Steve Abbott - Devil's Gambit

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah, pretty sure. Look, all I know is this is a special delivery. A real rush job, that’s it. It’s as much as I know. Honest.”

Sean pushed the pilot back. “It doesn’t bother you flying with those things on board?”

“They ride on a rocket all plugged in ready to go, why should I worry about them lying unplugged in a crate?”

Sykes had to admit, he hadn’t thought about that. “And you’re not worried Verkatt will try to kill us once he has his hands on the warheads?”

“Sure, I’m worried.” Benjamin shrugged. “But what do you want me to do? I figured I’d cross that bridge when I got to it.”

“You’re pretty trusting for a merc.”

Sweat rolled down Benjamin’s face. Fatigue flickered under the surface of his skin. “What do you want me to say? He’s paid my way for the last five years and he’s never fucked me over like the guys in the Company ever did. I can’t see him throwing me away just like that.”

Sykes snorted in disbelief. “You believe what you want.” He tapped the barrel of his rifle. “Myself, I like an ounce of prevention.” Sykes stepped back. “Sweet dreams, mate.”

Benjamin watched Sykes pull himself up into the DC3 through the rear door. He waited till the Brit was out of sight before he leaned against the side of the DC-3 with a body that suddenly felt heavy as lead.

Aidan Forest stared at Chun through the one-way glass. The glass was so cliché, even Hollywood had abandoned it. The Korean defector sat, staring at the smoke curling through his fingers. Chun looked up at Aidan through the mirror. There was no way the Korean could see him and the room was soundproofed, so he could not have heard him. The Special Case Officer found Chun’s steady gaze through the glass unnerving.

Forest opened the door and entered the smoky room. Being chosen to debrief one of the most important defectors in CIA history was a daunting task. Forest’s Doctorate in Far East studies, three well-received books on North Korea, his fluency in the language and his close ties to the CIA, had made him the most obvious choice for the job.

The safe house, located in one of the poorer sections of DC, was small and dingy. Chun’s presence here showed the borders of North Korea, physical and political, had become very closed indeed. Forest placed his briefcase on the desk and sat down.

First came the pleasantries. “Good morning, Comrade Kyun.”

Chun’s eyes narrowed at Forest’s form of address in his native language, but he did not look up. “Mister?”

“Forest.”

“Mr. Forest,” Chun took a long drag on his cigarette. “You are not now, nor will you ever be, my comrade.” He exhaled the smoke through his nose and mouth in a heavy sigh.

For that split second, Forest saw the strain Chun was under. The professor struggled not to cough, but the blue cloud of Chun’s smoke stung his eyes and made them water. Forest decided to go with the strictly business approach. “Fine, then we can leave the introductions as being dealt with.”

“As you wish.”

Forest opened his briefcase and extracted a tape recorder. A redundant move; the room was already bugged, but Forest was old-fashioned and sometimes the tape machine could pick out nuances of speech that the bugs missed. The record and play buttons were depressed on his old machine and the microphone set in front of Chun. Forest reeled off Chun’s name and former status for the benefit of both the room’s and his own recording.

“Why don’t we start at the beginning?” Forest said.

“No.” The word spoken in English hung in the air between them.

It was obvious Chun was going to assume the control position in this debrief. Unless Forest won him over quickly, hostility to his adopted hosts would downgrade the usefulness of the man’s observations. World political events could degrade as quickly as the value of the information Chun possessed inside his head.

Forest answered in Korean. “Pardon?”

Chun, dark eyes burning, glared at Forest. “Are you deaf as well as stupid? No. It is the first English word every Korean learns. It is denial. You have the plans. They are self-explanatory. As a gift to save my life, they are yours, but I will not give you a so-called chapter and verse account of my country or even my own involvement in any covert or official operations. I was promised a new identity and obscurity in your country. It is time to give me my new life,” Chun snorted in contempt, “in your American dream.”

Forest was little more than a hermit crab to Chun. At the first sign of trouble, into his shell he would go. The Korean did not expect the reaction he received. Forest started to laugh, deep body-shaking guffaws. Chun felt his anger building at this new humiliation foisted upon him.

Forest dabbed the tears from his eyes. “Please, do not do that again. It is quite painful.”

Chun sat in burning silence.

Forest had studied in depth Sun Tzu’s “Art of War.” Master Tsun had discussed the use of the unorthodox at great length in the chapter, “Emptiness and Fullness.”

“Mr. Kyun, the plans you have supplied us notwithstanding, you yourself know the importance of up-to-the-minute intelligence data. Do you think because of the plans, you have provided us, your place in our country is secured? They could be complete fabrication. Disinformation on a massive scale. How would we ever confirm their accuracy?” Forest leveled his gaze at Chun. “You are a wanted man without a country. Only the United States can offer you the anonymity that you so desire, but our American dream still lies just outside your grasp. Unless of course you can convince us of your worth.”

Chun’s face turned ashen. “You government bastards are the same the world over. Promises in one hand; a dagger in the other.”

“Maybe so, but all the same, here we are and my superiors have questions. You see, I have studied your country and its history in great depth. I find that your people have great strengths and long suffering tolerance. It is unfortunate that the West is so unobservant. We can continue in Korean but it would be easier for the transcripts if we switched to English.”

The last five minutes were forcing Chun to change his first impression of the thin, owlish Forest sitting before him. He obviously possessed great intellect. Chun would have to watch every word said. “As you wish, if this is to be my new home, then I must polish my skills in your language.”

Forest clapped his hands together. “Excellent. Shall we start again?”

Chun knew defeat was his. The final weight of what his country had tried to do to him and the full scale of his retaliation against that act crashed down upon his soul. No matter what he did now, he would always be seen in the eyes of his country as a traitor.

Forest saw the realization cross Chun’s face and the change in demeanor as the impact of events hit him. It would go much smoother now. The strongest ones nearly always broke the fastest.

Chun lit another cigarette with hands that shook slightly. He leaned forward and began to talk into the microphone. “My name is Chun Seng Kyun, Deputy Director Supply Section 3rd. Engineering Section….”

The Gulfstream G650ER jet knifed through the frigid high altitude air at maximum cruise speed, six hundred and fifty knots per hour. A calm ocean, lit by a full blue-white moon unhindered by clouds, passed by far underneath. The pilots had been told to waste no time getting to their destination.

Gayle sat in one of the cabin’s plush chairs with her head leaned against the small window. The cold outside bled through the Lexan. It was a poor attempt to cool her overheated mind. Sleep was not going to come. The Mission Brief lay open on the table before her, discarded in frustration. The security measures at the Russian base had obviously been inadequate. It took bureaucrats to make so little seem like something solid as they struggled to prove fault lay elsewhere. The real questions and problems, as usual, remained unaddressed. Who did this, and why? What country, faction or terrorist group were the warheads destined for?