The Hermit Kingdom, page 4
"You don't know what the message was?" Shane asked.
The man shook his head solemnly. "I only wish we had more information. As you can imagine, I want nothing more than to get my daughter back safely. However, it would behoove you all to know that while my heart is focused almost exclusively on my daughter's well-being, the safety of my country may also be on the line."
"What do you mean?" one of the men seated across from the couch asked.
"The South Korean government has been listening intently to news around the world of scientific development, related to the sort of studies your wife and my daughter were involved with. We received word that the North Korean government might have stumbled upon something groundbreaking as well."
Shane swallowed. He knew exactly where this was going, but he let the man continue.
“As you know, there is no more precarious location in the world than a location bordering North Korea. The government is not unstable, but they are belligerent, run by one crazed man. I don't need to rehash the details to you all, but I do need to reiterate the importance of wrapping this up as quickly as possible."
"I thought North Korea was decades behind the rest of the world in scientific research?" the other man asked.
Shane nodded. "That was my understanding, as well. I thought the fear with North Korea is that they were belligerent, with their fingers on the proverbial trigger. But whatever tech they have – whatever scientific research they've gotten their hands on – it's all been earned through thievery. Through stealing the work of other nations."
"For the most part, yes. North Korea is not known for conducting their own research – how could they? No one who plays by the rules will interact with them. But the intelligence community in South Korea has been eyeing a particular region very closely the last few years. I cannot get into the reasons why, but we believe there is something peculiar going on there. The sort of research we believe was started over 80 years ago."
Riley did the math. World War II-era. That could only mean one thing.
"Mr. Riley, I need your help. I know you want to avenge your wife's death; anyone would want that. I want that for you. I ask as a favor in return, find my daughter and bring her back to me safely. In doing so, I suspect you might find answers to the questions you've been searching for. I suspect you might find the reasons why your wife was taken and killed in the first place."
Shane let out a deep sigh. He already knew what his answer would be. He had decided the moment he had heard that his wife might have been involved in all of this. He looked at each of the six men in the room, briefly meeting their eyes. Then, with a heavy heart, he gave his answer.
"No. I won't help you."
10
SHANE
"I don't understand, Mr. Riley," the old man said.
Shane walked back a few paces toward the couch. Donovan and Smith were now both standing, still close to the door.
"Look, I feel for you. I'm sorry you lost your daughter. But I'm sure these fine folks can help you out. That's why you brought them here, isn't it?"
"Yes, but –"
"I work alone. You know that because you know everything else about me. I get that you're in the intelligence community, possibly South Korean government. You're a powerful man, so I'll let you put two and two together. There's only one of me, and that's the extent of my team, always. No matter what."
Chung-Hee Park did not seem to be fazed by Shane's outburst. "I do understand, Mr. Riley. And I ask that you understand where I'm coming from as well. I have invited you here because you are the best at retrieving things. You know where to look, you know how to go about finding things without getting caught. And, most importantly, you know how to bring them back home."
"Right on all counts."
"But they are here for a much different reason. They are here because they can get you into the country. They can sneak you across the border, gain access to places no outsiders are ever allowed into, and they can do it without being killed or captured."
Special Forces. At least he was right about that.
"Walking into North Korea alone is a death sentence," Shane said. "Walking in with more people than that is suicide."
"Not when you go with us," the leader of the mercenary group said.
“I’m sure, buddy," Shane snapped. "Doesn't matter, anyway. I work alone, and I don't retrieve people. How are you not getting this?"
"I would have thought that your wife's potential involvement would have convinced you," the Korean man said. "But I was prepared for such a rebuttal. I know you also respond to money, Mr. Riley. I ask, just this once – make an exception. I respect that you have rules, moral obligations to uphold. Just this once, forget them. Work with this team of contractors, and bring my daughter home."
Shane was sensing the punch line was coming quickly.
"For that, I will pay each of you a million dollars."
Shane's mouth dropped open – he couldn't help it. This was by far the biggest payout he had ever received.
"I am prepared to wire half of the money now – you are all trustworthy individuals, all people I know will not take the money and run. And if you do, fine. It will only set me back a bit of money, but I have already begun talking with additional teams to stand up to take your place. I believe you are all the best at what you do, and that's why I've called you first.
"But one group does not work without the other – these men cannot find my daughter, cannot bring her home safely to me. And you cannot get into the country, you cannot get past the North Korean army and their undercover spies working in and around their own nation. And I cannot let my daughter wait there for days on end. If you go in and fail, and I have to start over with a new team, I'm afraid it will be much too late for her."
Shane agreed with the last sentiment, at least. She would be dead, if she wasn't already. There was a very good chance whoever had taken her was already working on torturing her. He didn't even understand what it was she might know – what she had gotten involved with – but the North Koreans wouldn't care. No matter who it was, if they claimed loyalty to that disgusting nation run by crooks and criminals, there was no doubt in his mind that she was already being taken apart piece by piece.
Shane waited for the man to continue. When he didn't, he jumped in. "I appreciate your offer. It's a lot of money, more than I've made on any job, as I'm sure you well know." He flicked his eyes around to the other people in the room, knowing that they probably didn't know about him or his past. They, like him, had just been hired to do a job. Or, Park was trying to hire them to do a job. If they had any concerns, none of them had voiced any.
"Still, part of the reason you want me on the job is that you know you can trust me, because of my integrity. When I tell you I work alone, I mean it. I am willing to break one of my own rules and find your daughter, just this once. But I ain't doing it with anybody else in tow, slowing me down."
The man who had been sitting at Shane's left frowned and raised his voice. "Hey, I resent the –"
"I'll bet you're pretty damn good at what you do," Shane snapped, cutting him off. "But I'm better. I'm the only one on the planet who can get her back, and this guy knows it."
He turned to face Park. “You want the job done, you hire me. A million, not a penny more. I won't even ask you for reimbursable expenses."
The man smiled knowingly. "I always reimburse expenses."
"It's me, alone, or it doesn't get done."
Shane turned on a heel and marched toward Smith and Donovan, toward the front door. The old Korean man was already agreeing. "Yes, Mr. Riley. I will take you up on that offer. Bring my daughter back. But don’t you want to hear the rest of details that I have? The information that I know? I was just going to explain —“
"Email me," Shane grumbled.
He had done enough peopling for the day, he’d had enough social interaction. He had never been introverted, but since the loss of his wife, he’d changed quite a bit. Growing up he had even been wildly extroverted, getting energy from being around people, from talking and laughing.
Now, not so much. There was very little laughing in his life these days. And he didn't need to be around other people to find his energy.
What he needed to find right now was a cold, dark corner that he could sit in. He took two quick strides to the door and opened it, eyeing Smith to make sure the man wouldn't try to stop him.
Then Shane Riley left Chung-Hee Park’s apartment.
11
EVANS
"You're actually going to email that guy?"
Chung-Hee Park looked at Jonathan Evans as if he had just seen him for the first time. Evans, a tall black man from southern Georgia, did not look like the kind of person who would be conversing with a wealthy Korean politician. Though the world had changed for the better, racism and prejudice was certainly still around. Evans had not heard anything particularly egregious from this old guy's mouth so far, but the way he flicked his eyes over Evans body as he had collapsed on his chair made him think this man might have some reservations.
Maybe he didn’t see my headshot before inviting me here, he thought.
"He wasn't kidding," the Korean man said. "He is the best at what he does."
"And I'm the best at what I do," Evans said. An ex-Army Ranger, Evans had retired from the military and gone immediately into private security – paramilitary, working for Fortune 500 corporations, mostly overseas, ensuring that these companies could conduct their business without having to worry about ‘issues.’
As part of the 75th, those issues had been explicitly defined by his superior officers; they came from the top down. Private security was not much different – there was still a chain of command starting with the person hiring his company – but the rules were much looser. In private security, there was no waiting around for orders, no waiting for the bureaucratic buck to stop with any particular person.
There was the mission, the parameters, and that was it. Evans and the fire team he was currently with – preferred things that way. Things got done much faster, much more efficiently.
And he liked having a little say in the matter, as well.
Though the U.S. Army tried hard to get things right, there were times it had missed the mark. On more than one occasion, Evans and his Ranger squadron had ended up in some forgotten corner of the world, acting as a force multiplier for local military or militia, and things have gotten a bit confusing. The good guys started to look an awful lot like the bad guys, and vice versa.
With private security, the good guys were simply the guys who got paid by the company. They were the ones who prevented the bad guys from gaining access to places they weren’t supposed to be in.
If this older gentleman wanted Evans to sneak himself and his team across the North Korean border, fine. He would do it, and none of his men would bat an eye. But it was risky, for sure. People who looked like Evans weren’t exactly welcome in that country.
"Be that as it may," the Korean continued, "I meant what I said. You both need each other."
"You heard the man," Evans chuckled. "He works alone."
"Then he can work alone… in close proximity with you," the Korean said, matching Evans’ grin. Though there was a smile on his face, Evans sensed resentment in the man's voice. Where before it seemed as though every word he spoke to Shane Riley was one of reverence, of respect, Evans felt nothing but disdain. He couldn't guarantee that it was because of the color of his skin, but he couldn't be sure it wasn't playing a role.
Whatever. He had learned to brush these things off long ago. Fighting about something as petty as skin color rarely helped anyone.
And a million dollars was a million dollars, no matter who was paying.
“So you still want us out there?"
"I want my daughter back."
Evans nodded. "Covert, then?"
"I don't know what Riley's reaction will be if he finds you and your men also hunting down her kidnappers," the man said. "My guess is that he will not be pleased. But he also is a man of character. He will find her, and if it comes to it, I believe he will take advantage of whatever help is available."
“I like to think I'm a man of character myself," Evans said.
"Very well."
His men – Sammy Lemieux from Québec, and Roger North from upstate New York – glanced at him. They could sense the tension in the room as well.
Evans gave a slight shake of his head. Leave it.
"You mentioned more information. The more you can give us, the better."
Park nodded. “I will send it securely to you and Mr. Riley. Separately, of course. She was taken 52 hours ago, in the middle of the night from her apartment. Local police have already contaminated the crime scene, so I doubt you will find anything useful there."
Evans smirked. Apparently police incompetence was not an exclusively small-town American problem.
"I mentioned the region my government has been watching. My best guess is that they took her there, a well-guarded and hidden research laboratory, we believe built in 1939. Originally intended to be a rural hospital supporting the numerous villages in the area, it was taken over by Nazi sympathizers soon after and turned into a government research facility."
"What exactly have they been researching?"
The man's expression changed to one of disgust. Evans read the answer clearly on his face, without Park having to speak it aloud. You don't want to know.
"Got it," Evans said. “We’ll just let it be a surprise when we get there."
"When I say well-guarded, I mean it," the man continued. “Besides North Korean army personnel, you will likely find covert operatives throughout the region, possibly acting as villagers or even tourists. The North Korean government has always been on edge, but lately they have gotten quite suspicious of their own people, as well. For good reason – we have hundreds of operatives living and breathing on North Korean soil, hiding from the government there and also passing on information to us. It seems their esteemed leader is not quite as ‘esteemed’ as he used to be. There are chinks in the North Korean armor, and they are growing larger by the day.”
"It's not going to be a problem," Evans said.
The man stared at Evans, as if waiting for an explanation. How could someone looking like him – tall, black, in many ways the antithesis of the stereotypical North Korean – sneak into a closed country and pull off a mission like this?
"It won't be a problem," Evans said again.
"Your reputation suggests that to be the case," the Korean said, putting on a smile that seemed more genuine now. "I do hope that is true. It will be worth it to you – as well as to me."
"And to your daughter," Evans said.
"Of course," the man said, standing. "We must not waste more time. Please give me a few minutes to forward you the information. I already know your secure mailbox address, and all I need from you is confirmation that my daughter will be returned safe, as well as what time you anticipate starting the mission."
Evans stood as well, shaking the man's hand. "I've already started, sir," he said, his mouth a thin smile. "As soon as I leave your apartment I'll make plans for transportation. I've got contacts in the region, guys I can trust. Everything we need I can get. My men will need a few hours to collect supplies, and I'll put a plan together while they work. As soon as we got what we need, we’ll head out."
"I do wish you the best, friend."
Evans eyed the man as he wished him well, having a hard time discerning whether or not he was placating him. It seemed the Korean gentleman was genuine, as if trying to truly overcome the prejudices he must have grown up with. But his men were standing by the door already, and Evans shook it off. He nodded at each of them as he passed into the hallway. The door closed behind him, and true to his word, he began formulating a plan to get him and his men into North Korea.
But first, he had a stop to make.
12
SHANE
He found his cold, dark corner after only a few minutes walk.
Shane Riley sat in the dusty bar nursing a ginger ale, trying to drink without letting the cubes hit his lip. He found a chair in the far corner, satisfied to sit with his back to the wall and watch the entrance. He wasn't particularly scared of anything, but it was an old habit that didn't seem to want to die. Nevertheless, he was somewhat of a people watcher and ‘observer of the human condition,’ as he used to joke with Kate.
The bartender was nice enough, a Korean gentleman who spoke decent English and smiled too much, but he had poured Shane's drink without fuss and accepted a bit of the cash Shane had nabbed from his bag. That bag was with him now, next to him on the booth seat.
Shane and his bag were the only other patrons in the joint. The bartender performed his stereotypical ritual of wiping down an empty counter with a dirty rag, even whistling along to the melody of the K-pop song blaring over the speakers above.
Shane amended his chosen preference for location. Cold, dark… and quiet. It wasn't that he hated music – though he did hate this music – it was that he was old enough now to prefer it to be completely silent most of the time, and on rare occasion just loud enough to be clearly audible.
Kate had been on Shane’s mind more this day than any since she had passed away. The conversation with the old Korean guy had dredged up memories he had tried hard to suppress. Not forget completely, necessarily. He just wanted them to be like music – he wanted to recall them when he was ready – not be bombarded with them because someone else had decided to force the issue.
As if sensing this, the bartender turned the volume down a few notches, then nodded over at Shane.
He returned the gesture, thankful and appreciative. As he watched the man continue his cleaning regimen, the door opened.
The leader of the mercenary group he’d met in Chung-Hee Park’s home stepped in. He spotted Shane immediately and began walking over.
