Point of Control (15 page)

“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.”

C
HAPTER
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.

C
HAPTER
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.

Once she was dead, her keepers would have the synthetic dysprosium and be able to do whatever they wanted with it. That worried her. She’d just discovered that with a minor tweak, the compound was highly explosive. If her keeper was crazy or evil enough to abduct and imprison her to get his hands on the material, then he was evil enough to make bombs with it. She would rather let the knowledge die with her than give it to a madman. So she wouldn’t go into the lab again, which meant the day of her death was coming soon.

The need to pee finally drove her from the narrow, uncomfortable bed. As she urinated, cramps made her cringe in pain. Oh no, not again. But the blood was coming. Once the flow started, she was a mess for days, often afraid to leave the house. Fibroids were the culprit, but rather than surgery, her doctor had her taking birth control, hoping that menopause would resolve the issue soon. But she hadn’t taken her pills in days. Now she was bleeding in a basement, god only knew where, with no tampons or pads or Midol for the cramps. A bitter laugh bubbled from her throat, and sobs quickly followed. Once she was under control, Dana made a pad from folded toilet paper, but it wouldn’t last an hour. Maybe her blood would disgust them, and they’d put her out of her misery. The sight of it could be frightening, even for her.

Could she use the blood and its visual effect to her benefit? Dana washed her hands and splashed cold water on her face, thinking it through. If she smeared the blood on her neck or wrists, would they think she needed medical assistance? Or take her to a doctor if they thought she was dying? No, of course not. The keeper had brought her Lyrica for her seizures, but that didn’t mean he would seek outside help. Still, if she could get him to focus on the blood, maybe she could steal the key while he was distracted. Or disable him somehow. She would have to think it through.

Dana paced the small room, feeling more alive than she had in days. Scenario after scenario played out in her mind. Using the blood here in her room, waiting for the keeper to check on her, then locking him inside and running. Waiting until she was in the lab, then faking an accident with broken glass. Each possibility made her nervous, yet she wasn’t afraid to try. What did she have to lose? She probably only had one chance at this, so she had to be smart and make it work. She didn’t feel smart. The lack of sunlight, the isolation, the hopelessness—it was all combining to create a mental fog. Her research had been impeded by weird mistakes the day before, and now she struggled to predict the possible pathways and outcomes of each escape scenario. The biggest concern was which way to run. What would she find outside these walls?

Dana heard the keeper’s heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. He was probably concerned that she hadn’t knocked for him yet. Her pulse escalated just thinking about escape. She’d never be able to wait until she got down to the lab. It had to be now!

She pulled the toilet-tissue pad out of her pants and smeared the dark menstrual blood on each wrist. It was obviously not fresh, oxygen-rich blood, but maybe a man wouldn’t know the difference. She moved quietly toward the door and lay down on her back, letting her face fall away from the entrance.

Several loud pounds. “Are you ready?”

She took long, slow breaths.

Another knock. “It’s time for the lab.”

Eyes closed, she counted slowly just to keep calm.

“Dana? Are you okay?”

A key turned in the lock and the keeper stepped inside. Cold, damp air from the hall oozed in, and she could feel the weight of him looming nearby.

“Oh no,” the big man cried out in what sounded like concern.

Dana felt a whoosh of air brush her neck as he squatted down.
Now!
She sat up and shoved both hands against his bent knees. Caught off guard, he rocked back and landed on his butt. She leapt to her feet and charged through the open door. The thought of him coming after her made her ill. She grabbed the door handle, slammed it shut behind her, and charged down the hall—in the opposite direction of the lab.

She passed through a wide foyer-like area filled with dusty boxes and junk, then charged through another metal door. A tunnel!
Please let this be the way out!
Dana kept running, but began to fear she’d gone the wrong way. Soon, the tunnel widened and she spotted stairs. She pounded up the steps, her breath ragged. At the top was a trapdoor in the ceiling. She grabbed the latch and pulled. It didn’t budge.
No!
She tried again, yanking with all her strength. The keeper’s footsteps came down the tunnel, moving fast. He wasn’t locked in her room! She’d hit a dead end. Dana turned, prepared to fight.