by Terry Toler
She just had to wait. Eventually, the man’s partner would come looking for him. When he did, she’d be ready. The bathroom had no place to hide so she got in the stall next to the dead man and waited. Trying not to breath any more than necessary. Being in the men’s bathroom was grossing her out. Her hands were tucked under her armpits so she wouldn’t touch anything. The women’s bathrooms weren’t any cleaner or smelled any better, she decided, it was just the thought of it that turned her stomach.
If she did marry Alex, they’d have to have separate bathrooms. She wasn’t sure she could share one with a man. That made her think of the real mission at hand. Finding Alex and the girl. Saving their lives and then getting answers would soon become her priority. Then getting them both back home safely.
Although . . . Depending on what is happening with the girl, there might not even be a wedding.
***
Jamie had to wait longer than she expected which surprised her. The Iranian must not have been concerned that his partner was taking a long time in the bathroom. Maybe that was normal for men. Women tried to get in and out of there as fast as possible. Some women’s bathrooms had sofas in them, although Jamie had never seen one being used. Who would want to spend any more time in a bathroom than they had to?
Apparently, men. Alex had a crossword puzzle book next to his toilet in his condo. Jamie couldn’t fathom the reason why.
She was getting antsy. The other man had better come soon, or she might lose her mind. Now she was glad they had a short layover. The flight would be boarding soon, so he’d have to come check on his friend anytime now.
She thought about the blow that killed the Iranian. She chose it partly because she had never executed it in real life. It was one of the most difficult blows to strike because she had to hit him at the precise spot where it would hit the brachial nerve. A proper blow would “sheath” the artery and cause the pressure points that regulated blood pressure to overreact. The body would instinctively cause a massive drop in blood pressure which would cause the man to faint.
If the blow were strong and precise enough, it would severe the artery and cut off the vital flow of blood. The brain would short circuit and create extreme pain and then death within seconds. That must’ve happened to the man, because he had dropped to the floor like a bowling ball.
Jamie’s thoughts were interrupted by heavy footsteps. She tensed. It had to be the Iranian. She heard him call out his partner’s name in Farsi which confirmed it. His voice had only a slight level of concern, although he seemed to be moving slowly. Cautiously. When he didn’t get a response, he started to look in each stall, starting with the first one. Jamie was glad she chose one past where the man was. She lifted her feet off the ground and balanced on the stool, careful to not even breathe or make a sound.
The Iranian bent down and looked under the stall next to hers. He pushed it open slowly. The door creaked. He gasped and then asked his friend what was wrong.
That meant he was confused. It didn’t seem like it had registered to him that his partner was attacked. He probably thought he’d suffered a heart attack or stroke. Jamie put her feet on the ground and slipped out of her stall, careful not to make a noise.
The Iranian had made a mistake. He was in the stall and was lifting up his partner’s head, not even aware that she was there. If she were him, she would’ve cleared the room first to make sure there were no threats before she checked on the man’s condition.
Now the Iranian was in a vulnerable position, trapped in the stall. Jamie blocked his exit. He was in the perfect position for her to hit him with a kidney punch. She raised her elbow high in the air and was prepared to bring it down on his kidney with extreme force and violence.
Just as she was about to, he turned his head and looked back at her, twisting his back slightly so the blow would only be glancing, so she held off and lowered her elbow.
Instead, she said something in Farsi to create confusion in his mind. It worked. He hesitated. His wide-eyed look of surprise turned to bewilderment as his eyes narrowed almost to a squint and his brow furrowed. He clearly couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His dead partner. An American girl. In the men’s bathroom. She spoke to him in Farsi. For a moment, he probably thought his mind was playing tricks on him.
When he finally did realize the threat, he made another mistake. His move toward Jamie was to his left instead of to his right. The swinging door to the stall was in his way and prevented him from throwing a right-handed punch. Instead, he waved his left hand out in the form of a jab but there was no power behind it.
It also left his vital organs on the left side of his body exposed. Jamie reacted in a split second to the opening. She balled her fist and put her thumb in the perfect position below the knuckles at the tip of her fingers. Not inside the hand.
With lightning speed, Jamie twisted her body to the back and right and shifted her weight to her back foot. She then brought her weight forward and her fist cut through the air like a sword.
Her aim was for the man’s liver. When he raised his hand in the air to swat his fist at her, it left his heart and liver wide open for a shot. Jamie had never executed this move before in person. In less than a second, her fist made contact. She dipped her hand slightly so her knuckles would take the brunt of the blow and their sharpness would do the most damage.
Her fist penetrated into the man’s fatty area on the side of his chest, and she could feel the impact as his liver exploded inside of him. The man cried out in extreme pain. Jamie knew his death would be slower and more painful than his partner’s.
He collapsed onto the man on the stool. Jamie caught him so she wouldn’t have to lift him up off the floor. He moaned in agony. Barely conscious. So out of it, he had no power to resist.
Jamie lifted what was now dead weight onto his partner and positioned his legs so only one pair was visible. She removed the man’s passport, ID, and cell phone and emptied his pockets. When the men were discovered, it would take time to identify them. She checked for a pulse. It was faint and weak. In a matter of time, he’d be dead.
Jamie stood at the entrance of the stall and admired her handiwork. Four hundred and fifty combined pounds, maybe five hundred, to her one-forty-five. Two blows were all it took. Her hand wasn’t even sore. That had to be a record. She couldn’t wait to tell Curly. He’d be impressed, although he’d never admit it. He’d find something wrong with what she did, but she knew he’d be proud, nonetheless.
Curly said that she should never lose a two-against-one fight. It didn’t matter how big they were or how many weapons they had. She was one of the best trained fighters in the world. If she couldn’t beat two men in a fight, then he hadn’t done his job. At first, she was terrified at the thought. Today would give her even more confidence. She had flawlessly executed two new moves that she had practiced thousands of times in the gym.
More importantly, she had eliminated the threat for Alex. Now, she had to go find him.
The only question was―which one of the two moves was she going to use on Alex when she found him.
36
Signiel Seoul Hotel
Lotte World Tower
Seoul, South Korea
Jamie arrived at the Signiel Hotel more than three hours after her confrontation with the Iranians. The travel time from the airport to the hotel only took an hour of it. The rest was spent going through customs and being overly cautious at the airport.
The cleaning sheet on the wall of the men’s bathroom where she left the Iranians indicated that the room was only cleaned once a day at ten o’clock at night. That meant it would be a good twenty-four hours before the bodies were discovered. The only thing that could link her to the killings were the security cameras. Since there were no security cameras in the commuter area, she only had to be concerned about those in the main concourse and customs area.
Before Jamie left the commuter area, she went into the women’s restroom and changed back into her original outfit.
The baggy pants, tee shirt, sneakers, and Cubs baseball cap would be a perfect disguise for going through customs. She put her hair back into a ponytail. Her backpack was reversible by design and so she emptied it on the counter, turned the bag inside out so it was a different color, and repacked her belongings.
A pain to do, but making the effort meant that anyone who looked at the security camera at the entrance of the commuter area would never connect her to the woman in the professional business suit who entered an hour before. That person didn’t look like a killer, so they would assume she got on a commuter flight.
The next concern was custom’s officials. The Iranians passports and cell phones she collected from the men were problematic. She had to get them through customs so she could get them to Brad. They contained all kinds of important information to the CIA. Those also linked her directly to the killings, and she would never get through customs with their two passports. Fortunately, the backpack had a secret compartment for that purpose. Jamie slipped the two passports into it and sealed the compartment. It couldn’t be found without taking the whole thing apart.
So, the only concern would be the two cell phones which wouldn’t fit in the secret compartment. Americans traveling to South Korea usually didn’t get much scrutiny, but the phones did raise questions.
“Why do you have three cell phones?” the uniformed agent asked in a non-threatening manner.
“Two of them are for work and one is my personal phone,” Jamie replied calmly.
The only problem with her ruse would be if he asked her to turn them on. At that point, she’d have to admit her status with the CIA and get Brad involved. That was something she didn’t want to do. Brad would put her on the first flight home. She still had to find Alex and the girl.
The customs agent examined the phones carefully but fortunately put them back in her bag without turning them on and sent her on her way.
Jamie hailed a taxi at the airport and had him take her to the nearest twenty-four-hour, FedEx office. The cab waited while she placed the two phones and passports into a FedEx box, sealed it, and sent it two day express to Brad from an anonymous sender. She was relieved when they were finally out of her hands.
While at the FedEx, she used their women’s restroom to change into a third outfit. A tight-fitting black dress with stiletto heels and pearls that gave her more of a dressy look. She let her hair down and put on more makeup and hairspray. The appearance change was necessary because she had to talk the front desk person at Alex’s hotel into giving her a key to his room. She would be much more likely to give a key to a woman sharply dressed, than a young girl traveling with baggy pants and wearing a baseball cap.
She knew Alex was in room 637. He had texted her the hotel information and the room number when he arrived. That was a precaution they always used on a mission. It gave the other a starting point to investigate if either disappeared for some reason. The problem was that Jamie didn’t know what name Alex traveled under. On a mission, they used an assumed name with a passport and credit card provided by the CIA. Alex forgot to tell her in the text what it was. Or maybe he did it on purpose because he was meeting the girl.
That thought caused the anger to rise inside her all over again. The adrenaline had just come down from the confrontation with the Iranians, and she could feel it rise again for the clash that would come when she saw Alex.
Jamie’s plan for the front desk was to pretend to be his wife. That was the only possible scenario she could think of that might get her a room key. There were two problems with that plan. Her last name was different, and what wife didn’t know her own husband’s name? She could explain the different last name. This was the twenty-first century, and a lot of women didn’t take their husband’s name anymore. She had no credible explanation as to why she didn’t know his name.
She thought about pretending to be a prostitute, and that might explain it, but there was no way the hotel would give her a key under those circumstances. The Signiel Hotel was a five star and one of the most luxurious in all of Seoul. Jamie assumed their security measures were tighter than most.
The CIA had a special device that would open the door with a key card, but, of course, she didn’t have one of those with her. If the front desk wouldn’t give her a key, she’d have to wait for a maid to provide cleaning service. That almost always worked. Except for the fact that it was six in the morning, and maid service wouldn’t begin for several more hours.
She’d just have to talk her way in.
Jamie got into character―a snobby, southern bell, with a heavy southern accent, used to getting her way. She strutted up to the counter. Across from her was a petite, young, Korean girl with a trainee tag pinned on her lapel.
Perfect.
“Darling, I need to check into my room,” Jamie said in the thickest drawl she could muster without sounding like a cartoon character.
“What’s the name on the reservation?” the girl said in a meek, squeaky voice.
“My husband has already checked in. We’re in room 637.” Jamie put her passport, driver’s license, and credit card on the counter. The girl took them in her hands and sat them beside her keyboard and began typing. She then picked up the passport and looked at it.
“Welcome to the Signiel Hotel,” the squeaky girl said politely. “What brings you to Seoul?”
“My husband is here on business,” Jamie said. She had her elbow on the counter and waved her hand in exaggerated gestures as she spoke. “I’m going to see the sights and do some shopping. This was a last-minute thing. He was already here. And he called me and said, ‘Honey, you should come over. It’s the nicest hotel. We’ll make a vacation out of it.’ I said to myself, ‘Self. You deserve a vacation.’ And here I am.” Jamie let out a laugh.
She might have overdone it, but she couldn’t help herself.
“Do you have a spa?” Jamie asked.
“Yes, Ma’am,” the girl replied.
“Could you book me a time this morning?” Jamie stretched her arms out. “I’m exhausted from the flight. Those first-class seats aren’t as comfortable as they used to be. Do you know what I mean?”
The girl looked up at her like she didn’t know what she meant. She’d probably never even been on a flight and would likely never fly first class in her entire life. But she did smile dutifully. They probably got a lot of rich high-society types here at the hotel, and the first thing they probably learned in training was to be overly nice to the rich clientele.
“Ma’am, your husband didn’t put your name on the reservation,” the girl said as she looked up at Jamie.
“He probably forgot,” she said, as her hand formed a dismissive wave.
“I’m not supposed to give out a key if the name is not on the reservation.”
Jamie leaned across the counter. “Young lady, how would I know the room number if my husband hadn’t told it to me?”
The girl paused before answering. Her eyes shifted to where she looked up and to the right, like she was thinking. “Your name doesn’t match the name on the reservation,” she finally said.
“I didn’t take my husband’s last name. You know, women’s lib and all. Have you heard of that in South Korea? No. I guess you haven’t.” Jamie said rudely. Maybe she’d be able to bully the girl into giving her a key.
It got the opposite response as the girl asked, “What’s your husband’s name?”
Jamie swallowed hard and said, “Adam.”
The girl looked at the screen. “This says Joe Hardy.”
Now she knew the name.
“Joseph Adam Hardy,” Jamie retorted. “Most people call him Joe. I’ve always called him Adam. How long is this going to take?” Jamie said, her voice raised to try and make a scene. “I’m really tired.”
A door behind the girl opened and a man walked over. His name tag said Manager. Jamie didn’t know if that was good or bad.
“Is there a problem here?” he asked. He must’ve watched from the security camera.
Before squeaky girl could reply, Jamie said roughly, “I’m trying to get a key to my room, and this girl won’t give it to me. I’m starting to get upset. I just got off of a twenty-hour flight from the United States, and I’d like to get my room. All I need is a key. Room 637.”
The manager seemed confused as he narrowed his eyes and raised one of his eyebrows.
Jamie had never seen an eyebrow go that high up before.
“What’s the problem?” he asked the girl.
“She’s not on the reservation. She claims to be his wife.”
Jamie let out a sound of disgust. “Claims?”
She tried to make it sound like she was exasperated. “I am his wife. You’ve got my passport, driver’s license, and credit card. His name is Joe Hardy. Room 637. He’s expecting me.”
Jamie suddenly realized that she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. She took her left hand off of the counter and put it to her side.
“Mr. Hardy is in his room,” the manager said. “You don’t need a key. I’m sure he’ll let you in if you’re his wife and he’s expecting you.”
Jamie stood straight up.
“He’s here? In the room?” That was the last thing she expected to hear. At least Alex was alive, and she didn’t have to go into North Korea to look for him.
“I saw him in the lobby a couple hours ago,” the manager continued. “In fact, I asked him why he didn’t want his room cleaned. We haven’t provided maid service for three days. Can you describe your husband?”
“Big guy. Really tall. Muscular. Brown hair.”
“That’s him,” the manager said.
“That’s perfect. I’ll just go up to the room,” Jamie said. “Can I have my things back?”
The girl handed them to her.
“Was Mr. Hardy alone or was someone with him?” Jamie asked.
“He was with a young lady,” the manager said. Then he paused and his lips contorted like he was suddenly confused or maybe a light bulb had gone off like he may have just made a big mistake.