“Should be enough room,” he said. He flipped the lid off a large plastic work tub, carefully pulling out an electronic device, a custom-made atomizer with built-in timer. Reaching into his rucksack, he took out a conference schedule printout. Dragging his finger down the list of events and speakers, he stopped at one particular name, double-checking the scheduled time for his speech.
“The President is due to speak at nine on Saturday morning,” he said. “That means the security team will arrive ten minutes early, then bring him in five minutes after that once they know the area is secure. I need to set the timer for a quarter past the hour, just in case there’s a late start.”
Jun-yeong nodded. “It’s a fast-acting nerve agent. A few minutes’ exposure is all it takes.” He smiled. “And we already know Americans like the sound of their own voices. Plenty of time.”
Setting the timer on the device, Seong-min positioned it inside the ventilation shaft. Sliding a filter tray back in, there was just enough clearance. Taking the timer out again, he set it aside. Next, he carefully removed a small, unlabeled glass bottle from the plastic tub. He looked at the fluid inside the dark container, thinking of the phone conversation he had while planning the job.
“Is one bottle going to be enough?” he asked Jun-yeong. It was hard enough just getting that much, and Seong-min didn’t want to go back for more. Their handler had been smart, obviously not Korean, but something in his voice made Seong-min trust him. Comrades were like that, though. Dedicated to the cause, regardless of race.
“Just a little goes a long way,” the younger man said. “For the cubic area you’ve told me about, it should be plenty. As soon as this bottle cracks open, the fluid will dump out and turn to a gaseous vapor. That gas will get pushed up into the ventilation system of the convention center, killing everyone moments later. But just make sure it is located beyond the blowers so it can get dispersed.”
“There’s not much in there.”
“Like I said, just a little sarin goes a long way. What we’ve got is enough to be deadly for everyone inside the building, let alone in the second floor.”
“You better be right. There’s no going home otherwise.”
“We pull this off, home will never be the same again.”
Seong-min checked his watch. In a hurry, he pulled off a few strips of gray duct tape and wrapped a small plastic tab to the glass bottle. It was the smallest explosive detonator he could find. He didn’t need to blow up the ventilation system; just break the glass bottle to spill the liquid contents, and the atomizer would do the rest. Concentrating, he looked again at the timer, checking the details were correct. He activated the electronic countdown and set the device at the base of the filtration compartment, heaving a sigh of relief.
Using his shirt sleeve, he wiped sweat from his face. “I need to get this done before that idiot gets back. He’ll be expecting us out of here soon.”
Jun-yeong laughed. “That guy? He doesn’t know his ass from his elbow. He’s so wrapped up in getting ready for the conference, we could be down here all night and he wouldn’t notice.”
“I’m not taking any chances.” Seong-min slipped the filter trays back in and secured the metal panel in place. Next, he located the electrical service panel and threw the switch to restart the system. There was a rumbling sound, and the generators dropped down to idle, waiting for something to do. A few seconds later, the big diesels revved and the ventilation systems shunted back to life.
“That should do it,” Seong-min said. “Primed and ready.”
“One down, one to go.”
The older man nodded. “Let’s make it quick.”
***
Twenty minutes later, Seong-min and Jun-yeong hoisted their heavy rucksacks over their shoulders and headed back up the concrete steps to ground level. They passed Rick’s office on the way out, the office manager barking at someone down the phone. They nodded as he looked up at them. Rick forced a smile then returned to his heated conversation.
“Chuakhan ingan ssuraegi,” Jun-yeong muttered as they walked past. “Here’s hoping that guy’s first in line when the device goes off.”
Seong-min sighed. “Keep it to yourself, choding. There’s only one target. Nobody else matters.”
“Then why we taking out a building full of people?”
“Only way to make sure we succeed. We can pray for their souls, if they have any, and ours when this is done. Until then, we do what needs to be done.” He pushed open the double doors leading out to the parking lot. “For the Democratic People’s Republic and the Supreme Leader.”
“Choego jidoja,” Jun-yeong said, following through.
Climbing into the van, a rusting Volkswagen with peeling white paint, Seong-min started the clattery engine and lit a cigarette, rolling down the window. “One more stop and our job is done,” he said, shifting into gear and coaxing the van out of the courtyard. He waved to the security guard as the barrier lifted.
The younger man lit up as they hit the main road. “Seattle Center Park Should be a little more crowded tomorrow. You think this is going to work?”
“We’ve got our orders.”
“Keep the emergency services busy. Yeah, I know. Still, sounds a little dumb to me.”
“We don’t question, we just get it done.”
Jun-yeong rolled his own window down and flicked his cigarette butt out while they sat in traffic, waiting for the lights to change. The driver next to them honked his horn, middle finger raised. Jun-yeong whole-heartedly gestured back.
“Don’t draw attention to us, Comrade,” Seong-min said, stubbing his own cigarette out in the ash tray. “The last thing we want is the police pulling us over.”
“Fine. Let’s get off the streets then and hole up for the night in a Korean bar. I need a drink.”
“Just keep it together.” Seong-min revved the engine as the lights turned green. “First thing tomorrow morning, we go to the park. The rest is up to fate.”
Chapter 9
THE MORNING SUN rose fat and pink above the horizon, bathing downtown LA in a soft glow. Dressed in a beige linen suit with a short waistcoat and form-fitting pencil skirt, her favorite sapphire silk blouse beneath, June Kato waited impatiently for her ride to the airport. She kept her wheeled suitcase close in front of her, and her laptop briefcase and purse tight in her hand.
Standing outside the hospital where she worked as a neurosurgeon, June pored over a stack of handwritten notes, whispering to herself as her eyes scanned the pages. She was due to deliver a speech in less than two days, and the words just weren’t sinking in. Just as she reached one of the trickier parts, a large black luxury sedan pulled to the curb in front of her. She recognized it immediately.
The trunk lid popped open and June set her suitcase inside. Once she settled in the front passenger seat with her briefcase and purse at her feet, she let out a long sigh of relief. “Thanks for picking me up, sis,” she said, as they pulled away from the curb.
“You got it.”
After buckling her seat belt, June turned to look at the twin five-year-olds belted up in the back seat. “Hey, girls! You sure look pretty today,” she said. “I like your outfits.” One had grass stains on her shirt, and the other had several Band-Aids lined up along her forearm.
“We went to the park,” one of them said.
“And got in trouble,” the other chimed in.
“There were lotsa other kids.”
“They played rough.”
June smiled at them, amused. Not just with the topic, but with their usual tennis-match style of conversation. “It looks like you played just as rough,” she said back. She turned around in her seat and looked at her twin sister for an explanation. “Amy? Care to fill me in?”
“They were the ones that started it,” said Amy, her eyes on the road. She glanced over at June as they merged with the slow-moving traffic. “So, you ready for your big weekend?”
June took her speech notes from her purse
and flipped through them quickly. “Mostly. There’s one part right here in the middle that just doesn’t sound right.” She found a portion of her speech and began to recite from memory, staring straight ahead. “Phi and the Golden Ratio have long been known for its applications both in math and in natural science. After several years of investigating in both the clinical setting and the lab, I learned how the Golden Ratio can be used in neuroscience for third ventricle surgical applications.” She paused before reciting more. “Numeric sequences…”
Amy interrupted. “No, I mean the real reason you’re going to Seattle.” Amy merged onto the freeway south to the airport, quickly maneuvering into the fast lane. “Not your speech but…”
“Jack.” June took a long breath and let it out slowly.
“What’s new with him anyway? So far, all Mom and I know is that it looks like his campaign numbers are way up,” Amy said, in her usual pointed way. “Otherwise, all I’ve heard is you fly back and forth across the country to see him on long weekends. How many times now? Three? Four?”
“We talk on the phone a lot.”
“You’re not teenagers. There’s more to romance than talking on the phone.”
June continued to focus on her notes, trying her best to ignore her slightly older sister.
“And just exactly what does see mean when you go for a visit? Are you getting more than dinner?” Amy asked.
June turned in her seat and smiled back at her nieces. After, she shot Amy a glare.
Amy didn’t let up. “If they were movies, what would the ratings be for your dates? ‘X’? ‘R’ at least?”
June stared down at her notes, unwilling to answer.
“Then at least ‘PG’, right?” Amy asked, forcing the issue.
“Amy, will you just…” June stuffed her notes back into her purse and snapped it shut. “So far, they’ve just been overnighters. But this weekend isn’t just a date. It’s more than just a sleepover.”
“Does Auntie have a date?” one of the girls asked from the back seat.
“Yeah, honey, I do. And your mommy and I want to talk about it, okay?”
“This weekend is going to be different?” asked Amy, pressing the issue.
June sighed. “You have no idea how difficult it is to get time alone with Jack. He’s busy from noon till night. Plus, all the people around him all the time…”
“Oh, so, having a bicoastal relationship with the former ambassador to a large South American country and the man who is leading in the early polls for a presidential election is problematic? Didn’t mom and I say something like that a few months ago?”
“Yeah,” June muttered, watching her fingers wrestle with each other in her lap. She started to pick at a nail, but quit, since it was a fresh manicure from the evening before, as was her hair and a professional facial.
“All those bodyguards cramping your style?”
“Total pains in the butt.” June frowned. “Half the time I have more fun getting frisked by those guys than I do on dates with Jack. And forget about being alone in a room with him.”
Amy took the off ramp to the airport. “Yeah, well, I don’t mean to lecture, but if something special doesn’t happen this weekend, you seriously need to move on.”
“Oh, it’s gonna happen. I got that guarantee already.”
“Well, you look nice. Did Jonathan do your hair?”
“Last night.” Looking in the visor mirror, June stroked her hand through loose layers and long side swept bangs one last time. “It looks okay, though?”
“Your hair is great, the outfit is perfect, and I’m sure that speech will be just fine, whatever the hell it’s about.” Amy pulled the car to the curb in front of the departure lounge. She took something from the glove box and handed it to June, a small box in a flowery bag.
“What’s this?” June asked.
“Happy Birthday from me and the kids.”
“Oh damn! That’s this weekend, isn’t it? I’m so sorry, Sis. I totally forgot, with all the stuff going on lately.”
“Never mind. Just open it. It’s to wear this weekend.”
June pulled the wrapping paper off the small box. Underneath, there was a sleek, black case, the words Miko Jewelry printed in silver on top. The brand was part of Amy’s line of high fashion clothing, jewelry, and accessories.
“You’ve always liked those South Seas golden pearls, and I knew you’d never buy any for yourself,” said Amy, smiling as June pried open the box.
“Sis, this is too much.” June felt the large pearl pendant with her fingers, soft and smooth.
“Don’t worry. I got it at a discount.” She laughed. “I own the company, remember?”
June started to take it out. “Yeah, but…”
Amy waved her off. “Maybe put it on later at the hotel. LAX departures might not be the best place to flash that around.”
“I’ll find something in Seattle for you, okay?”
Amy shook her head, one hand resting on June’s shoulder. “Just relax and have some fun, okay? And try not to get into too much trouble.”
“You know me.” June smiled back, opening the car door.
“That’s exactly why I’m telling you to behave yourself,” said Amy. “And try not to get shot at this time, okay?”
June climbed out of the car. “No promises.”
Chapter 10
THE GARAGE HAD been soundproofed, blacked out. A single bulb hung from the ceiling, standing floor lamps providing the rest of the light. Jonny Yamada stood at the workbench preparing the final test. With practiced hands, he finished priming the detonation cord, stuffing the full length into a king size pillow. Double-stranded and packed with high-density pentaerythritol tetranitrate, the homemade 160-grain-per-foot explosive was designed to detonate with a velocity far in excess of four miles per second, packing enough punch to carve through solid rock.
More than enough for what he needed.
Carefully, Jonny set the pillow down on the floor. Standing in the corner of the garage was an old mannequin, raided from a department store dumpster earlier in the week. He grabbed it, lugging it over to his work station. The figure was missing a couple of limbs, but no matter. Slowly, he laid the mannequin down, resting its head on the soft pillow. Satisfied, he called his girlfriend through into the garage. She appeared a few seconds later, hanging in the doorway.
“You ready, or what?” Jonny said.
“Like I have a choice, right?” she said, her Filipino accent betraying her nerves; it always broke through when she got stressed. Jet black hair, toned body, dark skin, she knew she looked good and wasn’t afraid to flaunt it a little. Her deep brown eyes settled on the mannequin laying on the garage floor. “You’ve been busy.”
“Just pay attention.” He took a few steps back from his setup, pulling out his phone. “This handset is tied in to the chip in the detcord. So long as I’m not too far out of range, I can use it to detonate.” He pointed at the mannequin. “Manny here is our willing test subject.”
“Diyos ko po! You’ll blow the damn house into the sky.” She retreated a little into the kitchen.
“What did I tell you about getting hysterical? The blast is powerful, but it’s confined to a small radius. They use this stuff for cutting down trees.” He took another step back. “Besides, how are we going to know this will work unless we try it?”
“You’re going to get us both killed.”
“If you screw this up, Mariel, I’ll kill you myself.” Jonny turned his attention back to his cell phone. “Just remember the deal and hold up your end. And don’t do anything stupid.”
Mariel folded her arms but didn’t reply.
“Good. Now watch this.” He punched in a telephone number and hit ‘send’. The call connected. A deafening crack and a flash of white light filled the room. Jonny flinched, his ears ringing. Mariel yelped in fright, clapping her hands over her ears.
Jonny shook his head, clearing his vision, and took a look around. Manny’s h
ead had been flung ten feet across the garage, severed cleanly from the rest of his body. The acrid smell of melted plastic filled the air. Jonny bent down to examine the remains.
“Looks like this will do just fine,” he said. The pillow had been torn to shreds, charred along the edges, stuffing flung all over the floor, like polyester snowfall. “Anyone standing too close is going to get hurt, but not too badly. It’s only going to work if she’s lying on the bed.”
Mariel uncovered her ears. “You want to kill this woman so bad, why not put a bullet in her? You don’t need my help with that.”
Jonny pocketed the cell phone and walked over. “She’s protected. No way of getting close enough. Besides, I’ve got my orders.” He tried to push past into the kitchen.
“You think you’re a big man, playing Yakuza,” Mariel said, blocking the doorway. “What, they promise you a badge of honor this time?”
Jonny whipped the back of his hand across her cheek. She stumbled backward, clutching at her face. “Watch your tongue, or I’ll cut it out,” he said, striding through into the kitchen.
“The Oguchi family won’t let you into their club, asshole,” Mariel said, recovering. “You don’t have what it takes. You’re just another gaijin to them. No matter what your uncle says. They’re playing you.”
Jonny held up his hand again, but thought better of it. “You like living in this country?” he said, taking a step closer. “Because if you want to stand a chance of staying here, you’ll hold up your end. And you can keep your damn opinions to yourself. Understand?”
Mariel let her hand drop from her cheek. “Yeah. I get it.”
“Good.” He opened the fridge and took out a cold bottle of beer, unscrewing the cap. “Now, we need sixteen more pillows stuffed with detcord. Enough for all the beds on the VIP floor at the hotel.”
“Four suites on the VIP floor, two bedrooms per suite, one king-size bed per room, with two pillows per bed. I know how to count. You don’t need to keep reminding me.”
Ratio: A Leopold Blake Thriller (A Private Investigator Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers) Page 5