The Expediter

by David Hagberg

  They came to the captain’s quarters, the Marine guard standing watch snapping to attention. He was wearing his battle dress uniform, and was armed with an M-16.

  “The captain is Thom Turner. Black Shoe Navy, but a straight shooter.”

  “Has he been briefed?” McGarvey asked.

  “Yes, and he’s likely to tell you that he thinks that you’re certifiable, and that he doesn’t like CIA people aboard his ship.”

  “What do you think?” Todd asked.

  “I think that the pot out here has been stirred enough. If the Japanese out you guys—doing whatever it is you’ve come out here to do—we’re all going to be in a serious world of shit.”

  “We already are, Commander,” McGarvey said.

  Except for the uniform with the eagles on the collar, Thom Turner could have passed for the executive of a Fortune 500 company, not a career fighting man. He was seated on the arm of a couch talking to someone on a telephone when they walked in. “They’re here, I’ll be up in a few minutes,” he said, and he put the phone down and stood up.

  “Captain, these are the gentlemen from the CIA,” Stiles said.

  “Yes, I met Mr. McGarvey once, when he gave a briefing on bin Laden to the president in the situation room, right after 9/11.”

  “I’m sorry I don’t remember you, Captain,” McGarvey said. “Those were busy days.”

  “We’re busy just now too,” Turner said. “The sooner you tell me what you want, the sooner I’ll see that it gets done and the sooner you’ll be off my ship.”

  “Fair enough,” McGarvey told him. “We’re going to have to use some of your assets and personnel tonight and it will get a little hairy. Somebody could get hurt, and your people would be in the middle of a mess with the Japanese authorities.”

  “We’ve been in messes here before. Will my people have to shoot anybody?”

  “No. And when it’s over you can fly us back to Kadena.”

  The capain was not happy. “I see,” he said tightly. “What exactly is it you want from us?”

  “If you have a map of Tokyo, I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

  NINETY

  Minoru had spent most of the day packing for their departure to Australia and sterilizing the house and grounds of anything that might be incriminating should the Japanese authorites, for whatever reason, decide to issue a search warrant. He’d paid off the staff and let them go, leaving only him and Hatoyama alone in an empty house.

  Despite his troubles as a young man, he liked Japan and would miss the bustle of the cities and the orderliness and beauty of the countryside. But it seemed increasingly likely that the entire region would soon go up in flames, for reasons Turov had never explained. This went well beyond the insanity of Kim Jong Il, yet Minoru could think of no reason for the coming war. He only knew that it was time to get out.

  Turov had walked down the hill shortly before ten to take the train into the city, and when he came back around five he called for his chief of staff to have a drink. He seemed to be in a good mood, happy about something.

  “What time does McGarvey’s flight arrive at Narita?” he asked.

  Minoru was confused. “I’m sorry, Colonel, I thought you would have been in contact with your people there and at Dulles.”

  “They were supposed to telephone you direct.”

  “No one has called.”

  Turov went to his study for the Nokia and made the call to Dulles, but he didn’t like what he was hearing. “Check all the connecting flights no matter how long it takes and then call me.” He broke the connection. “He hasn’t shown up at Dulles.”

  “Maybe he left from Baltimore,” Minoru suggested. “Either way he’d have to land at Narita.”

  Turov called his Narita contact, and briefly spoke in fluid Japanese, his mood deepening, and he hung up.

  “No sign of him, Colonel?”

  “No,” Turov said. He walked back out to the deck and stared at the fishpond for a long minute or so.

  “Maybe he’s not coming after all,” Minoru suggested.

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “There were others with him at the safe house when we attacked. Perhaps they were his friends, and one or more of them were seriously injured. He may have remained in Washington to be with them.”

  Turov glanced at his chief of staff. “Do you think that Mr. McGarvey is a sentimental man?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “It’s not possible for a man such as him. In that much at least he and I are alike.” Turov shook his head. “He will show up here tonight.”

  “I’m sorry, Colonel, but how can you be sure?” Minoru asked. He was straying very close to the line, beyond which Turov was capable of reacting instantly and with deadly force.

  “Did you see the news this morning? The Chinese have decided to keep their ambassador in Washington for another thirty-six hours to negotiate with the White House for a settlement of the North Korean issue.”

  “Pulling him out would have been nothing more than a symbolic gesture. Washington is in no danger of being attacked.”

  “I might agree with you except for two things,” Turov said. His anger was just below the surface, and he was doing everything within his power to remain calm. Minoru could see it in the colonel’s posture, and the set of his mouth.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Beijing may believe, or at least suspect, that the U.S. was behind the assassination.”

  “But Daniel was nothing more than a middleman.”

  “Yes, but for whom?” Turov asked.

  “Don’t you know?”

  Turov shook his head. “I have some ideas, but none of them really make much sense except that his money came from somewhere within the U.S.”

  “Then the Chinese might be right.”

  “I don’t think so,” Turov said. “But they must have been given or shown something to make them back off for now.”

  “McGarvey.”

  “Exactly. He planted a seed of doubt, and he promised to hand me over to them.”

  “Within thirty-six hours,” Minoru said. But then he had another thought. “He’s been here, he’s seen the compound, and has to believe that we have men stationed outside the walls. If he means to take you alive he’ll have to bring help, and a lot of it.”

  “The CIA doesn’t have that sort of manpower here in Tokyo,” Turov said. “In any event I’m sure that the PSIA has most of them spotted. They couldn’t make a move, especially now, without picking up a tail.”

  “They may have flown in a team directly from Washington. Andrews Air Force Base.”

  “They’d have the same problem landing anywhere in Japan,” Turov said.

  “If he’s coming for you, as you believe, he has to land somewhere,” Minoru said. “Where could a man like that, bringing a team of shooters with him, land in Japan without the Japanese authorities knowing about it?”

  Turov looked at the fountain softly lit now as the daylight began to fade.

  “Have you talked to your police contact? Maybe he’s heard something—”

  “Pizdec,” Turov suddenly swore in Russian. “Pack whatever you don’t want to leave behind. I’ll call the hanger and have the jet fueled and preflighted. We’re getting out of here immediately.”

  “What about Hatoyama?”

  “Get rid of him.”

  “I thought we were waiting for McGarvey.”

  “He’s coming,” Turov said. “Tonight, and he’s bringing help because I know how he got to Japan.”

  Minoru was at a loss. “How?”

  “The U.S. Navy. The new carrier put in at Yokosuka early this afternoon and he’s aboard.”

  NINETY-ONE

  In the small temporary quarters they’d been given in officer’s territory, McGarvey and Todd had laid out the gear from the Farm on the two bunks. In addition to Russian night fighter camos, which they’d donned, they had a pair of Austrian Steyr AUG 9 mm Para-silenced submachine guns, a
few British flash-bang grenades, and an Italian 12-bore Franchi SPAS-12 automatic shotgun.

  Commander Stiles knocked at the door a few minutes before seven thirty and McGarvey let him in. He pulled up short, and whistled softly. “You guys aren’t screwing around.”

  “No sense in it,” McGarvey said.

  Todd put a pair of Russian-made night vision glasses in one of his zippered pockets, and stuffed several magazines of 9 mm Parabellum ammunition for his Steyr and for his SIG-Sauer, also Austrian.

  The only U.S.-made equipment they would carry in was McGarvey’s Wilson. But he figured if he lost it the game would be up anyway. If the Japanese got on to them the political fallout would be harsh and endless. The weapon’s extreme accuracy made it worth the risk.

  “The captain’s authorized a Knighthawk helicopter for your ride. It’s been fitted out with a battlefield infrared detector the Marines use to detect warm bodies on the ground. We figured it might come in handy once we’re over this guy’s compound.”

  “Is it ready now?”

  “It’s on deck.”

  “What about weapons?” Todd asked.

  “A pair of 50-caliber machine guns, but you’re taking off dry. No ammunition.”

  “I wouldn’t expect so,” McGarvey agreed with the commander. “If the Navy opened fire over Tokyo the shit would truly hit the fan.”

  “I couldn’t have said it better, Mr. Director,” Stiles said.

  “What about our extraction?”

  That had been a sticking point that Stiles had promised to take care of. The helicopter would not be able to stay on station no matter how quickly the situation was resolved. Simply flying from the carrier into the city and back would cause a lot of questions. And standing by somewhere in Ueno with a Navy staff car to come in and pick them up wasn’t possible either. Someone would spot the vehicle in the vicinity and it wouldn’t take the Japanese cops long to link it to the mess they would undoubtedly find at the compound, and even tougher questions would be asked.

  Stiles tossed him a small Bluetooth comms device. “When you want out, transmit: Yankee needs a ride. A pair of ONI plainclothes investigators volunteered to help out. They’ve rented a dark blue Toyota van under assumed names from Hertz out at Narita and they’re on the way back to Ueno right now. They’ll wait in the parking lot at the train station for your call.”

  “We’ll need to come back here and get down to Okinawa.”

  “The Greyhound will be warmed up the minute we get word that you’re on the way,” Stiles said. “Will you be bringing anyone out with you? A prisoner?”

  “No prisoners,” McGarvey said.

  Stiles nodded. “One last thing. The ONI officers will not be armed, so if something goes wrong they won’t be able to help out. In fact, if the mission falls apart their orders are to get away as quickly as possible.”

  “If it comes to that we’ll figure out a way to get back here on our own.”

  “We’ll arrest you at the gate if the cops are on your tail when you show up.”

  “You’re all heart, Commander,” Todd said.

  “You have your job to do, and I have mine,” Stiles said. “I sincerely hope that you find what you’ve come for, but except for your ride in and out, that’s all we can do.”

  “We appreciate it,” McGarvey said.

  “When do you want to leave?”

  “How long will it take to get us up there?”

  “You’ll be over the site in twenty-five minutes,” Stiles said. “I imagine you’ll want to wait until later tonight or sometime in the morning.”

  McGarvey shook his head. “We’ll do it right now. I want to be on the way out of here no later than midnight.”

  Stiles nodded. “Then if you’ll follow me, gentlemen, I’ll take you topside. The pilot’s name is Allen Kilpatrick. He’s a good man.”

  NINETY-TWO

  The house was deathly silent as Turov finished removing the hard drive from his main computer and stuffed it in the same case with his laptop and Nokia 110. He brought it out to the deck and set it next to his single hanging bag, all that he was taking from the compound.

  Nothing else here could possibly point to him being anything other than a Russian ex-pat businessman who traded on the Tokyo Stock Exchange, and who was heavily involved in commercial real estate in the heart of the business district. It’s what his meeting in town this morning had been all about.

  The security systems in place were normal for a man of his wealth, and although the weapons left behind would be considered somewhat excessive, his contact with the police would make certain that became a nonissue if this part of the city wasn’t incinerated.

  He looked up at the night sky and shook his head. Tokyo had been fine, but for the past year he’d been having the feeling that the time to leave was approaching. No place would last forever. The majority of his money was safe in Jersey, the Caymans, and Switzerland, and he and Minoru would be able to set up in Australia, at least temporarily until he could gauge which way the winds were blowing in the aftermath.

  Having a lot of money smoothed the way almost everywhere. It had worked for him ever since he’d gotten out of Russia, and it would continue that way even after the small nuclear war that he had expedited, because the only man alive who knew the truth would never get the proof.

  One day soon, Turov promised himself, he would kill the man.

  He couldn’t help but smile. The coming days and weeks promised to be the most interesting period of his life so far.

  Minoru came from the front where he’d been loading his things into the Lexus SUV for the ride out to the airport. He pulled up short at the end of the deck.

  Turov ignored his chief of staff for a few seconds, a little show of power, even though he felt the almost overwhelming urge to run right this moment and get out of Tokyo as fast as humanly possible. One-on-one with McGarvey would be an interesting challenge, but he wasn’t equipped to fight a U.S. Navy detail. At least not here and now with inadequate preparations, although the blowback that would develop if the U.S. military fired its weapons on Japanese soil would be interesting.

  “Are we ready to leave?” he asked.

  “Whenever you are, Colonel.”

  “What about Hatoyama?”

  “He just left.”

  Turov nodded. “In a few hours we will be out over the Pacific, well out of the battle zone and untouchable, sipping champagne and eating caviar.”

  “Mr. McGarvey will follow us,” Minoru said.

  “Yes, I think he will. But not immediately. I would like a few days to get settled in at the Melbourne house. Reconnect with some old friends. Reestablish a few of my club memberships. Make my courtesy call to the police.”

  “He’ll want to get to you before Beijing launches its missiles and Kim Jong Il responds.”

  “What are you trying to tell me?” Turov demanded.

  “Perhaps it would be better to wait here for him and have it done with one way or the other.”

  “What about the Navy?”

  “They might arrange for a civilian car to drop him off nearby, but I’m thinking that they won’t fire their weapons on Japanese soil. Only McGarvey is foolish enough to do such a thing.”

  In the distance to the south they heard the distinctive sound of a helicopter approaching. For a moment both of them stood motionless, but Turov was the first to respond.

  “We’ll find out if you’re right or wrong, Hirobumi-san,” he said. “Cut all the lights and see if you can get Hatoyama back. Let’s end it here, as you suggest, one way or the other.”

  NINETY-THREE

  The Knighthawk’s crewman, Chief Petty Officer Dick Upton, opened the side door as they flew over the Ueno train station when the compound’s lights suddenly went out. “Looks as if they might have heard us coming,” he said. “You guys ready?”

  McGarvey and Todd had gotten into their rappelling gear on the way out and they gave him the thumbs-up as the helicopter flared and slowed
its rate of approach. “Find out what’s on infrared,” McGarvey said.

  “What are you painting?” Upton asked in his helmet mike.

  “At least two live bodies inside the compound,” the copilot Lieutenant Dan Herbert replied over the ship’s intercom. “One on foot approaching the compound.”

  McGarvey took off his helmet and pulled his Steyr AUG into firing position and went to the open door in time to see one man in civilian clothes racing up the street toward the compound’s open front gate. He looked up and raised what, even from this distance, was obviously a weapon and began firing.

  “Holy shit, we’ve got incoming!” Upton shouted.

  “Hold it steady,” Todd radioed the flight deck.

  McGarvey picked off the shooter with one round, sending him sprawling, but the man got to his hands and knees and started scrambling toward the gate.

  “He’s hurt, let him go,” Todd said, pulling off his helmet.

  McGarvey squeezed off two shots, the first sending the man reeling and the second knocking him down as he tried to get up. This time he didn’t move. “I didn’t want him coming up behind us.”

  The chopper moved toward the open gate.

  “Standby,” Upton shouted.

  McGarvey pulled the pin on one of his H&W flash-bang grenades but held the lever.

  “Go now!”

  McGarvey tossed the stun grenade just over the compound’s wall on the other side of the gate, waited until it went off with a tremendous noise and a blinding flash of light, then leaped out of the hovering chopper and quickly rappelled the sixty feet to the pavement.

  Todd was beside him an instant later, and they unslung their Steyrs and raced to the compound wall where they took up positions on either side of the open gate as the helicopter banked sharply to the right and, nose down, headed back to the carrier.

  McGarvey figured they only had six or seven minutes tops before the police showed up in force. They had no time for niceties.