Kill Chain (7 page)

Dawson watched the
firefighters give the all-clear, then motioned toward a cluster of Korean’s
that appeared in charge. “Tell them we need the chips for the onboard computers
from all the vehicles.”

Niner, their native
Korean speaker, left as Sergeant Will “Spock” Lightman’s eyebrow popped.
“What’s that going to tell us? Whose insurance is covering this?”

Dawson chuckled. “Nope.
You’re not going to believe this, but Langley has a theory that the vehicles
were hacked.”

It was Jimmy’s eyebrows’
turn—both of them. “Are you kidding me? Like that briefing last year?”

“Yup.”

“Shit! If they did,
that’s some pretty advanced stuff.”

“Yeah, but we know we’re
dealing with advanced hackers if they were able to commandeer the bus.”

Atlas frowned, shaking
his head. “No driver. I can’t believe we agreed to that.”

Dawson watched Niner speak
to the Koreans about the chips, orders shouted moments later. “
We
didn’t, but we were overruled. Nobody wanted to insult our hosts.”

Jimmy grunted. “It’s that
type of PC bullshit that keeps getting the world in trouble.”

Dawson agreed. “We’ll
solve the decline of Western civilization later. For now, we need to find that
bus.”

Jimmy stared in the
direction the witnesses said the bus had continued. “Any leads?”

“Nothing except that it
continued south. Langley’s working on it. For now, let’s just make sure those
chips are recovered and not tampered with.” Dawson looked at each of his team.
“We trust no one. Not even our hosts.”

Unknown
Location
Seoul,
Republic of Korea

“You will
now proceed off the bus, one at a time, as your name is called. You will
proceed to the back of the truck you see to your right.”

Nancy Starling glanced at
the truck, its rear gate lowering, still no one in sight. Her entire body was
shaking, her right hand gripping her phone, her left squeezed by her Italian
seatmate whose knee continued to bounce out of control.

“If you attempt to
run, you will be shot. If you follow our instructions, you will live. Now, Miss
Starling, please proceed.”

Nancy’s eyes shot wide
open, another dose of fear induced adrenaline surging into her system. She
tried to will her body to move, but she couldn’t. The blood pounded in her ears
and her eyes began to focus on the speaker where the voice was coming from, the
voice that seemed to be in complete control, everything else going black, the
grill of the device consuming her entire world.

“Miss Starling, if you
fail to comply, you will die, as will all the others. Proceed. Now!”

The Italian woman leaped
to her feet. “Move! You have to move! They’ll kill us all!”

Nancy sat, frozen,
staring at the speaker.

“Why aren’t you moving!”
screamed the woman, her voice a distant echo, like a radio on in the
background, listened to but not acknowledged.

Someone blocked her view
of the speaker, grabbing the Italian by the shoulders and pushing her away.
“For the love of God, shut up! She’s just a child!”

She felt a hand on her
shoulder then another on her cheek, her face turned toward the new arrival, her
eyes torn away from the speaker. “Can you hear me?”

She stared at the woman,
the words not registering, it taking her a moment to recognize the British
Prime Minister’s wife.

“Can you hear me?”

It was repeated, slightly
louder this time, though with a compassion lacking from her Italian counterpart.

Nancy nodded.

“Good. Now can you stand
up?”

She nodded, but didn’t.

“I need you to stand up.”

She stood, her knees
shaking, her entire body trembling, her eyes turning toward the speaker.

A hand stopped her from
turning her head, gently gripping her chin. “Look at me.”

She did.

“Good. Take a deep breath
then march out that door and onto that truck. We’ll all be with you soon,
okay?”

She nodded and closed her
eyes. She turned toward the front, and with her eyes closed, used the headrests
as her guides, realizing that she was leaving the sanctuary of the bus just as
Herr Holst had.

And he’s dead.

She froze.

“It’s okay. You’re doing
great.”

She breathed deeply.

What would Mom do?

She clenched her teeth.

She’d do what she was
told while trying to figure a way out of this.

She squeezed her eyes
tighter.

Be brave, my sweet
one.

Her eyes burned with the memory
of her mother’s voice.

She opened them and
glared at the speaker. She glanced back to see the British Prime Minister’s
wife standing behind her, smiling. “Go ahead. We’ll be with you shortly.”

Nancy nodded then stepped
down to the ground, keeping her eyes on the truck, trying not to look at the
bodies of those who had already fallen victim to whoever their captors were.

Her foot hit something
and she glanced down to see one of the drones lying on the floor, one the brave
Chinese woman had shot before dying. Her eyes irresistibly stole a glance at
the bullet-ridden body of the only person to have put up a fight, her eyes
still open, determination the final expression preserved by her death mask.

I want to be like her.

She stared at Herr Holst as
she forced herself forward.

Such a nice man.

His face was turned away
from her, thankfully, she hating to imagine what his final expression might be,
he just a normal person like her, never supposed to have been put into a
situation so terrifying, so deadly, never supposed to think of how your body
might betray you in your final moments, an expression of fear, of terror,
eternally preserved by those who would discover and document your undignified final
pose after your death.

She stifled a sob.

Suddenly the buzzing
sound of the drones grew louder, causing her finally to notice them. They were
everywhere, except directly in front of her, and it took a moment to realize
they had formed a corridor, perhaps five feet wide, directing her toward the
truck, its ramp now down, beckoning her as if the open mouth of a horrifying
beast meant to devour them all, body and spirit.

A drone bobbed toward
her, urging her on, and it was then that she finally noticed something that had
escaped her the entire time.

The barrel of a gun,
pointed directly at her.

A handgun, lying on its
side, mounted to the top of the drone.

That’s where the shots
came from!

Her eyes narrowed
slightly as she stared at the drone mere inches from her face. She had heard of
weaponized drones of course, though they were huge compared to these. These
drones were small enough that she could probably reach out and grab it,
throwing it down to the ground before giving it a good stomping.

She would if there
weren’t dozens of his buddies hovering nearby.

These drones were small,
like something her friends might fool around with. Hell, she even had one at
Camp David that she would use to make videos of the property for fun, videos
she could never share for security purposes.

No Facebook for her.

No social media
whatsoever.

It sucked.

She understood the
reasoning behind her father’s decision. In fact, it had been his
and
her
mother’s before she died. And with her now an involuntary celebrity thanks to
her dad’s career choice, she’d probably never be truly free, truly independent,
for the rest of her life. Her father’s job had taken her mother’s life, and it
had already taken hers, at least figuratively.

The life a normal teenage
girl craved was dead to her, forever relegated to the dustbin of choices not
available to the young children of world leaders.

She thought of Jeff, her
one piece of rebellious behavior not yet detected by the security teams that
constantly surrounded her, and how he’d probably think this entire situation
was so cool from a tech perspective.

He had been the one who
had figured out how to set up her phone so they could exchange text messages
without anyone knowing.

He was smart.

Extremely smart.

Dad would probably
like him if he’d ever give him a chance.

Jeff would understand
what was going on here better than anyone. Hell, he’d probably have been able
to figure out a way to regain control of the bus, or take out these drones.

I wish you were here!

She inched forward.

Then he’d be dead too.

All the men were dead.
Would they have killed boys as well?

Probably. They had
already threatened to kill her.

I wonder if he’ll
remember me when I’m gone.

She frowned.

Probably not. That
bitch Wendy will be all over him before I’m in the ground.

Jeff had arrived late in
the school year—something she knew was tough. She had too. After the assassination
of the last President, and her father’s swearing-in, she moved to a school
closer to the White House, leaving all her friends behind. She had cried,
screamed and fought, but it didn’t matter. The President’s kids went to this
school.

End of discussion.

And with social media not
at her disposal, she had lost touch with most of them.

Though as time passed,
she made new friends, Jeff the highlight. When he had arrived several months
ago, she had decided to be ambassadorial and welcome him into the group.

They were almost
inseparable since.

At least inside the
school walls.

He was a secret, there no
contact outside of the school beyond their messaging, no chance of photographs
by the Secret Service or the paparazzi, little sign of affection even among
friends, just in case someone violated the school’s policy against cellphones.

They couldn’t risk it.

If her father found out,
he’d have the Secret Service crawling up poor Jeff’s business like there was no
tomorrow.

And if that didn’t scare
him off, her dad would probably find some way to have him transferred, he
ridiculously overprotective since her mother’s death.

She didn’t blame him.

She was all he had left.

He
was all
she
had left.

She closed her eyes for a
moment.

I miss you, Mom!

The drone got even
closer, snapping her out of her reverie, her eyes wide now as she stared at the
barrel six inches from her head. She stepped forward, eyeing the other drones,
it now immediately obvious to her that they all had weapons attached to them.

How did I miss that?

The Chinese woman must
have figured that out, which was why she was shooting the drones. It hadn’t
occurred to Nancy that her actions hadn’t made much sense. Why shoot drones?
Shoot the shooters who lay in the darkness.

Yet that hadn’t been what
was going on at all, and their heroine had realized that. If she had been able
to take out the drones, there would have been no one to shoot them.

But she had failed, there
simply too many.

She moved forward,
feeling slightly better for some reason, perhaps the thought that there was
probably no one lurking in the shadows, waiting to reach out and grab her, providing
a slight amount of comfort. Enough comfort that she covered the remaining
distance quickly, climbing the ramp into the back of the truck.

“Please take a seat,
Miss Starling.”

She flinched, stepping
back before she realized it was another speaker, the electronically altered voice
still creeping her out, though probably less than if a real, live human was
standing in the darkness.

She blinked rapidly, her
eyes adjusting enough for her to see benches lining the long walls of the
truck.

She sat and closed her
eyes, wondering who she would choose if she were given the choice of one person
to be with her here, now, in the middle of all this.

Would it be Jeff? Her
father?

She smiled.

Niner.

She pictured the handsome
Delta Force operator who had helped save her life in Mozambique, her heart
fluttering slightly at the thought, her cheeks flushing.

If only
he
were
here…