Dead Promise

by Linda Wells

  “Yes,” he answered.

  “Does she seem to have amnesia?”

  “I’m not sure,” answered Max. “The doctor said it’s possible she could have amnesia.”

  Mark could accept that as a truthful answer, but maybe Max was being evasive. Until Chen was fully conscious, no one could be sure. And if she was going to talk, he knew it would be to Max.

  “Do you want to stick around? You know, stay with her?” asked Mark, feeling that Max would be safe here. If the assassin managed to get into Bethesda, it would be a miracle.

  “I’d like to stay. Yes,” answered Max. He put his head down, nodding as he answered.

  “Sounds like it’s all set, then. You can sleep in the lounge chair in her room. When she’s awake, try to talk to her. See what she remembers,” said Mark.

  “Yes,” said Max.

  “We need whatever she knows about this Director,” Mark said. “Is this is a lone wolf, or are more attacks coming?”

  “I know what you want,” said Max.

  “Hey, man, I know this is hard,” said Mark. “But you know what we’re up against. And I want to help you and Dr. Chen.” He meant it. But he also needed the information.

  “Thanks,” Max said, looking at him.

  “Stay here, and we’ll either come back or send someone for you,” said Mark. “If you want something to eat, just let the nurses know.”

  “What about my gun?” asked Max.

  “You won’t need it for now,” said Mark. “You’re safer here than anywhere else, unless we lock you up.”

  Mark knew the colonel was on board with the investigation for the right reasons. But also for himself. After he took the information to his friend at the NCS, there was little if any question of the colonel’s loyalties. But Mark saw the pain in Graham’s eyes.

  They both looked up as George walked toward them.

  “I’ll fill Agent Reed in, Colonel,” said Mark.

  Max disappeared into Suzy’s room without saying a word.

  “He’s OK with staying here?” she asked.

  “Yes, and he’ll talk to Chen when she’s awake,” said Mark.

  “I guess that’s OK. He’s as safe here as anywhere, considering they’re both targets,” said George.

  “I figured that, too,” said Mark.

  “I’ll let Fran know.”

  “Wait a minute.”

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “When do you want to talk about us?” he asked, lowering his voice, moving her toward the end of the hall so no one could overhear.

  “Not now, Mark.” She started dialing.

  “Wait,” he said, and it wasn’t a request. “Are you going to pretend last night didn’t happen?”

  “I know what happened. But we’re working, and I can’t talk about last night,” she said.

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “It’s not the right time,” she whispered, looking around.

  “It may never be the right time. Are you ever going to want to talk about it? It meant something to me.”

  “It meant something to me, too,” she said, looking down. “We have a job to do, Mark, and I can’t be distracted, not by you or anyone.”

  “I know. I have a job to do, too. But I care about you, George. I more than care,” he said. “Don’t you get it?”

  He lifted her face up and looked in her eyes.

  “I care, too, Mark,” she said. “Don’t you see this is impossible?”

  “No, I don’t,” he answered. “And you’re wrong. Not being together is impossible.”

  “I know,” she said. “Look, we’ve had this conversation.”

  “Yes, and we’re having it again,” he said, trying to keep his voice down.

  She was right. They had a job to do, and his timing was way off. And he was tired. But he knew that she felt the same way that he did. And whatever was between them, no matter how hard she pushed against it, wasn’t going away. And she knew it. They both knew it. George’s phone rang.

  “I have to take this call,” she said.

  “Go ahead. Get it,” he said, his frustration mounting.

  George picked up the call. She looked pleased about whatever was going on. She hung up and turned to Mark.

  “Lee made it to Hong Kong,” she said. “Let’s get the Colonel. He needs to hear this.”

  Mark went into Suzy’s room and came back out, followed by Max.

  “I have some information you might find useful when talking with Dr. Chen,” George told Max. “Lee Chen just arrived in Hong Kong. She’s with her mother and father in a secure location. That’s all I know for now.”

  At first Max didn’t react. Then he said, “I guess that’s good news.”

  “Yes,” said George. “And it should play well in getting information out of Chen.”

  Max seemed to be processing the news of Lee. Mark saw the conflict and pain in his eyes, but he knew that Max wanted to know the truth, too.

  “Yes, at least the Director made good on that promise,” Max said. “Suzy needs to know,” he added. “What else?”

  “I don’t know anything else right now, but from what the agent said, she appears to be in good health,” said George.

  She knew Lee and her family would be detained and questioned. Also, with flight delays, they wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon.

  “She may not know anything beyond what we already have, or she may not remember anything. But we have more to go on now that her sister has been released. Our agents in Hong Kong will find out what they can. And talk with our contacts in Beijing.” George continued, “Colonel Graham, tell Dr. Chen that she’ll see her sister, Lee, very soon.”

  Mark knew this was a break they needed. Max went back into Suzy’s room.

  “More questions about how deep this is going. The Chinese government released her.” Mark seemed to be talking to himself. “Whoever arranged her release has to be connected to the Director and Chen. And what’s in it for the Chinese? Someone high up arranged this. Someone in a position to negotiate?”

  “Maybe a Chinese-London connection? Who could do that?” George asked, recalling the mysterious London calls traced to Chen’s cell phone. “What about the Chinese embassy in London? Who’s our ambassador to the UK? He’d have met with someone from the Chinese embassy, or at least have a contact. Maybe something there? The Director called her on the phone, and the only incoming calls were from London. We need the trace on the number,” she said. “Wally will call when he has it.”

  “Yes, George,” said Mark, giving her the smile she loved.

  62

  George and Mark were just climbing into his Mustang in the Walter Reed parking garage when she got the call.

  “What have you got, Wally?” she asked.

  “I have the possible location of the Director,” he said.

  “Where?”

  “London’s East End.”

  “Name?” she asked.

  “Don’t know yet, but we’ll get it,” he said.

  “Great. Can you get someone to look at the area? What’s there? You know what I mean.”

  “It’s trendy, upscale, boutiques, high-rises, people who are connected, some government officials,” said Wally.

  “What else?” asked George.

  “Ten million transferred to Swiss World Bank yesterday, deposited into account number eight-four-two, six-six-eight-nine-five,” Wally said. “Chen’s account.”

  “What’s the money source?” she asked.

  “The money was transferred from an account held in the name of the JKH Society,” said Wally.

  “What’s the JKH Society?”

  “Not sure, maybe a front for money laundering, a phony foundation setup, big donors, that kind of thing. Ray’s still looking. But a name came up when Ray hacked into Chen’s account.”

  “Who?” she asked.

  “Jacob Howland,” he said.

  “How do you know?” she finally asked, in disbelief.

&
nbsp; “Ray did a search. Howland’s name came up, and the bank information confirms his name is associated with the account,” answered Wally.

  “Keep looking at this,” she said. “Get all you can—the donors, deposits, everything.” She paused. “And the London contact.”

  They both knew the London contact was the Director.

  “Will do,” he said.

  “Here’s something else. She had a daily journal. I’ve looked through it,” he said.

  “Tell me, Wally,” she said.

  “I don’t know whether it’s true or not,” he answered.

  “So what? It might mean something,” said George.

  “Chen wrote in this very personal journal, you know, about Graham, love stuff,” said Wally.

  “Big deal. What are you getting at?” she asked.

  “It’s about her dad,” he said.

  “He’s dead, died in a Chinese labor camp,” said George. “He wanted to get his pregnant wife out of China. He was charged with treason.”

  “Not according to her journal,” said Wally.

  “No way.”

  “Look, the Director promised she could see him again, if she did what he said.”

  “Sounds like another way to coerce Chen, get her to play his game,” said George.

  “Yeah, but I don’t think she knew that,” Wally said. “She’d believe anything he said. Especially if she wanted to believe it. And she saw her sister’s photo. If that was true, couldn’t her dad be alive, too? Or he was just pushing her buttons.”

  “Any clues about the Director?” asked George.

  “No. But her final entry was last Sunday. The day before the drop,” he said.

  “What did she say?” asked George.

  “She said, ‘I don’t want to do this,’” he answered.

  “That’s all she said?” she asked.

  “No. She wrote, ‘I love you, Max.’”

  There was a long pause.

  “Call me when you get the ID of the London connection,” she said, and disconnected.

  George wasn’t sure what to believe, but she had to give Fran the heads-up.

  “George, what is it?” asked Mark.

  She said, “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Where to?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. We can talk while we drive,” she said.

  George was shaken by all the news. Things were happening fast. What if Suzy’s father was alive? Was it possible? Or just another false promise from a killer who was manipulating a young woman, part of his master plan. An evil dominating force. She couldn’t wait to grab this Director. What a bastard!

  63

  Jake was in the Situation Room with the Counterterrorism Task Force, including the CIA director, Marshall St. Clair, and the FBI director, Bruce Hamler. During a national emergency, all activities regarding classified information take place in the Situation Room, located in the West Wing basement of the White House. Everyone was present except the vice president, Pauline Davies. She and her family were secure in the undisclosed bunker outside the White House grounds, but she was present via teleconference.

  The president was waiting for the call from England’s prime minister, Jane Mitchell. Now that the virus was suspected to have spread to London, Jake wanted to make certain that all steps had been taken to halt any further spread. Jake considered Jane his greatest ally worldwide, and they’d worked together many times before. She wasn’t just an ally but a personal friend. With only two possible cases in the United Kingdom, there was no time to delay. He wanted to halt this thing as quickly as possible. Even though US airports were now closed, it might already be too late.

  “Prime Minister Mitchell is on the line, sir,” Jake’s assistant announced.

  Prime Minister Jane Mitchell appeared on the television monitor, sitting at a large conference table with Ambassador Douglas Bishop at her side.

  “Madam Prime Minister, thank you for meeting with us,” said Jake.

  “Mr. President, I am honored. Thank you,” she replied.

  “Doug, good to see you again, in spite of the circumstances,” said the president.

  “You as well, Mr. President.” His voice sounded strained.

  “I’m joined by my task force, and we want any updates that you might have, and to let you know what we have so far,” Jake said. “Vice President Davies is listening in, too, Madam Prime Minister.”

  “Always a pleasure,” said Vice President Davies.

  “I appreciate your call, Mr. President and Madam Vice President,” she said. “I speak for all of those here in the United Kingdom. We’re deeply sorry for this horrific terrorist attack, and we are prepared to support you and your country in whatever way possible.”

  “Thank you. And please call me Jake,” he said.

  “By all means, Jake.” She smiled. “And please call me Jane.”

  They’d forged a solid friendship at several meetings of NATO and other international functions, but the British-American alliance had been strong for many decades.

  “What do you have on the two US passengers who arrived in London yesterday?” he asked.

  “It’s confirmed that they’re both infected with the H5N1 virus, and they’ve been placed in isolation at one of our London hospitals,” she replied. “We’ve contacted every passenger on the plane on which they arrived, and they’ve all been placed in quarantine, including the crew.”

  “Good. Makes sense,” President Howland replied.

  “What’s your status at this time, Jake?” she asked.

  “We are monitoring the reported cases of flu, and so far, we have about five hundred, possibly several hundred more, in three major cities,” he said. “The count will grow, but we have strict containment orders, and those infected are being treated. We’ve lost many, over one hundred patients. The number keeps growing, but that will happen until containment stops the transfer.”

  “Has any group claimed responsibility?” Jane asked.

  “No, but we have very strong leads,” he answered. “We’re only two days into the investigation and still gathering evidence. And we’ve had to focus on helping the victims, as well as stopping this thing.”

  “Yes, of course,” answered the prime minister.

  “The ambassador will act as liaison with your office. You’ll make yourself available to the prime minister, Doug,” stated Jake.

  “Certainly, Jake,” he said.

  As Jake was speaking, he noticed the FBI director had gotten out of his seat and left the room. A few minutes later, FBI director Hamler returned and sat back down in his usual seat. His face was ashen, and he was clearly agitated. His head was down as he made notes on a legal pad.

  The meeting continued with follow-up questions to each department head. Prime Minister Mitchell agreed with the president’s containment procedures, using World Health Organization and CDC guidelines. Mitchell was pleased with the president’s decision to close US airports, at least temporarily.

  The teleconference ended, and the meeting was adjourned, everyone agreeing to remain in close contact to pass on any developments. The room emptied, except for the FBI director and several of the Joint Chiefs’ assistants who’d been assigned to monitor the crisis.

  “What is it, Hamler?” asked the president.

  “I received some information from the agent in charge of the investigation,” he said, looking directly at the president through his dark-rimmed glasses. “But I want all the facts before discussing the details.”

  “No. Tell me now.” He was unequivocal. Hamler stared at him.

  “Yes, sir,” he said.

  64

  “Where is the bastard?”

  After one ring, his call went straight to electronic voice mail.

  “Damn it!” said Doug, throwing the burner phone on his desk.

  But he quickly retrieved it and placed it in his shirt pocket. He didn’t want to lose track of this phone, his only connection to the assassin. He’d paid half the
fee, withholding the rest until the colonel was dead. The killer had done as he was told. There was no doubt he’d finish the job. But things were reaching a critical point. And Doug was losing his patience.

  At least the little whore had been released. He didn’t fully trust his Chinese contacts at the embassy, but they had a lot to lose if they hadn’t fulfilled their part of the deal. They’d managed to manipulate the yuan to an even lower level than it had been before the attack. They were masters at screwing with the United States in what was essentially a currency war. This attack was going to weaken the US dollar, maybe permanently, and Doug’s investments would soar. And since his close friendship with the American president was well known, he’d be the last one they’d suspect. He’d arranged the meeting with the president and the prime minister. They didn’t seem to have any solid leads on the attack. That gave him a little peace of mind. His friendship with the Chinese had taken place through normal channels, as far as the State Department was concerned. No one in the history of dealing with the Chinese had an easy time getting them to stick to agreements. But Doug had shared his common goals with them, and offering them a slice of the pie had worked. They didn’t know about his vendetta against Howland, but they had all gotten what they wanted. So far. The Chinese wanted dominance of the United States at any price. The cost of human lives meant nothing to them.

  Doug just needed to hear that all loose ends were tied up. He’d scoured the newspapers, finding nothing about Colonel Graham, only a small piece about a murder in Georgetown, probably a burglary with no suspects. The victim’s identity was unknown. But they weren’t going to say if it was a high-ranking government official. Or would they? He had to stop the what-ifs. Not knowing was pushing him into near panic.

  In the grand scheme, no one knew who had arranged all of this, except his Chinese contacts, and they had as much to lose as he did. They would never reveal Doug’s identity. And the assassin. But Doug was only a phone number and a voice. The money was paid through electronic transfer to a Canadian bank from another one of his numbered Swiss bank accounts. The digital transfers would take months to unravel, if they ever would. Bank accounts were opened, closed, all with the click of a key on a laptop that would disappear without a trace. Transactions occurred, utilizing sophisticated digital techniques known only to his nameless contact, located in the most advanced cyber power in the Far East.