Death to America (A Special Agent Dylan Kane Thriller, Book #4)

by Kennedy, J. Robert

  “Remarkable.” Morrison glanced over his shoulder to make sure the door was closed. “And his service record, any tampering there?”

  Leroux shook his head. “No, that matches line for line. In the end, he was Army Intelligence, reporting to then Major, now Colonel, Booker.”

  “Two promotions in that time?”

  Leroux handed him the printout showing Booker’s service record. “It’s worse. It was done within two years.”

  Morrison’s eyes narrowed. “I can see that during wartime when you’re taking heavy casualties, but not Iraq. Vietnam? World War Two? Absolutely. But not Iraq. I can’t say for certain but I don’t think there’s been a single battlefield promotion in Iraq.” He skimmed the service record. “And these weren’t that.” He shook his head. “Somebody’s grooming this Colonel Booker for something.”

  “He might just know somebody that owes him or his family a favor. It could be completely innocent.”

  Morrison smiled, rising. Leroux jumped to his feet, Morrison waving him down. “Sit.” He put his hand on the doorknob. “Perhaps I’m just seeing conspiracies everywhere I look in my old age, but something doesn’t smell right. I think a favor was done in exchange for a quick promotion to full-bird colonel. Regardless, we need to begin looking into the Captain’s death.”

  “Do you want me to contact Homeland Security? Have them take over?”

  Morrison sucked in a long, deep breath as he stared slightly up, thinking. He let it out, shaking his head. “No, let’s keep this tight. I know it’s not our jurisdiction, but something is going on, I can just feel it. And when dead servicemen start delivering stolen F-35’s expertly broken down in perfect condition, that tells me we’ve got some rogue element within our military or ex-military involved.” He tapped his chin then pointed at the photo of Leroux and Sherrie on the desk. “Sherrie’s in town, isn’t she?”

  “She’s at The Farm training.”

  “Where’s this Booker?”

  “Fort Myer.”

  “Not far. Let’s keep this in the family. Report to me directly, keep your staff out of it. Brief Sherrie and have her pay a visit to Booker. Use an Army Captain cover.”

  “Won’t it look kind of strange? I mean, her asking about a dead soldier?”

  “She’s vetting him for the Medal of Honor. They’ll like that and it won’t arouse suspicion.”

  Leroux smiled. “Good idea.”

  “Of course,” winked Morrison. “Now, any luck tracing our dead Captain?”

  “Negative. We’re still scanning all camera footage for arrivals over the past several days but nothing. But if he’s as connected as he obviously is, I’d be stunned if he arrived through any of our controlled access points.”

  “Agreed. Which is why you should be checking the Chinese feeds. We can’t use Kane’s footage of this man. But if we can find him in public somewhere, then we can start to really run with this. Especially if we can show him in China.” Morrison turned the handle on the door. “Right now everything is pointing to China for that F-35. Keep focusing on that. Normally I’d say there’s no connection to the terrorist attacks except for the fact the exact same MO was used.”

  “Couldn’t they have just used that as a copycat measure to throw us off the scent?”

  Morrison nodded. “Absolutely. I find it impossible to believe our own military, even a segment within it, is behind the attacks. But we need to find out what this F-35 down payment was for. What is it that they’re not supposed to interfere with?”

  Chris sighed. “May you live in interesting times.”

  “Chinese curses can sometimes be prophetic. Where’s Kane?”

  “A safe house in Beijing.”

  “Doing?”

  “Hopefully no one when on duty.” Leroux blushed, shocked the joke had made it past the mouth-brain barrier. “I’m so sor—”

  Morrison began to laugh. He wagged a finger at him. “I knew Sherrie would be good for you.”

  He opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him, still chuckling.

  Leroux sat stunned for a second, then sent a text to Sherrie to report to Langley for a briefing.

  ETA 1 hour.

  He felt a spring in his loins as the thought of seeing her so soon worked its way through his system. But then he realized he had to create an entire cover for her, with no assistance, before she arrived.

  May you live in interesting times.

  Mandara Spa, Beijing, China

  “So they came through?”

  There was a splash of water and a sigh as one of the rotund generals Major Lee Fang was assigned to protect eased himself into the hot tub. These generals disgusted her, particularly her charge, General Yee Wei. Yee insisted on surrounding himself with female bodyguards, even establishing a training course for potential recruits that would choose candidates based upon ability and looks. They’d then become bodyguards for the truly depraved elite in Chinese society, and eye candy for the dirty old men that ran things. Some would even become their sexual playthings in fear of being sent to some remote prison for reprogramming, or worse.

  It really disgusted her.

  She wasn’t part of that program. She was an eight year veteran of the Beijing Military Region Special Forces Unit—codenamed Arrow—China’s most elite of Special Forces that made no distinction between men and women fighting. In the People’s Liberation Army of Mao, men and women had fought side by side, struggled on the Long March, helping each other as equals. In China, men and women were truly equal.

  Until you reached the top tier, then men had their playthings, and women their own.

  I guess there’s some equality in that.

  But as with most societies, men dominated, and there would be no women’s lib movement in China. Rallies on the street would be crushed swiftly. All women could do in China was effect change in the home and hope someday it made it outside.

  But the world she lived in? She didn’t worry too much about such things. Her comrades treated her as an equal since she had proven herself in battle and on missions too often for there to be any doubt she was as tough as any man.

  And if they did doubt her, she’d kick their ass.

  She glanced across the room at her reflection in a large floor to ceiling mirror. Her pantsuit was unflattering, though showed her slim physique. Her lithe, fitness model quality body was hidden away, and she had no doubt General Yee was hoping he’d get to see it later, especially after the alcohol began to flow.

  Which it already had.

  She knew men found her attractive, especially when they saw her in her workout clothes, which was why she had purposely chosen an androgynous haircut and wore little makeup, but as her mother said, she was cursed with natural beauty. Not something that fit her chosen line of business very well except when undercover. The catcalls and wolf whistles when she’d be decked out in an evening gown or worse, a two piece bikini when trying to charm the pants off some target for information, were annoying enough—it was the leers from the senior officers that were truly uncomfortable. She sometimes wondered if her career would be hindered because some men would want to keep her around to look at, and others would block her upward path if she turned down their sexual advances.

  Beauty was a curse.

  Maybe a good scar down my cheek?

  She smiled at the thought, but realized it would make her too noticeable for ops, and she loved her job too much to be taken out of rotation. She loved her country, and she wanted to serve. She realized it wasn’t perfect, but at least it wasn’t decadent and uncaring like what she had been taught about the United States. To imagine a country that actively didn’t take care of its citizens, instead insisting they help themselves by taking advantage of the exalted Capitalism they lived under was almost unthinkable as a Chinese.

  She had to admit that things were getting better in China all the time, and it seemed to be attributable to the slow introduction of capitalism here, and when she thought of
the stories her parents told, she realized life was simply fantastic now compared to the previous generations.

  But not for everyone. Those in the cities had generally a better life, especially if they were fortunate enough to work for one of the foreign companies. The “middle-class” as they described it was burgeoning. She couldn’t count herself among them, but she didn’t need to. The army would take care of her, proverbial cradle to grave.

  But it would be a lonely life. Her job in Special Ops along with her training and necessary demeanor in the trade meant most Chinese men went running the opposite direction. They too often wanted some demure house wife who’d cater to their every whim and replace their mothers.

  She wasn’t that woman.

  She’d been on a good number of first dates but very few second dates.

  And she couldn’t remember the last time she had been laid.

  There were plenty of suitors from the one-night stand category, of that there was no doubt. There probably wasn’t a man in her outfit that wouldn’t want to get busy with her for a few hours, but that wasn’t her style.

  Don’t shit in your own campground.

  It was a clever phrase she had heard while on a mission in the United States and it was apropos for so many situations that she found herself using it all the time, much to the surprise of her colleagues who within her business tried to keep Americanisms out of their vocabulary unless it was necessary for a cover.

  She shuddered as she caught herself staring at the lonely reflection in the mirror. It was one of those moments where you forgot it was you in the reflection, and it disturbed her.

  I’m so lonely.

  She was snapped from her reverie as laughter from the generals and giggles from the “professionals” that had been brought in for the occasion erupted around the corner. She shook her head imperceptibly, hoping for those poor girls’ sake that nothing classified was discussed, otherwise they might disappear until it was no longer considered important.

  It was sad. These girls probably were told how important these men were and thought they had finally “made it”. Concubine to a party official could mean a very good life.

  As long as it lasted.

  But those relationships rarely lasted long, and almost never ended in marriage.

  “We need to discuss recent events,” said General Ling. “Just for a few minutes.”

  “Leave us, girls. We’ll call for you.” It was her charge, Yee, that sent the girls on their way. They scurried around the corner, past Fang’s position near the door. The conversation at the hot tub didn’t resume until the sound of the door clicking was heard.

  It made her wonder if they even remembered she was there.

  She thought it best she remind them with at least a walk-thru, but before she could, the conversation resumed, the words she heard freezing her in place, shivers rushing up and down her spine.

  “The F-35 delivery has been confirmed complete,” said Yee. “I assume that’s what you wanted to talk about.”

  Ling grunted. “What else could there be? You realize that this course of action we’ve undertaken will change China forever. Within ten years we will be the strongest military in the world, unchallenged.”

  Yee cleared his throat, Fang’s familiarity with the man suggesting he had just eaten something. “Why else would I have taken the risk?”

  “But to do this behind the Politburo’s back! It’s insanity! A death warrant if they find out,” hissed General Jiang, the youngest of the four Generals gathered.

  “Only if something goes wrong,” admonished Yee. “The F-35 has already been delivered at no cost to us. Our scientists are already reverse engineering it. Within ten years we will have a fifth generation stealth aircraft of our own that will rival anything the Americans can field, and with our pact of mutual noninterference in upcoming events, we will have free reign over the entire hemisphere if we play our cards right.”

  “That’s rather ambitious, don’t you think? The Russians might have something to say about that,” said Ling. “And I’m not so sure I trust the Americans to stay out of our business.”

  Yee laughed. “Have you seen what’s happening over there? They’ve had over a dozen major terrorist attacks this week alone. Their country is crumbling in a war with the Muslims, yet they’re too damned politically correct to do anything about it! Here we simply kill them. There, they try to hug those who would have them dead.” Yee paused, then cleared his throat after a few moments. Fang’s stomach grumbled slightly. “They are imploding, and there’s only one way they can stop it.”

  “Bringing home the troops,” said Jiang, as if he already knew of some plan. Fang wasn’t sure what she was listening to. The F-35 was a stunner that could have her killed if they knew she had heard them speaking, but the rest seemed idle chit-chat. Except for the noninterference pact.

  What could they be talking about?

  “And once those troops are brought home, under new orders to quell the uprising on their home soil, and with the American public so distracted by the Muslim problem, we will be free to implement Operation Red Dragon.”

  Somebody smacked the surface of the water with something.

  “If it doesn’t succeed, we could be ruined,” said Jiang, his voice low. “I see little problem taking control of the South China Sea and Taiwan. And I anticipate little reaction from the United States should we succeed within seventy-two hours as projected. But Mongolia is another beast altogether. It borders on Russia, and they won’t likely be pleased with our actions.”

  “Russia be damned,” roared Yee, another smack on the water snapping through the air. “They’re too focused on their western border and the Middle East to stop us, and they don’t have the military might anymore to defeat us without incredibly heavy casualties.” He paused. “No, I anticipate we can take Mongolia in less than a week, secure the new borders, then simply buy off the Russians with a promise of secure access to the rare earth elements we’ll gain access to.”

  “It’s ambitious,” said Ling. “But I think it’s doable if the Americans keep their word.”

  “They have so far.”

  “Yes, but that’s not their leader talking.”

  “According to the timetable I’ve been provided, their leader won’t be talking much longer.” Yee began to laugh, the others joining in. Fang looked at the door as she felt sweat run down her spine. She had to get out of here, of that there was no doubt. She had heard too much. But she couldn’t abandon her detail. That would be the ultimate tipoff that she had heard something.

  She made a decision.

  She grabbed the door handle with purpose, pulling the door open, nodding to the two guards on either side of the door, saying nothing. She then pushed the door closed, making certain it clicked loudly.

  The laughter stopped.

  She strode out from behind the wall that had been hiding her and nodded to the generals. “Sorry to interrupt, Comrades. Just doing my rounds.”

  Concerned glances were exchanged among the four men when Yee waved them off. “Gentlemen, this is Major Lee Fang, head of my security detail for our visit. She can be trusted to keep us safe.”

  Fang bowed slightly at the compliment, continuing to circle the room, checking the windows. Finished, she walked toward the door and stopped, turning back to Yee. “Is there anything I can get you, General?”

  “Send back the girls. And feel free to join them, if you’d like.”

  Fang smiled slightly. “I’ll get the girls, General.”

  She disappeared behind the wall separating the room from the entranceway, and exited. She turned to one of the guards. “The generals would like their entertainment brought back in.” The guard snapped out a salute and jogged off to the next room.

  Fang barely noticed as the giggling girls bounced back into the room, the hail of greetings from the dirty old men cutting off as the door closed behind the barely eighteen year old girls.

  Instead she felt her world narrowing
to a tunnel as she stood guard, her mind trying to comprehend what she had just overheard.

  A conversation more terrifying than any she could have imagined.

  Did they just suggest the President of the United States was about to be assassinated?

  Hatfield Gate, Fort Myer, Joint Base Myer-Henderson Hall (JBM-HH), Arlington, Virginia

  “—four more schools were bombed today, bringing the total to sixteen since the crisis began. In an unprecedented move today, President Bridges ordered all schools closed until further notice. He vowed to bring the perpetrators to justice, and that the American way of life would not be deterred by Islamic extremists hell bent on world domination. CJXB News sources suggest however that any justice may be long in coming. Unnamed sources within the White House claim investigators are no closer today than they were a week ago in identifying the perpetrators. Governors of California, Texas and Florida have declared a state of emergency, joining—”

  CIA Agent Sherrie White muted her radio, holding up her Department of Defense ID as she pulled up to the front gate of Fort Myer. Guards immediately surrounded the car, mirrors on long poles allowing them to look under the vehicle, bomb sniffing dogs making the rounds.

  “Purpose of your visit, Captain?” asked the MP.

  “I have a meeting with Colonel Booker.”

  “At what time?”

  “Six.” She glanced at her watch. “About fifteen minutes from now.”

  “One moment please.”

  The MP stepped away to the guard house, phoning to confirm her appointment as the search of the vehicle continued, the security presence extremely high, at least several platoons of men within sight of the main gate.

  To say she was nervous would be fair. She was still new in this game, and undercover work was even newer. They were still grooming her for foreign assignments, these type of domestic missions merely practice. Screw up here and you didn’t get yourself killed. Screw up in Russia, and it could be lights out for good.