“So another truck like earlier? One with a panel in the floor?”
“Probably. The Canadian said Nancy went first, which means she would have had to remove that grate on her own.”
Atlas glanced at the thick piece of metal. “Doubt that. She’s a pretty delicate thing.”
“Exactly. So it was already moved, just like before.”
Atlas grunted. “Okay, by who? The same guy who moved the other one? And if you’re willing to move grates, why not drive? If this final vehicle had a driver, he could move the first grate just before the automated truck arrived, then park his truck here, moving this one, then when everyone was in the back, replace it.”
Dawson shook his head, something finally dawning on him. “They left almost half the hostages behind.”
“Right.”
“And that means they didn’t need as big a vehicle.”
Atlas’ eyes narrowed. “The second stolen vehicle.” He snapped his fingers. “It was a box van or something, wasn’t it?”
Dawson nodded. “Yup, too small to hold all of the hostages, which is why we ruled it out before, but it’s just big enough to hold those they now have.”
Atlas frowned. “And it blends a whole lot better than a rig.”
Dawson watched the traffic now flowing around them again, at least three box vans within sight. Even if Langley picked up the one they were searching for on camera, they’d have a hell of a time tracking it.
Someone shouted to their right and Dawson spun, raising his weapon, Atlas doing the same as they both took a step toward a man who was waving his arms, rushing out of a Bonchon Chicken outlet. Traffic careened to a halt as the young man stepped into the street, oblivious to the danger.
Then he froze, his eyes bulging, the weapons finally noticed.
A subcompact swerved impatiently around the stopped cars, gunning it up the side before slamming on its brakes as the driver finally noticed the paralyzed man in the middle of the road. Dawson stepped forward, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, yanking him out of the way just before a bumper took up residence in his former spot.
Rapid fire Korean erupted from the man’s mouth, he staring directly into Dawson’s eyes, still in shock at his near death experience.
“Buddy, I don’t understand a word you’re saying.”
The man grabbed Dawson by his bulletproof vest. “American?”
“Yes.”
One of the senior officers rushed over, pulling the man away, a quick conversation taking place, one Dawson couldn’t understand a word of.
Too bad Niner’s not here.
He frowned at the thought of his missing friend.
If anything happens to him, we don’t rest until they’re all dead.
The senior officer turned toward him. “He says he moved the grate.”
Dawson’s eyes widened slightly. “He’s admitting to it?”
“Yes. He says someone paid him a million wons to replace it.”
Dawson’s eyes narrowed as he did the mental math.
About a thousand bucks.
Good pay for a few minutes of work.
Wait a minute.
“Replace?”
The officer nodded. “Yes. He says when he arrived the grate was removed. He replaced it then was supposed to leave.”
Dawson looked at the man. “Do you speak English?”
He nodded.
“Who paid you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I do odd jobs around the city for money.”
Atlas grunted. “Huh, you can make a living like that?”
“Sure. You’d be amazed at what people are willing to pay for someone to do things for them, especially the questionable things.”
Dawson snagged on the last statement. “Like?”
“I shouldn’t say.”
The senior officer jabbed the air with a finger. “You talk now or I hand you over to the Americans.”
Atlas growled menacingly, it eliciting the desired response.
“O-okay. Well, if someone’s neighbor refused to mow their lawn or trim their hedge, I go in and do it while they’re at work. If someone wants to sabotage a competitor’s sale, I’ll post a few hundred bad reviews of their store.”
“So someone asked you to remove a grate.”
He shook his head. “No. Replace a grate. It was already removed when I got here.”
“Then you were supposed to leave.”
“Yes. And never come back.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Curious, I guess. Then when I saw you, I realized this had to have something to do with the kidnapping.” He waved his hands in front of him. “I do some questionable things, but nothing really illegal. I don’t want to have anything to do with kidnapping people.”
“How were you hired?”
“Over the Internet.”
Again with the Internet.
“Okay, we’ll need everything you have on the person who hired you.” Dawson motioned toward the senior officer. “Give him your address, we’re going to need access to your computer.”
The man laughed, pulling out his phone. “Who uses computers anymore?” He handed it to Dawson. “Everything’s on here.”
56
Unknown Location
Republic of Korea
Nancy held onto Niner tight, never wanting to let him go. She had seen only glimpses of him since their time together in Mozambique, he apparently a regular part of her father’s security detail when they traveled outside of the country. Whenever she did see him he was on duty, stoically guarding her father behind a pair of sunglasses, though she was certain he nodded—almost imperceptibly—when she waved to him.
It was enough to fire her dreams for a week.
And feel guilty about cheating on Jeff.
Is it cheating if it’s just a fantasy?
That was a Mom question, so she doubted she’d ever really get an answer.
She sniffed, finally letting go, painfully aware that the returned hug was a little on the loose side of things. She stared up at the handsome soldier, though not far up, she rather tall, he rather short.
If we dated, I don’t know if I could wear heels!
“Thank God you’re here!” she finally said, her voice cracking. She turned to the others. “He’s part of my dad’s security team! We’re saved!”
Excitement swept through the room, gasps of relief met cries of joy as everyone leaped to their feet, hugs exchanged, some rushing over to thank their saviors.
“Ladies, please, there’s been a misunderstanding.” Niner stepped forward, holding his hands out. “I’m really sorry, but we’re not here to save you.”
Nancy’s chest tightened and her eyes narrowed as her smile slowly faded. “What do you mean?”
“He means he and his friend are joining you as our guests.”
Niner looked about the room, apparently searching for the source of the voice. His eyes settled on a speaker with a camera mounted beside it. “Why did you take us?”
“Insurance in case your friends get close. They might think twice before interfering if it might cost the lives of one of their own.”
Nancy grabbed onto Niner, squeezing him at the waist, trembling. He placed an arm over her shoulders, his hand patting her as he continued to stare at the camera. She closed her eyes and sighed, feeling safe for the first time.
And for the first time, not missing Jeff.
57
Crawford Residence
Forest Hills, Washington, DC
“I think I’ve got something!”
Jeff glanced over at the monitor showing Clarence and Vic, the former excited about something. “What?”
“I found the IP address for a LiveLeak posting of the video.”
Jeff shrugged. “It’s probably just spoofed.”
“It was. DoD, so you know it’s BS.”
Vic spun in his chair. “I don’t trust anybody in the military. I wouldn’t
put it past them to be involved somehow.”
“Hey, asshole, my dad’s in the military!”
Vic stopped spinning. He leaned into his camera. “Yeah, and do you trust him?”
Clarence leaned even closer. “More than I trust you, dickhead.”
“Okay, okay,” interrupted Jeff, they getting into dangerous territory. “What did you find?”
“Well, I started crawling for anything using the same spoofed IP, and found half a dozen posts on sites that don’t make sense for a DoD user to be posting at, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. Lots of people post shit when they’re supposed to be working.”
“True.”
“But, I found a Facebook posting using the DoD IP address.” Fingers flew and suddenly they were browsing vacation photos of a happy family somewhere on a beach. “They’re in Mexico.”
Vic grunted. “So?”
“So? Maybe if you parked your hatred for all things military, you’d be able to put that thing you call a brain into gear, and realize that a DoD IP address doesn’t get used in Mexico.”
Vic leaped to his own defense. “Maybe they posted them after.”
“Nope, look at the comments. They’re from today, and they’re still there.”
Jeff smiled. “I get the feeling you’re about to tell us something more.”
“You know me oh so well. The guy’s been posting photos all day but only one batch used that IP address. All the ones before and after were a regular IP address in Colorado.”
Jeff’s eyes narrowed. “That’s weird. Shouldn’t they be using an IP in Mexico?”
“Exactly! I think he RDP’d into his home computer from Mexico, then posted the photos that way!”
Vic stopped another spin of his chair, suddenly interested. “You mean like GoToMyPC or something?”
“Exactly! Anyway, I think he happened to be logged in when the malware on his computer hijacked it and downloaded that North Korean video!”
Jeff smiled. “It makes sense, but we need to be sure. We need—”
“I’m already sure.”
“How?”
“I’m logged into his PC right now.”
“You hacked his password already?”
“Shit, he’s got birthday photos of his wife and two kids all marked as public, and uses his wife’s birthday as his password.”
Vic cursed. “Man, somebody has to give this dude a lesson in the Internets.”
“You’ve been logged in this entire time? Why didn’t you just tell us?”
Clarence grinned at the camera. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Jeff shook his head. “What did you find?”
“What we’ve been looking for.”
Jeff felt a smile spread across his face as his heart began to race. “You found the video’s source site?”
“Yup.”
He hesitated to ask the all-important question. “Is it still up?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Then let’s get to work!”
58
Embassy of the United States Seoul
32 Sejongno Street, Seoul, Republic of Korea
“Mr. President, we now have one of your agents and a South Korean agent in our custody.”
President Starling exchanged a concerned look with Red, the phone on speaker so the operator and Langley could listen in, no one else in the embassy privy to the truth. Though they had all suspected what had happened to the missing operator, at least it was now confirmed, and by the sounds of it, he and his Korean counterpart were still alive. “What are your intentions?”
“Nothing, as long as you do exactly what I say.”
Starling drew a long, slow breath, closing his eyes as he struggled to stay calm. “You still haven’t told me what you want.”
“Does that mean you’re ready to negotiate?”
He opened his eyes and looked at Red who was nodding, as if reminding his President of what was at stake. “Yes.”
“Excellent. You will continue to refrain from informing your counterparts of the truth. If we detect any change in your military posture, we will kill the hostages starting with your daughter. Understood?”
Starling closed his eyes for a moment then picked up the picture on the desk, his daughter laughing at the camera, a preserved family moment that could never be duplicated. “Yes.” He decided to try and move things along. “What is it you want? You mentioned our record on the environment. Do you have specific greenhouse gas emissions targets that you want me to propose?”
There was a laugh from the other end of the phone. “Mr. President, you and I both know that treaties are useless, especially those negotiated under duress. Even if I held your daughter long enough for you to pass the climate change treaties necessary to save our world, you would simply either ignore them or rescind them.”
Starling frowned, staring at the phone sitting beside the leather blotter. This man was clearly no fool, not that he expected him to be, though it had been his experience that those blinded by religion, whether the worship of a deity or the new environmentalist cult of Anthropogenic Global Warming, were quite often prone to rash statements and decisions.
Apparently not today.
“Then what is it you want?”
“Money, Mr. President.”
Starling’s eyes shot wide. “Is that all this is about? Ransom?”
“No, nothing so repugnant or crude. You will receive a list of environmental charities in the next few moments. You are to transfer the amounts indicated in that message into the accounts listed, then publicly announce that you have made the donations, and challenge the other leaders to do the same, on a percentage of GDP basis. The United States currently comprises 22% of the total Gross Domestic Product of all the G20 nations. The information you will receive will indicate the expected amounts from the other nations should there be any questions.”
Starling shook his head. “Won’t the timing be a little suspicious?”
“It should be, Mr. President, it should be. You will tell the world that you refuse to have important work sidelined by rogue states, and are instead announcing an initiative you had proposed at the meeting, and moving forward with that initiative.”
“But I made no such proposal.”
“Of course you didn’t, and the other leaders know this, so they will correctly interpret it as a ransom payment, which of course you will deny, but the implication will be there. As each country makes their deposit, their VIP will be released.”
The phone vibrated with a text message. Starling picked it up and opened an attached image. His eyes narrowed as he zoomed in on what appeared to be a list of charities, many he knew. “Wait a minute, these are charities. I don’t understand. How are you benefiting from this?”
Another chuckle. “Mr. President, I’m not. This has nothing to do with me, nor anything to do with you. It has everything to do with our planet. You continue to see the world through the lens of capitalist greed. If you were to toss off the cloak of corporate control and realize that money is not only the root of all evil and all power, but also the means to fight such evil and power, you would realize that not all of us are motivated by such trappings. You will make these donations to not only save the life of your daughter but your citizenry as well. Mr. President, today you will be saving the world by putting the money necessary to do so into the hands of those without an agenda other than saving this planet for future generations. Begin transferring the money within the next sixty minutes, or the body count begins to rise. Rapidly.”
The call abruptly ended, and Starling leaned back in his chair before sitting up again and pushing the phone toward Red. The operator picked it up and examined the attached image, the page showing charities, donation amounts, and bank account numbers.
“Sir, there’s billions of dollars listed here. How are we going to be able to do it?”
Starling shook his head. “I don’t know. I have certain discretionary powers, but even so, it takes time.” He picked
up the framed photo of his family and stared into his daughter’s eyes. “What am I going to do? I can’t lose her too.”
59
Operations Center 1
CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia
“Do we have the list?”
“Yes.” Tong pointed at the screen, a scanned image of a piece of paper appearing.
Leroux’s eyebrows popped. “That’s a lot of money.”
“Looks like over three billion,” agreed Tong.
“Okay, match that with the rest of the G20 and we’re looking at almost four and a half times as much, so over twelve billion.” His eyes narrowed. “Wait. Eliminate those without spouses on the bus, including the Chinese and Germans. What are we looking at?”
Tong’s fingers were already busy, she apparently anticipating his question. “Exactly eight billion.”
Leroux’s eyes narrowed. “Exactly?”
“Pretty much to the penny if we use the GDP percentages they’re using.”
“Yeah, but they’ve listed everyone,” said Child. “Doesn’t that mean they’re expecting the other countries to contribute, even if they’re not victims?”
Leroux shook his head. “No, I think it’s meant to look that way, but these people are too smart to expect that. The eight billion is their end game. And I’m willing to bet that number means something to somebody.”
“It might mean something to somebody, but how the hell is the President going to come up with three billion in less than an hour. It’s not exactly couch change.”
Leroux nodded at Child. “And they know that.”
“So…”
“So, I think they intend to kill a hostage to demonstrate their resolve.”
Director Morrison rushed into the room, his eyes already glued to the image on the display. “I got your message. What’s your gut telling you?”
Leroux frowned, looking at the others in the room, all eyes on him. “My gut tells me this entire thing is a smokescreen.”
Morrison stared at him. “For what?”
“I think it’s a money grab. Real environmentalists aren’t going to risk a war that could go nuclear.” He looked about at his team. “I want to know who these charities are, and I want it confirmed that these account numbers actually belong to them. Now!”
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