Vital Force (7 page)

“The photos you talk about...that's how we initially found out about this. We caught them transporting an item that looked too familiar. But everything is covered now. They've built a helluva facility there.”

“You're trying to get my ass killed,” Jake said. “I get within twenty miles of that joint and they'll string me up by my nuts.”

The red-haired consultant laughed and pointed his spoon at Jake. “You're funny.” He shifted his eyes at the front door and then back toward Jake. “Under the table there's a briefcase with all the info you'll need. There's also a digital camera with a cell phone attachment. You shoot the photos and transmit them immediately to the first number programmed on the phone.”

“I don't like this.”

“You'll be doing a great service for your country.”

“I've done enough for my country.”

Anderson glared at Jake. “You can never do too much.”

“Then why don't you go?”

“Because, although I'm not known in China, one look and they track me to the Washington think tank. It wouldn't take much of a leap for them to assume I'm working for the government.”

“Are you?”

He shot his eyes through Jake. “About as much as you are, but...also like you, I spent a good deal of my adult life in the military and other agencies. You gonna help us or not?”

“I'm not going to find Toni Contardo in Manchuria.”

He shrugged. “They told me she was there. You don't guess they'd lie about something like that?” He smiled broadly.

Bastards. “How important is this technology?”

His expression turned grave as he leaned toward Jake. “If the Chinese have a laser missile defense, it will be a quantum leap in technology for them. They'd have no fear of missile attack from Taiwan, Russia, India or the U.S. Not to mention the North Koreans.”

“And that's bad because....”

“Because it throws everything out of balance.”

“You mean it puts them on par with the U.S.”

“It makes them a second superpower with close to a billion and a half folks.”

Jake had to admit that sounded somewhat scary, but the technology was defensive. And, if they had stolen that technology from America, that wasn't nice.

Anderson continued, “You haven't asked about the money.”

Jake's eyes glanced down under the table.

“It'll be sent to your private account in Liechtenstein.”

“You bastards.” Only Toni was supposed to know about that account.

He smiled. “Have a nice trip.”

Jake pulled the leather briefcase from under the table. Steve Anderson hadn't come in with it, so it must have been there all along waiting for their meeting.

Walking down the sidewalk toward his hotel, Jake wondered again what in the hell he was doing. Did he have a death wish? The first thing he would have to do was extract the programmed numbers from the cell phone and memorize them before deleting them from the internal memory. These guys had a lot to learn about undercover work.

Washington, D.C.

The large dinner gathering included members of the senate, the house, white house staff, and business people from mostly high tech industries. It was the kind of function that would have been illegal if either side of the aisle didn't need the money and had actually taken a real vote on campaign finance reform. But this was business as usual in Washington.

Picking up a glass of Champagne from a waiter's tray, General Wayne Boles, U.S. Air Force retired, nodded and smiled at his target as he approached the White House Chief of Staff, Karl Oestreich. General Boles and Oestreich had worked together for two years under the secretary of defense during the former president's term. Oestreich had moved up nicely in the past few years, while Boles had bolted for the private sector and was now the director of The Western Institute, the conservative think tank.

“Wayne,” the Chief of Staff said, “glad you could make it.” He put his arm around the general and pulled him aside to one wall. “How are things?”

Boles smiled. “I assume you mean in China.”

The Chief of Staff raised his brows in agreement.

“We hired Jake Adams to look into the matter.”

Oestreich thought for a moment and sipped his wine. “That name sounds familiar.”

“It should,” Boles said. “When we were at Defense, he saved our collective asses in Kurdistan and the Ukraine.”

“Right. Caught them with that biological agent and killed a rogue Agency officer in Odessa.”

“Well, I understand the officer killed himself, but, yeah, that's the guy.”

“Wasn't he also the guy who caught the Hungarians and that German company ripping off some computer technology from the Joint Strike Fighter?”

“Yep.”

“Looks like you got the right guy.”

General Boles glanced around the room, acknowledging a senator from Colorado with a nod. “I'm not sure about this.”

“What. Why not?” The Chief of Staff moved closer, his voice a mere whisper. “The Chinese stole our laser technology. Don't forget that. And they did it while we were both at Defense. I don't think I need to remind you of that.”

“Is the President aware of this?”

Oestreich's expression flashed from a fake smile to anger and then back to a smirk. “Does it matter?”

“It does to me,” the general said.

“We have complete deniability on this,” Oestreich assured him. “Adams gets caught and he has no tie to the administration. He's just a curious tourist.”

“So, we hang him out to dry?”

“This is what he does for a living. He knows the score.”

Boles grabbed the Chief of Staff on the forearm. “He was an Air Force officer who worked for me at one time.”

Oestreich looked down at the general's hand, which slowly removed. “We'll do what we can behind the scenes, but push comes to shove and we deny any knowledge. You knew that going in.” The Chief of Staff patted his old friend on the back and started to leave. “You better hope he's as good as you say he is.” And now louder, Oestreich said, “You have a good time tonight, Wayne.” He smiled and walked away.

The general was steaming inside, but he maintained his composure as he walked about the room with his empty glass. When a waiter came around now, the general put his glass down and picked up two in exchange.

Redding, California

“This friend of yours,” Li said, peering sideways at Cliff Johansen from the front seat of her Isuzu Trooper. “Does he know we're coming?”

They had been driving from the Bay Area since dawn, picking up Interstate 5 in Sacramento, and would soon turn onto Highway 97 toward Oregon.

“He has no idea.” Cliff was reading a technical manual on internet servers. “Like I said, though, we're old college friends.”

“I think I should stay in a hotel,” she said.

Cliff was thinking he would rather she come to his friend's house with him. She was gorgeous, and all through college neither of them had dated anyone close to her quality. In fact, they both could have counted their total dates on one hand.

He looked over at her. “It's only a couple of days.”

“One night,” she said emphatically. “You get what you need and we move on.”

“Part of it,” he corrected her. “We get part of it, you transfer the money, and then we go for the rest.”

She shook her head. “We transfer part of the money.”

“Well...right.”

Cliff thought about his plan as he watched her drive down the road. He wanted to soak as much time as he could with her, for he knew that once she got what she wanted, and she had no more use for him, she was gone. That would be hard for him to take. God she was a hottie. He also knew that he would probably not ever return to Brightstar. Although he had called in sick while driving north, it would be nearly impossible for him to look those people in the eye again after what he had taken. He kept telling himself it was only data and pixels. But deep down he knew it was far worse than that. And his likelihood of being caught? Damn near zero. That brought a smile to his face. The old hacker in him.

●

Two cars back on the freeway was a brown Ford Taurus driven by the man Cliff Johansen had come to know in the past six months as Steve Lempi, programmer for Brightstar's Group Five. A man who was actually special agent Drew Fisher with the Agency's internal operations division.

Fisher checked his watch. Damn. He was late. Although he had already called in sick to Brightstar, he had not talked with his supervisor from Portland in two days.

He picked up his cell phone and punched in a number.

“Yeah, it's me. Our little rabbit's on the run.” He hesitated long enough to pass a car, while still keeping one car between him and the Trooper.

“I don't know where he's going. We just passed through Redding heading north. He has friends in Eugene.”

They were passing now through the Shasta Lake area. “Damn, this is pretty up here. Shasta Lake. Right, I remembered his friend in Bend. You think he's heading there?”

He drove across a high bridge and through a narrow mountain pass. “Right. I'll appreciate the help.”

If they turned onto north Highway 97 at Weed, then he'd know they were going to Bend, Oregon. If they stayed on I-5, it would be Eugene. Either way, he had it covered.

Shenyang, China

The night train from Beijing lumbered slowly into the Huanggutun Railway station on the western edge of the city, the sun still an hour or so from rising.

Jake Adams opened his eyes and shifted in his seat. He was in a compartment with seven other people, early in the evening speaking a language he didn't know, and eventually drifting off to sleep and speaking only the universal language of snores and heavy breathing. He had not slept much, though.

After his meeting with Steve Anderson, the think tank wonk, he had gone back to his hotel room and looked through the information. Most he had memorized and destroyed, and the rest he carried in a small backpack, which sat now at his feet.

He was to meet an agent in Shenyang, who would take him north to Harbin on the old Russian Manchurian Railroad. The next day they would travel to an undisclosed location in the northern frontier.

The train came to a halt and Jake waited for the others to leave before picking up his small backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. He glanced out the window, saw people waiting on a platform, bundled and their breath flowing in plumes of white, and realized he had only his lined leather jacket with him. Obviously not enough for this weather.

He wandered out and down the corridor, through the cheaper seats that would have made the airlines look lavish and comfortable, and then exited toward the main train station.

Immediately, cold air rushed toward him, as if he were in a wind tunnel. He quickened his pace.

Once inside the main building, he shifted his eyes at the high ceilings, and then made his way through a sea of people toward the train schedule board that took up nearly one entire wall. He was to stand there viewing the schedule until his contact approached him with the pre-determined signal. He hated this, not knowing the name of his contact or what he'd look like. Only the discussion would reveal the true contact. And that bothered him. He could be standing there like an idiot for hours.

“Harbin is nice this time of year,” came a soft voice from behind. Nearly perfect English. But something unexpected.

He hesitated to turn around. “Isn't it a little cold this time of year. I heard it was like Siberia.”

“Mr. Adams,” the voice said. “We must go. Our train leaves in ten minutes.”

He turned now to view a young woman of perhaps twenty-five. She was nearly five-six, with the most stunning facial features he had seen since his arrival in China. She embraced him firmly like a long-lost lover, and he did the same, lingering and perhaps wishing it were true.

When they pulled apart, she said, “Sir, we really must go. I have our tickets.” She produced them and then slipped them back into her pocket. She was wearing a backpack larger than his, that seemed to be stuffed to capacity.

He smiled. “Lead the way.”

She shuffled back outside, and Jake kept pace with her purposeful gait. When they got onto the train, she pushed her way through the crowd like an angry porter.

He followed her toward the back of the train, through the cheap seats, the more private second class compartments, and into a first class sleeper. During the day trips, most of those remained empty because of their price and the fact that most didn't need to sleep during the day. One side of the room had a bench and the other had a bunk bed. Below the window was a small table.

She slung her backpack to the floor, quickly closed the drapes, and turned toward him. Then she reached inside her jacket and pulled out a gun.

“Take off your clothes,” she demanded, her expression serious, and her eyes not blinking.

When a woman who looked like her made a firm command like that, he usually complied. The problem was, she had a gun pointing at him. And, although that might be kinky to some, Jake had had a gun pointed at him too many times to count. It never lead to anything sexual.

“Listen,” Jake started. “We barely know each other. Maybe we should start off with names. You know mine. Now, what's yours?”

She stood firm, and Jake had a feeling she wasn't messing around. He took off his backpack and started taking off his clothes. When he was down to his socks and underwear, he stopped.

“I haven't had a chance to work out for a few weeks,” he said, trying a smile.

Her gun was still pointed at him. “The rest,” she said, her gun swishing back and forth at his groin.

He shrugged and slipped off his underwear. Luckily the room wasn't too cold.

“What's this about?” he asked.