Stephen Mertz - The Korean Intercept

Watching the teeming concourse, Fraley tried hard not to show the panic that was building within him with each passing second. His heartbeat was pounding like a bass drum in his ears, almost completely blotting out the sounds around him.

He was ready to kiss everything goodbye. His life, his career, everything… to begin a new life with the gorgeous, brilliant Japanese beauty who had come into what had been a wretched life and made it incredibly exciting… and dangerous. But that danger would diminish to nothing the instant they boarded this flight to the Caribbean. She was in love with him and they would fly away together. Connie had promised him this, and he believed her.

It had been like something out ol Penthouse Forum. Night after night of the wildest sex imaginable with this single, twenty-three-year-old Japanese civilian with a law degree, who spoke several languages, whom he'd met accidentally at the restaurant he frequented near his home. From that first night of their chance encounter when she'd invited him to her apartment, when their lust had burned through the night on silken sheets cast in candlelight, the smell of incense blending with the scent of warmed oils, the moans and the gasps of pleasure mingled with the low, subtle music that caressed and provided the changing tempos of their lovemaking… Ms. Connie Yota had shown the computer scientist things about the physical act of love that he'd never imagined. He'd been her slave in every way since then. She demanded much, but his rewards were exquisite and, in addition, Connie had professed a true love for him that had touched Fraley's heart as much as his libido.

Where is she? My God, don't let anything go wrong! He wondered with a start who he was to be imploring anything of a deity he'd never acknowledged the existence of. He self-analyzed this as an indication of just how overwrought he was, and he hoped this was not noticeable to anyone passing by. Of course, he had no right to ask any god for any help after the sins he had committed. He'd sold out his country. He'd sold out the crew of the space shuttle Liberty. And, even more poignant to him personally, he was about to run out on his dying wife for a woman half Nora's age. No, he did not think there was any god anywhere who would condone any of that. He was somewhat surprised that the thought even flashed through his mind. But then, life-including his own mind, soul and heart-had proven to hold untold surprises since the moment Connie had appeared in his life. It had been a roller-coaster of emotions, in direct conflict with his lifelong psychological need for emotional stability to facilitate his mental discipline. He accepted this conflict as part of what generated the unbelievably rewarding sexual and psychic bond between himself and her. He could hardly believe that he was about to embark on a lifetime of experience with this woman who had so changed him.

He had picked up their tickets. He carried only his travel-on, a single brown leather suitcase, as she'd suggested. She was a seasoned traveler, obviously, though they had never directly discussed her work for what she had only once vaguely referred to as "a Tokyo corporation with connections everywhere." She had mentioned this, she assured him, merely to assure him that they would lead a life of comfort, even luxury, as part of his payment for his onetime betrayal. And the betrayal of his wife of seventeen years? Fraley blinked the thought of Nora from his mind. His wife had been a paraplegic since that terrible car crash seven years ago. He hadn't wanted to fall in love with another woman, but it happened anyway. He had made financial arrangements to ensure that Nora Fraley would be well taken care of for the duration of her life. Reviewing the situation in this manner, Fraley felt suddenly as free as a bird. Connie had already arranged payment of the promised amount into his numbered Swiss bank account.

"Mr. Fraley?"

He jerked around to find himself confronted by two men who, he knew instinctively, could only be plain-clothes law officers of some kind: a muscular black man and a Caucasian with a lumpier build and a boyish face.

"Uh, yes… my name is Fraley."

"Mr. Fraley, my name is Agent Chalmers. This is Agent Jackson. Sir, you're under arrest. Please don't make a scene. Put your hands behind your back. Read him his rights, Claude."

The black agent read him words that Fraley had heard a million times in movies and on TV shows about things he said used against him and his right to remain silent. He nodded dumbly when asked if he understood. His head drooped forlornly. The hand-cuffs snapped tightly, coldly, behind his back, making him wince. Then the two men were guiding him along the concourse, back in the direction of the airport parking lot. Jackson's massive grip felt like a steel vise on Fraley's upper arm, while Chalmers steered Fraley from his other side, hurrying him along far faster than he ever would have walked of his own volition. At times, they practically dragged him, and he was becoming winded. His preferred world since childhood had been the cerebral, rarely the physical. That had all changed with Connie, of course, certainly when it came to sex. Even at a time like this, he could only think of her in those terms and of the passions she stirred within him. He thought, at least they don't have Connie. It's good that she didn't make it in time for the flight. He would pay for his betrayal, but thank God she would remain free…

As if reading his mind, the black agent at his side chuckled without humor. "You were set up, stupid. You have figured that part out, haven't you?"

Fraley blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

Chalmers chimed in, "Not that it did your sweet little fortune cookie any good."

"Connie?" It burst from him.

Jackson nodded. "She was apprehended ten minutes ago at a car rental agency. She was leaving town without you, Eliot. We just don't know yet where she was going or who set her up to take you down. Do you know?"

Fraley summoned up every ounce of inner strength he could muster, which wasn't much. "I don't know anything about what you're talking about." He spoke in a voice he did not recognize as his own.

They left the concourse using an "authorized personnel only" exit.

Chalmers said, "Miss Yota is being interrogated. They played you for the patsy you are, pal, getting you to sell out your soul and your country for a piece of ass. Something like this, tapping someone as high up as you… can you say compartmentalization? That means your Connie will know just enough to incriminate herself into a nice long prison sentence, even if she is a lawyer."

"So how about you, Doc?" said Jackson. "You could get your honor back, or at least some of your self-respect. You will cooperate?"

"I don't know anything," Fraley insisted.

"We'll see," said Jackson with supreme confidence. They steered him toward a waiting unmarked car. "Mr. Fraley, the shit of your life has just hit the biggest fan there is."

North Korea

It was an incredible chain of stunning events, thought Kate, that had brought her to this cave with armed men outside, one of whom was shouting something in Korean into the cave, not sounding friendly at all. In the shadows of the cave, she continued to whisper cooing sounds into Terri's ear in an attempt to quiet Terri's delirious ramblings. Kate stroked the injured woman's temples with her fingertips.

Terri's semi-conscious eyes suddenly opened wide, normal and lucid. She gazed up with that unflagging inquisitive good nature that Kate had grown fond of. "What happened? Did we crash?" She started to turn her head, looking around. "Where are we?"

Kate wanted to ease Terri gently back into awareness of what had transpired. She clasped one of Terri's hands in hers. "There's been trouble; you'll be all right."