Rogue Operator

by J. Robert Kennedy

  Footsteps could be heard rushing down the hallway, and just as he got the cabinet in place, he could hear pounding on the door and Kwon’s voice shouting, along with several others. Phil scrambled the few feet to the inner lab door, which he thankfully found unlocked, and entered. He rushed over and grabbed the glass panel covering the EMP’s emergency switch, but the glass didn’t budge.

  There was a lock on it.

  “No!” he cried, then looked back into the outer lab, where the cabinet was slowly being forced out of the way by repeated body slams at the door. He shut the inner lab door and pushed a desk against it, then rushed to the nearest computer station, launching the EMP control software. A crash in the next room signaled their entry. The software appeared on the screen and he heard them hit the inner door. The desk moved. He propped a foot up against the desk, pushing back, as he quickly typed in commands.

  Gunshots rang out, tearing at the door, and he ducked, entering the final command to activate the EMP while ducking. He fell to the ground, then pushed against the desk with all his might, fighting the combined strength of an unknown number on the other side as the gunfire stopped. He silently counted to two minutes in his head, but it wasn’t until he heard the whine of the machine after the first minute that he finally breathed a sigh of relief, knowing the machine was working.

  Then a horrible thought crossed his mind.

  What if they built in their own cut off?

  His mind raced, and it quickly came to the only conclusion possible. He pushed away from the desk, letting his captors shove their way through, raising his hands and shouting, trying to distract them from the noise of the machine, just those precious few seconds before they might be able to activate some hidden cutoff switch he knew nothing about.

  “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! I’m sorry, I thought Kwon was going to shoot me, I panicked. I’m sorry! Please don’t shoot!” He kept repeating this as a blue jumpsuit raced toward him, machine gun in hand, and slammed it into his face.

  He dropped, continuing to shout while covering himself, all the while counting the seconds in his head.

  Ten.

  Kwon yelled, holding out his hands as if telling everyone to be quiet.

  Nine.

  The room silenced, except for Phil’s shouts. He received a blow to the stomach that took the wind out of him, and his ability to talk.

  Eight.

  Panic spread across Kwon’s face as he spun toward the sound of the EMP.

  Seven.

  He turned on his heel, shouting at the other guards, waving his hands desperately for them to get out of his way.

  Six.

  Kwon pushed toward the door, shoving a confused guard aside.

  Five.

  Kwon stumbled over the guard, rushing for the door, one hand touching the ground as he pushed himself back to his feet.

  Four.

  Kwon kicked the door aside, exiting the lab as Phil leaned to his side to keep his handler in view.

  Three.

  Kwon rushed across the floor of the outer lab, his knee catching on the overturned cabinet, nearly knocking him off his feet, but to Phil’s dismay, he recovered quickly.

  Two.

  A small control panel on the wall that Phil hadn’t noticed before is ripped open by Kwon. Phil felt his mouth begin to swim with bile.

  One.

  Phil squeezed his eyes shut as he saw Kwon reach for a button.

  But it was too late.

  The pulse sounded, sending a rippling feeling of static electricity through his body, and moments later, there was nothing but an eerie silence.

  And several screaming North Koreans who began to rain blows upon his body. As the pain began to overtake him, he curled up into a ball, crying out for them to stop, as his mind slowly shutdown. He could feel himself slipping into darkness, and he welcomed the relief, as one thought dominated his mind, above all else including the pain.

  In the end, you did the right thing.

  Two miles from the coast

  Kane saw a flicker in the rearview mirror, then the horizon behind them went dark. A smile spread across his face as he gripped the steering wheel even harder. He didn’t risk taking his eyes off the dark road for a second, but felt the others should know.

  “He did it.”

  “What?” asked Jason in the front seat with Darius on his lap.

  “He did it. The lights just went out at the compound. He must have activated the EMP.”

  He felt Carl’s hand on his shoulder, as his other hand slapped Jason on his. “So we can all go home. There’s no more risk.”

  Kane had to smile at the naiveté of civilians. A single part of the plan goes correctly, and they think they’re home free. Meanwhile they still had two miles to go to the coast, then they had to make their rendezvous, which was still doubtful.

  And he still had a loose end to tie up.

  Headlights behind him sent his heart leaping, and his foot pressing harder against the accelerator. “Everybody hang on tight!” he yelled as he saw the road suddenly end ahead. He floored it. The jeep flew across the ditch, hitting the other side with a jolt, but Kane maintained control, roaring down the hill, surveying the area for his outcropping of rock. Spotting it, he turned toward it, then slammed the brakes on, turning off the jeep.

  “Carl, with me, everyone else to the beach,” he ordered, jumping out of the jeep and rushing toward the outcropping. He dropped to his knees, reaching under the outcropping blind, praying some nosy local hadn’t found his gear.

  Then he felt it.

  He grabbed on and pulled hard, the backpack frame, with everything still attached, coming loose easily once he had a good grip. “Grab the other end,” he said to Carl, then grabbed the front, and the two of them carried it down to the beach like a stretcher. Once at the water he dropped it to the ground, then pulled the first bundle off, pulling a rip cord and tossing the bundle at the water. “Peterson’s inside that, now!”

  He pulled the other bundle, yanked the ripcord, and threw it at the water, then pulled the final bundle, and tossed it into the rapidly inflating boat. He saw the Peterson’s had already grabbed the sides of their boat, and were walking it deeper into the water, the experienced Peterson guiding his family. Kane noticed it had enough rigidity for them to get in.

  “Peterson’s, in now, assemble your paddles, and paddle as fast as you can away from the shore. Anyone not paddling, lays low!” Maggie placed Darius in the boat, then helped Ayla inside, then tumbled over the side herself, followed quickly by Jason. Kane rushed to the side of his boat. “Shephard’s in!” The son jumped in, followed by his mother and father, then Kane followed, grabbing the paddles and assembling them, handing the first to Carl, then once assembled, dipping his into the water. He and Carl quickly had a good rhythm going, and soon caught up to the Peterson’s who were struggling, Maggie’s inexperience hampering them.

  “Look!” yelled Phoebe.

  Kane looked behind them to where she was pointing and a row of headlights lined the shore, their beams interrupted as their occupants jumped out. Small flashes suddenly appeared, and the sound of gunfire quickly followed.

  “Faster!” yelled Kane, who then looked at Charlie on the floor. “Kid, grab that line and toss it to the other boat.” The teenager nodded, grabbing the rope he was lying on top of, and hurling it toward the other slower craft. Peterson caught it and tied it to the front of their boat, then resumed rowing. Kane could feel the tug from the slower boat, but at least now they were together, and no one would be left behind. A shot whipped by his ear, and he handed the oar to Charlie. “You row.” The boy, showing remarkable courage, jumped up and took his position opposite his father, rowing like an expert. Kane pulled the Chinese made AK 47 from the third bundle, then opened fire on the beach, aiming for the lights rather than the men. The gunfire ceased, and a few of the lights were taken out, but as they regrouped, he slung the spent weapon over his shoulder, realizing that his muzzle flashes would only rev
eal their position.

  They were making good time, and rather than take over from the strong, experienced teenager, he peered ahead, into the darkness, but saw nothing.

  Where the hell are they?

  Suddenly he heard bullets pinging off metal to his left. He turned and saw the dark silhouette of their rendezvous, the USS Buffalo, blocking out the stars as it loomed overhead.

  “Left!” he yelled, and he saw Charlie dip his oar, holding it stationary as the boat turned, then resume his paddling as they closed in on the looming mass. Suddenly muzzle flashes erupted, illuminating the entire length of the submarine. He turned back and saw the shore position being torn apart, the vehicles quickly going dark, the men that survived scattering.

  They hit the side of the hull, and he heard shouts from overhead as lines were thrown to them. Kane helped Charlie up first, then Phoebe, and finally Carl, before climbing up himself. He rushed down the deck, pulling on the ropes with the Peterson’s, the crew of the sub ushering everyone down an access hatch to safety.

  Kane turned to the senior man on the deck, flashed him a salute, and with his bundle in hand, jumped overboard, and back into the dark, cold waters.

  Outside the International Cooperation Center, North Korea

  Kane peered through the scope of his Chinese made QBU-88 sniper rifle, scanning the entire compound for any activity that might indicate where Phil Hopkins might be. After jumping off the submarine, he had made the chilly swim to further down shore from their pursuers, then pretty much sprinted the six miles back, only twice having to avoid patrols. It was exhausting, it was grueling, it was something he’d done before, and probably would do again.

  And it was absolutely necessary.

  For Phil Hopkins was the last loose end. With the other scientists and their families safely aboard an American submarine, heading to Okinawa and home, and with the research destroyed, he had to take care of Hopkins. And unfortunately, rescue was not an option. He had done the wrong thing, but in the end, had come clean, done the right thing, and in Kane’s mind, restored some of his honor. Restoring it all was impossible. The man had betrayed his country, his friends, and his principles, all for greed.

  Kane had no doubt the North Koreans were going to kill the poor guy, but it would be weeks if not months from now, after unimaginable torture. Torture no human being deserved to go through.

  Kane saw activity at the International Cooperation Center and swung his scope back to the main entrance.

  Bingo!

  He saw Hopkins, between two guards clad in blue jumpsuits, barely able to walk, his white dress shirt torn and stained dark with blood. His face was almost unrecognizable.

  Let’s end this for you, shall we?

  Kane squeezed the trigger, and Hopkins dropped a moment later, his upper torso now sporting a six inch hole in the back. Kane said a silent prayer as he abandoned the Chinese—not American—weapon, heading back to his prearranged backup rendezvous with a potato delivery truck.

  Li’s Photo, Zhongguancun E Plaza, Beijing, China

  Kane knew the sign said closed, but he never let a locked door stop him. He quickly had it picked, and stepped inside. Noises were coming from deeper inside, in Chinese, and Kane had to strain to hear what was being said.

  “Don’t you dare finish first.”

  “Then hurry up woman, I’m not made of lead.”

  Kane bit his finger, trying not to laugh.

  “I’m getting close.”

  Kane bumped into the counter, making a noise.

  “Somebody’s there,” said Chan.

  “I don’t care, don’t you dare stop or I’ll never let you touch me again.”

  “Don’t make threats woman that I actually want you to keep.”

  “You’re an ass, husband, you—are—an—ass!”

  Moans and grunts and cries and all the other animalistic sounds of a successful bump and grind session erupted, and Kane squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his fingers against his ears. The mental image presented to his closed eyelids forced him to open his eyes again.

  “Now who the hell is out there?” yelled Chan.

  “It’s just me,” said Kane in English.

  “Ohh, big boy, you come in here now!”

  It sounded like an order from Chan’s wife that he better obey. Kane stepped into the back room to find Chan’s tiny wife still on top of him, her head resting on his chest.

  He’s right, the parts don’t line up.

  “What the hell do you want?” asked Chan.

  “Just wondering if I’m still rogue.”

  Chan shook his head. “No, you’ve been cleared. Your package is sitting right there.” He nodded toward a brown manila envelope sitting on top of a stack of papers. Kane picked it up and peered inside. Wallet, ID, passport, plane ticket, cash. He smiled and winked at the couple.

  “Sorry to interrupt.”

  “Bullshit. Did you hear the news?”

  “No, what?”

  “The North Koreans are claiming the EMP you set off was a successful nuke test.”

  Kane chuckled. “Anything to save face.”

  Chan laughed, then motioned toward the door with his chin. “Now get the hell out of here before my wife decides she wants to upgrade.”

  Kane laughed, saluting with the file, then headed out the door and to the Hilton Beijing, where one very lost Tom Pile would like his room and luggage, if possible, for his last night in Beijing.

  CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia

  Chris Leroux stepped into Director Morrison’s office and took a seat, as did Sherrie White. There was no doubt in Morrison’s mind that the two kids were now in a relationship. The question was, what to do about it, if anything. If they were just two analysts, he’d ignore it unless it became too blatant, but they weren’t. He was an analyst, and she was an agent, albeit junior agent.

  And already she’s in an unauthorized relationship.

  Or was she? Morrison had to admit he wasn’t sure if the relationship was mutual. She could be just taking her cover to the extreme—some of the female agents treating sex like much ado about nothing. He was old fashioned. A one woman guy, married for more years than he could count, and faithful the entire time. But kids nowadays thought sex was just a three letter word, and life was a rap video, where everyone was having sex with everybody.

  He hoped for Leroux’s sake that wasn’t the case. He was a good kid, a loner, who deserved to be happy, even if it was only for a short while.

  When the door was closed by his aide, he held up his finger, indicating silence, then removed a small device from his desk drawer. He activated the radio frequency jammer as an added precaution against any eavesdropping.

  “I just wanted to congratulate you two on the excellent work you’ve done over the past few days. You’ll be happy to know that we were able to successfully rescue two of the scientists and their families, destroy the research, and eliminate the third scientist who had initiated this entire thing.”

  Leroux and White exchanged excited glances, and Morrison saw pinkies touch for a moment.

  “As well, we’ve taken down BlackTide, and begun an investigation into how far their ties go, and how deep into the government this may stretch. But there’s one thing I need you to look into, that has been kept off the official record.”

  Leroux leaned forward. “What’s that?”

  Morrison could hear the eagerness in his voice, could tell the young man wanted in, but Morrison also knew the dangers.

  “Now, this is strictly voluntary. It could be extremely dangerous. We don’t know who these people are, or how high up they go, or even if they’re real, but if you take on this project, you could become a target again.”

  Leroux blanched a little, then sucked in a deep breath.

  “If I don’t do it, will someone else have to?”

  Morrison nodded. “It’s too important to ignore.”

  “Then I guess that settles it. I’m in.”

  Morrison�
�s respect for Leroux ratcheted up a few more notches, and he could see the visible effect it had on his young female companion, who stared at him with bright eyed pride.

  “Here’s what we know about them,” said Morrison, holding open an empty file folder. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Nothing. Except what they are called.”

  Morrison leaned forward, lowering his voice.

  “The Assembly.”

  Chris Leroux Residence, Fairfax Towers, Falls Church, Virginia

  Chris was devastated. He had held himself together for the drive home, for the sweep of his apartment, and for the goodbye to the security detail as he closed his door, but then any bit of self-control he had was lost. He dropped onto the couch, and sobbed, oblivious to the fact the apartment had been put back together as if no shootout had occurred here the night before.

  His heart was ripping in pieces. After the meeting, Sherrie had asked to talk to the Director alone. He had left, puzzled, and returned to his desk to begin setting up the dummy accounts that just might protect him from The Assembly, when a man entered his office and introduced himself. He was the new head of his security detail.

  “What about Sherrie?”

  “She requested reassignment.”

  “Why?”

  The man shrugged his shoulders. “No clue. Job was done, I guess. I’ll be heading your new protection detail.” And then there had been an hour long get to know you session that Chris could barely remember a word of, his answers delivered on autopilot as his mind reeled with the news Sherrie was gone.

  He hugged the pillow under his head tighter, the tears burning his eyes as his chest heaved. I swear I’ll never love anyone again. It’s just not worth the pain. He bit the pillow, trying to drown out the agony, when he heard a throat clear behind him.

  He jumped up, nearly shitting his pants, to find Kane standing in the hallway.