Rogue Operator (32 page)

His
attention returned to the mothers picking up their children. He saw a group of
five people walking together and turned his binoculars on them. Two women,
three children. One an older teenage male, the middle a pre-teen, perhaps teen
girl, and a young boy. He zoomed in digitally on the mothers’ faces, and it
left no doubt.

Maggie
Peterson and Phoebe Shephard.

He
followed them home, noting they weren’t talking at all, merely providing
comfort to each other through familiarity. Weak smiles were exchanged as they
reached the Shephard home, then a brisk walk by the Petersons had them at their
home, three doors down, within minutes. He made note of the time, and the houses,
fourth and sixth from the end of the spoke pointing south-south-east of the
hub, if he were south.

A near
ideal position.

Now that
he knew the target homes for two of the three scientists, he rolled over to his
side and got comfortable, pulling out a tablet computer. He quickly began to
write out, in large print, several pages of text, the first of which was,
I
AM AMERICAN. DON’T SAY ANYTHING. THEY ARE LISTENING.

Peterson “Residence”, Outside the International Cooperation Center,
North Korea

Jason Peterson still ached all over. He had been humiliated in front
of his family, his friends—scratch that, friend—at work, and had lost all hope.
He knew the work couldn’t be completed, and he knew after what happened with
the satphone, they would torture him until he cooperated, and if he didn’t,
they would torture his family, and ultimately kill them all.

And he
didn’t know if he was strong enough to resist that.

He
feared he would give in, develop the weapon, then they would kill him and his
family regardless once his purpose had been served.

He
couldn’t risk it, nor would he. The decision had been made, and he had a plan.
He wasn’t going to tell Maggie. He had convinced them at the ICC as they called
it, that he was in so much pain the past few days that he needed strong pain
killers in order to work, and sleeping pills in order to rest. He had enough
given to him that he was convinced he’d be able to add it to the kids food, and
Maggie’s, so that they’d go into a deep sleep soon after supper.

Then
he’d suffocate them with their pillows, and slice his own wrists open.

They
wouldn’t suffer. Maggie would never know it was her own husband that had killed
her, and the children would never know it was their own father. They would go
to a Heaven he prayed was real, and he would burn in Hell for what he had done,
but it was a trade-off he was willing to make.

He would
not
be the harbinger of mankind’s doom.

Stepping
up on the porch, he took a deep breath, then put on the best smile he could
manage, and opened the door to greet his family, one final time.

Peterson “Residence”, Outside the International Cooperation Center,
North Korea

Kane gently placed his backpack beside the steps leading up to the
back door of the Peterson rancher. He pulled out the tablet computer, then
peered inside.

It was
dark.

Which
wasn’t exactly what he had expected. Some life, voices, at least the adults. He
had intentionally waited until after 9pm, since he figured the smallest,
Darius, would be asleep by then. He would be the most likely to break silence
and reveal his presence.

But
there was nothing.

He
pulled open the screen door, then pushed open the inner door. No locks. Which
was expected, any locks here would be on the outside. He stepped inside, gently
closing the screen door, then the inner door, and tiptoed through the kitchen.
He could see a dim light down the hall, and made his way toward it.

Double-checking
his tablet screen, he put his hand on the knob, and silently turned it. He felt
the mechanism halt, and he pushed the door open gently, then let go, using his
knee to push it open the rest of the way, one hand holding the tablet screen
out in front of him, the other with a finger to his mouth, indicating silence.

What he
saw shocked him. His jaw dropped, and his initial instinct was to yell out, to
scream, “Stop!”, but he couldn’t. The house he assumed was bugged would be
swarming with North Koreans within seconds. Instead he pushed the door shut
with his foot, the click causing the man, who he recognized as Jason Peterson,
to spin around, the pillow he was using to suffocate his son forgotten.

Peterson’s
jaw dropped and he was about to say something when Kane held up his finger,
then pointed at the screen.

He read
it and fainted on top of his son.

Just
perfect.

Peterson “Residence”, Outside the International Cooperation Center,
North Korea

Jason awoke, groggy, then began to panic, his heart hammering, his
pulse surging, as he felt a hand over his mouth. He opened his eyes, beginning
to struggle, when everything began to flash back. He was smothering his beloved
son when a man entered the room holding up a computer.

An
American!

Jason
stopped struggling, looking at the man who had his hand over his mouth, and
nodded. The hand was removed, then Jason’s heart leapt again and he turned to
his son to find the pillow under his head, and his little chest rising and
falling, just as it should.

Thank
God!

He
turned back to the American, dressed head to toe in black, and saw he was
pointing at the screen with the same message as before.

I AM
AMERICAN. DON’T SAY ANYTHING. THEY ARE LISTENING.

The
man’s eyebrows were up, as if questioning him, his free hand giving a thumbs
up.

Jason
nodded, returning the thumbs up, and the man smiled. He swiped his finger
across the pad, showing a different page.

I AM
HERE TO RESCUE YOU AND YOUR FAMILY.

Jason
breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping as the pressures of the past
week began to lift. Tears filled his eyes as he gave the thumbs up.

Another
swipe, and another message.

STAY
COMPLETELY SILENT UNTIL I TELL YOU.

Thumbs
up.

The man
pulled a device from his pocket, and began to scan the room, stopping at the
lamp beside Darius’ bedside. He pointed at the bottom of the lamp, then put his
finger to his mouth. Another device was retrieved from his pocket, very small,
perhaps the size of his thumb. He placed it beside the lamp, then pressed a
small button on it, waiting for what seemed to Jason an eternity, but was
actually more like two or three minutes. The man looked at the device, then
smiled, giving a thumbs up.

Jason
returned the smile, confused, as the man swept the rest of the room for what
Jason assumed were bugs, finding none. The man then went to the far side of the
room, away from the device sitting on Darius’ nightstand, and sat down on the
floor, beckoning Jason to join him.

He did,
his aching body protesting. The man turned to face him, cross legged, and
pointed at the device.

“It’s
replaying the sounds from the room it recorded, and blocking any new sounds
from reaching the bug by hijacking the frequency. But keep your voice low; there’re
other bugs in the house that will pick up our conversation if we speak too
loud. Understand?”

The
man’s voice was barely a whisper. Jason nodded, not trusting his own voice.

“My name
is John. No, not my real name”—he flashed a grin—“but you should be able to
call me something. I’ve been sent to get you and the others out.”

Jason’s
eyes again began to fill with tears, and he dropped his chin against his chest,
closing his eyes. It was everything he could do not to break out into
uncontrollable sobs. All around him, throughout the house, his family was
passed out, waiting to die by his hand, as he had lost all hope, and here, by
the grace of God, sat an angel of deliverance, sent just in time. Any later,
and Darius would have been dead, and Jason wouldn’t have wanted to be rescued.

Now they
just might survive this ordeal.

And he
would have to live with the guilt of what he was in the process of doing.

He felt
a hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing. He looked up, forced a smile, then
wiped his eyes clear.

“I had
lost hope.”

The man
nodded, glancing over at Darius’ bed.

“I
gathered that.”

Jason
felt himself begin to lose it, and he bit down on his finger, hard, the pain
keeping him from tipping over the edge.

The hand
patted him twice on the shoulder.

“Listen,
I need you to keep it together for me. Can you do that?”

Jason
nodded, wiping his eyes clear again and taking a deep breath.

“Okay, I
know where your house is obviously, and I know where Carl Shephard and his
family are. I’ll be seeing them next.”
John
paused then motioned toward
Darius. “You didn’t plan this together, did you?”

Jason
shook his head.

“Good.
Now, what I don’t know is where the third guy is, Phil Hopkins. Do you know
what house they’re keeping him in?”

“Probably
the nicest one on the street.”

The
bitterness was not lost on the man.

“What do
you mean?”

“He’s
the guy who got us into this. He’s the one who had us and our families
kidnapped. He’s the one—”

John
held up his finger, cutting him off, Jason suddenly realizing his
voice was rising. He took a deep breath and nodded.

“So this
was his idea, and you guys never had any part in it.”

“No,
none.”

“And has
he expressed any regrets? Reservations?”

Jason
shook his head. “No, he’s still cooperating fully. The idiot thinks they’re
going to give us each ten million dollars and let us walk at the end.”

“Not
likely.”

Jason
felt a slight vindication at the words.
Not likely.
If this man,
obviously an expert, didn’t think the North Koreans were going to keep their
word, then he was justified in doing what he had attempted to do only minutes
before. He felt his chest tighten again at the thought.

“What
about Carl Shephard?”

“I think
he’s even more pissed off about the situation than I am.”

John
nodded, looking at Darius.

“Are
they all like that?”

Jason
flushed, his head dropping. “Yes.”

He felt
a hand on his shoulder again, the touch of a fellow human being, on
his
side, who had the power to help, providing an incredible amount of comfort. “Don’t
feel guilty. You were doing the only thing you could think of to do. They would
have tortured and killed them, slowly, even if you killed yourself. This is a
brutal regime. They don’t think of their enemy as human.” He paused. “What did
you give them?”

“Some
pain killers and sleeping pills. I convinced my handler I needed them because
of the beating I took.”

John
examined Jason’s face for a moment. “How many pills?”

“Half a
dozen of each I guess. I ground it up and put it in the mashed potatoes and
made sure everyone ate them. I said I had eaten at work.”

“Okay,
they should be safe then. They’ll be out ’til morning most likely so I can’t
extract you tonight. We need to reach the coast, and there’s no way we can do
that carrying everybody.”

Jason’s
eyes narrowed. “The coast? Wouldn’t we go south, to South Korea?”

John
shook his head. “To the most heavily guarded border in the world?
No, I don’t think so. We’ll head west of here to the coast, and try to get into
China.”

China!
Jason almost blurted it out, but bit his tongue. His expression
apparently made his feelings obvious to his rescuer.

“Yes,
China. Our intel suggests they had nothing to do with this, and we’ve arranged
a route out for you. And besides, trust me when I tell you you’d rather be in
their hands, than the North Koreans, especially since we’d be able to confront
them diplomatically on your behalf. The Koreans just don’t give a shit about
anything.”

“How
will you get us out?”

“You’re
going to sleep as soon as I leave. I’m going to set up more of those devices in
your house. You won’t see them, nor will they.  Tomorrow I will come at ten p.m.
local, when the sun is down, and collect you. You and your family will be
sitting outside, on the back step, without talking. You can have one small bag,
filled with water and food. We have six miles to get to the coast, and none of
it will be on the road. Put the most comfortable shoes on you can. But be ready
to go. I will get the Shephards first, since their son is older and I can be
assured he’ll be quiet.”

“What
about Phil?”

“If I
can find his house between now and tomorrow night, I will be terminating him.”

Jason
felt bile form in his mouth and felt himself begin to fade. The casualness of
the statement was horrific. No matter what Phil had done, he was still a
friend. Or was he? He was still something. Someone he knew, someone he had
cared about just last week.

“Is that
necessary?”

“Can he
complete the research on his own?”

Jason
shrugged his shoulders. “I doubt it, but it’s possible. They brought the entire
damned lab here. Everything including the contents of the drawers.”

“Which I
assume is where you found your satphone?”

Jason
nodded. “Is that why you’re here?”

John
smiled. “Very smart. And I assume that’s why you were beaten?”

Jason
managed a slight, painful smile. “Apparently it was worth it.”

“Now you
said they’ve got the lab. Is it set up?”