Rogue Operator (23 page)

“It was
too big to take,” said Phil. “They’ve promised me another one. Maybe tomorrow.”

Jason
folded his arms and sat on a nearby stool. “You do realize we can’t work
without an EMP. It’s too dangerous.”

“Nonsense.
We’re weeks if not months away from even activating a device.”

“Are you
sure about that? They took the entire lab. Even the drawers have the same
things in them, including my Big Red gum,” said Carl, pulling open a drawer and
pointing.

Which
was when Jason twigged on something. If they had indeed taken everything, and
just dumped the contents of the old lab drawers into the new, they might not
have searched the items thoroughly, which meant—

“What?”

Jason
looked up at Phil. “Huh?”

“You
were thinking about something, smiling. What is it?”

Jason
had to think quick.

“Oh, I
was just thinking that if everything is here, and I mean
every
thing,
then that means our prototypes are here.”

“Uh
huh,” agreed Phil, his head bobbing.

“Then we
might only be days away from moving forward. We still need that EMP, but at
least we might be able to get out of here in a few months rather than a year.”

Phil
smiled. “I’m glad to see you’re getting into the spirit!”

Jason
shrugged, playing along. He wasn’t getting into the spirit of anything, but he
had to figure out a way out of this situation. At least with an EMP in position
he could trigger it and wipe out everything. There would be no second lab to
steal, and by now, he was certain all of the research back home would be sealed
up and secure due to their disappearance. And with the three of them dead,
there’d be no point.

Because
he was certain if he was able to activate the EMP, they’d be shot. At least
himself, along with Carl. And Phil was right. He couldn’t do the job without
them.

“When
can we call our families?”

The
question came out of the blue, and caught Phil off-guard, as well as Jason.
Jason looked at Carl and prayed he wasn’t thinking of what Jason remembered
might be in one of the drawers.

A
satellite phone. He had bought it for their fishing trip, but had forgotten it,
leaving it in his drawer. He knew how Maggie worried so he had planned to
surprise her with a phone call. It wasn’t to be.

“If you
continue to cooperate, you will gain privileges,” said Phil’s handler.
“Eventually, you will be able to contact your families.”

“And
when can we expect that?” Carl didn’t sound convinced.

“In
time.”

“That’s
not much of an answer,” mumbled Carl.

Phil
held up his hands, trying to head off another argument. “But I think we can all
agree it is a reasonable one. They need to see we can be trusted, and the best
way to show that, is to show some progress. So why don’t we get started by
inspecting the work our friends did last night?”

Jason
nodded, and retrieved the list they had prepared before leaving yesterday, and
began calling off the items in order, pen in hand. Phil, and eventually a
reluctant Carl, double-checked each item, and Jason checked it off the list.
After about half an hour of this, their handlers left the room, perhaps to
chitchat amongst themselves, or more likely, to listen in on any chatter that
might occur when their captives were alone.

As each
item was read, Jason looked for an opportunity to get into the drawer where he
had left the satphone back home. If it was there, he might be able to make a
call back home, and ask for help. But if he were caught, they might hurt one of
the kids, or Maggie.
Which isn’t acceptable.
He needed to make a call
that if intercepted, he could claim was harmless. And he had to call someone
harmless.

Mom!

He did a
quick mental calculation in his head and realized that if he were able to call
when he got home, and time it right, his dad would be sound asleep, and his mom
the night owl would be reading in the living room. It was best to talk to her,
because his father would ask too many specific questions that he couldn’t
innocently dodge.

Mom
will care more if we’re okay, as to where we are and why.

So his
mother it was. Now he just needed to figure out how to get the phone. And he
saw his opportunity when he read ahead to the next item.

“It’s
good,” said Carl to the last item, and Jason checked it off. So far, everything
had been done properly, much to his surprise. He had expected sloppy work, much
like he had seen in several former communist countries, but the work here was
topnotch. He tapped his forehead with his pen as it suddenly occurred to him
why everything was done so well.
They have foreign workers here. They’ve probably
kidnapped people from the West that specialize in this stuff!
He quickly
dismissed his epiphany as he began to read the next item.

“Welding
at floor on lab containment shield shoddy.”

Both
Carl and Phil disappeared from sight as they dropped to the floor. Jason
quickly pulled the drawer open and nearly beamed a smile when he saw the phone
sitting there. He grabbed it, slipped it into his pocket, and slid the door
closed just as Phil’s voice called out.

“Looks
good to me.”

Both
heads popped back into view as Jason tried to calm his heart slamming into his
chest.

“You
okay?”

It was
Carl.

Christ,
Carl! Are you trying to get us killed?

“Huh?
Yeah, fine, why?”

“You
just look a little flushed.”

“Yeah,
you don’t look so good.”

Jason
waved them both off, his heart a frenzy of palpitations. “Just having a moment,
that’s all. I’ll be alright.”

Jason
read off the next item on the list, then eyed the clock.

In
eight hours I’ll make the call.

He knew
it was a risk, but he also knew they were going to die anyway, since there was
no way he was going to help finish the research. He just prayed his parents’
phone was being monitored.

And a
rescue might be possible.

Chris Leroux Residence, Fairfax Towers, Falls Church, Virginia

Today, Six Days after the Kidnappings

Kane aimed at the man pointing a weapon at Chris and fired two
shots, dropping the startled target. He quickly dropped a second target
standing not five feet away. Several shots erupted from the bedroom, and Kane
rushed past Chris, who was still covering his face, his eyes only half opened,
and into the next room.

“What
the hell are
you
doing here?”

He
smiled at the near naked form of Sherrie.
Chris, if you’re getting some of
that, you are a fortunate man.
Following where she was aiming her weapon,
he looked into the bathroom and found two more bodies, the shower torn to
shreds from gunfire, broken tile scattered in the tub and on the floor.

“Get
dressed, we need to get out of here, now!”

Sherrie
tossed her weapon on the bed and immediately began to pull on clothes as Kane
left the room. Chris was still on the floor. Kane extended a hand which Chris
grabbed, then hauled his friend to his feet. Kane retrieved a weapon from the
nearest body and checked the clip. Fully loaded. He handed it to Chris. “Do you
know how to use this?”

Chris
nodded. “I had basic firearms training when I joined the agency.”

“Good.
There’ll be more.” Kane turned to the bedroom. “Hurry up!”

“She’s
alive?” whispered Chris, his jaw dropping as she stepped into the living area.
“I thought you were dead!” he said, stepping toward her and giving her a hug
that seemed to surprise Sherrie, and definitely surprised Kane. Sherrie
returned the hug, holding Chris tight with one hand, the other gripping her
weapon. She gave him a kiss, then pushed him away gently.

“Let’s
go, you two lovebirds can get reacquainted when we get you someplace safe.”

Kane
stepped toward the closed door leading to the outer hallway then held up his
fist, signaling for silence as he heard something on the other side. He aimed
where he himself would have hidden, and squeezed off two rounds through the
gyprock. He was rewarded with a cry and a thud as he aimed at the door, firing
two more rounds.

This
time bullets ripped through the door as those on the other side returned fire.
Kane dove to the side, rolling on the floor as Sherrie shoved Chris down, and
returned fire. The two emptied their clips into the door and surrounding walls,
then reloaded. Footsteps could be heard pounding down the hallway, growing
fainter, as their would-be attackers fled.

He
counted two sets, and he knew they would have been a team of four. He
approached the door, pulled it, or what was left of it, open, and found two
bodies lying on the ground, dead. He holstered his weapon, pulled the two
inside, then motioned for Chris and Sherrie to follow. Kane led the way down
the hallway now filling with curious heads poking out doors, and toward the
emergency exit at the end opposite to where he had heard the hostiles flee. The
last thing he wanted was a stairwell shootout. Those were never good, and
ricochets were too unpredictable.

He
paused at the door, looking through the tiny window of glass and seeing
nothing. Pushing the door open slightly, he listened, but heard no evidence of
anybody in the stairwell. He cautiously entered, well aware that a stationary
target that was leading them into a trap would make no noise either, and began
down the stairs.

Thankfully
the exit proved empty, and a minute later they were outside, the cool evening
air brisk on the skin. Kane turned to Chris and Sherrie. “You two wait here,
I’ll go get my vehicle. They shouldn’t be looking for me, so I should be safe.
I’ll pull up, then you two get in as fast as possible, Sherrie in the passenger
seat, Chris, on the floor in the back.”

Kane
didn’t wait for acknowledgement, instead holstering his weapon, then sauntering
out from the shadows. He crossed the grass and stepped onto the road, crossing
it, and approached the SUV he had rented earlier. He was supposed to be on his
way to North Korea to retrieve or eliminate the scientists, but he had known
full well that an attempt would be made on his friend’s life the moment they
began looking into who was behind this.

It was
too big to look into without easily being noticed. One problem with random data
searches was they could be monitored easily, and obviously his hunch had paid
off. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours before the first attempt had been
made. He knew they’d be safe while at Langley, it was the in between time. Why
Morrison hadn’t insisted they simply remain there until the dust settled, he’d
never know, unless he wanted exactly this. Have someone play their hand,
proving that something Chris had turned up was genuine, and they would be able
to figure out who.

Morrison,
you’re a devious son of a bitch.
Using your own
people as bait.

But it
hadn’t worked. Kane had spent the day putting in place his transportation to
Korea, then set up camp in his blacked out SUV across the street from his
friend’s apartment. He had watched them arrive, their escort in tow, but had
also observed, an hour earlier, two SUVs full of men arrive, parking at
opposite ends of the outdoor parking lot. Two men had immediately gone inside,
then, a few minutes later, the other two from the same vehicle left and
presumably joined the first two.

If it
was him running the op, he’d have sent the first two in to plant a bug and
perhaps a camera so they’d have eyes and ears on the place, then holed up in
the stairwell, awaiting the arrival of their targets.

Which it
appeared is exactly what had happened. When Chris and Sherrie had arrived, Kane
had followed them in a few moments later, but not before he heard the
shattering of glass and popping sounds as the team of CIA escorts was taken out
by the occupants of the second SUV. It had pained him that he was unable to
stop it, but the bottom line was that he himself was a wanted fugitive in their
eyes, and they should have known better than to sit in plain sight without
surveying the other vehicles properly.

That was
the problem with using domestic teams. They rarely had any dangerous duty, so
were too complacent, too comfortable. Too trusting. Four guys get out of an SUV
and walk by your vehicle? You don’t sit there wondering what they’re up to, you
ready your weapons, and the two of you who are
already
out of the
vehicle, covering the area, take out the targets the moment they make a move.

Instead
they had all remained inside, cozy and warm, on their babysitting duty, and now
were dead.

As he
climbed into his own vehicle, he noted that the SUV that had contained the CIA
team was gone, probably moved into some alleyway somewhere so as not to
interfere with the operation. But since he knew there had been two full teams
of four involved in the assault, it couldn’t be far.

He
started the engine, pulled out onto the street, then drove about ten yards
before pulling into the far end of the parking lot in front of the building. He
drove along the front of the building, then came to a stop as close as he could
get to the stairwell exit without actually pulling onto the grass.

He
unlocked the doors, and saw Chris and Sherrie bolt from their hiding place
toward the waiting vehicle. Immediately gunfire erupted, tearing into the
windshield. He ducked, cranking the wheel and gunning it. The SUV jumped the
curb and bounced onto the grass, covering the distance between the stairwell
and the pavement in seconds. He hit the brakes, bullets continuing to hit the
front of the vehicle as Chris and Sherrie piled in. Slamming it in reverse, he
pulled back onto the pavement and reversed the length of the parking lot.