Point of Control

by L. J. Sellers

  “Anything on the bodyguard?”

  “No, sorry.”

  “Thanks, Havi. You’re the best. Let me know if I can return the favor.” She enjoyed making people happy, as much as an empath would. She was just more calculating about it.

  The halls were even emptier than usual. Despite the number of people who worked at headquarters, it was often a quiet place, even during the week. Field agents like her were rarely at their desks, and analysts like Havi were always at their desks. Very little meandering or socializing went on. Bailey hurried to her own workspace and turned on the computer.

  The screen blurred and her body sagged at the same time. She was exhausted, but she didn’t have time to make coffee. She closed her eyes, focused her brain, and willed herself to find a reserve of energy. A little food would help. She hadn’t eaten anything since the crappy little snack on the plane six hours ago.

  Bailey got up and hurried down the hall to Kepner’s office. She was the public relations liaison and made a point of being friendly to everyone. She also left her office unlocked and kept food in her drawers. Bailey slipped in, found a chocolate protein bar, grabbed it, and left. Kepner would have given it to her if she’d asked.

  Back at her desk, Bailey logged into the system and keyed in search words related to the North Korean incident, hoping to find the hotel video of the kidnapping. The bureau gave all major cases a code name, and sometimes the moniker was logically connected, and other times it wasn’t. She got lucky on her fifth guess: interview. Kim Jong-un had recently been the butt of a comedy called The Interview. She’d also tried Fat Boy, because that’s what some agents called him.

  The file was locked, so she used her boss’ password to get in, giving her a jolt of pleasure. She could always bullshit her way through the conversation if Lennard ever found out. Bailey could have asked to see the file and might have been allowed. But why risk being told no? Especially when the thrill of rule breaking was too seductive to resist.

  The video clip was only a few minutes long and had been taken from a camera across the corridor about twenty feet away. Still, she got a decent look at the kidnapper coming out of the bathroom, the victim behind him, and the guard, who seemed to look straight at the camera for a moment. The unsub wore black pants and a white button-down shirt with a security badge. The thin, nervous Asian man behind him did not appear captive in any way. The presence of three unknown people—hotel guests?—surprised her. They came at the guard and seemed to shout questions. Then the fake security man shoved a hand into the bodyguard’s face and he went down. Chloroform? Even after his guard was knocked unconscious and accosted by the three intruders, Lee Nam didn’t appear disturbed or afraid, and he left with the two men willingly. Bailey wasn’t even sure she’d witnessed an abduction.

  The second unsub had entered the scene from the side, with only his profile showing. Still, under the makeup and the oversized nose, she thought she recognized Jerry Rockwell’s broad face. He was the right height as well. She looked for the dark birthmark on his cheek, but didn’t see it. Was that the point of the makeup? The theatrical disguises would probably throw off the facial recognition software, and Rockwell was at least thirty pounds heavier than he’d been in his mug shot all those years ago. Still, logic indicated these were the same guys who’d kidnapped the scientists.

  The tech guy had watched the security person knock out his fellow North Korean and hadn’t reacted, so they must have convinced him they were somehow helping him. Lee Nam wanted to get away from his guard. Was he defecting? If so, the kidnappers could have been government agents after all. Oh hell. Was it possible the CIA was responsible for the other abductions too? The agency did whatever it wanted as long as someone thought national security was the end game. But why would metallurgists, with different specialties, be important to national security? Unless the CIA needed the scientists to develop some kind of weaponry. An image of Nick Bowman’s naked, battered corpse played in her brain. His kidnappers had pushed him out of a helicopter or plane. Would the CIA murder an American civilian? It seemed so unlikely. Bailey set aside the idea but didn’t dismiss it outright.

  She opened the initial report filed by the agents who’d responded to the hotel kidnapping, and skimmed through it. Pages of interview notes revealed almost nothing she didn’t already know, except that one kitchen worker had witnessed “an Asian man leaving out the back dock with two security guards.” She also learned that the military bodyguard, Dukko Ki-ha, had said very little during his interview. Bailey glanced at the time on her monitor. The task force meeting would start soon. She logged out of Agent Lennard’s account and logged back in with her own, leaving the computer running.

  The maze of hallways leading to the Critical Incident area was complex and frustrating for someone with her directional challenges, and she had made dozens of wrong turns in her first year in the building. By now, she knew them well, but as tired as she was, she recited her left-right memorization just to be sure. She wished again for a cup of coffee.

  The smaller CI room held ten tables with computers, monitors, and other digital equipment. While an incident was unfolding, Lennard, the unit’s director, called in the field agents and analysts with the expertise needed for the case and instructed them exactly where to sit and who to interact with. This current scenario was unique, and only six people were in the room. Two analysts showed signs of having been at their back-table station for hours—jackets off, empty coffee cups, watery eyes. Special Agent Lennard stood at the front of the room with Assistant Director Brent Haywood—the two people who’d given her the original assignment. Markham and Trent, two male agents who worked domestic terrorism cases, sat together at a table in front.

  “Bailey!” Lennard looked surprised, but not upset, to see her. “When did you get back?”

  “Today.” Bailey breezed in and sat at a table next to Markham and Trent’s. “I saw the news about Lee Nam’s kidnapping and thought I should be here.” She gave a small shrug, implying casualness. “Just in case the two investigations are linked.”

  “That certainly occurred to us,” the AD said, making eye contact. “But with all the intel gathered, we’ve decided the North Korean incident is distinctive and unrelated.”

  Seriously? Bailey locked her jaw to keep from arguing. She needed information, and the best way to get it was to listen.

  “The abduction was staged,” Markham said, next to her. “Lee Nam went with the two men willingly. We think he plans to defect.”

  “Or at least disappear,” the assistant director added.

  Again, Bailey held her tongue. They didn’t know she’d seen the video, and it wasn’t in her best interest to indicate she had. Hadn’t anyone seen the resemblance between the kidnapper at the hotel and Jerry Rockwell, the man identified by a witness as Dana Thorpe’s abductor? The thought of Garrett made her heart flutter. Bailey focused on the bigger issue and finally spoke up. “If Lee Nam is defecting and doesn’t want to be found, how do we placate Kim Jong-un? If he’s crazy enough to execute the head of his military for dozing off at a meeting, he won’t hesitate to kill an American actor. He might even be wacko enough to launch a missile.”

  “We either find their cryptographer or we pretend we have,” Lennard said. “We’ll patch together a video or audio statement if we have to.” Lennard looked like she’d been awake and at work since the North Korean’s kidnapping.

  Bailey didn’t mean to sound skeptical, but she was surprised they thought they could pull it off. “Is there enough available digital recording of Lee Nam to splice together an intelligent statement?”

  Lennard’s shoulders slumped. “We’re still searching for public statements he might have made and combing the symposium’s footage.” Her boss gestured at the analysts working the back table. “It would have helped if Lee had made his presentation before he checked out.”

  “Have we heard anything else from KJU?”


  The AD shook his head. “His silence is more disturbing than if he were making more public threats.”

  Lennard cut in. “If we don’t make progress or if KJU makes another missile threat, I think we should start evacuating our military personnel from the South Korean base.”

  The AD gave her a dismissive glance. “That’s premature and not our call, in any event. The game will change if he follows through with his threat to execute Jake Austin, of course.”

  If the group had business to discuss or reports to share, they didn’t seem to be in a hurry. Or maybe she’d missed the bulk of the meeting. Bailey wanted to question Dukko, but no one had mentioned him. “What about Lee’s bodyguard? Can he help us placate Kim Jong-un? Do we have him in custody?”

  “We’ve questioned him,” Lennard said. “And released him. He wasn’t forthcoming at all.”

  When? And where was he now? She couldn’t ask without seeming too pushy. An agent had to be tailing him. “What can I do to help?” She wanted to be kept in the loop, but she didn’t really want an assignment. She intended to keep searching for Dana Thorpe, and when she found her, Bailey half expected to find Lee Nam working right beside her in some hidden lab. Averting a North Korean crisis bumped the stakes of her success to a whole new level. Since the AD didn’t believe the cases were connected, it seemed unlikely his team would get the job done.

  “We’ve got it covered,” Lennard said. “In fact, you should go home and take a few days off. You look tired.”

  Fuck you. Bailey stood and smiled. “Thanks. I think I will.”

  CHAPTER 27

  On the street, Bailey bought a cup of strong black coffee from a vendor and tried to form a plan. The agent tailing Dukko would have to report his location, and she had to access that information. But how? Lennard would be the recipient of the reports, and if they were oral, her boss might not even make notes, especially if Dukko checked into a hotel and stayed there.

  Time to get moving. She stood on the curb to hail a cab. The symposium hotel was the best place to start, and the bodyguard might have only been released in the last hour or so. Dukko probably had a room at the Presidential Plaza and might not feel inclined to change locations, unless he’d been involved in the kidnapping or was operating under an assignment from KJU. In which case he might not return to the hotel at all, even to grab his luggage.

  The wind picked up as she waited, and Bailey gulped her hot coffee to stay warm. She tried to put herself into the bodyguard’s frame of mind. He had to be worried. He’d failed his mission and disappointed his psychopathic leader. Kim Jong-un had to be on the far end of the spectrum. No nurture versus nature debate with him. Genetics and bad parenting had worked together to create a freak. Dukko was probably afraid to go home without Lee Nam, and if he was a policeman, he might even try to find his missing charge.

  A taxi pulled up. After she gave the driver the hotel’s address, her phone rang. Garrett! Her feelings for him surprised her again. Yet, as much as she’d wanted to experience a real, lasting love affair, she didn’t want it to be with a twenty-three-year-old who lived across the country. Why not? If most relationships were doomed to fail, what difference did his age make? The location could be a problem, though.

  This call was probably about the case, so she put in her earpiece. “Garrett. What’s going on?”

  “I’m just taking a break from calling pharmacies and asking the same questions over and over.” A pause. “I miss you.”

  She couldn’t say it back. Keeping their intimacy going could get her fired. With his father’s connection to the bureau, the risk was real. She almost laughed. Garrett would never tell his father, and she was hardwired to be a risk taker. “I’ll be back soon. I have a witness to question, then I’ll catch the next flight.”

  The cab pulled into traffic.

  “You must be exhausted.” Garrett was such an empath.

  “I am, but I can sleep on the plane.”

  His voice perked up. “You said ‘witness.’ Do you have a lead?”

  “Don’t get your hopes up. Our best bet is still to find the pharmacy and link it to a device-manufacturing business or mineral mine within a fifty-mile radius.” The damn Washington State business licensing office hadn’t given her a list yet. If her interview with Dukko didn’t pan out, she would call Havi again and get his help hacking into the business registry. Waiting for information drove her crazy.

  “Is the North Korean kidnapping connected to my mother’s abduction?”

  “I think so, but the bureau doesn’t, so we’re still on our own.”

  “I trust you.”

  “I appreciate that, but I have to get back to work.” Bailey hung up, feeling surprisingly awkward. The social skills she’d carefully cultivated over a lifetime failed her around Garrett. What was happening to her? Relationships had always been on her terms, with her in control. With Garrett, she couldn’t predict, control, or calculate with any effectiveness. She felt emotionally vulnerable for the first time in her life, and the new experience was exhilarating. Even unexpected or negative emotions were better than boredom and loneliness.

  A few minutes later, the cab pulled up in front of the hotel, so she paid the driver and hurried inside. At the front desk, she showed her badge again—to a new clerk—and asked which room Dukko Ki-ha was registered in.

  As Bailey stepped out of the elevator on the tenth floor, she caught sight of herself in a lobby mirror. Her makeup had disappeared, her hair was disheveled, and she had a small coffee stain on her white sweater. She realized she hadn’t showered or changed clothes in nearly twenty-four hours. The thought of going home for a few minutes to freshen up was overpowering, but the trip across town would be too time consuming. She had clean clothes in her travel bag, and this hotel was full of showers. She just had to find an empty or temporarily unoccupied room. But not yet.

  Bailey stopped in front of 1010 and knocked softly. Dukko’s body language in the video clip had projected rigidity and abrasiveness, but his hair, which was a little longer than most male officers’, suggested he might be vain and susceptible to flattery. She didn’t fully understand how North Korean men viewed women, but it seemed safe to assume he wouldn’t react well to female aggressiveness.

  Footsteps, then a pause. Was he pulling a weapon and readying himself? Bailey touched her gun under her sweater. She would have preferred to have it in hand, but she wanted to put him at ease.

  “Who is it?” he called out.

  “Andra Bailey. I’m a private investigator.” The lie had come to her at the last second.

  “What do you want?”

  “I can help you find Lee Nam.”

  “I don’t need your help.” Even through the door, he sounded abrasive.

  “You don’t have all the facts.”

  A long moment of silence. Finally, the door opened and he looked her over.

  Up close, he was more attractive than she’d first thought, but he also had a nose that had been broken and never reset properly. He also had the most distrustful eyes she’d ever seen.

  “Thank you. May I come in?”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  Yet he’d opened the door. “I think I know who kidnapped your encryption expert. You have information I need too. Let’s work together.”

  An almost imperceptible nod, then he stepped aside and gestured for her to enter. A packed suitcase lay on the foyer table. The rest of the small room was free of personal items. Dukko was preparing to leave. Hairs tickled the back of her neck. No one knew she was here—in a private hotel room with a man who had diplomatic immunity. She had a flash of herself bloody and dead in the bathtub. Bailey sat in one of the soft chairs and forced herself to appear relaxed.

  Dukko perched on the edge of the other chair, and his jacket opened a little to reveal a stun gun strapped to his side. “Why do you carry a weapon?
” he asked.

  “For the same reason you do.” She gave a charming smile. “I know this is a sensitive subject, but I need to know if Lee Nam was preparing to defect.”

  Dukko leapt to his feet. “You insult me and my country. Leave now.”

  Oh hell. She’d blown it first thing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. But I watched the video of what happened. Mr. Lee left with the men voluntarily.”

  His expression tightened. “They must have tricked him.”

  “Probably. Had you ever seen the men before? Do you know them?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “You said you know who took him. Before I answer more questions, you have to tell me.”

  “I’m pretty sure it wasn’t our federal agents.” Bailey thought about Milton Thurgood and his car left at the airport. “I think Lee Nam may have been offered a job, rather than actually kidnapped. Do you know anything about that?”

  “No.” He stood. “I don’t think we can help each other.”

  Dukko wanted her to leave. Whatever he knew about Lee Nam, he wasn’t prepared to share. “Thanks for your time.” Bailey headed for the door.

  She sensed his sudden movement behind her and instinctively lunged sideways, but a blow struck the side of her head and she staggered, landing on the bed. She grabbed for her weapon just as he landed on her back, pinning her down.

  CHAPTER 28

  Sunday, March 22, 5:55 a.m., Palisades Mine, Washington

  Dana woke with another headache but didn’t care. At least she could feel it, which was better than the numbness that had set in. She lay on the narrow bed and couldn’t bring herself to get up. A brittle darkness had settled into her soul, and she felt dysfunctional. Worse than the depression was the indecision. She’d finally had the epiphany that could push her research to a fruitful outcome. But if she stabilized the compound and gave them the formula, she would no longer be necessary and they would kill her.