Mark Greaney - Full Force and Effect

“That’s the value of the mine?”

“Yes. There is an opportunity here to get in on the ground floor of an incredible enterprise. By the very nature of the enterprise, only a few people will be involved. There won’t be competition for the mineral wealth in North Korea. Instead, there will be one state-owned company extracting it inside the country, and one foreign firm handling everything else outside of the country.”

Riley held up a finger. “One firm.”

“New World Metals.”

“That’s just the name this week, the operation to get the equipment and personnel into the country. Óscar Roblas has a hundred companies under him, and he’ll create a hundred more. Shipping, materials, purchasing, marketing . . .” Riley smiled now. “External security. Each venture will grow and grow until they explode in value, because he is North Korea’s man. Once North Korea gets their shipment of flotation cells, nothing will stop them.”

“And how does any of that help you? You are Sharps’s man.”

Riley waved away the comment. “I’m my own man. Duke is hell-bent on keeping his involvement limited to the business intelligence field. I see the opportunities as being much broader, and I see Sharps’s ideas as being too narrow in scope. North Korea will come around to my understanding.”

Veronika nodded. “So you went directly to the North Koreans and told them you were there for them. You would help them by going even further than Sharps. You’d help them kill people on the streets of America, if that’s what they wanted.”

“I am doing both entities a favor. All three, if you count Óscar Roblas. Sharps gets plausible deniability. I work for Roblas and General Ri, North Korea’s intelligence chief, directly.”

“And they cut you in?”

“That’s the idea.”

Veronika thought over everything that she was hearing. She didn’t understand why Riley was telling her all this. She could turn right around and tell Sharps that his number-two man was doing an end run around his clients.

She’d been in this business long enough to trust her instincts, and for a brief moment she wondered if she might be in some danger here. Was Riley here to eliminate her as payback for Vegas?

She leaned forward a little, ready to leap for the kitchen and the knife rack if he made any sudden moves. It seemed highly improbable, but the stakes had been rising on this New World Metals operation from the beginning.

Riley said, “If you don’t know it yet, you are done with Sharps. You are going down for the mistake in Las Vegas.”

“But—”

“Call him yourself. I’m here to deliver your marching orders.”

Riley added, “But even though he can’t use you anymore, I can.”

Martel understood, or at least she thought she did. She leaned back now; gone was any faint concern she had for her well-being, replaced now by anger and indignation. Riley was going to try to recruit her into his scheme, as if she were some sort of cheap agent who would flip at the drop of a hat. He thought he could control her by getting her fired by Sharps, so she’d have no choice but to ally herself with him.

Ridiculous. She’d been spied on by the North Koreans. Now Riley was extorting her to join him as an accessory to murder for a rogue regime.

That wasn’t going to get her back to Paris. No, she wouldn’t play ball.

She said, “I will contact Duke. And I will demand a face-to-face meeting to explain myself.”

“You won’t get it.”

“You really think I won’t? Let’s see. I bet I could get a meeting with him in his wife’s bed if that’s what I wanted.”

She saw the muscles in Riley’s jaw tense and then release. His eyes narrowed to slits.

He stood and started for the door, and she followed, yelling after him, “You are famous for blaming others for your mistakes, and for letting your ambition cloud your judgment. It happened in Italy, and it led to your downfall.”

He had reached the door and put his hand on the latch, but he turned back to face her.

She continued, “You think the North Koreans will trust you over Sharps? You think Roblas will? Sharps isn’t in charge of the operation. He is a figurehead. They know that. I am not in charge of the operation, either. Blame me for Las Vegas if you must. But whatever happened in Vietnam and New York had nothing to do with me. You are in charge. You will take the fall for that.”

She smiled now. She saw indecision on his angry face. “I might not keep my job, but you will go down with me, Riley.”

He squared his body to hers, his breathing deepened, and his eyes widened out of the angry slits. His indecision receded, and he seemed ready to act.

“What?” she asked.

He took a step closer, and his hands raised toward her face.

Veronika thought he was going to pull her to him, to kiss her. She’d seen this look many times in her life, it was always the same. In the throes of an argument came the throes of passion. “This turns you on? You think I want you? Are you insane?”

But he didn’t pull her close. Instead, he laced his fingers around her feminine throat and tightened his grip.

She tried to push away. “What are you—”

Her voice left her, replaced by a scream, and then a frightened shriek.

Riley threw his body on her, knocked her to the floor. He squeezed with all his might, her legs kicked and her arms flailed, but he’d positioned himself out of the way of the brunt of the blows.

While he choked the life from her, he leaned into her ear, so close her hair tickled his nose. “Silly, Veronika. So tight and proper and cold. I told you why I was here. I can still use you. I didn’t come to get you to join up with me. I came because I need someone to take the fall. The North Koreans are angry . . . so somebody has to die.”

Thirty seconds later she went limp in his hands, but he kept talking to her softly. “This was your mistake. This was Sharps’s mistake. But they know me. They appreciate my resolve. They see I’m not like Sharps.” He recognized she was dead now, so he let go slowly, and lowered her head onto the hardwood floor.

He rose. “I’m a man who gets things done.”

56

Adel Zarif woke at first light, rolled out his prayer rug, and knelt facing Mecca. He said his prayers and then sat around waiting for Emilio to wake up. When the young Mexican finally did stir, it was another twenty minutes before he rose and knocked on the door to Zarif’s room.

They ate breakfast in silence, and then watched some television. By ten a.m. a local news station was already covering the impending arrival of Jack Ryan. Zarif could not understand the reporter, but he watched the pictures of the National Palace and the airport, and Emilio did his best to provide running translations. From the reporter Zarif learned several things he already knew, like the time the President would arrive and his planned agenda for the official visit. Zarif also heard talk of a lot of things that he knew were never going to happen.

No matter how much the reporter gushed about the spread of the meal that would be served tonight, there would not be a dinner thrown in Jack Ryan’s honor. And no matter how big and beautiful the Plaza de la Constitución was, Ryan was not going to go on a walking tour with the Mexican president there, because he would die before he got there.

But the Iranian did pick up one interesting tidbit. This was the first Zarif had heard that the First Lady of the United States was not accompanying her husband today, but would instead fly down the next afternoon. The woman was apparently some sort of a doctor, Emilio didn’t hear what sort, and according to the pieces Emilio translated into English that Zarif understood, she had important work to do in Maryland and would come down when she was finished.