by Terry Toler
What could it be?
She was so excited. This was two days in a row her dad was paying attention to her. He could go days without even speaking to her. She bounded down the stairs and into the room, with a smile that had been permanently fixed on her face the entire day, now heightened by the anticipation of a surprise. A surprise for her. Something that had never happened as long as she could remember.
The house was modest but smartly furnished compared to other houses. In the family room was a couch, love seat, and two chairs along with a bookcase filled with reading material approved by the regime. An extra room just for leisure was a luxury only the privileged class enjoyed. In most households, every room was packed with family and relatives, sleeping on the floor, crowded into every available square foot of space. From talking to her friends at school, Bae knew how lucky they were.
Her dad stood at one of the chairs with his leg straddling it and his elbow resting on his knee. His chin was up, and shoulders were back, pride obviously beaming off his face and demeanor.
“I spoke to Colonel Chung-ho,” he began. “He gave me a brochure for the spy school,” he said as he handed Bae a nicely bound, four-colored brochure.
She opened it with more anticipation than she ever remembered feeling before.
“We have to fill out an application, but he thinks you’ll get in,” he continued. “You have everything they’re looking for. Beauty, brains, and ambition.”
Without thinking about it, Bae ran to her father and threw her arms around him. He caught her and flung her around in a circle. Something he hadn’t done since she was a little girl.
“He said I have beauty, brains, and ambition,” she said shyly, looking over at her mother who nodded approvingly, her own sweet smile affixed to her face.
“What’s in the box, daddy?” she asked. “Is it my surprise?” On the coffee table was a box about two feet long and two feet high.
“Open it.”
Bae tore into it like a starving hyena.
“What is it?” Bae pulled out a shiny bright object and held it in the air with both hands.
“It’s a computer,” her dad said. “Colonel Chung-ho wants you to learn how to use it.”
They sat on the couch and she put the computer on her lap, carefully, like she was holding a rare piece of fine crystal in her hands. She lifted the top of the computer and stared at the dark screen and ran her fingers along the top and sides.
“It’s called a laptop. I’ll show you how to use it,” her dad said.
Her mother sat beside her and looked at the computer as well. Bae knew that very few people in North Korea were allowed to have computers. Her dad had one at work, but he had never brought it home.
“Let’s go upstairs and get it set up,” her dad said, taking the computer in one hand and her hand in the other.
They went up to her room, cleared her desk, and set the computer in the center. They plugged the cord into the outlet and powered it up. Bae almost burst out of her skin when the screen roared to life. She’d never seen anything so magnificent.
For the next two hours, her dad patiently showed her how to use it. It felt like the world was suddenly at her fingertips. Just as importantly, she felt as close to her dad as she ever had. They laughed and had the best time.
After he left, she stayed up half the night, unable to pull herself away from the best gift she’d ever received. Bae went to the closet and pulled out the satchel she’d stolen from the middle eastern businessman. Out of all her backpacks, this one was the nicest by far.
With great care, Bae took out the papers with the numbers and threw them in the trash can. The computer fit perfectly in the satchel with room for the cord and all the accessories. She kept the USB stick that was inside when she first stole it. At school she learned that it was called a thumb drive and fit into a computer. Sometime soon, she’d try it on her new computer.
When she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer, she fell into bed and was asleep almost instantly. The satchel with the computer lay on the pillow next to her.
***
Kalma International Airport
Wonsan Kang-won-do, North Korea
Omid Froohan and Jaffar Abdi, arrived on a flight from China around ten o’clock at night, an hour past their intended arrival time. International flights to North Korea were limited to China and South Korea and were notoriously unreliable. The two members of the Iranian Artesh, the equivalent of the army in most countries, flew from Iran to China and caught a commuter flight directly to Kalma Airport where Hamid Ahmadi, the Iranian Ambassador, met them on the road outside baggage claim.
They weren’t hard to spot. Froohan and Abdi were both seasoned fighters who fought in the deserts of Iraq, Syria, and Turkey and in the mountains of Afghanistan. Their rough and hardened exteriors caused Hamid to shudder.
Over the years, he’d met many soldiers. These men were as imposing as any he’d ever seen.
Iran had seen its share of war. Hamid’s career path had always been as a diplomat, so he never saw combat action. These two men had seen more death and destruction than most people could see in a hundred lifetimes, and it showed on their faces. Strong and burly, they walked with a purpose. Their suspicious eyes flittered around nervously, looking for threats even though they were perfectly safe in North Korea.
“Salaam,” Hamid said to the two men when they emerged from the baggage claim area, each carrying one small bag. After exchanging the standard greeting for peace, they shook hands and greeted each other with a kiss on the cheeks. Even the most hardened fighters welcomed a fellow Iranian warmly and in an effusive manner. A custom important in the Iranian society.
Hamid opened the trunk to his car, and the men each set their bag inside. In the trunk were the weapons. Iran was allowed to have weapons at the embassy for protection but weren’t allowed to carry them in the country. Hamid was taking a risk having them in his possession outside the embassy. A necessary risk, in that the fighters couldn’t bring weapons with them on the flight.
Omid opened the weapons bag and pulled out two PL-15 Russian made handguns. The rifles were left in the bag. He handed one to Jaffar and they quickly hid them in holsters under their suits. Hamid started to object but thought better of it. Even though carrying weapons in North Korea was strictly prohibited, especially by foreigners, these were not men to argue with.
The drive to the hotel was made in silence. When they arrived, Hamid pulled into the parking garage and parked away from any cameras or other cars. He handed them an envelope.
“Inside is your room key,” Hamid said. “There’s also a map to the house where the girl lives. You’ll find a picture of her in the envelope as well. There’s also a description of the satchel.”
The men didn’t speak. They just nodded with an occasional grunt.
“The satchel is probably not at the house,” Hamid continued. “Our guess is that the girl handed it off to a third party. You must get that satchel back. Or at least its contents. There are papers with codes and numbers on them. And a USB thumbnail drive. We especially want that back.”
The USB flash drive held all the passcodes and nuclear codes for the Pakistan weapons program.
“I don’t have to tell you how important it is to get that satchel back,” Hasid said.
Their instructions were to kill the parents, capture the girl, and torture her if necessary until she told them who she’d given the satchel to. They were to then kill the girl and dispose of her body in the woods or a nearby lake. Hamid saw no reason to go over those gruesome details again.
The men grabbed their bags and the rifle bag out of the trunk, and abruptly turned and walked toward the hotel, leaving Hamid standing there with his mouth still open.
Hamid was glad they were gone and hoped he never had to see them again.
I would hate to be that family.
14
CIA Headquarters
Langley, Virginia
“Brad, we have a prob
lem,” Rhonda, Brad’s assistant, said.
Brad was Alex’s handler at the CIA. Similar words spoken by Jim Lovell on the ill-fated Apollo 13 mission had become commonplace when someone wanted to communicate a problem. Often used jokingly around the Agency. From Rhonda’s tone, Brad knew she wasn’t joking.
After he authorized the $9,800.00 payment to the North Korean account, he decided to stay in the office even though it was just after midnight. The situation on the other side of the world still made him uneasy, having no idea what in the world Alex Halee was up to.
“What part of the world?” Brad asked.
“North Korea.”
Brad felt his heart skip a beat.
“What kind of problem?”
“We’re shut out of Kryptonite,” Rhonda said soberly.
“What? That’s not possible.” Brad began furiously typing on the computer on his desk. His login and password didn’t work. His mind began racing through the reasons why that might be the case. Only two came to mind. Alex locked him out, or the North Korean’s had hijacked Kryptonite and taken control of it.
There was no plausible reason for Alex to do so. The second option sent terror shooting through his veins as the realization hit him like a pile of bricks.
They’d been tricked. It was the only explanation. He slammed his fist down on the table.
“What’s the damage?” Brad asked.
“None yet,” Rhonda answered immediately. “Our firewall is holding, but we’re being bombarded with hundreds of computers trying to hack into our main server through Kryptonite.
That settled the issue. The North Koreans had definitely commandeered Kryptonite. Alex was probably dead, or worse, being hauled off to a jail as they spoke. Brad put both hands to his head, hardly able to fathom what had just happened.
Dozens of safeguards were built into Kryptonite to prevent access to the CIA main computer. That’s why Alex had insisted it be designed on its own servers. Brad scrolled through his mind looking for a connection that would provide an opening to the Koreans.
The wire transfer!
The $9,800.00 came from a CIA account which was accessed by his computer. The question was not if they could break through the firewall, it was how long it would take them. A question he needed to ask.
“How much time do we have before they break through?” Brad asked, ducking his head some as if he was bracing for the answer.
“Forty-eight hours, tops,” Rhonda said.
“Get our best people in here, right now!” Brad barked orders one after another. After a few more instructions, Rhonda ran out of the room.
He rubbed his eyes roughly. How could he have been so stupid?
The clock on the wall read 3:33. An ominous sign, whatever that meant.
He picked up his phone.
He’s still asleep!
Doesn’t matter. He has to know. I just made the biggest mistake of my career.
He hit send and called the Director’s number.
***
The Lazarus Group Cyber Lab
North Korea
“Wake up Alex,” I heard a voice say roughly.
At first, I was confused. Groggy. After Pok confirmed the receipt of the $9,800.00, I curled up on the couch in his office to catch some shuteye.
“Get up, Alex! Now!” I heard Pok shout.
Why was Pok calling me Alex? My name was Joe Hardy. In my sleepy state, I couldn’t make the transition between my alias and real name. A shove in my chest with what was obviously an assault rifle brought me to my full senses. I’d been sleeping soundly and didn’t hear the office fill up with people who, once I opened my eyes, I saw and turned my head and focused.
Instinctively, I rolled over slowly and blinked several times to adjust to the light shining in my eyes. Sudden moves with an assault rifle pointing at me wasn’t a good idea. Three assault rifles actually, which wasn’t good.
Eleven rifles total if I included the eight in the hallway. There were twelve at the entrance when I first arrived. That meant one was still guarding the entrance to the building. Combover guy was out in the hall, grinning widely.
I sat up slowly with my hands raised in the air, ready to strike if I saw an opening.
Don’t even think about it.
We were in an enclosed room. The three gunmen were standing over me with every advantage. I’d be dead before I blinked twice. Pok was on the other side of the desk, taking away any possibility of me seizing him and holding him hostage until I was safely out of the building.
If there was an MSO to my situation—a Mission Success Odds—they were extremely low at the moment. Once my mind finished assessing my situation, I began to process what it all meant.
One question stood out above the others forming in my mind. How did Pok know my name? A sheepish grin of victory was dominating his face. Anger rose inside of me as I wanted to wipe it off with one strike. If I could get my hands on Pok, one hit to his face would send that smile to the other side of his scrawny little head.
“You look surprised, Alex Hardy,” Pok said.
Good. He doesn’t know my full name.
I wanted to feign ignorance but realized it was a useless strategy. It would only make me look stupider than I already felt.
“I was just beginning to like you,” I said sarcastically.
By this time, I was sitting up. I crossed one leg over the other, leaned back on the sofa and put both arms up along the back of it. If I relaxed, maybe the men with the guns would as well.
“I’ve never liked you,” Pok said with the veins on his neck throbbing in anger.
“When did you know it was me?” I asked, thinking the longer I kept him talking, the longer I was still breathing.
“The moment I laid eyes on you! The great Alex Hardy. You think you’re better than me. Look at you now.”
Pok didn’t realize that I had unlocked his computer and set up a link between Kryptonite and his server. Langley would be working furiously as we spoke, mining his server for information, setting up all kinds of bugs. I was careful to not let my face give anything away. I may be screwed but so was he and his operations.
Admittedly, my getting screwed meant death, but I could take some satisfaction in having accomplished something on this mission.
What was Jamie doing right now?
Probably sleeping.
That’s what I should be doing. Sleeping in a five-star hotel in South Korea. A large sigh suddenly escaped my lips right before a question followed it.
“So, what do we do now?” I asked. “Maybe we can work out an arrangement.”
Pok let out a deep diabolical laugh which surprised me for a man of his slight size and build. Obviously fake, but impressive for someone of his puny stature. I wanted to say as much but thought the better of it.
“We have no arrangement,” he said laughing again.
“Is this funny to you?” I asked. “What’s funny about 151 billion dollars in the FCI fund? I tell you what; I’ll split it with you.”
“The arrangement is that you are going to spend the rest of your life being tortured at the resort in Hyanghari,” Pok said. The Koreans called their secret prisons, resorts. A lame attempt at humor, I assumed.
One good thing was coming from this. Pok had just given him some intelligence information. The CIA had never been able to confirm the existence of the Hyanghari prison. Pok just did so.
I also suddenly felt better. Pok had given me some new information about my fate. The intent was not to kill me right away. As long as my heart was still beating, I’d always have hope of getting back to America alive. Maybe not in one piece, but living, and with one piece of intelligence. Two actually. I confirmed that Pok was still alive, and I knew his location. I wanted to keep him talking to see what else I could learn.
“Since we’re just shooting the breeze, and considering we’re apparently never going to see each other again, I have a question for you,” I said.
Pok looked at me skeptica
lly as his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed. “Why should I tell you anything?”
“What was in the satchel?” I asked.
“What satchel?” His eyes gave away that he knew what I was talking about. He was stalling for time deciding if he should answer that question.
“The satchel the young girl on the security camera stole.”
“None of your business.”
“Oh, come on!” I said casually, raising my voice slightly. “I’m the one who discovered the Iranians hacking into your system and gave you the information. You wouldn’t even know about the girl if it weren’t for me. You at least owe me that. And what difference does it make? I'm going away for a long time. Who am I going to tell? The rats in my cell?”
Pok laughed at my joke, easing the tension some.
“I guess you’re right. It doesn’t matter. And from one hacker to another, you’ll appreciate this. It will give you something to think about while you rot away in prison. Haunted every day by the fact that you have this information and can’t do a thing about it.”
“Now you really have to tell me. You’ve got me curious,” I said flippantly.
“Nuclear codes. That’s what’s in the bag.”
I sat straight up in the chair causing the men with guns to react. One had a gun in my face. I pushed it away. Pok had already given away the fact that his higher ups wanted to interrogate me. If one of these lowlifes were to kill me before that happened, they would take my place in Hyanghari. There was a limit to how far I could push it, but I had some leeway and would take every liberty I could to exercise some control over the situation.
“I don’t believe it!” I said strongly. Challenging the information was the best way to get him to share more. The smug look on his face told me he was the one who had stolen the codes. This was actual intelligence that was more important than even hacking into his system. Anything related to Iran and nuclear weapons got everyone’s attention back in the states.
Pok let out another laugh. Not as diabolical as the first. More of a girly giggle. I really disliked this man. It would almost be worth it to throw caution to the wind, jump across the desk and snap his neck before the gunmen outside the room could react. The three in the room couldn’t stop me. I could disarm them in a matter of seconds.