Mark Greaney - Full Force and Effect

But tonight she saw the same man again, running in the dark, dressed like he was just out for a jog. He was either a businessman–construction worker–jogger, or he was a member of the opposition.

She doubted seriously he was working alone, but she’d not managed to identify any confederates.

She neither knew nor cared about the reasons he was following Edward Riley, no more than she knew or cared about what Edward Riley was up to. But her grown son and daughter lived in North Korea, and her occasional work here in New York for RGB always brought good news from them. The last time she worked an operation here in the city for North Korean intelligence her son sent a letter a few months later telling her he had received a new bicycle and his sister a new radio. They did not know the reason why, but they thanked the Dae Wonsu and professed their everlasting love and affection for him.

The elderly Korean Manhattanite was pleased her work here in America brought her family happiness back home, even if she would have loved to be able to have them come here to live with her.

—

The three Campus operators continued their coordinated leapfrogging movements through Chinatown, and it was still something of a ballet, but by now the complexity of the choreography had increased because the black SUV had turned up again, this time shadowing the woman on Canal Street. Marleni Allende continued walking unaware, her beige raincoat contrasting with the T-shirts of many of the other pedestrians here shopping for cheap knockoff goods in the rows of sidewalk stalls. Behind her, carefully tracking her, the Ford Escape moved normally through traffic, turning onto perpendicular streets and then pulling back onto Canal moments later.

Caruso still had the eye; he was one hundred feet directly behind the target, which meant at times he was moving right along with the black Ford. He spoke softly, but his earbud picked up his words with no problem. “This is starting to feel like that deal in Vietnam. I count four in the Ford. They aren’t closing on her, but there are a lot of civilians around here.”

—

Sam had pushed ahead through traffic, and now he raced to the nearest subway stop on Canal. During Allende’s meeting in the restaurant, he’d called Clark and asked for information on the woman. Clark read aloud everything the Campus analysts had given him, and from this Sam knew she lived alone in an apartment in Midtown.

She wasn’t walking home, that was for sure. Unless the Chilean woman hailed a taxi, it was a fair bet she was going to go down into the subway.

He knew there was no way in hell he’d find a place to park to go on foot, but at least he’d be able to identify any threats on the woman when she passed by.

—

Dom had no concerns the UN woman was going to see him; she walked with her head down and her shoulders rolled forward. If she started to look back over her shoulder, Dom had the training to recognize the telltale body movements that would come before her eyes actually put her in position to compromise him.

But the men in the Ford were a concern. They were alternately behind him, next to him, and facing him as they went up one street and down the other, and he assumed whoever these guys were, they had the training to be on the lookout for countersurveillance.

So Dom stopped now and then to look at cheap T-shirts and tacky wallets for sale in the stalls, and he just made occasional spot checks on Allende to confirm the other team on her tail hadn’t yet closed distance on her.

As he walked he saw the Ford Escape leave the tail completely and move up the street. He called it out to his teammates, and they all surmised the Escape was heading to the subway station as well.

Sam asked over the net, “What are we doing, guys?”

Clark had been monitoring the progression of the tail. “You two have to call it. I’m not there and Ding doesn’t have the eye. Dom, I don’t want you guys in the subway if I can avoid it, but if you think this woman is in peril, I’ll approve you going down and watching over her. Dom? Sam? Talk to me.”

—

Sam watched the Ford stop at the entrance to the subway. Two Asian men climbed out of the back and hurried down the stairs.

Before Dom had a chance to respond to Clark’s query, Sam said, “I’ve got two potential North Korean FAMs descending into the Canal Street station. Both wearing light-colored button-downs under black business suits.”

FAMs meant the same thing to all four men on the net. “Fighting-aged males.” They could be spooks, military, or any other bad actor. Of course, they could also be insurance salesmen, on their way home from work.

But Clark was betting against the latter. “Sam, you stay in the vehicle. Ding, you catch up to Dom.”

“He’s in view ahead of me,” Ding said. It was evident he was still jogging, keeping his cover going as well as closing the distance between himself and the surveillance target.

Clark finished with, “Ding and Dom, follow Allende tight. Go overt if you have to, let the DPRK assholes know you’re there, but keep her out of danger. No unnecessary risks. You will lose comms with Sam and I up here, so reestablish contact as soon as you’re able. Good luck.”

In front of Dom, the Chilean woman in the raincoat descended into the station, unaware men were watching her at this moment, and equally unaware others were waiting for her below.

34

Canal Street station was surprisingly quiet, even for ten-fifteen on a weeknight, but a light stream of foot traffic on the stairs headed toward the track. Marleni Allende walked along with the others, all but unaware of her surroundings because her mind was still on her worries.

She passed through the turnstile on her way to the northbound N train, her mind still unable to free itself of the stress of the past few days. She told herself she’d done the right thing, no amount of money would assuage the guilt she would feel for the rest of her life if she succumbed to corruption. She considered herself a good Catholic, and though here in New York she had made many mistakes, finding herself unable to resist running up her credit cards and blowing through her life savings, she at least had the backbone to know that accepting a bribe from shadowy men obviously working for the interests of an evil regime was no way to dig herself out of her troubles.

She wasn’t paying attention at first, so she didn’t notice when, directly in front of her, two young Asian men walked on the platform against the flow of pedestrians heading toward the train. And she became only obliquely aware of them a moment later and took a step to the right because she sensed them in her path and approaching her direction.

When she noticed the two men adjusting their gait to move again in her path, now just fifteen feet away, she looked up. Both men eyed her without reservation and they kept moving toward her.

She slowed her walk in surprise. She didn’t have the training to be instantly fearful, but she thought they were perhaps walking up to her to say something.

At eight feet she sensed rather than saw both men reach inside their jackets.

As her eyes began moving down to see what they were retrieving from inside their coats, her heart lurched in her chest.

Oh, God! They are police and they know.

Just then she felt hands touch her from behind, grasping her at her elbows, and two men formed at her sides and began leading her gently but surely along the platform diagonally, out of the path of the men in front of her.

As she looked up at them, certain she was under arrest, one of them, smiling, spoke in a friendly voice.