Rogue Operator (34 page)

“No time
to explain. Get dressed, warm, with comfortable shoes. We’ve got ten minutes
before he gets here.”

“Who?”

“The
American who was here last night while you and the kids were sleeping. He’s
here to rescue us.”

Maggie
reached for the lamp when Jason stopped her.

“No
lights, they might be watching for that. John planted devices in the house to
override the listening devices.”

“John?”

“Not his
real name, but it doesn’t matter. Get dressed. Now. You get Ayla ready, I’ll
get Darius.”

Jason
quickly got dressed, then went into Darius’ room. He shook him awake, to
moaning protests, then when the chocolate was passed under his nose, he quickly
perked up, devouring it as if it had a half-life of sixty seconds. Jason got
him dressed in the warmest clothes they had for him, and had just finished tying
his shoes when the little tike passed out from the drugged treat.

In the
kitchen Jason emptied Ayla’s school bag, filling it with bread, crackers,
cheese and as much water as he could find bottles to fit it. He looked at his
watch.

10:01pm.

He
gathered them all together, picking Darius from the floor and putting him over
his shoulder. “We need to stay absolutely quiet. Follow orders, no questions.
Understood?”

Maggie
nodded, as did a terrified Ayla, her saucer-sized eyeballs leaving little doubt
she was going to cooperate. They stepped out the back door from the kitchen,
and huddled by the side of the house. It was cold, a light dusting of snow
having fallen earlier in the day. It was going to make it hard going, since
none of them had proper winter clothing. He especially worried for Darius. This
was going to be tough on him.

But if
they made it, it would be worth every moment of pain.

His
heart leapt as he saw several shadows moving toward them. Jason quickly
recognized Carl and his family, along with their rescuer. They all met near the
porch, Maggie and Phoebe exchanging quick hugs, but remaining silent, Charlie
and Ayla exchanging awkward smiles.

“Where’s
Phil?” asked Maggie.

Jason
frowned. “He’s not coming.”

“Why
not?”

“He’s
the one who got us into this mess.”

“But—”

John
cut them off
.
“No time to debate this. We have to go now.
Every minute counts.”

He led
them to the corner of the last house on the street where Jason could see a
fence not fifty feet away. And they waited. For what he didn’t know, and he was
starting to get antsy when he heard an engine roar, his stomach flip flopping
with the approaching sound. A pair of headlights sliced through the darkness,
thankfully pointing away from them, but then they suddenly turned toward them,
sweeping by their position far too close for comfort.

Maggie
squeezed his hand, tight, her nails digging into his palm, as Ayla huddled
closer. Darius remained mercifully sound asleep over Jason’s shoulder. The
vehicle passed by without slowing down, and once out of sight,
John
darted toward the fence, and the group followed in silence.
John
pried
open a portion of the fence that he had obviously cut earlier, and they all
squeezed through.

As Jason
handed Darius through to Maggie, then climbed through himself, he took one last
look at their prison, and swore, no matter what, they were never coming back.

Outside the Fence, International Cooperation Center, North Korea

Kane wasn’t happy. Things already weren’t going according to plan.
He hadn’t been able to determine what house Phil Hopkins was in, so he was
still roaming the earth, but he hoped the little contingency plan he had left
behind at the Shephard residence would work.

A note
thanking Phil for his help.

If
that doesn’t get him killed, nothing will.

It was
cruel, and the poor bastard would be tortured to death, all the while telling
the truth that he knew nothing of the escape or why his friends had thanked
him, but he had brought it upon himself.

Kane
just hoped the EMP Carl Shephard had told him they set up was going to work,
otherwise he’d have to return at some point and try to destroy the lab himself.
With security probably quadrupled.

Gears
gnashed and Kane’s head whipped around to see a vehicle skid around the corner,
its headlights sweeping across the landscape, flashing over the eight forms for
the barest of moments.

Brake
lights shone as the vehicle jerked to a halt.

Shit!

The
depression was less than fifty feet away, and he sprinted for it, hoping the
others would get the idea without needing words to urge them forward. He dove
over the edge and hit the ground, the teenage Shephard boy following him, then
his parents, followed by the Peterson’s. Kane already had his head over the
depression, looking at the scene behind them.

“Quiet,”
he whispered. “Not a sound, no matter what happens.”

He
watched as the two occupants of the vehicle walked toward them, their
flashlights out, sweeping the area, chattering in Korean. From their tones, it
sounded to Kane as if one of them thought he had seen something, the other
thought he was crazy, and was complaining about the cold, repeatedly slapping
his hands together.

But his
partner wasn’t to be deterred. The flashlight swung toward the lip of the
depression, and Kane dropped, his back against the ground, as he motioned for
everyone to get down, and cover their mouths. Everyone complied, pressing
themselves into the ground, against the depression wall as best they could. The
crunch of footsteps approached, the hard, frozen ground revealing each step as
the unforgiving rubber soles of cheap boots crushed the dirt and sparse
vegetation beneath them.

The
footsteps stopped, right above Kane’s shoulder, dirt tricking onto his
shoulder. The flashlight played out in front of them, highlighting the tundra-like
expanse.

A final
shout from his partner and the man, only inches above them, finally acquiesced,
spinning around, running back toward the warmth of their vehicle. A collective
sigh of relief burst force from the group, as the vehicle pulled away.

That
was too damned close.

Peterson “Residence”, International Cooperation Center, North Korea

Phil knocked on the door again, and again there was nothing. He had
noticed the house was completely dark, and he thought that a little odd, but
then again, he didn’t have kids, so maybe this was what families did at ten
o’clock at night.

Nothing.

He
knocked again, a little harder. He had to talk to Jason. It couldn’t wait. What
he had done at the lab could have got them all killed, and he wasn’t willing to
die for his friends’ cowardice.

But
again there was no answer.

He
looked at his watch. It was under an hour before curfew, and he had to not only
have it out with Jason, quietly, he needed to get back to his own house on the
other side of the school before 11pm.

He took
a deep breath and grabbed the door handle.

Fuck
it. This isn’t America.

He
pushed the door open.

“Hello!
Jason! It’s me, Phil! You home?”

He tried
to make his voice as cheerful as possible.

“I tried
knocking, but there was no answer,” he continued as he closed the door behind
him. He reached for the light switch and flicked it, flooding the entranceway
with light. He blinked a few times, his eyes eventually adjusting, as he
stepped into the living area, then the kitchen, both empty.

“Hey
guys, anybody home? I don’t want to walk in on anything.” He chuckled, then
remembered there were kids living under this roof. “Uh, sorry about that,
single guy, remember. Hope I’m not waking you!” he said as he walked down the
hallway toward the master bedroom, the house an identical copy of his own.

He
knocked on the door, listening carefully.

Nothing.

He
pushed the door open, flicked on the light, and saw the empty bed.

They’re
not here!

He
rushed into the bathroom, then threw open the doors to every room, confirming
it.

They’re
gone!

He felt
his stomach flip and his chest tighten.

Backyard!

He
rushed to the backyard, praying he’d find them all sitting on the step,
watching the stars.

But
instead found it equally empty. And a jumble of footprints in the light dusting
of snow, leading away from the house, joined by another group from further down
the street.

Carl?

He
followed the footprints and soon found himself at the fence. He heard some
shouts and he ducked as a jeep, parked not far off, kicked into gear and sped
off. He followed the jeep with his eyes until it was out of sight, then looked
back at the horizon. Within moments he saw a group of people appear from behind
some depression in the terrain, and begin to run away from the encampment.

This was
death. Certain death. How did they possibly hope to escape? How could they do
this to him? It was clear from the number of people he was seeing, that it was
both families, risking death rather than remain behind.

Why?
What’s so bad about this place?

He
couldn’t fathom why they would do what they were doing. It made no sense. These
were family men. They had to know if they were caught, the beating Jason had
received earlier in the week would be just the beginning.

I
can’t let this happen!

Five miles from the coast

Kane had taken point, leaving Carl to take up the rear, making sure
no one was left behind, Jason still carrying his drugged son. They were behind
schedule, ten minutes now due to their close encounter. And every minute
counted. He urged them over the final rise, the next mile all downhill, and out
of sight of the compound.

He
fished out his satphone, then stopped Carl.

“Keep
following this ditch,” he said, indicating the depression they were in. “If you
see or hear anything, drop and wait for me. I’ll take up the rear for a few
minutes.”

Carl
nodded, and took point as Kane dropped to the ground, covering himself with his
jacket, then turning the phone on, the light from the display now blocked from
the outside world. He dialed the number he had been given, and waited. It
picked up on the third ring.

“This is
Dim Sum Palace, your order is ready for pickup in three minutes.”

Kane
smiled at the code. ‘Three minutes’ meant Langley had come through. “Thanks,
we’ll be there, weather permitting.”

He
killed the call, and damned Chang for the other part of the code.
Dim Sum
Palace.
His stomach rumbled. He could go for some good Dim Sum right now.
He turned off the phone, threw his jacket back on, and was about to catch up to
the others when he heard something.

It was
footsteps, racing toward their position. He took cover behind a nearby tree,
and waited, listening carefully. It was a man, he could tell by the volume of
the sound, indicating the weight, there was just one person, and they were
sprinting, uncontrolled, stumbling on the hard terrain.

If it
was a guard, they weren’t following protocol.

A
silhouette rushed over the rise they had just cleared, and continued headlong
toward him. He ducked back behind the tree, and when the man passed, Kane
reached out and clotheslined him, catching him directly on the exposed neck,
knocking him down, and the wind out of him so he couldn’t call for help.

Kane was
on the man in a second, cupping his left hand over the man’s mouth as he pinned
his arms with his knees, his knife already at the man’s throat.

Then he
recognized him.

Phil
Hopkins.

He heard
footfalls behind him and spun to see Carl and Jason rushing up to him.

“Are you
okay?” asked Jason, skidding to a halt.

“Phil!”
exclaimed Carl, who then apologized at his outburst with hand and facial
expressions. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked in a harsh whisper.

Kane
slowly removed his hand from the prisoner’s mouth.

“Trying
to stop you,” gasped Phil.

“Why?
Just let us go!” cried Jason, his voice a little higher than Kane would like.
“We don’t want to be here. Why can’t you understand that?”

“Don’t
you realize what will happen if you’re caught? What they did to you, Jason,
will be just the beginning. They might kill you. More likely they’ll kill one
of your family!”

“I
realize that,” said Jason, taking a knee. “I’m doing this
for
my
family.”

Phil’s
bewildered expression portrayed his complete lack of understanding of the
situation.

“But
you’ll get them killed!”

“I’d
rather they die free, by my doing, in a world where I didn’t give the North
Koreans a weapon that could destroy mankind.”

Phil
shook his head. “That’s BS and you know it. They just want a weapon that can
protect them from invasion. It’s a deterrent, nothing more.”

Kane
could see this conversation wasn’t going anywhere, and he didn’t have time to
let it continue much longer. He pressed the tip of his knife against Phil’s
neck.

“How did
you know where we were?”

“I
followed your footprints from Jason’s house.”

“What
were you doing there?”

Phil
looked at Jason. “I wanted to talk to you about what you did to the EMP.”

“What do
you mean?” asked Jason, his voice wary.

Phil
blew air from between his lips. “You know what I mean. You rigged it to go off
at midnight.”