Lethal Force (25 page)

He looked quickly and back again. Then again with his gun, shooting more times than he remembered. A man fell, hitting the floor hard.

The slide came back on his gun, so he shoved that one into the holster at his back and switched the other gun to his right hand.

Suddenly a shot rang out from the stairs behind him, hitting the wall next to his head. Jake twisted and shot a number of times. Damn it. He only had only a few shots left without reloading. Finding another magazine in his right jacket pocket, Jake waited. Normally he remembered his shot count, but he was distracted.

When the man put his gun around the corner up the stairs, Jake was waiting for him. He shot once and hit the gun, knocking it to the floor. As the guy reached for the gun, Jake took a couple more shots, the slide jacked back, and the man's arm took a hit at the elbow. He screamed in pain.

Replacing the full magazine with the empty one, Jake sent a round into the chamber.

Time to go, Jake.

Just as he was about to escape down the stairs, a voice echoed out to him. “Is that you, Jake?”

He recalled the voice from when he was stuck in that barrel of foul water with the rat floating about his mouth in the DC warehouse.

“Why did you have to kill my friend?” Jake yelled, and then looked up the stairway, knowing the guy he had shot still had one good arm.

“You killed my friend in Montana,” the Slav said. “And now you've killed at least one of my Korean friends. We must be even by now.”

Jake needed to push this forward. Someone would have heard the shots and called the police. “What do you want?”

“That's easy, Jake. Either the encryption code or the actual professor. Give one of those to me and you can live.”

Laughing, Jake said, “Wonderful. Go fuck yourself.”

Leave to fight another day, Jake. The Slavs now knew they could be found, so they would have to constantly look over their shoulders for him.

“There's no need to be uncivilized,” the Slav said.

In the distance Jake could hear sirens heading in his direction. He had no choice but to run. Without diplomatic standing, he couldn't be in South Korea with guns. And he sure as hell couldn't be caught shooting more Koreans.

Time to go. As he rushed across the door, more shots were fired, followed by yelling from the Slavs to not kill Jake.

He took the stairs two at a time, his gun out in case one of the men had snuck out the back door to try to flank him. Once he got out to the street, the sirens got much louder. He shoved the gun into his pocket and casually walked toward the nearby subway entrance.

As he started down the stairs, he looked back and saw a number of men pile out of the not-so-safe house. They found Jake in their vision and then hurried down the street toward him.

Rushing down into the subway, Jake hoped to hear a train moving in toward him. But no such luck.

There were only two directions to go—out toward the end of the line, or toward Seoul Station, where he could again take a train anywhere in the country. The choice was easy. He didn't want to end up at the end of the line.

Just as he was getting to the platform, his cell phone buzzed. He checked the message as he walked at a determined pace. It was from the NSA, saying the men were on the move. No shit!

For this time of night, early evening, the platform was unusually crowded. But as he could hear the train begin to approach, Jake made his way to the very end of the platform. If the men made it down the stairs, they would have to get on the train farther down.

A stiff puff of air preceded the train, the light shining toward him as it slowed. Jake could see the men come around the corner looking for him. They broke off into a couple of groups, the Koreans together and the two Slavs side by side. They pretended not to see Jake, but they had.

Passengers started streaming onto the train, so Jake did so as well, taking a seat at the very front of the train. He took off his backpack and found the 9mm Sig he had taken from one of the Koreans. Jake had two spare magazines with 16 rounds each, along with the one already loaded in the handle. He discreetly changed out the gun in his right jacket pocket with more firepower, but he still reloaded his Glocks with full magazines, putting one at his back holster again and the other into a pocket inside his jacket. Then he zipped up his bag and waited, his hand grasping the Sig as he watched the cars behind his.

He knew they would move toward him. In one sense he was trapped. But he still had options.

The train slowed and came to a stop at the next station.

Jake looked up at the subway map and smiled when he thought of his plan. He had them right where he wanted them.

Pam Suh paced back and forth in her office at the American Embassy in Seoul. She had not heard from Jake Adams since they left him at the safe house earlier in the evening.

Congresswoman Lori Freeman sat on a leather sofa against one wall, her right foot tapping nervously and her hands clasped across her lap as if in church praying.

Kim entered the office, his phone in his right hand. “We might have found him,” Kim said. “Or at least where he was.”

Pam stopped. “Where?”

“Local police responded to a shooting in Dongdaemun,” he said. “One dead on the scene and two in custody. No IDs. All Korean.”

Pam took in the information and wondered if it really mattered in the grand scheme. Her job now was to protect the congresswoman until she could get her to the DMZ meeting. As far as she was concerned, Adams would have to be on his own. The Agency couldn't have any association with a private citizen killing people in South Korea—even though someone at Langley had authorized his trip to the country. Since the director, Kurt Jenkins, knew about Jake's presence in country, that was at least tacit agreement with his mission.

Lori stood up and said, “Where is Jake now?”

Kim shrugged. “No way of knowing.”

“He has a contact at the NSA feeding him information,” Pam said. “See if you can find out who that is.”

Nodding, Kim left as fast as he'd come.

“Can't you do anything to help him?” Lori asked.

“You're our mission,” Pam explained. “Jake was sent here by Toni to keep track of you and to try to find out who was trying to get the technology from that professor.”

Lori wrapped herself with her arms. “But that should also be your mission. If that technology gets into the hands of the North Koreans, it will be worse than their development of nukes.”

Pam was confused. “I haven't even been briefed on the technology. It's not something I need to worry about at my level. You know about the technology?”

“I was with Jake and the professor in Montana,” Lori muttered. “The professor gave me a brief understanding. But not the details. I couldn't possibly be of any help to anyone.”

Maybe not, maybe so, Pam thought. “Did anyone see you in Montana?”

“You mean bad guys?” Lori shook her head no. Then she looked uncertain.

“What?” the station chief asked.

“Nothing. It's just that two men pretending to be FBI agents visited my mother looking for me. Jake thought they were probably the Slavs who had kidnapped and tortured him in DC.”

“And probably killed Toni,” Pam surmised. “So they might think you have the technology or know how to get it.”

“Like I said, I don't understand the technology. I'm a lawyer by trade.”

Pam's phone buzzed and she looked at the caller. It was the CIA Director, Kurt Jenkins. “Yes, sir.” She listened carefully, her eyes shifting toward the congresswoman for a moment. After listening to what the director wanted, she simply said, “Yes, sir,” again and then clicked off.

“Was that about Jake?” Lori asked.

“It was the director, Kurt Jenkins,” Pam said. “He has history with Jake. Although Toni officially sent Jake here, the director wants us to only help him in the background. We can't officially be involved. Somehow the deaths of those two Korean men at your hotel in Gyeongju got back to him. Worse yet, it went through the secret service chain all the way to the president. Since he's staking his presidency on these six-party talks, he wants nothing to get in the way of that. He's directed our Agency to stand down on everything except the security of our congressional delegation. We can only give technical support.” She hoped that would be enough.

Lori thought for a moment and then said, “Can you tap into the local police dispatch?”

“Yes, we can monitor that,” Pam assured her.

“What about infiltration into their system?”

“To what end?”

“We send the police to false locations to stay away from Jake.”

“But we don't know where he is.”

“We will once Kim finds the NSA contact,” Lori explained. “They will give us the location of the bad guys. Jake won't be far away.”

Pam smiled. “Are you sure you don't want to come work for us?”

“I'm sure. Congress is frustrating, but I like representing my people from Montana.”

Pam left to find Kim. If they were going to help Jake Adams, they would have to find the man's contact at the NSA.

●

Jake caught a break when he reached the Myeongdong stop, two stops before Seoul Station. With many subway stops passengers must flow out in one direction, but this stop allowed for flow from both sides of the platform. Since he was on the lead train car, he simply scooted off and up the stairs.

Without looking back, Jake hurried into the street market, which at this time of night was filled with shoppers. Bright lights advertised everything from clothing to restaurants. He blended in with the other shoppers and then finally stopped at a rack of postcards and looked back the way he had come.

He first caught a glimpse of the Slavs walking down the middle of the street as if they were police officers on the beat. They were a block back. But where were the others. What would he do? Have someone run around the block and wait for him. He smiled. Perfect. He had them right where he wanted them.

Turning around, Jake wandered with purpose along the left side of the street. That's where they would be waiting for him. For a split second, a man rounded a corner ahead and then scooted out of sight. He grasped his gun but then decided to hold back from scattering the crowd with gunfire.

As he got to the building where he saw the man briefly, Jake prepared himself for attack.

When the man thrust his arm toward Jake, he parried the punch, pivoted behind the guy, and struck him in the throat with a chop. Jake followed that with a kick to the knee that buckled the man to his knees. Then Jake grasped behind the man's head and simultaneously slammed his knee into the Korean man's face, knocking him out.

The entire incident took just seconds. Now Jake flowed back in with the shoppers. He kept his right hand in his jacket pocket holding onto the Sig.

Hesitating for a second to look at a baseball cap, Jake let his eye catch the Slavs in his peripheral vision. They had made up some distance and were now only a half block back. But where were the others?

Moving forward, Jake took a right on the next street. It was darker here, with fewer shops and not as many shoppers. It wasn't like he could really blend in. There were other westerners here, but not many.

Just as he got to a spot where he could turn and see where the Slavs were, a roundhouse kick came out from an alley and caught him in the stomach, nearly taking his breath away. Instead of backing out to the street, Jake rushed into the alley.

It was the North Korean intel officers from the KTX train—the man in his 40s, Kwan, and his younger friend, the hot woman. It was the woman who had kicked him. She now stood in a karate stance, while Kwan simply smiled at Jake.

He wished he didn't have to do this. But he had no choice. He could just shoot them both. Instead, he reacted with equal force. He slung his backpack to the ground and prepared for an attack—not getting into his own karate stance to give away his skills. He simply waited in a lame boxing stance.

When the woman got a nod from her boss, she came at Jake with everything her small body could produce. Punches, kicks, elbows, knees, and Jake blocked them all. She had skills, but he had fifty pounds on her. As she came at him again, he smiled and struck her once in the jaw, knocking her out.

Jake went to pick up his backpack and he saw Kwan pull a gun from his coat. He twisted to his right, shoved his hand into his pocket and fired twice.

Two flashes came at him simultaneously. Jake ran back into the street, crashing right into one of the Slavs, the one with the bald head, and the two of them hit the pavement. Rolling over, Jake hit the man with his backpack, knocking him back again. Then he clambered to his feet and looked for the man with the long hair. Where the hell was he?

As Jake slung the pack to his back, he felt a hard object against his left kidney. Instinctively, he twisted his body and shoved his elbow back, catching long hair in the jaw and knocking him back. Jake guessed the man couldn't just kill him. They needed him for information. His advantage.

Jake ran now the way he'd come. As he got to the main street ahead, he heard the sirens and then saw a police car trying to push its way through the crowd of shoppers. He slowed to a walk and let the police car pass him.

He was kicking himself now. He should have just put a bullet in each of their skulls.

As he walked he felt a sharp pain in his left shoulder. He touched his jacket and his finger went into a hole in the leather. Damn it. Another leather jacket ruined. Putting his right hand inside his jacket, his hand became moist with blood. Kwan had hit him. But it was only a graze. No bone and no major arteries. Yet it still hurt. He wiped his bloody hand on his shirt and then put it back onto the gun in his jacket pocket. Well, that was two holes in his jacket. He had shot Kwan through his pocket.

Jake kept looking back to make sure the Slavs were not there. But deep down he needed them to continue after him. That was his plan. Shift from the pursued to the pursuer.