The Expediter (47 page)

An Oriental man was crouched on one knee just inside what appared to be a large living room, blood oozing from at least three places in his chest and gut. The Kalashnikov lay on the floor next to him. He looked up as McGarvey appeared in the doorway, and with a grimace of intense pain tried to reach for the AK, but McGarvey fired one shot, catching the man in the side of the head, and Minoru fell back dead.

The shooter in back opened fire with the AK, but fell silent after only two rounds, and the house became deathly still.

McGarvey reloaded again, pocketing the nearly spent magazine. All that he would leave behind were the .45 caliber shell casings, which might suggest the weapon used was the Wilson, but without the actual pistol or shooter, nothing could be proven.

The living room opened to an inner garden and as he approached the teak deck he could hear the sounds of water splashing from what was probably a fountain somewhere across the pond.

Holding the pistol under his arm for a moment, he pulled out his night vision goggles and put them on. The pond was brightly lit up in a ghostly green. Diaphonous curtains moved in the open sliding doors to what looked from here like a bedroom. A hanging bag and a smaller leather duffle or computer case had been set on the deck in front of the bedroom. A U.S. Navy helicopter showing up had to have come as a big shock.

Three shots from an unsilenced SIG were fired from somewhere on the other side of the house, and McGarvey stepped out onto the deck, where the muzzle of a pistol was jammed into the side of his head.

“Mr. McGarvey, I’m so happy that you could drop in on me this evening,” Turov said.

McGarvey was disappointed in his sloppiness. His lack of skill could very well get him and his son-in-law killed tonight.

“Pull off those silly goggles, then decock your pistol and drop it,” Turov said. “We wouldn’t want an accident.

McGarvey did as he was told. “Howard McCann is dead.”

“Yes. But I was through with him.”

“Can you tell me why?”

“Why Howard wanted to engineer a nuclear war out here? I have my thoughts, but honestly I don’t know. If you mean why I hired the South Korean assassins, that’s simple. For money of course.”

“You don’t give a damn that millions of innocent people could die out here?”

“
Eb tvoiu mat,
give me a fucking break,” Turov said. “Now I want you to call to your partner. Tell him you’re all clear back here.”

“No need for that,” Todd called from behind them.

Turov switched aim and as he fired McGarvey shoved him aside, the shot going wild.

“Dad, get out of the way!” Todd shouted. “We can take the bastard alive!”

Turov was bringing his gun hand around when McGarvey landed a roundhouse to the man’s face, knocking him back. He hit the Russian high on the right cheek with a doubled up fist, rocking the man again.
Methodically McGarvey slammed his fist into the man’s face, blow after blow, until the Russian dropped his pistol and fell back on the floor, blood flowing from his mouth and nose and from several deep cuts. He was dazed but still conscious.

McGarvey kicked Turov’s pistol away, a black rage threatening to blot out his sanity.

“For fucking money?” he shouted. “That’s it?”

“We have to get out of here,” Todd said. “We can take him with us.”

McGarvey keyed the comms unit.”Yankee needs a ride,” he said softly.

“Roger. ETA five mikes.”

“That’s right,” Turov said, his words slurred because of the damage to his mouth. “Your deputy director of operations was a megalomaniac, I was merely greedy. But that means you can’t turn me over to Chinese. Not with what I know.”

“You’re right,” McGarvey said.

“You’ll have to take me back to Langley for a debriefing. Who knows what other little secrets I might have for you?”

McGarvey shook his head.

“You have my computers, but you won’t be able to make any sense of what’s on their hard drives. My encryption programs are the best.”

Still McGarvey remained silent, his control returning.

“Come on, Dad, we have to get out of here now,” Todd said urgently. They could hear sirens in the long distance.

“You and your son will take me back,” Turov said.

“No,” McGarvey said softly, a dozen other faces from his past swimming in his mind’s eye.

“We can’t leave him here,” Todd argued.

“You’re right.”

Sudden understanding dawned in Turov’s eyes and he started to rise. “You son of a bitch—”

McGarvey raised the pistol and fired one shot, catching the Russian expediter squarely in the middle of his forehead, and he fell back, dead before his head hit the floor.

Washington

McGarvey and the dozen others seated around the long table in the White House Situation Room rose when President Haynes walked in and took his place. In addition to Secretary of State Brishon, the National Security Adviser Dennis Berndt, and Dick Adkins from Langley, the others gathered this evening included the directors of National Intelligence and the National Security Agency and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs.

“Five minutes, Mr. President,” a chief petty officer seated at a computer console announced.

“We’ll make this as short and to the point as possible,” the president said. “Mr. McGarvey will conduct the briefing, and although some of his material may be disturbing there will be no objections. You’re here as a show of unity.”

Everyone around the table nodded their assent. Except for Adkins most of them knew little or nothing about what had been going on behind the scenes over the past week.

“Are you ready, Kirk?”

“Yes, sir,” McGarvey said. On the way back from Tokyo he’d given a lot of thought about how this should be played. It had depended on Otto’s ability to decipher Turov’s laptop computer and the desktop hard drive they’d found in the bag.

Even lying in pain in a hospital bed, it had taken Rencke less than thirty minutes to break both encryption programs. “Boyko was an idiot
if he thought this system would have stopped anyone but an amateur for long.”

“We’re coming up now, sir,” the chief said.

A large flat-panel monitor on the far wall suddenly showed a split image. On the left side, Kim Jong Il sat in what appeared to be a plain conference room. Seated next to him was Colonel Pak Hae. On the right side, Chinese President Hu Jintao sat at a table in a similar conference room. With him were Premier Wen Jiabo and a third man who McGarvey figured was either a translator or some high-ranking intelligence officer, or both.

Simultaneous translations had been arranged for all sides of the conference video call.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” President Haynes began. “I hope to provide a solution to our mutual problem.”

“Good morning, President Haynes,” Hu Jintao said. He did not include Kim Jong Il, nor did the North Korean leader respond.

“You know my former Director of Central Intelligence Kirk McGarvey. He will conduct the briefing.”

“Yes,” President Hu said. “We were able to be of some assistance to him recently in Pyongyang, and he is why we accepted this extraordinary call.”

“North Korean police did not assassinate General Ho, and I have the proof,” McGarvey said without preamble.

None of the Chinese showed any reaction, but a brief flicker of emotion crossed Kim Jong Il’s features.

“The two shooters were former South Korean army snipers, who were hired to go to Pyongang and murder the general in an attempt to destabilize the relationship between your two countries. We have one of them here, unfortunately she is dead. Killed in a shoot-out.”

“We had the other shooter in custody,” Colonel Pak said. “He hung himself in his cell last night.”

“Continue,” President Hu prompted, his expression blank despite the tremendous stakes they were facing.

“The assassins were hired by a former KGB officer who was living
in Tokyo from where he expedited a highly successful murder by contract business. I just returned from Tokyo with one of his computers and the hard drive from another, both of which were heavily encrypted. We’ve managed to decode both.”

“What of this Russian?” Colonel Pak asked.

“He is dead.”

President Hu nodded. “Our embassy in Tokyo was informed of a disturbance in Ueno that may have involved U.S. naval personnel. The incident, I’m told, is under vigorous investigation.”

“Our navy was in no way involved with the disturbance,” McGarvey said.

Adkins was troubled, as were some of the others around the table, but everyone remained silent.

“We would like to examine this computer equipment at the earliest possible moment,” President Hu said.

“If we can come to a preliminary agreement this morning, the laptop and hard drive will be delivered to your embassy here, along with the body of the South Korean assassin,” McGarvey said.

“We will deliver the body of the second assassin to your embassy here in Pyongyang,” Colonel Pak promised.

“You said this Russian was an expediter,” President Hu said. “Who was he working for? Who but a madman would want to foment this trouble?”

The Chinese leader had given them the opening McGarvey had been hoping for, and he glanced over at Haynes who he could see also recognized what had just happened.

“He
was
a madman, Mr. President,” McGarvey said. “He was shot to death shortly after he murdered the South Korean assassin who was in our custody.”

“You took her from here to use her as bait,” Colonel Pak said in wonderment.

“Yes,” McGarvey admitted.

“Who is this man?” the Chinese president demanded. “We want his body.”

“We cannot turn him over, Mr. President.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s an American.”

McGarvey’s statement hung in the outraged silence for several beats. Kim Jong Il had visibly reacted, as had the Chinese president and the others with him.

“CIA?” President Hu asked tightly. “A rogue?”

“A former academic.” McGarvey sidestepped the accusation. “Of foreign heritage.”

“What were his motives?”

“As you guessed, Mr. President, he was obviously insane. We’re sifting through his background to find out what motivated him. But we know that he had a great deal of money at his disposal and that he may have lived and worked for a time in China and Japan and for some reason had developed an intense, pathological hatred for the Orient and her peoples.”

“We will need more than your word,” President Hu said sharply.

“I’m afraid that’s all I can offer you at this time, Mr. President,” McGarvey said. “Perhaps in the future, when we’ve finished our investigation, I’ll be able to come back to you with the additional proof you want.”

“So simple,” President Hu said after a long pause.

“Yes, sir,” McGarvey agreed. “Very often the most difficult situations arise from simple causes.”

Again everyone fell silent, the enormity of what had very nearly happened between Beijing and Pyongyang and what had gone on at this conference call hitting home.

Kim Jong Il pursed his lips and sat forward for emphasis. “One thousand pardons, Mr. President, if my government in any way was the cause of such unfortunate sentiments,” he said, his voice soft, almost feminine.

It was unclear which president he was addressing, but Haynes responded first. “I’m only happy that we have managed to avert a war—”

Kim Jong Il’s image on the screen went blank, and a moment later the Chinese president, premier, and the third man were gone as well.

Dennis Berndt started to speak, but the president held him off.

“Nothing that was said in this room this evening will be leaked,” Haynes said. “I give you my word that it would be the worst mistake of your lives.”

No one moved a muscle.

“We’ve stopped World War III. Doesn’t matter how, but as of this moment we’ve stepped back from the brink.”

“My God,” Jane Brishon said. “Who was the American who hired the expediter?”

“Thank you, people,” Haynes said, dismissing them. “That will be all for this evening.”