Mark Greaney - Full Force and Effect

There was no nuclear material inside the container. No missile parts, either. Instead, there were three huge round pieces of machinery lying on their sides that Ricks first thought were industrial-sized boilers.

There were invoices in pouches on the side of each massive unit. Ricks lowered his weapon and used the light on the side of his helmet now, and he saw the invoice said exactly what the equipment was.

“Froth flotation tanks.”

Greaser looked over some writing on the side of the unit. “It’s mineral refining equipment.”

The chief turned away without replying, headed to the next container to break the seal there.

Twenty minutes later Chief Ricks stood at the fantail of the ship with his sat phone to his ear. “Typhoon Actual to Typhoon Main.”

“Typhoon Main. Go ahead, Actual.”

“No joy on the cargo.”

“Understood no joy. What did you find?”

“It’s not WMD equipment.”

A pause. “Understood. What did you find, Actual?”

Ricks explained. He waited a long time for a response, and he was about to check to see if Main had copied his last transmission, but then they replied.

“Typhoon Actual. Listen up. These containers are going to be offloaded from the ship. You will stay on board until a transloader arrives from Seoul, ETA to follow. You will oversee the transloading, and then you will release the ship and the rest of the cargo.”

Ricks cocked his head. “Uh . . . Roger that. Just to clarify. I understand we are to confiscate this mining equipment, and hold the ship until we offload it?”

“Typhoon Actual, Typhoon Main. Roger.”

Ricks paused. “Can we do that?”

“Chief, as far as you are concerned, you have been told that material is WMD-related. Do you understand?”

Ricks scratched the narrow portion of his neck between his body armor and the bottom of his helmet. “Roger that, Typhoon Main. Actual out.”

Chief Ricks made his way back to his team in the cargo bay, where he found Greaser, Hendriks, and Hackworth. Echo Platoon was ready to hear the order to release the crew and disembark. Ricks said, “Listen up. If anybody asks, we just found ourselves some more WMD.”

Greaser turned to his chief. “Come again?”

“Nuke parts.”

Hendriks said, “They look more like washing machines.”

“Fuck, Hendriks. I don’t know. Maybe they use them to wash their ICBMs. I just know we are transloading this stuff to a ship heading over from South Korea.”

Hendriks said, “So . . . this is kind of like stealing, right? We’re pirates now?”

Ricks just shrugged. “I guess national command knows what it’s doing.”

Hendriks said, “Doesn’t sound to me like POTUS knows what the hell he’s doing. The North Koreans are assholes when we don’t do anything to them. Stealing their shit might just send them over the edge.”

“Hendriks,” Ricks said, “I can’t wait till you’re president. You’ve already got it all figured out.”

“I can’t be president, Chief. I was born in Holland.”

Ricks turned and headed for the main deck to let the rest of the platoon know the plan. He called back in a sarcastic tone, “Well, that sure is a pity, Hendriks.”

55

Sam Driscoll was just twelve hours into his surveillance of Veronika Martel’s apartment building when a black BMW i8 pulled up in front and parked on the street. It was well past nightfall and a thunderstorm sent thick sheets of rain onto the street, so Sam couldn’t make out the license plate from his vantage point, but he didn’t need to.

He knew the vehicle.

He’d seen Edward Riley pulling into the parking lot under Sharps Global Intelligence Partners more than once during his surveillance there, and he couldn’t help but admire the man’s choice in automobiles.

Driscoll’s job here had been to keep an eye out for any North Koreans watching over Martel. Ryan didn’t know if they’d come after her, but now that she seemed to be on the outside of the operation to help them obtain intel for their rare metals refinery, he worried she’d end up like Hazelton. It seemed unlikely, but he didn’t want to leave it to chance.

Sam called Ryan, who answered quickly.

“Hey, Sam. What’s up?”

“Wanted to let you know that Edward Riley just pulled up to Martel’s apartment.”

“You sure it’s him?”

“Have you seen his car?”

“No? What does he drive?”

“Beamer, i8.”

“Nice. Not exactly covert, but nice.”

“That coming from the guy who used to drive a canary yellow Hummer.”

“Touché. I wonder what he’s doing there. I guess he’s either going to give her another assignment or fire her. He’s alone?”

“Yep. I checked the street for followers. It’s raining up here, but as far as I can tell there are no sneaky North Koreans skulking around tonight.”

“Okay. Hey, by the way, you are getting some company.”

“Who?”

“All of us. Clark has us all heading back up to NYC. We don’t have anything else to do but keep an eye on Martel.”

“I thought Sharps compromised the team in New York. You going to go mobile on the streets?”

“We think she’s clear of North Korean surveillance, and we think the North Koreans were the ones who tipped off Sharps. We might be okay. Still, I have a feeling we won’t be mobile very much. Most likely we’ll all be hanging out at your place.”

Sam said, “Awesome. Five dudes in a one-bathroom studio apartment eating pizza all day.”

“Just like college,” Ryan said, and Sam just grunted.

—

Riley arrived during a thunderstorm; he wore jeans and a black sweater, and he came empty-handed other than his umbrella and his mobile phone.

Veronika offered him tea, which he declined, so they sat on opposite chairs in her living room. She could tell from his demeanor there was a problem.

“What’s happened?”

Riley leaned forward. “Last night our time, the United States Navy stopped the vessel delivering the froth flotation tanks to North Korea. They confiscated the material.”

Veronika did not reply. She was an intelligent woman. She assumed the Americans learned of the existence of the material from her download from Valley Floor.

And she also realized Riley needed someone to take the fall for what happened in Vegas.

“Just so you are aware, Duke is angry with you. He thinks you tipped off the Americans. The North Koreans are bloody furious as well.”

Martel rolled her eyes. “That is completely absurd. Someone compromised the operation somehow. They broke into my hotel room knowing exactly what they were looking for.”

“And you have no idea who might have done this?” Riley asked.

She stared him right in the eyes. She knew the truth, but she also knew how to lie. “None whatsoever.”

Riley clearly wanted her on the defensive, but that wasn’t her style. She said, “Perhaps you can help answer that question. You seem to be the one aware of the goings-on in my hotel room. You had me bugged? Did you have cameras on me? Is that it? Were you watching me change? Watching me sleep?”

Riley shook his head. Now her attempt to put him on the back foot had failed. He was utterly unruffled.

“Associates, on their own, were there in the hotel. There was a listening device left in your room.”

Martel recoiled in surprise. “Associates?”

“Let’s just say an interested party.”

“You mean the North Koreans? Who? RGB?”

Riley conceded this with a nod.

“So you are working directly with the North Koreans now? Not with New World Metals?”

Riley did not deny it. Instead, he said, “Twelve trillion dollars. Can you get your pretty little head around that number?”