She stood, her knees shaking, her entire body trembling, her eyes turning toward the speaker.
A hand stopped her from turning her head, gently gripping her chin. “Look at me.”
She did.
“Good. Take a deep breath then march out that door and onto that truck. We’ll all be with you soon, okay?”
She nodded and closed her eyes. She turned toward the front, and with her eyes closed, used the headrests as her guides, realizing that she was leaving the sanctuary of the bus just as Herr Holst had.
And he’s dead.
She froze.
“It’s okay. You’re doing great.”
She breathed deeply.
What would Mom do?
She clenched her teeth.
She’d do what she was told while trying to figure a way out of this.
She squeezed her eyes tighter.
Be brave, my sweet one.
Her eyes burned with the memory of her mother’s voice.
She opened them and glared at the speaker. She glanced back to see the British Prime Minister’s wife standing behind her, smiling. “Go ahead. We’ll be with you shortly.”
Nancy nodded then stepped down to the ground, keeping her eyes on the truck, trying not to look at the bodies of those who had already fallen victim to whoever their captors were.
Her foot hit something and she glanced down to see one of the drones lying on the floor, one the brave Chinese woman had shot before dying. Her eyes irresistibly stole a glance at the bullet-ridden body of the only person to have put up a fight, her eyes still open, determination the final expression preserved by her death mask.
I want to be like her.
She stared at Herr Holst as she forced herself forward.
Such a nice man.
His face was turned away from her, thankfully, she hating to imagine what his final expression might be, he just a normal person like her, never supposed to have been put into a situation so terrifying, so deadly, never supposed to think of how your body might betray you in your final moments, an expression of fear, of terror, eternally preserved by those who would discover and document your undignified final pose after your death.
She stifled a sob.
Suddenly the buzzing sound of the drones grew louder, causing her finally to notice them. They were everywhere, except directly in front of her, and it took a moment to realize they had formed a corridor, perhaps five feet wide, directing her toward the truck, its ramp now down, beckoning her as if the open mouth of a horrifying beast meant to devour them all, body and spirit.
A drone bobbed toward her, urging her on, and it was then that she finally noticed something that had escaped her the entire time.
The barrel of a gun, pointed directly at her.
A handgun, lying on its side, mounted to the top of the drone.
That’s where the shots came from!
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she stared at the drone mere inches from her face. She had heard of weaponized drones of course, though they were huge compared to these. These drones were small enough that she could probably reach out and grab it, throwing it down to the ground before giving it a good stomping.
She would if there weren’t dozens of his buddies hovering nearby.
These drones were small, like something her friends might fool around with. Hell, she even had one at Camp David that she would use to make videos of the property for fun, videos she could never share for security purposes.
No Facebook for her.
No social media whatsoever.
It sucked.
She understood the reasoning behind her father’s decision. In fact, it had been his and her mother’s before she died. And with her now an involuntary celebrity thanks to her dad’s career choice, she’d probably never be truly free, truly independent, for the rest of her life. Her father’s job had taken her mother’s life, and it had already taken hers, at least figuratively.
The life a normal teenage girl craved was dead to her, forever relegated to the dustbin of choices not available to the young children of world leaders.
She thought of Jeff, her one piece of rebellious behavior not yet detected by the security teams that constantly surrounded her, and how he’d probably think this entire situation was so cool from a tech perspective.
He had been the one who had figured out how to set up her phone so they could exchange text messages without anyone knowing.
He was smart.
Extremely smart.
Dad would probably like him if he’d ever give him a chance.
Jeff would understand what was going on here better than anyone. Hell, he’d probably have been able to figure out a way to regain control of the bus, or take out these drones.
I wish you were here!
She inched forward.
Then he’d be dead too.
All the men were dead. Would they have killed boys as well?
Probably. They had already threatened to kill her.
I wonder if he’ll remember me when I’m gone.
She frowned.
Probably not. That bitch Wendy will be all over him before I’m in the ground.
Jeff had arrived late in the school year—something she knew was tough. She had too. After the assassination of the last President, and her father’s swearing-in, she moved to a school closer to the White House, leaving all her friends behind. She had cried, screamed and fought, but it didn’t matter. The President’s kids went to this school.
End of discussion.
And with social media not at her disposal, she had lost touch with most of them.
Though as time passed, she made new friends, Jeff the highlight. When he had arrived several months ago, she had decided to be ambassadorial and welcome him into the group.
They were almost inseparable since.
At least inside the school walls.
He was a secret, there no contact outside of the school beyond their messaging, no chance of photographs by the Secret Service or the paparazzi, little sign of affection even among friends, just in case someone violated the school’s policy against cellphones.
They couldn’t risk it.
If her father found out, he’d have the Secret Service crawling up poor Jeff’s business like there was no tomorrow.
And if that didn’t scare him off, her dad would probably find some way to have him transferred, he ridiculously overprotective since her mother’s death.
She didn’t blame him.
She was all he had left.
He was all she had left.
She closed her eyes for a moment.
I miss you, Mom!
The drone got even closer, snapping her out of her reverie, her eyes wide now as she stared at the barrel six inches from her head. She stepped forward, eyeing the other drones, it now immediately obvious to her that they all had weapons attached to them.
How did I miss that?
The Chinese woman must have figured that out, which was why she was shooting the drones. It hadn’t occurred to Nancy that her actions hadn’t made much sense. Why shoot drones? Shoot the shooters who lay in the darkness.
Yet that hadn’t been what was going on at all, and their heroine had realized that. If she had been able to take out the drones, there would have been no one to shoot them.
But she had failed, there simply too many.
She moved forward, feeling slightly better for some reason, perhaps the thought that there was probably no one lurking in the shadows, waiting to reach out and grab her, providing a slight amount of comfort. Enough comfort that she covered the remaining distance quickly, climbing the ramp into the back of the truck.
“Please take a seat, Miss Starling.”
She flinched, stepping back before she realized it was another speaker, the electronically altered voice still creeping her out, though probably less than if a real, live human was standing in the darkness.
She blinked rapidly, her eyes adjusting enough for her to see benches lining the long walls of
the truck.
She sat and closed her eyes, wondering who she would choose if she were given the choice of one person to be with her here, now, in the middle of all this.
Would it be Jeff? Her father?
She smiled.
Niner.
She pictured the handsome Delta Force operator who had helped save her life in Mozambique, her heart fluttering slightly at the thought, her cheeks flushing.
If only he were here…
16
Embassy of the United States Seoul
32 Sejongno Street, Seoul, Republic of Korea
“Any progress?”
President Starling could tell by the Delta operator’s face that if there was news, there wasn’t any that was good.
“I wouldn’t characterize it as progress, sir, however we do have a theory.”
Starling leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowed slightly as the operator, who he had heard called ‘Red’ in the jungles of Mozambique, continued.
“We’ve confirmed eyewitness accounts that suggest the escort vehicles drove intentionally into the fuel truck. Langley thinks they might have been hacked.”
Starling’s eyebrows shot up. “Hacked? Is that even possible?”
“Yes, sir. A lot of new cars today have Internet access built in, and if the firewalls aren’t properly configured, the car’s computers can be hijacked, and with pretty much everything drive-by-wire now, that means full control in some cases.”
Starling shook his head, remembering the briefing he had received after the nightly news demonstrated just such a hacking. “Insane. Remind me to pass a law when I get home.”
Red smiled slightly. “Yes, sir.”
“We had agents in those cars, didn’t we?”
Red nodded. “Yes, sir. Two, presumed dead.”
Starling sighed. “I’ll have to get their names when this is all over. I’ll want to meet with their families, personally.”
“Of course, sir.”
Starling glanced at the phone on the ambassador’s desk, it now his office for the time being. “Any demands yet?”
“Negative. We think they’re still securing the hostages.”
Starling closed his eyes, resting his head against the sumptuous leather, and sighed. “We’re not going to find her, are we?” He opened his eyes, Red stepping closer to the desk, lowering his voice slightly.
“I’ll be honest with you, sir. The longer we don’t, the harder it will get.” Starling’s chest tightened. “But harder doesn’t mean impossible. I’ve rescued guys out of the middle of the desert that had been missing for months. We just need to work the problem. You’ve got every security force in the modern world working on this. It’s not just your daughter that’s missing. The Brits, Germans, Canadians, Aussies—everyone is throwing everything they’ve got at this.”
Starling nodded slowly. “I know.” He sighed. “I know as President, I should be concerned with everyone, but I’ll be honest with you, Sergeant. All I can picture is my little girl and how terrified she must be.”
Red pursed his lips, his head bobbing. “I understand, sir. I have a young son. But I’ll tell you this. If this ever happened to him, I’d want the exact same people looking for him that are looking for your daughter.”
Starling smiled, realizing the man was right. The best people were on this, doing whatever it took to find her and bring her home safely. “I appreciate that, Sergeant.” His chin jutted toward the door. “I won’t hold you up any longer. Keep me posted.”
“Yes, sir.”
Red left the room and Starling rose, stepping over to the door and locking it, images of his wife, dying in his arms, her face replaced with his precious daughter’s, overwhelming him.
He dropped to his knees and clasped his hands together as tears flowed freely, his eyes staring at the heavens, his soul beseeching All Mighty God to save all he had left in the world.
17
Crawford Residence
Forest Hills, Washington, DC
What should I do?
Jeff Crawford stared at his phone, willing Nancy to respond, to no avail. It had been at least half an hour since her last text message had him bolt upright in bed, and he hadn’t budged since, repeatedly sending her messages.
Something’s wrong. Help us!
Something was definitely wrong, and he didn’t know what to do. She was the President’s daughter. Surely, she had security personnel that could help her, yet she had asked him for help.
What does that mean?
Were they dead? And if they were, what the hell was he supposed to do about it? Wouldn’t people who knew what to do already know? And even if they didn’t, who was he supposed to call? Her dad? The White House?
Hi, I’m Jeff, the President’s daughter’s secret boyfriend. Is she okay?
He launched Skype, calling his buddy, Ronnie.
“Yo, dude, whassup?”
“Not sure but I think something might have happened to Nancy.”
“Who, Nancy Starling?”
“Yeah. We were texting and now I can’t reach her.”
“So, isn’t she in like Korea or something? That’s like dark-age type shit over there, isn’t it? People eatin’ grass and shit?”
Jeff felt his chest tighten. “That’s North Korea, you idiot. Try reading something other than Kim and Khloé’s Twitter feeds.”
“Hey, when CNN starts featuring tits and ass, I’ll tune in.”
“You’re hopeless.”
“I am what I am.” Ronnie grinned. “So, why do you think something’s wrong?”
“It’s her last text.”
“What did it say?”
“It says, ‘something’s wrong, help us.’”
Ronnie was suddenly serious. “Jesus. Who’ve you told?”
“Nobody.”
“Who’s the idiot now! You’ve gotta tell someone!” His eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute.” Ronnie leaned out of frame then popped back. “Shit, have you seen the news?”
“No, I’ve been trying to reach her.”
“On your precious CNN—you get that?”
“I have parents.”
“Well, it says that some bus carrying the spouses of the G20—whatever that is—is missing, including Nancy.”
Jeff felt his stomach flip, his mouth watering. “Jesus, what the hell am I supposed to do?”
“You’ve gotta tell someone.”
“But she told me we had to keep it a secret!”
“Ask your folks. They’ll know what to do.”
Jeff shook his head emphatically. “No way, you know how friggin’ puritan they are. They’ll just lecture me on the evils of premarital sex.”
“Holy shit! You’re having sex with the President’s daughter?”
Jeff’s eyes shot wide in horror as he replayed what he had just said, failing to find Ronnie’s interpretation. “I never said that!”
“You might as well have.”
“No, I just said that my folks would think I was.”
“Riiight. I think you’re doin’ her.”
“And you’re a pig.”
“Hey, I’m a guy, just like you. If I had a chance to bang her, I would. She’s hot!”
“Next time I see you I’m going to beat the living shit out of you.”
“Bullshit, the only thing you’re beating is your meat.”
Jeff’s cheeks flushed. “I’m done with this convo.” He reached forward to end the call.
“No, wait!”
He stopped. “What?”
“Does she have nice cans?”
He killed the connection, his face hot with rage.
You must really like her if he pissed you off that much.
He closed his eyes, picturing her perfect face, her perfect smile, her perfect hair, her perfect lips.
You love her.
And he had to save her.
He glanced at his still silent phone then at his bedroom door.
Should I tell them?
/> If he did, what could they do? All he had was a text message. She had the CIA and everyone else in the world searching for her. He stared at the altar to geekdom sitting in the corner of his room.
But they’re idiots!
He rolled out of his bed and dropped onto his stool, firing off half a dozen chat requests.
It’s time to get The Squad on it.
18
Operations Center 1
CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia
“I might have something.”
Leroux turned toward Sonya Tong. “What?”
“Well, something disabled all the cameras at that intersection.”
“Right.”
“So I went and checked the other cameras.”
Leroux’s eyes narrowed. “Were they all out?”
Tong shook her head. “No. Just everything leading up to the intersection from the north for about five minutes, then everything south of it along five different routes.”
Child spun in his chair. “Why not just block them all?”
“I’m guessing they wanted it to look like intermittent failures as opposed to a hack.”
Leroux agreed. “Are they still out?”
“Yes.”
“Then maybe they haven’t finished. Get those routes to Delta. At least the South Koreans can start deploying resources in those areas.”
“Unless it’s a trick.”
Leroux looked at Child. “Go on.”
“They make us think that they’ve taken one of those routes, but in reality, they’ve taken a completely different one.”
Leroux shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He pointed at the displays at the front of the operations center. “Bring up an aerial view of the bus.” Child brought up the shot. “What do you see?”
Child smiled, his head bobbing as he leaned further back in his chair. “A massive G20 logo.” He tapped away at his keyboard, several more shots appearing from the promo package the Koreans had sent to everyone who was anyone, the bus proudly displayed, logos covering all sides. “That bus would stick out like a sore thumb. They’d spot it in a heartbeat if it passed one of their cameras.”
Tong motioned toward the screen. “That’s got to be easy to spot from the air.”
Kill Chain Page 5