Kill Chain

by J. Robert Kennedy

  The chopper slammed into the ground a moment earlier than his prediction, cutting him off. Metal screeched and twisted, the sound of the still rapidly spinning rotors slicing into the pavement was like something out of a horror movie as they tilted to their side. The chopper continued to slide forward before abruptly jerking to a halt, finally tipping over, coming to rest on something that left them at a 45-degree angle.

  Wings immediately killed the power, taking command of the situation, this still his chopper. “Everyone out, now!”

  Red unstrapped himself, leaning over and freeing the President, one foot resting on the side of the aircraft, the bullet resistant glass still holding. The two Marines yanked open the door on the opposite side, tossing smoke grenades through the opening, the distinctive pop and hiss accompanied by the sound of small arms fire in the distance and screams of panic from civilians. The massive bombardment continued unabated, the thunder of air power heading to the front still filling the skies as Red pulled himself through the hole, perching on what was once the floor of the WhiteHawk as he quickly surveyed the area, the Marines pushing out from the chopper, their weapons at the ready.

  Local law enforcement continued to direct panicked civilians into shelters, mostly the extensive subway system under the city, it reminiscent of movies he had seen about London during the Blitz. Vehicles were abandoned everywhere, the streets gridlocked.

  “There’s no way we’re getting out of here by vehicle.”

  “Let me help you, Mr. President.”

  Red turned to see Wings pull Starling toward the open door. Red reached out and took the President’s hand, pulling him up beside him before dropping to the ground, Wings taking over his perch. Starling dangled over the edge, Red reaching up and grabbing him under the armpits as Wings lowered the man to the ground. Wings took one last look inside before jumping down.

  Red pointed to an alleyway nearby. “Good cover there! Let’s go! Now!”

  They rushed forward, the team of four surrounding the President as they picked their way through the abandoned vehicles and debris from the massive explosion that had ultimately taken them out. They reached the alleyway unscathed and Red activated his comm.

  “Control, Zero-Two. We’re on the ground, all intact. We are proceeding south on foot. Area is not secure, repeat, area is not secure.”

  “Copy that, Zero-Two. Rescue crews from Osan are en route, ETA ten minutes.”

  “Copy that, Zero-Two, out.”

  Gunfire erupted from around the corner.

  Too close.

  “Okay, form up around the President. We’re going to move quickly and with purpose, using the buildings as cover. We’ll try to head as directly south as we can. Marines, you take point. Only engage the enemy if it’s absolutely necessary. We don’t want to draw any attention to us unless we have to.” He turned to Starling. “Mr. President, you ready for a good jog?”

  Starling smiled. “Lead the way, Sergeant.”

  “Two hostiles, nine o’clock!” hissed Wings.

  Red’s head spun and he spotted two men in North Korean uniforms brandishing AKM assault rifles, rushing toward them.

  No avoiding them.

  “Drop ’em.”

  Wings raised his MP5, squeezing off two rounds into the chest of the man on the left, Red doing the same to the one on the right, both dropping, no other shots fired.

  Red signaled the advance. “Let’s move. They’ve probably got friends.”

  75

  Bangbae Real Estate

  Seoul, Republic of Korea

  “Glad to see you’re okay!”

  Jimmy waved at Dawson and Atlas as he jumped out of an SUV driven by a South Korean officer. He jogged over to them, a frown on his face. “Yeah, but I lost Niner.”

  “He’s alive, so stop worrying about it.”

  Jimmy didn’t seem willing to heed the advice. And Dawson didn’t blame him. One of their brothers was missing amid the chaos, and though he doubted the hostage takers would kill him just yet, he couldn’t be so sure about the North Korean artillery.

  Though there was one thing certain.

  It wasn’t Jimmy’s fault.

  Though there’d be no convincing the proud warrior of that fact.

  Niner and Jimmy were tight. Best of friends, on and off duty. They regularly visited with each other’s families, the Sung household in particular almost adopting Jimmy since his parents lived in Seattle, not exactly close to Bragg.

  Jimmy pointed at the small office building in front of them. “Why are we here?”

  Police were surrounding the building, Dawson about to answer as a tremendous low rumble overtook them. He turned to see a four-story office building across the street collapse in on itself, it having taken at least one direct hit, a Korean flag still fluttering from a tall pole, it obviously some sort of government installation.

  Intentionally targeted.

  He listened for a moment and was pretty sure the bombardment was easing slightly as the South Korean and American response slowly eliminated the North Korean positions. His more immediate concern was the apparent fifth column that North Korea had pre-positioned within the city. They were wreaking havoc in obvious preparation for a ground assault, and had his friends Red and Wings, not to mention the President, trapped, the air rescue aborted after it took heavy gun and rocket fire. A ground attempt was now underway.

  If he and his team were to defuse this situation before it was too late, they’d have to act fast, there over six-hundred-thousand North Korean troops stationed along the border.

  Dawson walked briskly toward the South Korean in charge. “What are we waiting for?”

  “Warrant. Should be here any minute.”

  “Screw that.” Dawson marched up the wheelchair ramp and into the lobby of the small complex, the windows blown out by the explosion across the street. Atlas, Spock, Jagger, and Jimmy followed, weapons at the ready, though Dawson expected little to any trouble.

  This was a real estate company.

  And if he had to hazard a guess as to the extent of their involvement, it would end at the rental of the warehouse where they had found the G20 bus, and wherever the hostages were now.

  No more.

  But it might be all they needed.

  “Looks like nobody’s home,” rumbled Atlas.

  Dawson pointed at a computer on what was probably the receptionist’s desk. “Get Langley hooked up.”

  Jimmy immediately went to work as a shell landed outside, a little too close for comfort, several ceiling tiles shaking loose.

  Someone cried out.

  Inside.

  Dawson and the others surged forward, he silently indicating to Jimmy to continue his work. They pushed through a set of intact glass doors, a large conference room to their right, on the inside wall, there no exterior windows. The room was dark, though there was enough ambient light to show at least several people huddled under a large conference table made of a thick, strong wood.

  Good thinking.

  “We’re American Federal Agents. Does anybody here speak English?”

  Several shaky hands emerged, but nothing else.

  Dawson dropped to a knee, pulling out his phone and bringing up the electronic transfer they had received. He stuck the phone under the table. “You received this transfer from somebody over a month ago. What was it for?”

  He saw the phone passed about, chatter in Korean leaving him to once again wish Niner were here.

  The phone reemerged.

  “We rented them two properties. Warehouses.”

  “Where?”

  “I-I don’t know. I’d have to look at the files.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  “No.”

  Dawson tapped the carpeted floor with his MP5. “Let me make one thing clear. You are coming out. Don’t make it the hard way.”

  More Korean chatter then someone emerged, a young man Dawson was sure was barely twenty.

  Low man on the totem pole.
>
  He darted through the doors and down the hallway, Dawson and Atlas giving chase as he disappeared into an office. The sound of a filing cabinet opening, muttered phrases that Dawson was certain were curses, then a cry of victory. He reemerged, shoving a paper into Dawson’s hand then disappearing back under the table.

  Dawson glanced at it, all the writing in Korean.

  Atlas leaned over his shoulder. “We really need Niner.”

  Dawson snapped a photo and sent it to Langley. “Control, Zero-One. Tell me what I’ve got here.”

  “Stand by Zero-One.” There was a pause before another voice with a slight accent began to talk. “It’s two real estate transactions. Rentals.”

  Dawson smiled at Atlas. “With addresses?”

  “Yes.”

  “Send them to my phone, Zero-One, out.” Dawson turned to leave though not before poking his head into the conference room. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

  A meek, “You’re welcome”, the response.

  Followed by something in Korean he was certain he didn’t want translated.

  76

  Operations Center 1

  CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia

  “There’s a second shipment. We need to find out where it went.”

  Leroux turned to Child who was already furiously running the new intel from Kane. Child muttered a curse.

  “He’s right! I have a second shipment originating at the factory.”

  “What’s supposed to be in it?”

  Child shook his head. “It’s labeled as miscellaneous spare parts.”

  Leroux knew spare parts wouldn’t excite Kane. “What aren’t you telling us, Dylan?”

  “It’s automated weapons systems.”

  Leroux’s chin dropped. “Are you kidding me?” He snapped his fingers at Child. “Where did they go?”

  Child hit a few keys then shoved back from his desk. “You’re not going to believe this.”

  Leroux motioned for the info, impatient. “Quickly.”

  “They were shipped to the same private security company that received the large payment.”

  Leroux dropped into his chair. “That can’t be good.”

  Kane’s voice came in over the speaker. “Didn’t you just say that Delta is heading to that second rental address now?”

  Leroux’s chest tightened. “Yes. ETA less than five minutes. The Koreans are providing choppers to bypass the gridlock and the hostiles on the streets. Ground troops are moving into Seoul from the southern districts to secure the city, but until then, ground travel isn’t safe.”

  “Well, you better warn Delta that they may be about to drop into a world of hurt.”

  Leroux motioned to Tong to relay the info, she immediately activating her comms. Leroux stared up at the ceiling. “Do you need evac?”

  “Negative, there’s no way I’m getting into Seoul, not with what’s going on. I’ll use my contacts here to get out on my own.”

  Leroux felt his chest tighten, though Kane was right. He was probably safer stuck in China than South Korea right now. “Are you sure?”

  “Don’t worry about me, buddy, but tell the boss he might not hear from me for a couple of weeks, especially if a beach gets in my way.”

  Leroux smiled. “Understood. Good luck.”

  “You too, old friend.”

  77

  Unknown Location

  Seoul, Republic of Korea

  Niner was draped over Nancy, protecting her with his body should their makeshift shelter give way, Kim on the opposite side, her arm around the youngest victim. Niner’s hand rested on the back of Kim’s neck, he instinctively including her, the pounding outside eliciting yelps and cries from the others as he and Kim merely stared at each other, Nancy noticing and grinning at him.

  He ignored her.

  My God, she’s beautiful.

  He didn’t know what it was attracting him to this woman he had just met. Perhaps it was the hormones raging through his system from the constant adrenaline rush, or maybe it was that he was painfully lonely, but there was something about Kim that he found irresistible.

  You should find yourself a good Korean girl!

  He smiled slightly at the memory of his mother’s advice at a recent family visit, repeated by his grandmother earlier today.

  Maybe I’ll do just that.

  Something caught his attention and he lifted his head slightly. “Everyone quiet!”

  Cries turned into whimpers, it enough of an improvement for him to realize what he was hearing.

  Drones.

  Niner turned to peer through the cracks between the couches and cursed. He could see dozens of drones swarming over the walls of their Potemkin oasis, the barrels of their mounted weaponry painfully obvious.

  They mean to end this.

  “Everybody get as flat to the ground as you can, with your heads in the center, your legs toward the outside.”

  “Why?” asked someone, others grumbling in protest at the apparently unreasonable request.

  “Because if you get shot in the foot, it hurts, get shot in the head, you’re dead.”

  Whimpers turned into sobs again, but the shuffle began in earnest, he once again draping himself over Nancy, his arm around Kim. She reached behind her and took his hand, interlacing their fingers together.

  “I’ve been on worse first dates,” she said in Korean, smiling.

  He squeezed her hand. “Definitely.”

  The first shot fired and Kim squeezed her eyes shut.

  And he kept staring at her.

  At her beautiful, terrified face.

  Come on guys, where the hell are you?

  78

  Operations Center 1

  CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia

  “Umm, sir, you’re going to want to hear this.”

  Leroux looked up from his display at Child. “What is it?”

  “The switchboard just put some kid through. He’s claiming he’s Nancy Starling’s boyfriend. He says he has information on who’s behind all this.”

  Leroux’s eyes widened, the entire room coming to a halt. “Crank?”

  Child motioned at the display at the front of the room, a bad high school photo ID appearing along with tombstone data and what appeared to be his life history. “His name is Jeffrey Crawford.”

  Leroux’s eyes narrowed. “Why do we have so much intel on a fifteen-year-old kid?”

  “He was vetted by the Secret Service a few months ago.”

  Leroux leaned back. “Huh. So he does know her.”

  “It would appear so.”

  “And we’re sure it’s him?”

  “Can’t say for sure, but the Secret Service is heading to his address now.”

  Leroux rose. “Then we better talk to him before they get there. Put him on speaker.”

  Child tapped a few keys.

  “Hello, is this Jeffrey?”

  “Umm, yeah, Jeff. Is this the CIA?”

  “Yes. Where do you go to school, Jeff.”

  “Sidwell.”

  Child gave a thumbs up.

  “Okay, what information do you have for us?”

  “Well, me and my friends found out where the original video was uploaded from and pinged the address.”

  Leroux and the others exchanged excited glances. “Can you send us that information?”

  “I already did. I used the contact form on your website but decided I better call in case that thing isn’t checked, you know, on a regular basis, like.”

  Tong’s fingers flew over her keyboard and moments later she stuck her chin out toward the display, the online submission appearing.

  Leroux smiled at the batch of four sets of digits. “Okay, thank you, Jeff, we’ll take it from here.”

  “Umm, can I ask a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “D-did we start a war?”

  Probably, kid.

  “No, son, you didn’t. But thanks to you, you might have just helped stop one.�
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  79

  Seocho District

  Seoul, Republic of Korea

  Red peered around the corner, four hostiles at the far end of the block. He checked the opposite direction, finding it clear. He turned to the others.

  “We need to cross, but we can’t risk it from here.” He pointed at Wings. “Go back a block, fire two rounds, then double back. That might get their attention.”

  “Roger that.” Wings sprinted toward the street they had just crossed and fired the two rounds. Red watched as two of the four North Koreans broke off, rushing north, using the street one block over from them.

  He smiled.

  “That’s two down.”

  The other two began to run toward their position, in an apparent attempt to cut off from two directions whoever had fired the shots.

  Perfect.

  He motioned for everyone to move back as he held his position, listening for the approaching footfalls, the streets mostly devoid of people now, the artillery barrage waning.

  Twenty feet?

  He stepped out, spraying them with gunfire, the two surprised men grabbing their stomachs as they stumbled, their momentum carrying their dying bodies forward.

  He turned to the others. “Let’s go!”

  80

  Yangcheon District

  Seoul, Republic of Korea

  “There it is!”

  Dawson leaned forward in the chopper, the Korean pilot pointing toward a steel-frame warehouse surrounded by a large paved area, the industrial zone apparently designed to deal with large rigs, none in evidence around their destination.

  “Keep your eyes peeled for automated defenses!” he shouted over the roar of the rotors. “You know how I hate that shit!”

  “Copy that!” shouted Atlas, chuckling. After their experience in Iceland recently, they had all had enough of automated weapons systems with a mind of their own.