He skipped to a message for penis enhancement, the sick sense of humor from the CIA Director Kurt Jenkins. The Agency had traced the money flowing through a holding company in the Caymans to the Slavs. The holding company was owned principally by a K-Street Lobbying firm with many clients — chief among them were companies from Communist countries like China, Russia, Vietnam, and…North Korea. But they also worked with legitimate companies from Japan and South Korea. The attached file had a brief bio of the principal lobbyists from the firm, including head and shoulder images. Jake placed all of their backgrounds to memory, dismissing a number of them as unlikely.
The subway made it to Seoul Station, the main terminal in the city, so Jake got off and wandered into the great hall, where he could catch a train to anywhere in the country. He would stop occasionally and change direction to make sure he didn’t have a tail. But he didn’t.
He sat with a view of the entire main station hall and took his phone out again. The lobbying firm had one primary client in South Korea, Gang-Ho Industries, a major worldwide high tech firm. But they also owned everything from a chain of hotels and grocery stores in Korea, along with a Korean professional baseball team from Seoul. Now it was starting to come together for Jake. He wondered if the Korean company knew this lobbying firm also did business with the North Korean government. Why the American government allowed such associations was beyond Jake’s comprehension. How in the hell could anyone dress up a pig like that, slap on the make-up, and pretend that the American congress should forget all about torture rooms, starving its own citizens, and threatening to nuke America?
He opened his backpack and found a blue-tooth ear piece that would fit inside his ear and allow him to communicate with his next call. Jake punched in a number from memory and waited.
His contact at the NSA, an Air Force colonel who had started off as an enlisted airman and once worked for Jake years ago. Jake had helped get the man into the officer corps.
“Hey, Jake,” the colonel said. “What the hell are you doing in Singapore?”
Jake smiled. Glad to see he could still hide from the most technologically advanced organization on Earth. “You know me. I like some Singapore street food.”
“Right. I’m right there with ya. Let me guess, you need a current location on our friends in Seoul?”
“You are correct.”
“Hang on.”
Jake could hear some typing in the background.
“Okay,” the colonel said. “When they left the safe house, they went back to their old location. I just texted that to you. But it’s a long ways from Singapore.”
“Right. I guess I’ll have to hurry. Hey, thanks a lot for your help.”
“No problem. Although I’m not doing it just for you, as you can probably guess.”
“I’m guessing a certain Agency director told you to keep him informed.”
“If that’s a problem, Jake, I can give up all hope of that first star and become a ROAD warrior.”
“You would never be retired on active duty, my friend,” Jake declared. “All right. I’m gonna go over for a look see. Could you text me if the men are on the move?”
“Sure thing,” the colonel said. “Be careful.”
“Will do.” Jake cut off the call and then looked at his phone, finding the text with the address. He mapped it out and then glanced up at the main subway map to find the best line to get there. He considered asking Kim for help, but dismissed that. This was personal. They wanted him and he would make damn sure they got just him.
Less than an hour later and Jake was back up on street level casually observing the target building as he walked the Dongdaemun district of Seoul, a sprawling area of row houses, businesses and the Dongdaemun Market, a lesser-known shopping area for non-Koreans.
Jake knew he had no way of blending in here. He stood out like a Swede in Botswana. His only camo was the darkness of a cloudy winter night. In fact, based on the damp chill in the air, Jake guessed snow would fall soon. He felt the gun down his butt crack as he walked and his right hand grasped the Glock in his right front jacket pocket.
Toni, he thought. These men had killed his good friend. They would pay for that.
The target building was a three story structure with an alley on one side and a tiny KIA dealership on the other. There was probably an alley entrance as well, which would make it almost impossible to breech on his own. What he really needed was about an eight-man tactical team. But, as he wandered around the block to check for surveillance cameras or sentries, he realized the place had neither. No, this was a no-frills safe house the North Koreans probably set up as a residence for its intel officers. Which means that everyone he saw would be potentially armed and dangerous, if not much better fed then those left behind to the north of the DMZ.
Jake considered taking out one of the guns, but decided on a different approach.
First checking the alley entrance, he realized his only option was the front door. Great.
Instead, he waited across the street among some trees as he considered his other options. His past flashed through his mind as he thought about his time with Toni Contardo. What would he give to have her here with him now? He couldn’t quantify that prospect. Or what about his old friends Kurt Lamar, or Franz Martini, or Anna? They had all died because of him. And what of those he had killed, the number he could not give to Lori? For the first time in his life he truly felt alone in this world. Fuck it! You can’t live forever, Jake, he thought.
He crossed the street and entered the first door at ground level. He had no idea if his targets were on the first, second or third floor apartments. Tactically speaking, it wouldn’t be the first floor. Too vulnerable to easy attack.
Jake slowly crept up the marble stairs to the second level. Pretty arrogant not having a guard posted. Assuming he was at the right place.
As the stairway rounded to the next level, Jake could see the landing in front of the tall wooden door. He quietly stepped up and could hear someone talking Korean. Then he heard laughter, followed by two men speaking. Not Korean, but English with accents. The Slavs.
He was about to pull out both guns and go in shooting, when the door on the third floor slammed. Now he was stuck. He couldn’t go down or up.
Slamming his body against the wall, he waited as someone came down the stairs quickly. As the man rounded the corner, Jake slashed his right arm out in a clothesline, catching the Korean man in the throat and knocking him back onto the stairs trying to catch his breath. Then Jake kicked the man in the face, smacking the back of his head against the solid stairs and knocking the guy out.
Jake hoped nobody had heard it. Even more so, he hoped like hell this guy wasn’t just some South Korean going out for a drink. Checking over the man’s body, Jake found a 9mm Sig tucked under his left arm in a leather holster. Good. He took the man’s gun and the extra magazines. Then he checked to make sure there was a round in the chamber. Yep. This guy would have killed him. Jake put the man’s gun and magazines into his backpack and considered his options again.
He had no real choice. Pulling out both guns, he took a deep breath and lined himself up in front of the door.
With one smooth motion, he aimed his guns and shoved his right foot into the door just outside the handle. The door gave but didn’t fly inward. He kicked it again and this time it gave way and flew in. But the time lapse had given the men inside time to react.
The first to shoot was someone inside the room.
Jake crouched against the door frame and returned fire with his 9mm Glock, firing a number of shots. He lost track of how many.
More shots cracked the edge of the door frame.
He looked quickly and back again. Then again with his gun, shooting more times than he remembered. A man fell, hitting the floor hard.