he'd heard that American spies weren’t easily detected.
“Who is the girl?” Amin demanded to know.
“She’s the daughter of Min Yang’s cousin. I recognized her from a party that was held at the Presidential Palace complex. Her father holds a high position in the regime.”
Nothing was said for what seemed like a minute as that information sank in.
“Why would the North Koreans use a girl to steal the satchel?” Amin asked.
Hamid had anticipated that question and had an answer ready. “The perfect ruse,” Hamid said. “Think about it. Assad is a trained agent. If a man approached him, he’d be suspicious. He’d never consider a little girl a threat to take the satchel.”
“That was a question that has bothered me,” Amin said. “I’ve been wondering how Assad could’ve fallen for such a trick. It’s obvious now. Your explanation makes sense.”
Hamid breathed a sigh of relief.
“But the girl couldn’t have killed Assad,” Amin added.
“The way I figure it,” Hamid said, “the girl stole the satchel and led Assad up to the mountain where he was ambushed. They didn’t know there would be a security camera nearby or that we would ever see it.”
“Why even transfer the codes if they were going to steal them back?”
Before Hamid could answer, Amin came to his own conclusion. “They want us to think it’s the Americans!”
“Exactly! Why would we suspect the Koreans? They’re the ones who sold us the codes.”
“Those snakes! They stole the codes, sold them to us, then stole them back before we could use them,” Amin said angrily. “After the money changed hands. How do we even know the codes existed?”
“I saw them myself,” Hamid answered. “Remember, I delivered the satchel to Assad. I inspected the papers before I transferred them to him. They seemed legitimate to me.”
“They must pay!” Amin said. “My men are arriving tomorrow. Have you made all the arrangements?”
Hamid had. The plan was for the men to arrive by plane under aliases and tourist’s visas. They would stay in the same hotel he was in.
“Yes. Everything is all set. What do you want the men to do?”
“Kill the entire family! In retribution.”
“Including the girl?”
“Especially the girl. But not until they get the satchel back. We’ll show the Koreans they can’t steal from us.”
“Do you think that’s wise?” he asked, realizing that questioning Amin’s judgment was risky.
“You may be right. We need to rethink this. Tell them to make it look like a professional hit. Like the Americans did it. Keep up the ruse. Tell the Koreans we believe the Americans are behind Assad’s killing.”
“Do you still want the girl killed? She’s just a child.”
“Yes. That will anger the Koreans even more. Not that there’s anything they can do about it. The most they can do is rattle their chains and spout off a bunch of threats that the Americans don’t take seriously. At least the Americans are scared of us.”
There was a long pause in the conversation that Hamid did not dare interrupt.
“Tell them to get the satchel back and kill the girl and her parents. As soon as possible,” Amin finally said.
Hamid wanted to object but didn’t dare say another word. At least he was off the hook.
For now, anyway.
***
Bae was mad at herself. Still. Even though it had been two days since she stole the satchel from the businessman eating at the restaurant. Just thinking about it caused her hands to shake.
The images were still seared in her mind. She’d been chased up the mountain, shot at, and came within inches of losing her life. And for what? A satchel full of a bunch of worthless papers, and meaningless numbers. The only other thing she found in the satchel of any interest was a small device about the size of her thumb. It said USB on the back.
She had no idea what it was for nor did she care.
At first, she swore off ever stealing again. After thinking about it further, she concluded that she liked it and would only steal from North Koreans who weren’t businessmen. She’d still avoid mothers with kids and college students, but everyone else was fair game.
Bae flexed her shoulder. It still hurt from the fall over the fence as did the painful scratch on her side. The thing that wasn’t healing was her bruised ego. She thought she was better than that. Where did she mess up? The plan had been flawless, or so she thought.
The only conclusion she could reach was that the papers were more important to the businessman than most things were to people who she’d stolen from in the past. Not that she’d never been chased before. No one liked having their bag stolen. It’s just no one had ever cared enough to pull out a gun. Carrying a gun was illegal in North Korea unless you were a member of the police or military.
That made her curious which was why she hadn’t destroyed the items in the satchel. Someday, she might be able to make some sense out of the papers and understand why they were so important to the man.
She shuddered every time she thought about the gun.
Truthfully, though, she liked it.
If she were honest, it had been exhilarating. The chase. The gunshots. Fleeing for her life. Hiding in the bushes and the rocks. Somehow, she’d come out on top. She was still alive. The businessman wasn’t.
That should mean something. A question formed in her mind. She asked her father the question that night at dinner once she got up the nerve.
“Father, what would I have to do to be a spy?” she asked.
He laughed at her. “That’s a silly question. You’re only thirteen.”
“That’s not silly,” her mother said. “Answe
r her question, darling.”
“A spy is a very prestigious position in North Korea. They are on the same level as Generals. You must do well in school. Then there is a special school you must attend.”
“Where is the school, daddy?” Bae asked. She knew her dad had a high-ranking job with the regime; but she didn’t know what it was or what it entailed.
“It’s a secret spy school,” he said, changing his voice to make it sound mysterious. “It’s just outside Pyongyang.
“What do you learn there?”
“Things like firing a weapon,” her dad answered. “Using explosive devices. Hand-to-hand combat skills. Physical fitness. You also have to learn Japanese and other languages.”
Bae sat in amazement, her heart beating faster at the thought of learning those things.
“Can girls be spies?” Bae asked.
“Have you ever heard of Kim Hyon-hui?”
She shook her head no.
“She’s one of the most famous North Korean spies. She went to the south and blew up an airliner. Killing a lot of people.”
“Wow!”
“Anyway, study hard and do good in school, and maybe you can be a spy someday.”
Bae decided right then and there.
That’s exactly what she was going to do.
12
The Lazarus Group Cyber Lab
North Korea
The transaction request cannot be processed at this time.
I stared at the screen and muttered angrily under my breath, even though I half way expected it. I could hear the conversation in my head between my handler, Brad, and Director Maxwell Grant. Brad would be arguing for the release of the million dollars. The Director would be skeptical.
“This is an unauthorized mission,” I could hear the Director say. He was probably in bed asleep when the phone call came. He’d be in a bad mood from being awakened.
“I trust Alex,” Brad would argue. “This is the opportunity to hack into the North Korean cyber lab and unleash hell on their system. It’s worth the risk.”