The Ingenue: Political Spy Thriller

by Terry Toler

  Bae wasn’t struggling. She just stood there, frozen in fear.

  34

  The guard and I exchanged a cold, icy stare, creating a momentary stalemate. It’s not really a stalemate when one person has an assault rifle and the other was unarmed, but we were on even footing at least to the extent that neither of us knew what to do. I could see the indecision on his face as he shook his head back and forth and up and down.

  He had one arm wrapped around Bae’s waist and one clutched the weapon. I knew from experience that firing an assault weapon with one arm was difficult, if not next to impossible to do. It took hours of dry-fire practice for me to learn the skill. The man wasn’t in the right position to do so. He’d need to tuck the buttstock under his arm to steady it. Even then, it took a tremendous amount of strength to hold it once the power of the weapon was released.

  My preferred way was to hold it against my shoulder and steady it with my cheek, but that would be impossible for him to do and still maintain his grasp on Bae. The rifle rested against his hip and his hand was on the trigger. That wouldn’t work. As soon as he started firing, he’d lose control of the weapon, and the bullets would spray erratically.

  I was only eight feet away from him, so the chances were that I wouldn’t get hit. The odds were just as great that he might shoot his own foot. Still, there was always the possibility of a random shot hitting me.

  Or Bae.

  Bae had a look of sheer panic on her face. Her mouth was open and frozen in the shape of a gasp. Her eyes were wide, her eyebrows furrowed, and the brashness she’d displayed toward me since I met her was gone. She clutched the laptop in front of her with a death grip. Her knuckles were white from holding it so tightly.

  Curly trained that out of us. In a situation such as this, adrenaline spiked to incredibly high levels. That caused one of two reactions. Either your senses were heightened, and you suddenly had supernatural abilities beyond your normal capabilities, or you froze. Cognitive paralysis was the technical term. Curly called it the “pansy pose.” He also used the term “death pose” interchangeably. He said your death pose would be the last thing your assailant saw before he killed you.

  Bae definitely had the look and would be no good to me if she didn’t snap out of it. Although, at the moment, it was the best thing. At least she wasn’t thrashing around or crying or adding more uncertainty to the situation. The best thing for both of us was for her to do nothing until I made a move. When I did, he’d be forced to let go of her or I would overpower him.

  The guard had a radio on his belt, but no free hand to use it. I glanced around to see if anyone else was coming but didn’t expect it since we hadn’t created much of a commotion. He looked around as well. His eyes flitted left and right, nervously and with uncertainty. The adrenaline was causing him to freeze as well. A pansy pose. If I still had my gun, I’d make it his final death pose. The gun was on the ground a couple of feet in front of me. I had laid it down in the optimum position to retrieve it, if that was the option I chose.

  All I had to do was fall flat to the ground, grab the gun, aim, and fire. I’d practiced the move a thousand times but never used it in real life. I wanted to avoid that scenario. The way the guard held the rifle, the bullets would likely go into the ground. Right where I’d be lying if I tried to execute that move.

  It didn’t matter.

  For some reason, the guard started circling to his left, my right. I matched his steps and kept the circle in place until we essentially changed positions. A mistake on his part. Before this, my back had been to the wall, and I was trapped. Now I felt fairly confident that I could run away and get to the woods without getting shot. He was now trapped against the wall if I were to make a sudden move toward him. The only downside was that my gun on the ground was now closer to him and out of my reach.

  At that point, I had a dilemma. Did I flee and ensure that I got the nuclear codes back to the CIA or did I stay and try to save Bae, risking my own life and possibly allowing the nuclear codes to get into the hands of the Iranians? The CIA standard operating procedure would be to protect the codes at all cost. Even over the lives of innocent civilians. Even if it meant abandoning your partner or fellow officers.

  That made common sense. The codes could result in the loss of millions of lives if it fell into the wrong hands. That was more important than the life of a thirteen-year-old North Korean girl I just met. Curly, on the other hand, drilled in us, “no man left behind.” He always said that you should never abandon your partner unless there were no other options. If it didn’t make sense in the field or he didn’t agree with the principle, Curly wasn’t one for following standard operational procedures or the CIA training handbook,

  Was Bae my partner?

  She felt like it. She was in this position because of me. Even then, I’d already saved her life a couple of times. How many times was I expected to save her before enough was enough and I needed to look out for myself? I also told her to wait at the police cruiser. She wouldn’t listen to me. In a way, this was her own fault.

  Still, I wasn’t ready to abandon her yet. She was my protégé. Sort of. If nothing else, I had a warm affection for her and would have a hard time living with myself if I abandoned her. The thought of her being interrogated by the secret police was almost too much for me to contemplate.

  When faced with a difficult decision, I liked to rub my face. Roughly. Somehow it always seemed to knock the decision loose in my head. I couldn’t this time because if I made any sudden moves with my hand, the guard might react and start shooting erratically.

  I shifted my weight. Something needed to happen soon. My experience was that long bouts of indecision created uncertain outcomes. Decisive action usually ruled the day. Even if it was the wrong action, it still forced the issue and put pressure on the enemy combatant. Usually people panicked when suddenly pressed into deciding. Mike Tyson, the great boxer who struck fear in the hearts of his opponents, famously said, “Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.”

  Curly used that quote over and over again, and it gave me strength in times like this. The problem was I didn’t have a good plan. I didn’t want to act until I was sure what I was going to do, and it made sense.

  I didn’t need to do anything.

  Bae’s eyes suddenly lost their glossy glaze and her demeanor changed. As did her body language and position. She moved her feet, so they were more firmly set in the ground. Probably not even noticeable to the guard. I noticed. Our eyes met. I nodded slightly. I could see the confidence return to her face as her jaws clenched and her eyes narrowed into a resolute look.

  As lightning fast as a cat, Bae lifted her left leg off the ground.

  A look of surprise came over the guard’s face as his mouth flew open at the sudden movement.

  With tremendous force, Bae brought her left heel down on the man’s foot with perfect timing and precision hitting him right on the arch.

  The guard let out a loud “Ooof,” as if he had been hit in the solar plexus.

  I don’t know if it was sheer luck or Bae had really been listening when I taught her the move. Upon impact, the angle of her foot continued down from the arch toward the ground until it made maximum impact with the man’s toes. His boots were worn and thin.

  I could hear the familiar sound of bones cracking.

  The man let out the howl almost like the yelp of an injured wolf whose foot was caught in a trap. He dropped the gun, grabbed his left foot, and started hopping up and down.

  I started to yell for Bae to run but didn’t get the chance.

  When her left foot was back on the ground, she pivoted quickly so she was facing the man.

  He released his foot and let it fall to the ground. Bae brought her right foot up in a pendulum arc right between the man’s legs and connected with his groin. The impact was so severe it made me wince.

  The guard fell to his knees. Bae took the computer that was still in her hands and reared back. She
hit the guard in the head with such force that the impact of the metal against his skull created a sickening sound unlike any I’d ever heard before. Metal on bone.

  Somehow Bae had the strength to hold on to the laptop. The man let out a groan and then fell face first into the ground, unconscious, maybe even dead. His head hit the gravelly earth with a thud.

  Bae stood over him like a prize fighter standing over a beaten foe. She was on the balls of her feet bouncing up and down, ready to strike him again if he made so much as a move.

  “Dangsin-I depleoun jasig-eul gaiigo!” Bae said to the man.

  I think she said, “Take that, you dirty bastard.”

  I immediately grabbed the man’s rifle off the ground and retrieved my own gun. Then I grabbed Bae’s hand. Her focus hadn’t left the man.

  “Bae, let’s go!” I said, in an attempt to bring her back to reality. I knew the feeling. Adrenaline was pulsing through her like the sprays of a drive-through car wash. Hard to bring them under control. Curly worked with us for hours teaching how to get our minds to think clearly in the fog of war.

  With a strong tug of her hand, Bae finally started moving. We sprinted to the edge of the woods. I looked back at the tree line to make sure no one followed us. We ran the rest of the way back to the police cruiser. By the time we arrived, we were both out of breath.

  Bae took one look at the computer still in her hands and threw it to the ground. It had a huge dent in the back casing, probably no longer functional.

  She paced around the area with her hands on her hips, taking short shallow breaths muttering under her breath.

  “You okay,” I asked.

  She stopped pacing.

  I walked over to her.

  She held her hand up in the air. “High five,” she said.

  I knew she was going to be okay as I slapped her hand.

  35

  Seoul Incheon International Airport

  Seoul, South Korea

  Jamie was the first one off the plane. As soon as the Fasten Seat Belt sign was turned off, she rushed out of her seat to the cabin door so she would be first. Getting into position before the Iranians deboarded was vital to surveilling them. They were in the back, so it would take them several minutes to deplane.

  As soon as the cabin door opened, she bolted down the jetway and into the concourse area where she found the flight arrival and departure information screens. A flight to North Korea left in a little over an hour. That had to be the Iranians’ connecting flight. Jamie would’ve preferred a longer window of opportunity to take down the Iranians, but Curly always said to not fret about things you can’t control. Concentrate on the things you can.

  When the Iranians got off the plane, she would follow them at a distance. If they went left out of the gate and went to the baggage claim area and exited the airport, then she’d cut them loose. No way was she going to follow them all over South Korea. She would just go straight to Alex’s hotel and see what she could find there.

  If the Iranians turned right and went toward the gate with the flight to North Korea, then she’d have all the confirmation she needed. Then she’d look for an opportunity to take them out. An airport was not an ideal place to do so because of the security cameras, but she had a plan. Curly taught her that in an airport setting, the restroom was the best place to act. There were no cameras and the men would have their hands occupied.

  The thought made Jamie chuckle. Curly used more colorful and vulgar words to describe why the men were at a disadvantage in a bathroom setting, but she tried to block those out of her mind years ago.

  Jamie took up a position where the men wouldn’t see her when they came off the plane, but she could see them. When they exited the plane, they turned right, just as she suspected. They didn’t even go to the screen to look up the connecting gate information. Maybe they got it from the flight attendant or looked it up on their phones. At any rate, the direction they were headed had to be to the North Korean flight.

  Her pulse quickened and her senses heightened. She hoped the men hadn’t used the restroom on the plane. That’s why she’d wanted a longer layover. If they didn’t have to go now, they would if the layover were several hours.

  Play the cards you are dealt. Curly’s words were resonating in her head.

  The men were keeping a steady pace. They made some effort to see if they were being followed, but it was half-hearted. They had no reason to believe anyone knew who they were or the nature of their mission. Jamie wouldn’t have known their true motives except that she just happened to be on their same connecting flight.

  Some might call that blind luck. Curly said there was no such thing as luck. Luck was when opportunity met ability. While it was fortuitous that they were on the same flight as her, it was Jamie’s skill that identified them as operatives. Then her ability to assess the situation and take the appropriate surveillance steps uncovered the actionable information. Made possible by the hours she toiled learning Farsi. Every time she complained about it, which was often, Curly would say it would come in handy someday. He was right.

  The men exited the concourse and entered a long walkway that took them to the commuter gates, according to the signs which were in Korean and English. Jamie was glad they didn’t have to ride a train, or she would’ve had to let the men go and catch up with them at the gate. Since they were walking, she could keep a safe distance behind and avoid detection.

  A quick scan of the area revealed that there were no security cameras in the commuter concourse. That probably had to do with an agreement with North Korea. They wouldn’t want their government officials caught on camera boarding or unloading from a flight. The early morning hour also meant there were no people milling around. She suspected the flight would only have a few passengers anyway. The two Iranians might even be the only ones.

  Jamie lagged back so the men couldn’t use any evasive tactics to spot her. What she would’ve done if she were them, would be find a hiding place at the end of the long tunnel and watch to see if anyone suspiciously exited it. Curly drilled those kinds of precautions into them. Most of the time it was unnecessary. He said over and over again that there might be one time when it would save her life. Since she only had one life to live, it was worth the effort all the other times.

  The men were going into a confined area with only one way out so there was no chance she’d lose them. After a reasonable time passed, she quickened her pace and was down the tunnel and ramp in almost no time. She could see the men at a distance still walking. They hadn’t taken any precautions to look for a tail.

  She saw a sign for a restroom. One of the men broke stride with the other and headed toward it. The other continued walking toward the gate which wasn’t much further down. Jamie breathed a sigh of relief and let out a rush of nervous energy all at the same time. The timing was perfect. She’d arrive at the restroom just after the man had settled into whatever he was going to do.

  The Iranian stood, facing the wall and the urinal. Jamie took a wide angle so he wouldn’t see her out of his peripheral vision. There was no mirror on the wall, so he couldn’t see what was behind him. An unwritten rule in men’s restrooms was that they didn’t look around. Curly taught her that, and Alex confirmed it. Sort of a men’s code of honor. Keep your eyes straight ahead on the wall in front of you. That was to her advantage as the Iranian was following the rule dutifully.

  Jamie was in a perfect position and had two options. She could deliver a blow to the temple or a chop to the neck. Either executed properly would disable the man. Jamie had the ability to kill him with either blow. Since the man had said his mission was to kill Alex, she decided to go for maximum damage. That would be a strike to his neck and carotid artery.

  It was also the most practical. It took less force, and she could attack him from behind rather than the side giving him little to no time to react. Also, there wouldn’t be any blood. All the injuries would be internal.

  The Iranian let out a pleasurable sigh. Jam
ie had no idea what that was about although she had heard Alex do the same thing.

  Men are disgusting.

  She tried to put out of her mind that she was in one of their bathrooms.

  Since there was no mirror, Jamie had time to execute an even more devastating blow that would produce more power. Slightly past the man, she let her backpack slip off her shoulder to the floor then did a complete three-hundred and sixty-degree swivel, like she was going to execute a roundhouse kick. Instead, she brought the side of her right hand into the man’s neck, like a karate chop.

  He had no time to react. It was a direct and devastating blow. She could actually feel the artery sever and could hear the explosion of gases from the muscles, tissues, and vertebrae all creating a cascade of sound in the form of popping noises. Like when a chiropractor does an adjustment on your neck. The blow was so powerful it may have even broken some vertebrae and severed the man’s spinal cord, although Jamie doubted it.

  The Iranian let out a muted groan and collapsed to the floor. That was the reason she preferred he be in a stall. Now she would have to move him. First, she removed his wallet, ID, passport, and cell phone and stuck them in her backpack. She emptied his pockets of anything that might identify him. From behind, she put her arms under his and dragged him over to the nearest stall, kicking the door open while still maintaining her grip on the man.

  He weighed at least two hundred, thirty pounds she estimated. Maybe more. When he was in position, she stepped over him, so she was facing him with her back to the restroom. That gave her a slight pause in that she was vulnerable should the other Iranian show up. She had to hurry.

  After much effort, she was able to lift him up onto the stool and lean him back, so his head was against the wall. She checked for a pulse and didn’t find one. With some staging of his legs, she made it look like the man was sitting on the toilet in a normal position if someone were to look under the stall door, which she hoped his partner would do soon. The stall door was closed but not locked.