Black Rose (2 page)

CHAPTER 2

Elizabeth Harker had been hand-picked for her job as Director of the Project by President Rice. Rice was determined that he wasn't going to be one of those leaders who ended up like the fairy tale emperor with no clothes. It was easy to find people who told him what he wanted to hear, harder to find someone who'd tell him what he needed to hear. He'd found that person in Elizabeth. Not many people knew who she was or what her unit did. The Project operated in the shadows, as much out of public view as the dark side of the moon.

Nick Carter and Selena Connor sat on the couch in front of her desk. Nick had spent years in Marine Recon and led the Project's field team, all Special Forces vets except Selena. She'd come from the civilian world, with a unique mix of abilities that balanced the hard military background of the others.

Selena had a gift for ancient languages and spoke a dozen modern languages with ease. She knew martial arts and had used them more than once since Harker had recruited her. Since she'd joined the Project, she'd begun to pick up some of the lethal skills Nick and the others had spent years refining in the military.

The third member of the team was Lamont Cameron. He sat in a chair near the couch. His looks were marred by a thin, pink scar that stood out against his coffee-colored skin. It ran over his right eye and down the side of his nose, a souvenir of Iraq. Lamont was a former Navy SEAL. He had blue eyes that missed little, a genetic gift from his Ethiopian ancestors.

"Have you heard anything from Ronnie?" Elizabeth asked.

Ronnie Peete was the fourth member of her field team. He'd been badly wounded during a recent mission in the Philippines and gone back to Arizona after leaving the hospital. He'd told Nick he was going home to the Navajo reservation for a healing ceremony. That had been two weeks ago.

"I talked to him yesterday," Nick said. "He didn't say when he was coming back."

"All right. Bring him up to date when he gets here."

Elizabeth got to the point of the meeting.

"What do you know about North Korea's biological warfare program?" she said.

Nick rubbed the scar on his left ear, where a Chinese bullet had clipped the earlobe. His eyes were smoky gray, with gold flecks in them. His black hair was cut short. He was six feet tall and weighed in at just under two hundred. He wore a gray jacket that matched his eyes. A slight bulge under the jacket signaled a shoulder holster. Everyone in the Project went armed at all times.

"I don't know anything about it," he said, "but it figures they'd have one. I hope you're not thinking of sending us to North Korea."

"No," she said. "I'm sending you to Hong Kong."

"That's comforting."

"We have time to hit the malls?" Lamont asked. "I always wanted one of those silk suits."

"It's too early for the jokes, Lamont."

"Sorry, Director."

Elizabeth tapped a file on her desktop with her finger. "This is a transcript of an NSA intercept between the head of North Korea's bio warfare program and the Vice-Chairman of their National Defense Commission. He's second in command to the Supreme Leader. Their top general."

"What were they talking about?" Nick asked.

"There's been a security breach at their biological weapons lab."

"What kind of a breach?" Selena asked.

She wore dark blue slacks and a loose top that matched. A SIG-Sauer .40 caliber pistol in a quick draw holster at her waist added a black accent to her casual look. The outfit complimented her violet eyes and reddish-blonde hair. Selena was a woman who drew second looks wherever she went.

Harker said, "The People's Democratic Republic is working with some very nasty bugs. You know about bubonic plague?"

"I know it killed a lot of people back in the Middle Ages. Don’t you get lumps under your arms and in the groin? Black spots?"

"That's right. It takes over the lymph nodes and destroys the immune system, then spreads to the organs. Death is usually within one to two weeks if left untreated. There's a septicemic variety that bleeds under the skin and turns parts black. That's why it was called the Black Death in the Middle Ages. It affects coagulation. You get to watch your fingers turn black and rot before you die."

Lamont looked at his hands.

"How is it spread?" Nick asked.

"Usually by a flea bite but there are other ways as well. There's a pneumonic form that infects through a cough or a sneeze. One of the things that keeps the World Health Organization up at night is the fear that a plague epidemic would go airborne."

Harker paused and picked up her pen, a black Mont Blanc. She tapped it three times on her desk. "Our North Korean friends have developed a super strain of airborne plague. We think they weaponized it with aerosols."

Nick shook his head. "What’s the matter with these people?" He looked at her. "You’re going to tell me some of this stuff has gone missing, aren’t you?"

She nodded. "That's what the conversation we intercepted was about. The Korean lab is a Level 4 bio hazard facility. That's the highest level of containment. Ten days ago a technician let several men into the laboratory. They killed her and the guards and took containers with samples of the new bacteria. Then they planted charges and left. It was a well-executed op, military in precision. When the balloon went up the lab was destroyed and part of the mountain collapsed on top of it. That's the only good thing about this. The People's Republic won't be making any more of that bug for a while."

"How do they know what happened if everything was destroyed?"

"Video records of the whole thing. Security cameras recorded images from the containment labs in a separate building."

Nick waited.

"I met with the President and DCI Hood this morning," Elizabeth said. "They want us to handle a delicate mission."

"We don't usually do delicate," Nick said.

"It's a political bomb. Rice doesn't want to use Langley or any of the regular JSOC units, in case it doesn't work out."

Nick sighed. "What does he want us to do?"

"We need to know exactly what the North Koreans had. The chief scientist of Pyongyang's  biological warfare program is a man named Kim Jung-Hun. He almost never leaves North Korea but he's attending an international conference in Hong Kong this weekend. He wants to defect. In return for asylum he's willing to give us details about their program."

"Whoa," Nick said, "that's a big fish."

"That's exactly what he is and the President wants to land him," Elizabeth said.

Nick said, "You want us to go pick him up."

Elizabeth nodded. "It's not going to be easy. I'm sending you and Lamont. Kim will be well guarded at all times. We only have a two day window and then he'll be back in North Korea. You'll have support for the extraction. But if something goes wrong before that, you're on your own. I can't protect you."

"How are we supposed to get him out?"

"A boat will be available for you courtesy of MI-6, once you have Kim."

"And how are we supposed to scoop him up?"

Elizabeth smiled. "That's up to you, Nick. Use your imagination."

CHAPTER 3

The black chop of the East China Sea slapped against the hull of boat. Nick braced himself against the constant, unpleasant motion. A black wool watch cap and thick jacket kept out some of the dank, night chill. Thick fog muffled the sound of their engine. Droplets of moisture lay like the touch of an obsessive lover over every surface of the boat.

The boat was old and slow. A tall, open wheelhouse did nothing to protect from the tendrils of fog reaching everywhere. Tiny streams of water trickled down the glass faces of the dimly lit gauges on the control console. The old style helm was slick and his left hand ached from gripping the wheel. The last two fingers had been broken by a sadistic Cuban policeman and continued to give him trouble. Nick tried to see through the fog and hoped they didn't run into one of the Chinese patrol boats that moved in these waters.

They had succeeded in grabbing Kim Jung-Hun in Hong Kong but it had been messy, with three of Kim's minders dead. By now all of China's security services were looking for the mouse-like man shivering in the cabin below. The Chinese and North Koreans would do everything they could to get Kim back. If they couldn't get him back, Nick was certain they'd settle for killing him.

Lamont came up from below deck and joined Nick in the wheelhouse. He scanned the impenetrable fog with night vision binoculars.

"Can't see a damn thing," Lamont said. The fog sucked up the sound of his voice. He put the binoculars down.

"How's our guest?" Nick said.

"Seasick. Barfing in a bucket. It stinks down there. I had to get some fresh air."

"They'll have figured it out by now," Nick said. "Someone will be out here looking for us."

Lamont grunted. There wasn't any point in worrying about all the things that could go wrong.

"Better get the RPG ready just in case," Nick said. The grenade launcher lay in an open box on the floor of the wheelhouse.

Lamont pulled it out of the box, loaded a round.

"All set," Lamont said. "Let's hope we don't need it. Not a lot of use against a patrol boat."

"Better than nothing."

"Yeah."

For a few minutes both men were silent, the only sound the muffled rhythm of the engine and the water against the hull.

"The fog is starting to thin," Nick said. "I don't think we'll have cover much longer."

"How far to the extraction point?" Lamont asked. They were headed for a rendezvous with a helicopter from an American Wasp class amphibious assault carrier.

"Another ten minutes," Nick said.

The fog clung to the gauges. Nick wiped droplets away with his right hand.

"Still plenty of fuel."

They both heard the sound at the same time.

"Engines. Big ones," Lamont said.

Nick cut the throttle and they drifted on the black water. Wisps of fog swirled around them. The sound seemed close.

"Maybe it's a fishing boat," Lamont said.

Nick pointed. "I don't think so," he said.

The sharp prow of a patrol vessel emerged from the gray as both boats entered a clear patch in the fog bank. The Chinese boat was long and lethal looking and bristling with guns. Nick rammed the throttles forward. A bright searchlight found them as they fled back into fog.

"Just our luck," Lamont said.

"That's a Shanghai II class," Nick said. "Obsolete, but she can do thirty knots. Dual 37s and 25s for the big stuff and heavy machine guns. They decide to start shooting, they can turn this tub into toothpicks in about ten seconds."

Nick steered deeper into the fog and throttled down.

Behind them they could hear shouts and alarms blaring, then silence.

The two vessels drifted in the fog.

"I never did like playing hide and seek," Lamont said.

"Get our guest up here. We may have to get off fast. I'll see if our ride is here yet, " Nick said. He adjusted his headpiece and turned on the transponder that identified him as friendly. Now that they'd been spotted, there was no need to stay dark.

"Raven One, this is Tango. Do you copy? Over."

His headpiece crackled.

"Tango, this is Raven One. We've got you. Looks like you've got company. What is your status?"

"Raven One, we've got a Chinese patrol on our ass. They've got anti-aircraft guns. Watch yourself."

"Copy, Tango. No problemo. Stay alive for five."

"Copy that."

Lamont went down to the tiny cabin and emerged a moment later with their charge. He was a small man, dressed in a shapeless brown suit. He clutched a briefcase in his hands and looked frightened. Nick couldn't blame him. If the North Koreans managed to get their hands on him, they would feed him alive to a pack of hungry dogs.

They drifted out of the thinning fog. Ahead, the sea was clear and dark. Stars shone overhead. Seconds later the Chinese boat emerged from the fog bank a bare thirty yards away. Their engines throttled up. A searchlight swung across the black water and pinned them in a bright, white glare. Nick watched the guns coming to bear.

"Lamont."

"I'm on it."

Lamont lifted the launcher and fired. The round struck the bridge and detonated in a bright, orange burst of flame. The Chinese craft slewed to port. Nick pushed the throttles ahead and spun the wheel to turn back toward the fog bank. Maneuverability was the only advantage he had. They churned to the right as cannon fire found the spot they'd just been. The patrol boat was burning where the grenade had hit. Lamont loaded another round and fired again, striking forward of the gun crews. Two bodies hurled into the air. The 25mm cannon on the foredeck hammered away at them, sending gouts of water into the air.

The Chinese machine guns opened up. Nick and Lamont hit the deck. Bullets stitched across the boat, smashed the control console and marched across the chest of Kim Jung-Hun. His briefcase slid across the deck as he fell. Nick reached up and spun the wheel. Shells from the 25mm gun struck aft and pieces of the trawler flew into the air. The engine screamed and shook itself apart and died with a final sound of tortured metal. The boat began to settle fast by the stern.

Nick heard the sound of rotors through the heavy explosions of the Chinese guns. An SH-60B Seahawk appeared, coming in low and hot a hundred feet off the water. The Chinese gunners swung around and began to fire, rows of bright tracers streaming toward the chopper. As Nick watched, two hellfire missiles shot from the aircraft. 

The missiles lifted the Chinese ship partway out of the water and broke it in two. A thick column of water shot into the night sky. Nick grasped the railing of their sinking vessel as water rained down on him. The wave from the blast washed over the trawler. The patrol boat was gone from sight in less than a minute.

Kim lay dead on deck, his chest shredded and bloody from the bullets. His eyes were open. His face looked as though he'd seen something that had shocked him. Nick picked up the briefcase.

The stern was underwater, the boat listing to the side. Lamont stepped over the edge into the sea and began swimming away. Nick dove in after him. The boat turned bow up and slid under the roiling surface, trying to pull them in after it.

Overhead, the blades of the Seahawk beat patterns in the water. A circle of light found them. A hatch opened and a rescue basket descended.

Nick hoped they hadn't started a war.