Effective immediately, p.21
Effective Immediately, page 21
part #3 of The Agency Files Series
“Yeah…”
“Bet Ernie is fuming. Poor guy. I told him…”
“Yeah, and you know what God has to say about relationships with the unsaved, yet someone is awfully important to you these days.” The moment she heard the words, Claire regretted them. “That’s not fair. I’m sorry.”
“You’re right, too, but thanks.”
As if her tongue had taken control of her mind and body, she then heard herself say, “We really need you back at work. This whole thing with Ernie is a nightmare. You know what you’re doing. I don’t. All the training in the world—and I’ve had some good stuff—isn’t going to help without experience to back it up.”
“I’m not coming back, Claire.”
Just the lack of hearing his usual “squirt” told her she’d pushed a little too far. After a split-second question as to the next best course of action, she leaned against her car and scanned the area. “Okay, so what am I looking for? There are no bikers anywhere I can see. If someone was going to blow up her apartment—”
“Not likely—”
“Hush. I’m thinking aloud. You tell me how pathetic it is after I finish telling you what I don’t know.” At his chuckle, she continued. “—it would have been blown up—the apartment, that is. So, she’s either alive in there or someone was hiding in another apartment, broke down the door, and now she’s dead.”
“Or she opened it.” Claire heard Keith sigh as if admitting defeat. “Look, Claire. People usually consider home ‘safe.’ It’s like ‘home base’ in tag or hide and seek. No one can get them there. Instead, she’ll open her door to a neighbor who says they need sugar and be lying in a pool of her own blood in seconds.”
“So, what should I have done?”
His sigh wrung her heart. “That’s just the problem, squirt. You did it all. I’m sure of it. You just have to remember that it could still go wrong. It won’t be your fault. She chose not to accept help.”
“Why aren’t we forcing it—like we did with Erika? Why are we just letting her go home to be killed? You know it’s going to happen!”
“Well, Mark’ll be watching and listening, but there just aren’t enough agents and it’s not like with Erika. With her, as soon as we neutralized the potential target, she’d be fine. Take down Anastas and no one’s gonna come after her. The intel we had didn’t contradict that idea. It was faulty, but that’s because the client was the real threat. Clever plan, Franklin had.”
Her mind spun, trying to fit pieces together that seemed to make perfect sense to her cousin. “That’s not helping me understand Sara.”
“The Kasimirs are a different kind of organization. It’s organized crime. If one person dies, a new leader steps up. In the Anastas business, someone else would take up the trade but not with his assets. See?”
“Oooh… yeah. Okay, so here, I can only look a little before I have to fly home, so what should—wait. I think Sara’s coming out. Do I call—no. I follow her, don’t I? Make sure she’s not doing something stupid or…”
Keith waited for her to continue before asking, “What?”
“I—crazy thought, but how did Ernie meet her?”
“Sara?”
“Yeah.” She sensed he didn’t want to answer, which made Claire jump in her car, punch the phone on speaker, and start the engine.
“At a wedding,” Keith said at last.
“They had friends in common? That’s—”
“No. He was staying at the hotel it was at. He saw her in the lobby with the other bridesmaids the night before and figured out she’d be there. So he crashed it. She thought it was cute.”
“Oh.”
“What’re you doing?”
“Following her. I thought maybe she’d been planted to get him hooked—that it was all a way to get to Ernie—but not if he chased her at a hotel like that. That’d REALLY be pushing it. The chance of success is so slim.”
“You’re starting to think like an agent.”
Claire beamed—could feel the grin grow wide enough that her cheeks began to hurt. “Yes! I did something right. Even if I was wrong.”
“That’s the nature of the job.”
And yet there you are not doing the job because you don’t want to accept that “nature.” Her voice cracked as she tried to say something non-committal. A swig of water solved it—until Claire realized it was Sara’s water. “Oh, gross.”
“What?”
“I just drank out of Sara’s water bottle—and she totally backwashes. Ew.”
While Claire practiced her evasive driving techniques, she asked Keith question after question. At the corner of one street, she parked and watched as Sara drove down the cul-de-sac and pulled into a driveway. “Hey, do you know where Sara’s family lives?”
“Little cul-de-sac just inside city limits.”
“I’m here,” she admitted. “Looks like she’s going somewhere safe, anyway.”
“You were smart to follow. Good move.” He sighed. “Squirt, what can I do to convince you to get out of there, go back to Rockland, and turn in your resignation?”
“Nothing. Look, Keith. I’m doing the job. I like it. Surprisingly, I’m actually good at it.” A new thought hit her and she tried to force the smile from her tone as she added, “But I’m going to need help while I’m learning. You’re the best, so I’m going to keep coming to you for help, and you’re going to give it.”
“I—”
“No. You are. Because if you don’t, you’ll be risking my life.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The locked office—a prison, really—felt as sterile and austere as any hospital he’d ever visited. Shin Kim sat, hands folded on the table. Only the occasional twitch of his thumbs showed any sign of distress. Are the kids okay? Brandi? Is it over for them or just beginning? Will they let me see them? A new thought sickened him. Or will that door open and someone from Pyongyang be standing there with an M1911 pistol trained on me?
At that moment, the door opened. Shin barely suppressed a start. So rumors are true. Mark Cho is the guy. A new thought brought the slightest measure of confidence. I might have just signed my release papers. “Mark Cho. I didn’t think I’d actually get to talk to you. I expected a junior agent at best.”
Someone not trained to pick up nuances of behavior would never have seen the slight twitch at the corner of Mark’s eyebrow. The man seated himself opposite Shin and relaxed. “You’re in quite a bit of trouble, Mr. Kim. First, you betray your country, then you betray your employer, then you get an innocent woman killed, and now you come to me for help. Why shouldn’t I call Homeland Security?”
The answer came to him before Mark finished speaking, but he hesitated, as if considering. “I think you probably already have. The question then remains, what do I know that they need you to learn?”
Their verbal sparring kicked up a notch—then another. Questions flew from side to side, but neither gave many true answers. Before meeting Mark, Shin had planned to play the victim. He now knew that would never work. Instead, he followed the rambling discussion for several minutes before he leaned back, hands loosely folded in his lap, and said, “We both know why I’m here.”
“You want asylum outside a prison—preferably with your family?”
Shin nodded.
“And what do you have to offer that might secure such a merciful response to your criminal activity?”
A slow smile appeared before Shin could decide if it was wise. He went with it. “You.”
The twitch returned—more prominent this time. “What about me?”
“Your name—face. I recognized you the moment you walked in the door. That has to mean something—something not very good for you.”
“Assuming your assessment is correct, perhaps. But who says I am Mark Cho, and why would that matter?”
So, you want information first, deal last. I don’t think so. “I recognize you. You are Mark Cho, but until you are willing to be straight with me, I’m done talking.”
Mark’s laughter filled the room. Either the guy was a better actor than Shin had supposed, or he was truly amused by Shin’s declaration. He couldn’t decide which. So, he did what usually worked best—kept silent.
“I have to give you credit. You’re not a coward—idiot maybe, but not a coward.”
“Wha—”
“Seriously? You arrange a meeting with us—with us—and then you sit there and try to make demands. We’re the only thing keeping you from a nice trip to Cuba.”
“And yet you want to know how I know your name and your face.” It was pushing it—Shin knew that—but he had to try.
“I find it interesting that you think someone who looks like this…” Mark waved a hand in front of his face. “—could possibly have a name like Cho.”
This time, Shin laughed. “Your sense of humor precedes you. I am not stupid, Mr. Cho.”
Mark jabbed the table with his index finger before meeting Shin’s frank expression. “Could have fooled me.”
It rankled, but Shin kept his anger in check. “I see your point. There is obviously more to the situation than you could ever know.”
“I’m listening.”
“I have no guarantee that anything I’ve requested will be considered. Why would I tell you anything?”
Mark pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. “Just a minute.” He passed it across the table. “Talk to your wife.”
Hope welled up in Shin as Brandi’s voice came over the line. “Where are you? Are you okay? Why aren’t you with us?”
“It’ll be okay, sweetheart.” He let the word linger, hoping it would serve to reassure her. He’d rarely spoken endearments, no matter how much his heart had felt them. People thought it was just part of his “cold” personality, but it had been a safety precaution. If his superiors suspected the words to be anything but an act, they’d have taken out his family in one nasty car accident—no survivors. “Are they keeping you comfortable?”
“We’re on the way—somewhere. They won’t tell us where. They said it’s for our safety.”
Shin met Mark’s eyes and held them as he said, “That’s right. Just listen to them. I trust them with your lives.”
Mark nodded.
“Look, we’re still trying to work out how to get me out of here, so I have to go. Just wanted to be sure you felt comfortable.”
“Well, that’s a bit much, but yeah. I think they’re taking care of us. The girl is really good with the kids. She’s got them all enthralled with stories of a ninja bear who rescues damsels in distress. Even Austin is listening.”
Again, Shin broke protocol. “I love you, Brandi. I’m so sorry.” Without waiting to hear her reply, he slid the phone back across the table. The moment Mark pocketed it, Shin said, “The Bangkok affair. You were seen by a security camera. They circulated your picture for weeks with every alias they could associate with you. Eventually, they decided you were the Mark Cho.”
“And why would Mark Cho mean anything to anyone?”
“Do you know the price on your head?”
Mark’s right eyebrow rose.
“Pretend you’re not all you want, but I know you, okay? You’re the guy who has managed to turn half a dozen of North Korea’s best agents into operatives for you. They know there’s a leak. Now they’re going to think it’s me.”
“They’re going to think or they’re going to know?”
Shin shrugged. “That, I suppose, is up to you.”
Keith’s first night on the loading dock had been a learning curve—what to move by himself, what to get help for, what companies never had what products, and what products went to every company. By night two, he had a decent understanding of how the operation worked and a sickening suspicion that he’d walked into a nightmare. Night three: his concerns were confirmed.
As he maneuvered the forklift into position, the empty space left as he pulled the pallets from their location left just enough room for him to watch two men remove four boxes of cereal from a box in a crate and replace them with four other boxes. He backed out as if he hadn’t seen a thing and drove the pallet of dog food to the waiting truck. His senses zinged into high alert as one of the men flagged him down. “Need you to move that crate to bay seven. Truck’s waiting.”
Waving his clipboard, Keith shook his head. “Sorry. Can’t get fired for deviating on the third day.” When the guy’s eyes clouded, Keith knew he’d been right. Drugs. Great. Now what? “But, if I can get ahead quick, I’ll be over, okay?”
The guy nodded, but distrust cast a hard edge around his lips. Keith just grinned and put the forklift in gear, zipping his way to the dog food again. Row after row, he zoomed his little forklift all over the warehouse, getting sections done faster than he’d imagined possible.
“Auger!”
Keith turned, nervous to see who had called him, but the foreman, grinning at the end of the row, told him he’d be okay—for now. “Yeah, boss?”
“Break—union’s orders. You’re doing good work. Everyone’s impressed.”
“Mind if I step outside for a few?”
The foreman stared at him, confused. “Didn’t take you for a smoker.”
“I’m not. Just not used to being inside all night.” Keith parked the forklift at the end of the row and left the keys in the ignition. “Ten minutes?”
“Yep. Ten and you’re on again. I’ll have a new sheet for you when you come in.”
Keith made a pit stop at the men’s room before stepping outside. The muggy night left much to be desired, but he couldn’t help but prefer mosquitoes and air he could cut with a knife to artificial light and the echoes of machines in an enormous building. His watch said he had eight minutes to go.
Maybe a jog’ll clear my head. That thought was all it took. He set the alarm on his watch for three and a half minutes and took off running. The steel-toed boots made jogging clunky, and he suspected he’d have blisters by the time he finished, but air rushing past him as he ran through the alleys of the distribution center felt good to his workout-deprived body. Shouldn’t. Let. Myself. Go. Like that.
His watch beeped. He slowed to a stop and grasped his knees, gasping for air and trying to decide if he’d somehow gotten that out of shape that quickly or if the weight of his boots combined with the thickness of the night air had really messed up his cadence more than he realized. He started to turn when voices caught his attention.
“—cop better stop nosing around or he’s gonna get hisself wasted.”
“What about the new guy? Think he’ll be a problem.”
“With that stupid grin on his face all the time? Next thing he’ll be whistling or somethin’. I don’t think he’s none too bright.”
Because that is a fine example of erudite elocution, Keith mused as he inched his way backwards.
“Well, we can get ‘im fired if we need to. Just plant a little somethin’ in his locker. We’ve got more important things than new guys to worry about. The cop’s a problem, though. Big one. Maybe pass along word to Hannock that his partner better cool his jets or he’s gonna find himself in a freezer somewheres.”
The moment Keith heard, “Hannock” and “partner,” he turned and raced back to the building, praying he wouldn’t be late. At the last second, he darted around the front, raced to the corner, and around the other side. Anyone watching would see him come from the opposite direction. Just have to hope it works.
The foreman nodded as Keith rushed to his forklift and grabbed the clipboard. “Thought you were gonna be late, but you’ve got at least five or ten seconds to spare.”
“Had twenty three the second I stepped in the door, but yeah. Cut it close. Won’t happen again.”
“It’s your time, buddy. You do what you like. Lunch is in three.”
As much as he hated to do it, Keith pulled his forklift into the row of cereal pallets almost two hours later. “Sorry. Got hung up, but I’m waiting for my next sheet, so what did you need?”
“That crate there in bay seven. My lift’s broken down—again.”
Sure it is. “Okay. Anything else?”
“Nope. That’ll get me off the hook with the boss.” The guy waited until Keith had the pallet loaded before adding, “Thanks.”
“No problem.” For good measure, he started whistling the tune to the Andy Griffith Show.
The light on his phone flashed before the phone buzzed. When Mark saw the name, he snatched it up. “Keith, tell me you’re on your way back. Man, I need you.”
“Sorry, no. But I’ve got something you might want to know.”
He considered swearing for cathartic purposes but decided not to antagonize the man. “What’s that?”
“I’m working down at the docks of that big distribution center just outside Hillsdale.”
“Yeah…” Keith growled something in frustration, and Mark heard the decided rhythmic click of a turn signal. “Are you driving while calling?”
“Sue me later. This i—aaah, man! Important.”
“Tell me you didn’t hit anyone or anything.” Mark waited a moment before alarm hit. “Keith?”
“Sorry. Thought I hit a dog. Turned out to be a bag of trash. Okay. Look, I saw something tonight that someone needs to know—and I figured you’d be the one to get the information to the right people.”
Mark listened as Keith related the things he’d seen and heard. The detail, impressions—even the tone of Keith’s voice—told Mark that his star employee missed the job. That’s a start. We’ll work from there. “Thanks, Keith. If you see or hear anything else, let me know.”
“Will do…”
The hesitation in Keith’s voice gave Mark hope—premature hope, most likely. “Yeah?”
“Ernie okay?”
“No.” He hated the way his answer sounded like a dig, but Mark refused to sugarcoat his answer just to make Keith feel better.
Several long seconds passed before Keith said, “Well, take good care of him.”
“He only trusts you, Keith. And you betrayed that trust. So where does that leave him?”
