Mark Greaney - Full Force and Effect

“Negative, I’m here. But a pair of Ducatis are here, too, and they are definitely following Hazelton. Not sure where the others are. This looks too aggressive for surveillance. I think they are going to confront him.”

Driscoll spoke over the net now. “Unless they’ve got cars involved in the pursuit that we haven’t spotted yet, they aren’t planning on an abduction. This might be something worse.”

Jack confirmed, astonished that the stakes of this operation seemed to be rising with each moment. “Holy shit, this could be a hit.”

Ding broke into the conversation. “Hang on a second. Hazelton is supposed to be over here on a corporate intelligence job. His last op was for Microsoft. Nothing we’ve seen indicates he has any concerns about a lethal adversary. A hit would be one hell of an escalation.”

Jack saw the two other bikes now, entering Pham The Hien from the east and then racing past Ryan and separating. One turned into the alley that ran parallel to the east of Hazelton’s path; the other turned into the alley to the west, the one Ryan had planned on taking.

Jack passed the road Hazelton took. He just caught a glimpse of the first two bikers as they turned between a pair of long two-story warehouses that ran all the way to the water’s edge. He picked up the pace, thinking any confrontation would have to be soon, because Hazelton was running out of alley before the canal, and then he would have to retrace his steps back in this direction.

As he jogged to the corner to get a look between the buildings, he said, “I agree, Ding, but now four guys have him boxed in with nowhere to run. Something is about to go down.”

Now John Clark came over the line. “I’m getting the car in case we need to make a hasty exfil with Hazelton. Traffic is tight, though. It’s going to take me some time. Ding and Sam, get to Ryan’s poz on the double. Jack, you do not intervene, no matter what. You are unarmed.”

Jack replied softly now. He’d reached the corner and he was about to lean around to take a peek at what was going on. “Understood.”

—

Hazelton approached the Kenh Doi, a dense blackness fifty yards in front of him. There were a few twinkling lights of District 5 on the far bank, but there was also a group of warehouses there, without much going on at this time of the evening. And this stretch of canal, though nearly in the center of the city, had next to no boat traffic at night.

His plan had been to tear up the documents to the best of his ability and then drop them in the Kenh Doi. They would separate as they flowed downstream, and they would be rendered useless to the North Koreans.

But he knew that plan was shot now, because of the sound of finely tuned motorcycle engines behind him.

He understood the bikers were here for him. They made no secret of their presence. And they weren’t alone. He hadn’t seen any more followers, but the slow approach from the men behind him gave the distinct impression they were waiting for someone else to get into position.

Colin Hazelton was drunk, but he was still perceptive; after all, he had been doing this sort of thing for a very long time.

And just like that, his suspicions were confirmed. A pair of headlights appeared in front of him, one coming up the riverside path along the docks from the east, the other from the west. They turned in his direction and approached at a steady pace.

They had him and he felt he knew who they were. They were more of Duke Sharps’s men. That French bitch had had confederates here in town, and they’d swooped down on him not in days, as he’d anticipated, but in mere minutes.

The two bikes in front of him pulled up to within feet, and then they turned off their engines. The men kept their helmets on and their mirrored visors down. The pair behind had stopped twenty yards back, their soft motors reverberating confidently, announcing to Hazelton that he had nowhere to go.

He knew he was going to have to talk his way out of this.

Hazelton looked to the closest biker, taking him for the leader. He managed a little laugh. “Figured you wouldn’t be in position till tomorrow. I underestimated the hell out of you guys.”

None of the bikers spoke.

Hazelton continued. “Well done. New York sent you in early, I guess? They expected me to waver? I’m impressed. That’s what we used to call ‘anticipating surprise.’” He chuckled again, and repeated, “Well done.”

The closest biker climbed off his motorcycle, and he stepped to within arm’s reach. His mirrored visor gave the man the appearance of a robot.

Hazelton shrugged. “Had to make a stand. You get it, right? The client this time is the DPRK. I don’t know if you knew it, but Duke is in bed with the worst people in the world.”

The biker reached to his helmet and lifted his visor now. Hazelton was surprised by this a little—the man initially seemed content to keep himself masked—but Hazelton thought it possible the man was showing his face because they were acquainted. He knew Sharps hired a lot of ex-Agency assets, after all.

Colin Hazelton leaned forward a little to get a look at the man in the light, but as soon as he saw the face, he recoiled back.

He did not know the man. It was an Asian face. Hard. Cold.

North Korean.

“Oh,” he said. “I see.” Then he faked another little laugh. “You ever had one of those days?”

“Give me the documents,” the North Korean said.

Hazelton felt around on his body. He shrugged. “Would you look at that? I left them in a briefcase back at the—”

“The case was empty!” An automatic pistol appeared in the North Korean’s right hand. Hazelton knew little about weapons, but he had no doubt it was real. The pair behind him began revving their engines, and the other man in front of him stood up taller on his bike.

—

After watching the entire confrontation, Jack Ryan, Jr., pulled his head back around the corner of the warehouse. He dropped down on one knee, and he tapped his PTT button. “This is Ryan with eyes on. All four followers are around the subject, and they have him at gunpoint.”

Ding replied; it was clear from his breathing he was running. “So much for this being an easy corporate gig. Stay covert. We are on Tran Xuan Soan, about ninety seconds from you.”

Jack said, “If this is a hit, Hazelton doesn’t have ninety seconds.”

Clark barked over the net now. “And if that’s a hit you aren’t stopping it unarmed. I’m en route with the car. Three to five minutes back.” Through the transmission Jack could hear Clark honking his car horn at traffic ahead of him.

Ryan’s impulse was to run headlong into the alley, but he knew Clark was right about his chances if this turned into a real fight.

But Jack had an idea. “I don’t have to engage, John. I can try a diversion.”

Clark replied quickly. “You are on your own, son. Use extreme discretion.”

Ryan did not acknowledge the instructions; he was already looking at the map on his phone, formulating a hasty plan of action. He pulled his camera from his backpack and took a few breaths to ready himself.

—

The North Korean biker leveled the gun at the American’s chest. He did not say a word.

Hazelton raised his hands slowly, panic welling within. “There is absolutely no need for that. I’m no threat to you. Let’s keep this civilized, at the very least.” The American looked around him. Through the fear coursing through his body he realized he’d put himself in a terrible situation. Had he not been three sheets to the wind he knew he never would have wandered down a dark street like this, especially while harboring concerns someone was after him.