Kill Chain (3 page)

“Every time he takes his
daughter out of the country, he requests your team.”

A father protecting his
daughter with a team he could trust.

It made sense.

He and the others were playing
second fiddle as usual to the Secret Service. He had no problem with that—he
was a soldier, used to following orders. He wasn’t here for the glory—none of
them were. They were here to serve their country, and today his country needed
him here, back to a wall in a completely secure conference room, in a stable,
safe country—the only real danger beyond Islamic terrorism, the barking mad
dictator 35 miles to the north.

But North Korea wouldn’t
dare do anything to harm the leaders of the free world—and their only real
ally, China.

This was a quiet, routine
assignment that allowed him to daydream a bit, and panic slightly over the wedding
plans that his fiancée continued to make.

“Code Red, I repeat, Code
Red!”

He sensed all the
security surrounding the room become tense, even those not on his frequency. “EasterEgg
and the other spouses are missing, possible kidnapping. The leaders are about
to be notified. Evac Plan Charlie is a go.”

Shit!

He glanced at Atlas as
the doors at opposite ends opened, nineteen aides streaming in, the meeting
halting almost immediately as those seated around the table sensed something
was seriously wrong. He watched the White House staffer whisper into Starling’s
ear, the knuckles turning white on the hand gripping a gold pen, the color in his
ears draining.

The South Korean
President leaped to her feet. “I assume you have all just been informed of what
has happened. This meeting is adjourned.”

Starling rose from his
chair, any emotion from a moment ago wiped from his face except for the eyes.

It’s hard to control
the eyes.

Starling pointed at Dawson.

“You’re with me.”

Sung Household
Suwon-si,
Republic of Korea

“I’ve
been to a lot of Korean restaurants, but my God, this is waaay better.”

Sergeant Carl “Niner”
Sung looked at Sergeant Jerry “Jimmy Olsen” Hudson, his friend’s plate empty.
He stabbed the air with his stainless steel chopsticks. “Did you even chew?”

Jimmy shrugged. “I find
it interferes with the ingestion process. I use more of a duck method.” He
tilted his head back and imitated the feathered fowl’s preferred eating method,
a giggle and covered mouth elicited from Niner’s teenage cousin, Ji-yeon.

“Growing boy, must eat
more!” Niner grinned at his grandmother as she quickly began filling Jimmy’s
plate with another helping. He had to admit he was impressed that his friend
hadn’t turned his nose up at anything, no matter how unusual or unfamiliar it
was.

Jimmy had been broken in,
though, with visits to the Sung household in Florida over the years. Niner’s
family had immigrated to the United States before he was born, settling in
Florida, his father an accountant who had fallen on hard times during the Great
Recession, as had many Americans. They were slowly rebuilding, but it would be
a long, hard haul, none of which he was allowed to tell the family here about.

As far as the Sung
relations in South Korea knew, everything was hunky-dory with the American
branch of the family.

Fortunately, the family
here were simply too excited to see their relative, most for the first time, to
bother asking detailed questions about what was going on back home, especially
since he only had about two hours to visit. Dawson had Atlas, Jagger and Spock
with him for this shift in the protection detail, he and Jimmy on Red’s team,
currently enjoying some downtime.

Two hours would be more
than enough to do his duty to his family, introduce his friend to what real
Korean food tasted like—not the Americanized bastardizations—and keep Ji-yeon from
falling too deeply in love with the handsome Jimmy.

“Here, Jimmy, have some
more beef.”

Jimmy held out his plate
as Ji-yeon piled more food on. “Thanks!”

She blushed, beaming a
smile at him before quickly looking away when he returned it. Niner gave his
friend a look, Jimmy shrugging his shoulders with a “not my fault if she finds
me hot” grin.

Jimmy sat back and patted
his stomach. “I thought you always said your family was starving here?”

Those who understood
English erupted in protest, Niner taking a flurry of offended responses in his
native Korean. Jimmy smiled and tucked back into his plate, letting the
firestorm he had created continue.

“I was just joking,”
replied Niner, holding up his hands. “He knows that.” He leaned toward his
friend and hissed, “Tell them you know that!”

Jimmy covered his still
full mouth. “Know what?” He winked at Ji-yeon, earning another giggle.

“That you knew I was
joking. I think they’re really offended.”

“How do I know they
didn’t just put on a big spread to impress me?”

Niner’s eyes widened as
his friend dug the hole deeper. “What the hell are you doing?” he whispered in
Arabic, a language no one else at the table understood.

“Paying you back for all the
damned ‘my family’s starving in Korea’ jokes.”

“Dude! You’re about to
create an international incident!”

Jimmy swallowed another
mouthful of rice. “Of your creation.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.
No more starving family jokes.”

“Bullshit.”

Niner closed his eyes for
a moment, nodding. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Jimmy held up his hands
slightly, the table quieting. “I was just joking. Carl has never said you were
starving. I was just trying to have a little fun at his expense.”

Translations were made
then the room erupted in laughter, more food piled on Jimmy’s plate, Ji-yeon coyly
eying the now even more interesting foreigner.

Jimmy fished his phone
from his pocket, frowning at the call display.

Niner’s eyes narrowed. “Who
is it?”

“BD. I better take this.”
He turned to their hostess. “Excuse me for a moment.” He left the table, Niner
shoveling as much food into his face as he could, there little doubt their
brunch, for lack of a better word, was about to be cut short.

Jimmy returned, concern
on his face.

“What is it?”

The room went silent.

“Somebody just kidnapped
the G20 spouses.”

Niner’s eyes went wide
and he looked at his young cousin, his thoughts turning to Starling’s daughter
who had developed a bit of a crush on him in the jungles of Mozambique.

“The President’s
daughter?”

“Missing.”

Maggie
Harris Residence
Lake in
the Pines Apartments, Fayetteville, North Carolina

Maggie
Harris flipped through Brides Magazine for the umpteenth time, Shirley Belme on
the opposite end of the couch, feet curled up under her, doing the same. Shirley
was already married to Dawson’s best friend, Red, the product of their love,
Bryson, playing with his Lego in front of the television, CNN on in the
background.

Monitoring the news every
time the love of her life would go on deployment had become a habit with Maggie.
She had been off for a few days; some follow-up medical appointments scheduled
in a cluster to examine how her head wound garnered in Paris was healing. Her
fiancé had been extremely upset he couldn’t go with her to the appointments,
but duty called, and she understood that.

After all, it wasn’t
every woman who was engaged to a Delta Force operator.

And knew about it.

She was in the extremely
fortunate position of working as the Personal Assistant to Colonel Clancy, Dawson’s
Commanding Officer, which had her privy to many of her fiancé’s top-secret
destinations, though she was forbidden to talk about it. This time, however,
due to being out of the office, she had no idea where he had gone.

And it was fine by her.

If she knew, then she’d
just worry about what she saw on the news, he rarely going somewhere safe, it
seemed.

But it didn’t mean she
wouldn’t remain tuned in, just in case. When shit happened, it meant Dawson and
his Bravo Team were either already in the thick of it, or on their way there.

It was a difficult life, yet
she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

She loved that man, more
than she had loved anyone, more than she thought she
could
love anyone.

Shirley held out her
hand. “You know, when I first got engaged to Mike, my sister laughed at my
engagement ring. She said any man who couldn’t afford at least two karats
wasn’t worth marrying.”

Maggie’s eyes widened in
horror. “Are you kidding me?” She held out her own modest ring, a ring she
absolutely adored. “I hope you kicked her ass.”

“No, I’m not going to
break a nail on her account. I just poured my bottle of beer over her head and
dumped her coleslaw in her lap then told her to go give her ex-husband a call
and ask him how much he paid for her ring.”

“Well, at least you
remained calm.”

Shirley burst into a fit
of giggles, Maggie joining in, Bryson glancing up for a moment, laughing with
them, hopefully not knowing why.

Maggie held out her
finger. “I don’t think mine’s even a karat, let alone two, but I wouldn’t trade
it for anything. I’d be too darned worried about losing it! And besides, our
men don’t make that much money, so these
little
things are a big
sacrifice to them. All I care about is that I know he agonized over it, torturing
himself for days and weeks, then finally took the plunge and put himself out
there, knowing I could have said ‘no’.”

“I think he’d have rather
faced ISIS alone.”

Maggie laughed.
“Probably.” She flashed back to his proposal and closed her eyes, a smile
spreading on her face. “I—”

“Daddy!”

Maggie’s eyes shot open
and she stared at the screen, Bryson on his feet, pointing at it. A shot of the
President and his daughter descending the steps of Air Force One cut away to a
talking head.

“What was that, honey?”

“I saw Daddy on TV!”

Maggie grabbed the remote
and hit the back button a few times then smiled, spotting Dawson and several
others from the team standing at the bottom of the stairs behind dark
sunglasses, their faces expressionless, their suits impeccable with slight
bulges where their Glocks rested. The shot cut away to the star of the show,
President Starling waving to a gathered throng. “Well, I guess we know where
they are.” She smiled at Shirley. “And we know they’re going to be safe.”

Shirley agreed. “Now I
can sleep tonight. Nothing’s going to happen to them in South Korea.”

South
of the Crash Scene
Seoul, Republic
of Korea

Nancy’s
eyes were wide, her breaths coming in sporadic gasps as she kept holding it
then suddenly remembering to breathe. The passengers were in a panic, the
automated bus continuing through the streets of Seoul, no one in control other
than the computer. One of the security agents was on his radio, shouting in
Korean, apparently ineffectively, as his partner was smashing on the front
door, equally so.