Kill Chain (23 page)

Starling shook his head.
“Won’t the timing be a little suspicious?”

“It should be, Mr.
President, it should be. You will tell the world that you refuse to have
important work sidelined by rogue states, and are instead announcing an
initiative you had proposed at the meeting, and moving forward with that
initiative.”

“But I made no such
proposal.”

“Of course you didn’t,
and the other leaders know this, so they will correctly interpret it as a
ransom payment, which of course you will deny, but the implication will be
there. As each country makes their deposit, their VIP will be released.”

The phone vibrated with a
text message. Starling picked it up and opened an attached image. His eyes
narrowed as he zoomed in on what appeared to be a list of charities, many he knew.
“Wait a minute, these
are
charities. I don’t understand. How are you
benefiting from this?”

Another chuckle. “Mr.
President, I’m not. This has nothing to do with me, nor anything to do with you.
It has everything to do with our planet. You continue to see the world through
the lens of capitalist greed. If you were to toss off the cloak of corporate
control and realize that money is not only the root of all evil and all power,
but also the means to fight such evil and power, you would realize that not all
of us are motivated by such trappings. You will make these donations to not
only save the life of your daughter but your citizenry as well. Mr. President,
today you will be saving the world by putting the money necessary to do so into
the hands of those without an agenda other than saving this planet for future
generations. Begin transferring the money within the next sixty minutes, or the
body count begins to rise. Rapidly.”

The call abruptly ended,
and Starling leaned back in his chair before sitting up again and pushing the
phone toward Red. The operator picked it up and examined the attached image,
the page showing charities, donation amounts, and bank account numbers.

“Sir, there’s billions of
dollars listed here. How are we going to be able to do it?”

Starling shook his head.
“I don’t know. I have certain discretionary powers, but even so, it takes
time.” He picked up the framed photo of his family and stared into his
daughter’s eyes. “What am I going to do? I can’t lose her too.”

Operations
Center 1
CIA
Headquarters, Langley, Virginia

“Do we
have the list?”

“Yes.” Tong pointed at
the screen, a scanned image of a piece of paper appearing.

Leroux’s eyebrows popped.
“That’s a lot of money.”

“Looks like over three
billion,” agreed Tong.

“Okay, match that with
the rest of the G20 and we’re looking at almost four and a half times as much,
so over twelve billion.” His eyes narrowed. “Wait. Eliminate those without
spouses on the bus, including the Chinese and Germans. What are we looking at?”

Tong’s fingers were
already busy, she apparently anticipating his question. “Exactly eight
billion.”

Leroux’s eyes narrowed.
“Exactly?”

“Pretty much to the penny
if we use the GDP percentages they’re using.”

“Yeah, but they’ve listed
everyone,” said Child. “Doesn’t that mean they’re expecting the other countries
to contribute, even if they’re not victims?”

Leroux shook his head.
“No, I think it’s meant to look that way, but these people are too smart to expect
that. The eight billion is their end game. And I’m willing to bet that number
means something to somebody.”

“It might mean something
to somebody, but how the hell is the President going to come up with three
billion in less than an hour. It’s not exactly couch change.”

Leroux nodded at Child.
“And they know that.”

“So…”

“So, I think they intend
to kill a hostage to demonstrate their resolve.”

Director Morrison rushed
into the room, his eyes already glued to the image on the display. “I got your
message. What’s your gut telling you?”

Leroux frowned, looking
at the others in the room, all eyes on him. “My gut tells me this entire thing
is a smokescreen.”

Morrison stared at him.
“For what?”

“I think it’s a money
grab. Real environmentalists aren’t going to risk a war that could go nuclear.”
He looked about at his team. “I want to know who these charities are, and I
want it confirmed that these account numbers actually belong to them. Now!”

Heads dropped toward
keyboards as everyone got to work. Morison stepped closer, lowering his voice.
“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that there’s
almost fifty charities up there, all with big numbers tied to their names. All
it takes is for one of those to be a front, and whoever’s behind this is
walking away with a lot of money.”

Unknown
Location
Republic
of Korea

Niner sat
sandwiched between Kim and Nancy, the young girl occasionally leaning forward
and eyeing her perceived competition from time to time. He wasn’t blind to the
fact a little teenage crush had formed and jealousy was already rearing its
ugly head, Kim the target of her wrath. He had brought everyone up to date,
their disappointment evident, though they had remained remarkably calm until
they heard about the death of their Chinese counterpart.

That had elicited tears.

And fear.

He and Kim had examined
the room thoroughly and unimpeded, the speaker on the wall silent, it one of
two, with over a dozen cameras and listening devices spread about.

There would be no
privacy, including in the toilets, though they kept that little tidbit from the
others, Kim deciding the ladies shouldn’t fear bathroom breaks.

The lone door was
protected by a security panel that had no keypad, it appearing to have some
sort of sensor on it that could probably detect a signal transmitted by
someone, or perhaps a drone, though they had no need for a door, the walls
extending perhaps ten feet from the floor. The roof was far above them, a steel
beam construction with lots of glass—very industrial.

In fact, the room they
were in—modular walls with a floating floor—seemed completely out of place in
such a setting, it clearly purpose-built by
humans
, and stocked from
local stores, Kim recognizing a few private labels. Somebody in Seoul had done
this, and that meant there was somebody for Dawson and the others to find.

We just have to sit
tight and survive.

Escape might be possible,
though only for him and perhaps Kim. A quick leap up and over the wall was easy;
it was the drones that were the concern. He was unarmed, with no intel on what
was on the other side, though one thing he had noticed on his way into this
tiny oasis had him thinking it might be worth the sacrifice.

The charging pads.

If he could clear the
wall, they were less than twenty feet from the door, and if he managed to reach
them and unplug them, the drones would eventually lose power and their ordeal
would be over.

They’re liable to kill
the hostages before that happens.

Whoever was behind this had
proven they wouldn’t hesitate to kill. He wondered if they truly were environmentalists.
It was possible, eco-terrorism having killed before. And it was much easier to
kill someone using a drone than it was with a gun held in your hand, with your
target’s eyes staring at you.

It was why so many people
he had encountered demanded you turn your back.

He had never felt the
need. If he killed someone, they deserved to die.

No guilt.

No shame.

And no joy.

It never felt good to
take a life, not deep down. There might be the satisfaction that you had killed
a truly bad person, that you had saved lives by taking a life, but he never
went home and had a beer to celebrate the kill.

And he’d never forget
anyone whose eyes he had stared into before squeezing that trigger.

Regret didn’t dominate
his dreams. With some in his business it did, and he understood it, and one day
something would happen, something would go wrong, and the wrong person might
die and it would be his responsibility.

And then maybe it would
all change.

He knew Kane was a
changed man. He had heard rumors of an incident in Afghanistan, though nothing
official. But he could see it in the man’s eyes.

He was different somehow.

Man, I hope I’m never
like that.

He stared up at the
windows overhead and prayed Jimmy had made it out.

I love that guy.

He’d never admit it, and
if he did, the bastard might accuse him of being gay again, though he knew the
feeling was mutual. He loved them all, and he was sure they all loved each
other, though Jimmy was the one he was closest to. He had lost friends before, Stucco
the most recent, and it had hurt, but he and Jimmy had been through so much
together, if anything happened to him, he’d take it hard.

Damned hard.

He remembered how Clint had
been affected when Spaz had bought it in Peru at the hands of a man he now
considered a friend, Professor James Acton.

Now that’s something I
do
regret.

False intel had led them
to kill a group of innocent students, their handlers telling them they were
actually terrorists training for an op inside the United States. Fortunately,
Dawson had spared them the nightmares by performing the executions himself, and
it had changed him, he tortured with the memories.

They had all been trying
to atone for those sins since.

But it wasn’t possible,
and he wondered if on his Judgement Day, would he be deemed worthy, free of
blame for following his orders, or would he too be condemned for participating
in the crimes of those times.

We were following what
we thought were lawful orders.

Those truly responsible
were already dead.

And so were a lot of good
people.

He could have quit,
resigned from the Unit, left the Army, but instead he persevered, pushed
through the pain, and now tried to save as many lives as he could, to live his
life as best he could, to honor those who had died, comrades and strangers.

Like here, today.

He’d find some way to
save these women.

The innocent.

He felt a tug on his
sleeve.

He looked at Nancy who
leaned in, cupping her hands around his ear.

“Who’s she?”

He turned toward her,
keeping his voice low. “A colleague from the National Police Agency.”

“Is she your girlfriend?”

He smiled, the question
tentative, uncertain. “No, I just met her today. I may be good, but I’m not
that good.”

She flushed slightly.
“You mean you have lots of girlfriends?”

The poor kid appeared
genuinely hurt. Niner chuckled, trying to set her at ease, no matter how
inappropriate the attraction on her part may be. “No, not at all. In fact, one
of my best friends just told me today he thought I was gay.”

Her eyes shot wide and
her jaw dropped. “You’re not, are you?”

He laughed. “If I am, I’m
pretty sure I’m doing it wrong.”

She giggled and appeared
relieved.

“So I understand you have
a boyfriend.”

Her eyes shot wide. “Umm,
no. Why would you think that?”

“Oh, Jeff’s not your
boyfriend? Huh. You two are almost inseparable at school, texting all the time.
Seems like a nice boy.”

She had paled. “H-how did
you know that?”

Niner smiled. “Your
father is President of the United States. Did you really think you could hide a
boyfriend from him?”

Nancy’s shoulders
slumped, her chin dropping to her chest. “Ugh, I hate being watched
twenty-four-seven.”

“Understandable. But he’s
just trying to protect you.”

“From what? Jeff’s a nice
guy, he’d never hurt me.”