But what about Jia? He had to convince her to be loyal and see things his way.
Pounding from the hallway on the other side of the door grabbed his attention. What was going on? Shawn pushed through and found Jia smashing at the first doorknob with a hammer. She spun toward him, eyes wide with horror. “What have you done? Who is the man in there?” She held the hammer over her head like a weapon, her face a mask of outrage that he’d never seen before.
“Jia, it’s not what you think.” Shawn put down the canister and eased toward her, his voice gentle and his hands out with palms up.
“Not what I think? You kidnapped these people just like the agents said! But why? I thought the mine would produce the metals you need. I thought you had a business plan.” Pain, betrayal, disgust. It all came out in the way she said business.
“Put down the hammer and walk away from this. You were never supposed to know. Just put it out of your mind the way you did with your painful childhood. I’ll do the same when it’s over. We can get beyond this.”
She lowered the hammer to her side. “But what happens to them? Three people are down here!”
Shawn took another step toward her. “I’ll let them go, I promise. They don’t know where they are, and they’ve never seen my face. It will be all right.”
For a moment, her expression softened as she considered it. Then Garrett yelled through the door. “Go get help! He’s going to kill us!”
Jia hesitated for a second, then charged at him, as though she were going to knock him out of her way. Shawn jerked sideways, grabbed the wrist holding the hammer, and twisted it behind her back. Jia cried out in pain.
“I’m sorry, love, but I can’t let you ruin my plans.”
She kicked and fought, but he dragged her down the dark hall to the next room. The door was open because Dana Thorpe was locked in the lab at the end. With adrenaline pumping, he shoved Jia into the room, slammed the door, and locked it. She screamed profanities from the other side. Shawn ignored her and ran down to the lab. He wouldn’t leave Jia. He just needed a minute to get the data and the material sample from Dana Thorpe, then extricate Lee Nam. If Jia changed her mind, he would take her with him before he used the gas and dynamite.
Shawn unlocked the lab, bracing for what might come at him. If Dana had heard the commotion, she might try to take advantage of the situation. He threw open the door, pulled his gun, and stepped in. The scientist wasn’t at her bench. Shawn spun around, expecting to be assaulted. Dana wasn’t behind him either. He jogged to the long table she worked at and peered over it. She was on the floor, unconscious. Another seizure? Had she completed the sample? He searched the table and didn’t see any pieces of the shimmery metal. What about the data?
He ran to her laptop and looked for the files. They weren’t there! Fuck! Had she deleted them? But why? Because she’d heard Jia outside the lab and thought she would be rescued?
No, she was a scientist, and she would never destroy her own work. Shawn ran around the workbench and knelt by her body. Dana was still breathing. It almost didn’t matter. He just needed the finished product. Where would she put it? Maybe she hadn’t put it anywhere. He pried open her right hand, and in her palm lay a silver flash drive. Thank god. The files were probably intact. Shawn tucked the drive into his front pants pocket. Where was the synthetic sample? Dana’s other hand was open, so it obviously wasn’t there. He had to have it! The data alone couldn’t be trusted. Dana might have sabotaged the formula so his engineer couldn’t replicate it.
Shawn stood and scanned the room, his eyes darting from the workbench to the desk to the shelves in back. He didn’t see anything resembling the tiny sample she’d shown him the day before. Maybe the compound was in the desk. Shawn charged toward it, and his foot thunked into something on the floor. There it was. A square steel container about the size of his palm. He scooped it up and lifted the lid. Yes! A thin ribbon of silvery-green flexible metal. He wanted to shove the precious material into a pocket to keep it safe, but he had sticks of dynamite taking up those spaces. With the container in one hand and his gun in the other, he ran out of the lab and turned left, passing through an open area that had once held moldy couches. He stopped at a door near the stairs that led to an opening at the edge of the woods.
“Nam? We need to talk. I’m opening the door.”
The tech guy didn’t respond. But so far, he’d been a man of few words.
Shawn unlocked the door. Nam stood in the center of the room, and behind him was a desk with an active computer monitor.
“How is the software coming along?”
“It’s nearly complete, but I need to test parts of it. I can’t do that here, alone, with no internet.”
“Are you ready to come work for me? With complete secrecy?” They’d already discussed the basics.
“Will I have access to the internet?”
“Of course.” Shawn had also promised him a new ID and housing.
“Then I’m ready.”
Shawn gestured for Nam to follow. He didn’t fully trust the North Korean, but he needed him and would see what happened. Shawn hurried back toward the lab, then turned into the main hallway. Footsteps! Coming down the stairs under the laundry room. He froze. Who the hell could it be? He snatched the gun from his waistband and flipped off the safety. Behind him, Nam’s breath quickened, but he stayed silent.
Shawn had left the door to the bomb shelter open when he’d come through, so now he could see out into the tunnel. Gun drawn, he waited, hoping it would be Harlan. But it was two people, moving stealthily. It had to be the agents, who’d come back, found the secret entrance, and were about to arrest him. Could he still get out of this? Shawn moved down the hall toward the main opening, preparing to fire.
But it wasn’t Agent Thorpe. An Asian man he didn’t recognize came through the door, holding a gun. Shawn had only a moment’s advantage. He aimed at the man’s head and squeezed the trigger. The noise deafened him, and the kick nearly made him drop his gun. The intruder collapsed to his knees, grabbing his chest. Behind the Asian man stood Bailey—with a gun aimed right at Shawn. He spun and ran, knocking Lee Nam out of his way. If he could make it to the back exit and get to his vehicle—
No. Bailey would call for help, and they would look for his truck on the highway. To survive this, he had to find another way out.
CHAPTER 46
Bailey fired two rounds before spotting the second man at the end of the hall. The missing cryptographer! She lowered her gun. Damn! Crusher was fleeing. He’d rounded a corner and disappeared. Go! Her primal instinct was to charge after him. She’d been chasing this bastard for weeks, and her victory was slipping away. She glanced around. Where was Garrett?
“Lee Nam,” Dukko cried out from the floor, his voice weak. “We found him.”
Bailey forced herself to forget about Garrett’s safety—for the moment. The North Korea crisis had to be resolved first. She knelt next to Dukko, who was leaning against the wall. In the dim light, against his black shirt, it was hard to tell how much blood he was losing. But the look on his face told her it was bad. He was dying. “Get out your phone!” she yelled. “You have to make the call.”
Dukko struggled to get his hand into his pocket, but he managed to pull the phone out and hand it to her. “Get a picture of Nam, so Dear Leader knows he’s alive.”
Bailey popped up, ready to run down the hall. But the timid IT guy was coming toward them. “Ki-ha!” Lee Nam cried out and dropped next to his bodyguard. “You’ve been shot.” The cryptographer looked up at her. “We have to save him.” Nam started to pull off his shirt.
“Wait! I have to get a picture.” She didn’t want the dying police officer in the photo. KJU was crazy, and might use it as an excuse to kill Jake Austin anyway.
The tech guy ignored her.
She shouted to get his attention. “Kim Jong-un has threatened t
o execute an American and possibly launch a missile if we don’t show him you’re safe. Keep your shirt on and stand up!”
Nam did as instructed, eyes blinking in fear and confusion.
Bailey snapped two photos, then filmed a short video to be sure she’d covered it. She squatted next to Dukko again. “Help me send this to the right person.”
“Just text it to the last number I texted. Then call that number.”
She went through the motions, but the message didn’t send.
“Shit! We don’t have a signal down here.” She stood, ready to bolt upstairs to the bunkhouse.
“Bailey?” Garrett’s voice came from behind the wall.
She spun toward the sound. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
Thank god. “We’ll get you out in a minute.” She hated leaving Garrett. Jake Austin wasn’t even that important. But placating Kim Jong-un was critical.
She charged through the tunnel, Dukko’s phone in her hand. Crusher probably had the keys to the locked doors, but there had to be a sledgehammer or something she could use to free everyone. But the phone call came first. She pounded up the stairs, heart racing. In the laundry room, she paused, gulping air, and pressed Send again. An unexpected joy filled her heart. Garrett was alive and well, and she was about to prevent a war. Another reason to love this job.
The dialogue box changed color. The text had gone out. Still, North Korea was on the other side of the world. She called the same number. It rang four times, then a tight voice said something in Korean.
“English, please!”
After a rapid background exchange in Korean, someone else came on the line. “Commander Ryuk.”
“This is Agent Bailey, United States Federal Bureau of Investigation. I’m calling to report that Lee Nam has been located.”
“Why do you have Lieutenant Dukko’s phone?” Suspicion gave his voice an edge.
“He was injured by the kidnapper, a crazy individual who has nothing to do with our government. But Lee Nam is safe. Did you get the photo and video I sent?”
“Just a moment.”
“Call off the execution and release Jake Austin.” She raised her voice, but he’d already put her on hold.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lee Nam step out of the basement opening.
The line went dead. Shit! Bailey pressed the logged call and tried again, but it didn’t connect. She hurried outside into the dark and tried the call again. The same commander came back on. “Kim Jong-un will honor his agreement, but he wants an apology.”
She almost laughed. “I’m sorry for what happened.”
“He’d like one from President Harris.”
“Then he should give him a call.” She heard an engine start in the distance. “I have to go.”
“Your country is irresponsible, and North Korea won’t send professionals to your symposiums again.”
“No problem.” She hung up and turned to Nam, who’d followed her outside. She pressed Dukko’s phone into his hand. “Call 911 and get an ambulance. Cops too. Tell them Palisades Mine.”
The engine revved and she spun toward the sound. It wasn’t a car. Something smaller, like the quads she’d seen earlier. An ATV roared away from the processing plant, its headlight cutting through the night to shine on the trees. Crusher!
Bailey sprinted toward the facility. There had been two quads, and she could see the other one now. Please let the key be in it. She leapt on the little four-wheeled vehicle and reached for the starter. A push button. Yes! She flipped it on, gave it gas, and took off after Crusher’s retreating headlight.
In the distance, at the edge of the trees, he turned left and rode parallel to the woods.
Where was he going? He was heading away from the parking lot where he’d left his truck. Bailey visualized the maps she’d studied of the area. South and west of the mine was a river and another small town. He had to be heading toward it. What was his plan? Steal a car? The town was at least twenty miles away, and getting across the rugged terrain would be difficult enough in daylight. At night, it seemed impossible. Did he have another vehicle stashed somewhere?
She kept the throttle wide-open, pushing the little sports vehicle to its limit. The headlight barely illuminated the dirt path, and she bounced along, hitting the ruts and bumps hard. She toggled her focus between Crusher’s ATV ahead and the ground below, trying to keep him in sight and not crash her own quad. It was crazy, dangerous, and exhilarating. Bailey also expected it to be a short ride. Nothing in Crusher’s background indicated he was an outdoorsman or athletic in any way. With his life and freedom on the line, he was obviously willing to challenge himself. But she would prevail. Her lack of fear was working in her favor now, and her tenacity never failed her.
The roar of their engines cut through the quiet night, startling a big bird that flew out of the trees ahead. The path began to descend, and they zigzagged through the trees and past basalt ridges. Bright moonlight glinted off the bare rocks, giving her fair warning of their presence. After a while, her hands tingled with numbness, and she loosened her grip on the rubber handles. This could be a long ride after all. But she was slowly gaining on him.
A few minutes later, the temperature dropped and the air felt heavier, wetter. The river! They were nearly there. Would he turn and ride south toward the little town? Was there any kind of path along the bank? Maybe the area was used for horseback riding, and he was following a familiar trail.
The trees thinned out and glimpses of the river came into view. Wet rocks shimmered along the edge. Before Crusher reached the riverbank, he veered left. Bailey steered off the path and cut across the grassy area, hoping not to hit any rocks or unexpected obstacles. A thick clump of grass popped her ATV into the air, slamming her down hard into the seat. She managed to keep control. She’d also closed the gap by another twenty feet.
Bailey tried to visualize the map again but couldn’t get oriented. Where was the town from here? Was it really in this direction? Her damn dysfunction made her unsure. Crusher’s engine slowed, then his vehicle turned toward the river. What the hell was he doing?
She kept the throttle open and a moment later made the same turn. But she took the corner too fast. Her ATV tipped, and she rode it on two wheels, fighting to bring it back to the ground. The rough downhill path worked against her, and the quad went over. Bailey jumped free at the last moment, landing hard on one knee. Her body registered pain, but she blocked it and jumped to her feet. Her ATV had slammed into a bush, and the engine sputtered to a stop. Bailey sprinted down the path. The river was right there. Crusher had no choice but to abandon his quad too. Was he going to swim? Did he think she wouldn’t get into the river?
A dock at the bottom of the slope came into view, and she spotted Crusher standing in a boat, bent over. Oh hell! It looked more like a fishing dingy than a speedboat, but still, it would carry him down the damn river and out of reach. He yanked a cord, and a propeller engine kicked over. Could she reach the dock and leap into the boat before he pulled away? No, he’d already freed the tie lines, and the craft sped away.
A smaller boat was moored on the other side of the dock with its outboard tipped up out of the water. Bailey ran to it, noting the tie-downs. She had a knife in the satchel that was still strapped across her chest, but getting it out might take longer than loosening the rope. Drift boats were often moored with simple loops, and this one was. She quickly freed the lines and jumped into the boat. The dock floated in a shallow bay, out of the main river current, and probably belonged to a homeowner nearby. She didn’t waste time looking back for the building. The headlamp from Crusher’s quad was still on, giving her just enough light to see what she was doing. She’d hunted and fished with her father during her childhood in Colorado, so this was second nature. She dropped the motor into the water, opened the gas flow, and jerked on the starter cord. It t
ook three pulls, but the engine purred to life and she guided the boat into the river.
Where was Crusher? She’d taken her eyes off him while she’d prepped the boat, and now he was running without lights. She caught a glint of something on the water downstream and steered in that direction, cranking the little motor as high as its RPMs would allow. The sound of water breaking against the hull brought back more memories of her father, most of them good. The night was cold, and her hands were stiff, but the discomfort barely registered. Letting Crusher get away at this point was unthinkable. It wasn’t even about justice for the victims. He’d tried to kill her twice, and for that, he would pay.
His outline emerged out of the darkness a few minutes later. She was rapidly gaining on him. He’d taken a boat with a weaker engine or simply wasn’t running at full speed. When she was twenty yards away, she pulled her weapon, one hand still on the throttle. He became aware of her a moment later, jerking his head back to look, then facing the river again. His hand fumbled behind him, reaching into his waistband. He was pulling his gun! She’d watched him shoot Dukko earlier with a surprising cold accuracy. But she wouldn’t fire until he pointed his weapon at her. It wasn’t a moral concern, simply a practical one. This capture needed to go down clean. Cops might shoot suspects in the back, but the bureau did not. She needed her peers and supervisors to respect her.
When she was fifteen feet away, Crusher finally turned and aimed his gun at her. Bailey was ready. She fired off the rest of her rounds. Two made contact and he collapsed. His boat slowed as soon as he let go of the throttle, and the weight of his body plunging sideways shot the drifter toward her in a spin. She bumped his drifter with the nose of hers to stabilize it, then let go of the throttle and leapt into the other boat. Crusher was a bounty, and she intended to bring him in. She squatted, searched for his gun, and shoved it into her satchel. She heard him breathing, but it was a ragged, dying sound.
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