Kill Chain

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Kill Chain Page 3

by J. Robert Kennedy

7

  COEX Convention & Exhibition Center

  Seoul, Republic of Korea

  “Status?”

  Dawson climbed into the rear of the armored limousine, Atlas slamming the door shut and getting into the front, the motorcade accelerating hard the moment the last foot cleared the cement of the conference center’s underground parking. A large contingent of motorcycle police and squad cars immediately met them as the emergency evacuation of nineteen world leaders unfolded, he having no doubt the officers on the ground had rehearsed this scenario, fully expecting it never to happen.

  And yet it was.

  “We’re finding that out now, Mr. President,” said Dawson as he grabbed a handhold, the driver operating under orders not to worry about comfort, speed of the essence.

  “Are we going back to the hotel?”

  “Negative. Protocol dictates the embassy in this situation. If they’ve managed to take your daughter and the others, we have to assume all security precautions have been compromised. The embassy is the only place we can be certain is secure since all security inside is our responsibility.”

  “What do we know?”

  Atlas turned from the passenger seat, just having received an update. “Not much yet, Mr. President. The security vehicles accompanying the bus were apparently hit by a fuel truck, and the bus continued on. The GPS tracker has been disabled, and the security team on board isn’t responding.”

  “Do we know where the bus is?”

  Dawson could hear the panic creeping into the voice of the most powerful man in the world. And he didn’t blame him. He had never liked the idea of a driverless bus ferrying so many VIPs around, yet his concerns had been overridden by the White House staff’s unwillingness to offend their South Korean hosts.

  He just hoped those poor souls didn’t pay the price for political correctness.

  He exchanged a glance with Atlas.

  “Not yet, sir. Emergency vehicles are responding and aerial units are deploying. We’ll find them, Mr. President.”

  Starling looked at Dawson. “I can’t lose my daughter too.” His voice was subdued, it almost cracking.

  Dawson nodded. “I’m not going to make you any promises, Mr. President, except that if you give us free rein, we’ll do whatever it takes to get her back.”

  Starling’s jaw squared as he drew in a breath, staring at Dawson.

  “Consider yourselves unleashed.”

  8

  En route to the Embassy

  Seoul, Republic of Korea

  Niner’s fingernails dug deeper into the dash as Ji-yeon weaved in and out of traffic, he beginning to question whether her Kia Morning had a brake pedal installed.

  And the harrowing experience was made all the worse by her penchant for staring at Jimmy in the rearview mirror.

  “Eyes on the road!”

  “Calm down, I know what I’m doing!”

  “I’ve been trained for this and I don’t even know what you’re doing!”

  “They teach soldiers how to drive like this?”

  “Some of them.”

  “What is it you do?”

  Niner ignored the question, his job Top Secret, his cover an honorable logistics clerk. The less his family and loved ones knew about his real life, the safer they all were. If his enemies were to know his true identity, they could kidnap his family and try to use them as leverage to get what they wanted.

  That was why only spouses knew.

  And he definitely didn’t have one of those.

  Someday.

  With Dawson and Atlas starting to settle down, some of the other guys already having done so long ago, the thought had occurred to him, but he was having too much fun being single.

  You’re only young once.

  Besides, he hadn’t met anyone he’d exactly consider marriage material.

  Including yourself!

  His phone vibrated and he swiped his thumb over the display, recognizing Dawson’s number. “One-One.”

  “It’s me. Status?”

  “We’re heading into the city now.”

  “ETA?”

  “With the way my cousin’s driving, we’re either never going to make it, or we’re going to break the space-time continuum and arrive there before it happens. You?”

  “We’re about to arrive at the embassy. Once the President is secure, we’ll head to the crash site. I’ve sent coordinates to your phone. Meet us there.”

  “Roger that.”

  Dawson ended the call and Niner opened the message, bringing up the map. He held it on the dash so Ji-yeon could see the display. “Can you get us to Noksapyeong Road?”

  Ji-yeon glanced at the display a little too long for Niner’s liking, then nodded. “Sure.” She suddenly locked up the brakes then spun the wheel hard, pulling a 180 before hammering on the gas again, driving the wrong way for almost a hundred feet before jumping a curb and forcing her way into the flow, a cloud of dust and scorched pavement in her wake.

  Niner heard someone screaming and glanced back at Jimmy.

  “You can stop screaming now.”

  Niner looked at Ji-yeon and realized the scream was coming from him. He jabbed a finger at her. “Next time, I drive.”

  “You’d get lost.”

  “Yeah, but I wouldn’t need to change my shorts.”

  9

  Embassy of the United States Seoul

  32 Sejongno Street, Seoul, Republic of Korea

  Dawson checked the hallway in either direction before closing the doors of the embassy’s command center. It was nothing compared to the Operations Centers at the Unit or Langley, though it was respectable nonetheless, what with their proximity to one of the world’s few rogue nations with nuclear weapons. Embassy staff manned every terminal, all, he was certain, highly trained in their jobs.

  “Mr. President, I’m happy to see you’re safe.”

  Dawson surveyed the displays as his second in command and best friend, Master Sergeant Mike “Red” Belme, greeted their VIP.

  “Any word on my daughter—and the others?”

  “Sir, this is what we know.” Red turned and pointed at a large display showing aerial footage of the crash scene. A fuel truck was fully involved, the two security vehicles that had been escorting the automated bus barely recognizable. Fire crews were steadily dousing the flames, a heavy police presence evident as the roads were blocked, the crime scene taped off. “Both the leading and trailing escorts were involved in a multi-vehicle accident with this fuel truck.”

  “That’s not the bus?”

  “No, sir.”

  Starling gasped a sigh of relief, Dawson realizing for the first time that a terrified father’s mind could have easily imagined a passenger bus instead of the flaming fuel truck. Starling searched for a chair, an aide immediately pushing one toward him. He dropped into it, his shoulders sagging for a moment. He stared up at Red. “Then wh-where is it? Where’s the bus?”

  “There’s no sign of the bus.”

  Starling opened his mouth but Red continued.

  “For the moment, we’re treating that as good news. At this point in time, we have no reason to believe any harm has come to your daughter.”

  “But you don’t know where they are?”

  “Not yet, sir. We’re patching in with Langley now, and air and ground assets are deploying from Osan Air Base to assist in the search.” Red paused, lowering his voice slightly, the man himself a father. “Sir, this is a wired, modern city. They’ll have been caught on camera. We’ll find them, track them, and retrieve your daughter.”

  “Has anyone made any demands yet?”

  “No.”

  Dawson squatted so he could look his President in the eyes, man-to-man. The fear and panic were evident, and he needed this man, the leader of the free world, thinking straight. “Mr. President, no word from whoever is responsible could be a good thing. They won’t make their demands until they’ve secured the hostages. The fact we haven’t heard anything means they have
n’t done so yet. That means there’s still time to find them.”

  Starling nodded, his breathing slowing slightly as he squared his shoulders. He rose, glancing about the room for a moment before turning to Dawson and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Find my daughter and bring her back to me.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Do whatever it takes. I’ll clean up any mess you make.”

  Dawson allowed a slight smile.

  “Understood.”

  10

  2941 Restaurant

  Falls Church, Virginia

  “How the hell did you do that?”

  Chris Leroux glanced down at his lap, a carefully painted toe briefly visible before disappearing into his pants. He dropped his napkin in his lap, nervously looking around at the customers and staff of the rather upscale restaurant, before turning his attention to his girlfriend sitting across from him in the booth.

  “Do what?” asked Sherrie White coyly, a Cheshire grin on full display.

  He leaned forward, lowering his voice, though not before stealing another look to see if their after dinner games had been noticed. “Work a zipper with your toes!”

  “You like it.”

  “Of course, I like it. I just don’t like the venue.”

  “Why?” Sherrie stopped moving her foot and regarded the view from their corner booth. “It’s quite nice here. Good food, good service, nice ambiance.” Leroux gave her a look. She smiled. “Great table, tucked away where no one can see us.”

  Suddenly her special request for this booth when she made the reservations made sense.

  She’s so bad!

  And he loved it.

  If there were one word to describe him, it wouldn’t be bad. He was a nerd, geek, dork—whatever word the kids were calling it these days. Extremely bright, sometimes awkward, especially around women, he was not in Sherrie’s league—at least that’s what he had been telling himself since they met.

  On the job.

  He was CIA, an analyst at the time, now an Analyst Supervisor, she a junior agent sent in to seduce him, to see if he would spill his secrets. He had barely passed the test, his experience with women to that point nearly non-existent beyond websites Utah was trying to ban.

  Sherrie had changed all that.

  They had fallen in love, moved in together, and he was a better man for it.

  And that was the key word.

  Man.

  He had always felt like a shy boy until her, and now he led a team of ten at CIA Headquarters and had an incredibly beautiful and sexy CIA Agent with whom to share his life.

  His eyes widened.

  “Waiter.”

  “Well, maybe he can see us.”

  “No, I mean waiter!”

  Her foot darted from his crotch.

  “Anything for dessert?”

  Sherrie smiled at him. “I think I’ve got that covered.”

  Leroux flushed. “Umm, no thanks, just the bill.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  The waiter walked away, Sherrie’s foot darting back into his lap.

  “You’re terrible.”

  “I know.”

  “You realize I have to stand and walk out of this place.”

  Her foot moved a little faster, a grin on her face.

  “Please!” he hissed.

  She stopped. “You’re no fun.”

  “You’re too much fun. And why are you so damned frisky?”

  “I’ve got an assignment tomorrow, you know that. I’m heading to Seoul for some preliminary security screening before the Secretary of State arrives for the G20 follow up.”

  “Yeah, well save it for the bedroom.”

  She leaned forward, running her foot up his leg. “Baby, you’re in for a jolly good rogering long before we make it to the bedroom.”

  Leroux gulped. “Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means we’re taking advantage of those tinted windows when we get to the parking lot.”

  Her foot dropped to the floor as the waiter appeared, placing the bill holder on the table. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  “Just a sec.” Leroux fumbled for his wallet, trying not to reveal his exposed nether regions, leaning forward awkwardly as he removed his credit card. The waiter handed him the machine and he pushed his Visa in the slot.

  Sherrie tried to force her foot into his own slot and he shut her down, snapping his legs shut.

  Her lips shot out in a pout.

  Approved.

  He removed his card and handed the machine back, a receipt printing at an interminable pace. A quick rip and it was handed over.

  “You two have a lovely evening.”

  “Oh, we will,” replied Sherrie, never taking her eyes off Leroux. The waiter walked away and Sherrie leaned in. “Let’s go.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I could carry a dozen donuts with no hands.”

  “A dozen! Impressive! That’s something we’re going to have to test.”

  “You’re certifiable.”

  “And you love it.”

  Leroux shrugged, his head bobbing. “I do. I just never realized that you’d be the Dylan Kane in this relationship.”

  “I guess spies like us can never get enough.”

  Leroux grinned. “Funny movie.”

  “Don’t get off topic.”

  “Hon, if I don’t, we’re never leaving this booth.”

  “Just cover it with your jacket.” She winked. “If you can, that is. A dozen donuts is a lot.”

  Leroux blushed. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “I’ll need my foot back.”

  He felt his ears burn as he opened his legs.

  Her foot immediately darted up, her toes going to work, a distinct “zip” heard.

  Unbelievable!

  His phone vibrated on the table. He glanced at the call display and frowned. “It’s the office.”

  “Ugh. Don’t they know I’m horny?”

  “I think it’s a standing order at Langley.”

  She kicked him. “Careful.”

  He chuckled, swiping his thumb to take the call.

  “Sir, we’re going to need you to come in right away.”

  Sherrie’s foot resumed its adventures.

  He could recognize the excitement in his underling Randy Child’s voice, though the younger analyst—by only a few years—had the habit of getting excited about most things that tweaked his interest.

  He’s like you five years ago.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The G20 spouses have been kidnapped.”

  “What!” Leroux’s hand grabbed Sherrie’s foot, ending her teasing. She immediately sensed things were serious, removing her foot and sitting upright. “What about the First Daughter?”

  “She’s missing too.”

  “Christ, I’ll be right there.”

  He ended the call, shoving the phone in his pocket.

  “What’s going on?”

  “The G20 spouses have been kidnapped including the President’s daughter.”

  Sherrie’s phone vibrated and she grabbed it, a brief one-sided conversation ending after only a few seconds. She pocketed her phone. “Looks like I’m heading for Seoul early.” She grinned at him, her eyes widening suggestively. “But there’s still time to squeeze in a quickie in the parking lot.”

  11

  Noksapyeong Road

  Seoul, Republic of Korea

  “Go home.”

  “But what if you need a ride?”

  Niner searched for Dawson and the others but came up empty. “My team will be here soon.”

  “But I want to stay!” She already had her phone out, seeking her fifteen minutes.

  “No, it’s too dangerous.”

  “But—”

  Niner gave his cousin a look and pointed at the road on which they had just come to a screeching halt. “Home. Now.”

  Jimmy rounded the car, his phone out, documenting
the scene. “Please, Ji-yeon, go home, it’s not safe. When this is all over, I promise he’ll come and visit you.”

  Ji-yeon stared at Jimmy’s feet, one of her own doing a back and forth pirouette, straight out of a Betty Boop cartoon. “Will you come?”

  Jimmy smiled. “Absolutely.”

  She bounced. “Okay, see you soon!” She jumped in her car and peeled away with a wave and the attention of the police officers swarming the area.

  Niner glared at his friend and pointed a finger at the man’s chin. “You lay a finger on my little cousin and I’ll chop your balls off.”

  “Can I help it if she finds me irresistible?”

  “She only likes you because she knows it will piss me off.”

  “She never met you before today!”

  “Think of her as my sister, and act accordingly.”

  Jimmy placed a finger on his chin. “So no sex until the third date?”

  Niner swung at him, a grinning Jimmy blocking it easily.

  “What’s going on!” shouted one of the officers in Korean as several of them ran toward them, mistaking the joking around for the real thing.

  Niner responded in Korean as they both showed their IDs. “We’re with the President of the United States’ security detail. What can you tell us?”

  The lead officer took his ID and examined it for a moment before calling over to a group of senior officers, if Niner’s knowledge of South Korean insignia wasn’t failing him. A rather attractive woman quickly walked toward them, saying nothing, instead inspecting both IDs before returning them.

  “I am Senior Inspector Yunhui Kim, NPA. I’ve been expecting you. I’m to be your liaison for the investigation.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” said Niner, extending a hand to the National Police Agency detective. “I’m Agent Green, this is Agent Brown. Do you speak English?”

  She nodded as she quickly shook their hands, switching languages. “Yes.”

  “What can you tell us?”

  She motioned toward the now smoldering crash site, the fire out. “Not much yet. From what eyewitnesses are telling us, it appears that the first vehicle swerved into the fuel truck, then the second one passed the bus and did the same.”

 

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