Kill Chain Page 2

  Security wasn’t the issue, but no-driver-safety was.

  Something caught her attention and she glanced out the window, her eyes widening slightly.

  Is that a drone?

  She watched as it slowly passed her seat at window height, it not occurring to her at first how dangerous that could be.

  It could hit another car!

  She frowned, slightly angered at the irresponsibility of whoever was flying it.

  There ought to be a law!

  She smiled.

  I sound like Mom!

  Another drone passed her window and she felt her chest tighten.

  Okay, something weird is going on.

  She glanced toward the security guards at the front, debating on whether she should mention something, her father’s voice echoing in her head.

  No matter how trivial, if you see something, you tell your guards.

  “Oh my God, something’s happening!”

  She looked at the Canadian Prime Minister’s wife who had leaped from her seat, pointing ahead. Nancy stood to get a better view but was blocked by the Chinese translator. She leaned out into the aisle and gasped as she saw one of the police cars accompanying them slam into a fuel truck, a massive fireball erupting, thick black and orange smoke rushing in all directions before sucking back in on itself, the raging flames reaching toward the sky as traffic veered ahead of them and brakes screeched.

  And the bus continued forward, no one at the controls.

  “How do you stop this thing?” shouted someone, who she didn’t know, the sight of the second police car that had been following them distracting her as it raced by.

  And slammed into the already raging fire.

  Oh my God!

  Everyone was out of their seats, panic setting in as the security guards got on their radios. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

  And it was only going to get worse, the bus guiding itself through the chaos, no human to tell it to stop.

  Her phone vibrated in her hand and she glanced down to see a grinning picture of Jeff. She quickly typed a reply.

  Something’s wrong. Help us!

  3

  COEX Convention & Exhibition Center

  Seoul, Republic of Korea

  This is sooo boring.

  Command Sergeant Major Burt “Big Dog” Dawson stood against the wall of the large meeting room, the center occupied by an oval table with nineteen seats hosting the leaders of the G20, nations representing the most powerful economies in the world—Russia boycotting due to continued economic sanctions. To his right stood the muscled Sergeant Leon “Atlas” James, two other members of his elite Bravo Team, part of America’s secretive Delta Force—officially 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta—were outside the room, keeping an eye on things from a different vantage point.

  They were supplemental security, President Starling personally requesting Dawson, a bond of trust formed in the jungles of Mozambique after the downing of Air Force One by terrorists. Dawson’s biggest regret of that mission was the loss of the First Lady. Many had died that day, it a miracle any of them had survived, today’s sedate mission something he would never trade for the more exciting horrors of last year.

  The nation had all died a little, the news of the entire family’s death, followed by the startling revelation there were survivors of the crash, had kept the world on the edge of their seats.

  Then word of the First Lady succumbing to her wounds tore away part of the nation’s soul, the country coming to a standstill during her funeral, as for the first time in modern history, a President grieved while the nation watched, a brave teenage girl trying to be strong for her father as the weight of the world’s problems continued to demand his attentions.

  No one should have to go through such a tragedy publicly.

  Time had marched on, the events pushed to the back of his mind and that of the nation, but whenever he saw Starling, there was a silent acknowledgment of that day, though no words ever said.

  It’s too painful.

  He had wondered why the President continued to request his unit for these assignments; it had to be a constant reminder of what had happened. If he wanted Delta, there were hundreds of other operators that could do the job, but his Commanding Officer, Colonel Clancy, had pointed out something to him that he hadn’t realized.

  “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.”

  4

  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 woul
d 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.”

  5

  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.”

  6

  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.

  The Italian Prime Minister’s wife suddenly occupied the seat beside her. She took Nancy’s hand and squeezed it. “Are you okay, dear?”

  Nancy shook out a nod, her entire trembling body betraying the lie.

  She yelped as a voice came over the speaker.

  “Greetings to our honored guests. First, we would like the members of your security detail to please cease any efforts to open the doors. Any attempt to do so will result in the explosives attached to the undercarriage detonating. We would hate to see you all die so uselessly.”

&nb
sp; Nancy watched in horror as the agent at the door continued his efforts.

  “For the love of God, listen to him!” screamed someone, the Korean tour guide firing off a flurry of curt words at the man who abruptly stopped.

  “Thank you. Might we suggest that next time, you make certain your security detail understands English? It just might save your lives.”

  The guard glared at the speaker.

  Oh, he speaks English.

  “Interesting, just too stupid to listen, then.”

  Nancy searched for a camera, it clear they were being watched, but found none.

  “You will find that none of your phones will be able to get a signal. We are jamming everything except our own.”

  Nancy glanced at her phone and noticed the No Signal indicator, an immediate sense of claustrophobia setting in as she realized how isolated from her support network she suddenly was.

  “Please sit back and enjoy the ride. We will be reaching our destination shortly.”

  There was a pause as Nancy peered out the window, wondering where that destination might be, the city continuing to pass, the traffic around them, the pedestrians on the street, ignorant of their plight.

  “And remember, you are being watched. Constantly.”

  Two drones whipped past her window. She looked behind and noticed two more. A quick glance over to the other side of the bus showed several others.

  We’re surrounded!

  “We’re going to be okay.”

  Nancy glanced at the Italian woman who was trying to comfort her, the woman’s terror obvious, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed, her grip tight.

  Then she started to hum a song.

  Seriously?