The leader and the other North Koreans leaped into action.
The latter rushed at Adriana, who matched the man’s attack with equal speed. He jumped, leading with his left boot, which she deflected easily to the side. Using his momentum against him, Adriana twisted her body and swung her elbow into his midsection as he was still flying through the air.
The man grunted and rolled on the ground several feet away.
Meanwhile, Sean dealt with the leader.
He opened the battle with a series of quick jabs that the North Korean blocked easily. The man countered with a roundhouse that caught Sean on the cheek and sent him retreating one step backward.
“Good one,” he said, rubbing the wound with the back of his hand. “Whoever you are.”
He rushed at the man again, taking two steps and firing a left foot at the guy’s knee.
The opponent chopped down on Sean’s leg and swung the bridge of his other hand at Sean’s throat to end the fight right then and there. Sean anticipated the counter and ducked to the side as the hand zipped just by his neck. He bounced back up and retaliated with a chop of his own to the man’s temple.
The blow was devastating. The leader stumbled to the side for a moment, disoriented. Sean stalked toward him and snapped a sharp kick up into the man’s abdomen. The leader dropped to his knees, and Sean drove a hammer fist down onto the man’s face.
Bleeding and dizzy, the leader wavered, barely able to keep his balance in a kneeling position.
Sean stood over him and grabbed the back of his hair. He tugged on the fistful of hair, forcing the man to look him in the eyes.
“What is your name?” Sean said through clenched teeth.
The man resisted, so Sean pulled harder on his hair. “Tell me your name.”
The man sniffled and spat. “Han-Jae. And you’d better kill me now. Or I will kill you and all your friends. You have no idea who you are dealing with.”
“You know, Han, I’ve been hearing that a lot lately. And you know what, I’m not worried about it.”
Sean raised his palm above his shoulder, ready to deliver the killing blow. “When your nose is driven into your brain, they say death is almost instantaneous, Han.”
He brought the bridge of his hand down hard and stopped it right in front of the man’s flaring nostrils, mere centimeters away. Then he formed a fist and rubbed the man’s head hard and shoved him over.
Sirens blared suddenly from all corners of the plaza. Police rushed into the area with weapons drawn. They shouted orders in German for everyone to get down on the ground.
The Americans complied, getting down on their knees with their hands over their heads. The North Koreans struggled to obey, having been beaten down in the fighting.
As a cop with a handlebar mustache wrapped handcuffs around Sean and forced his face into the cobblestone, Sean looked around for the blond guy.
He and his bandaged friend were nowhere to be seen.
Chapter 12
Han-Jae and one of his men were shoved into the back of a squad car. The German cops said something to them that neither man understood. Not that it mattered.
There was no way Han-Jae was going to let the police take them in. If that happened, there’d be no getting back to Pyongyang. It was understood that if he or any of his men were captured at any point, the general would disavow any knowledge of anything surrounding their mission.
Not that any of the European authorities would be able to connect them to Pyongyang. Han-Jae and his men had fail-safes in place to not only protect their identities but also their country of origin. If any investigator searched too deep, all they would find would be some ordinary guys from South Korea.
In this instance, the charges would be troublesome. They’d been caught with weapons and in the middle of a fight with some Americans.
Then there was the matter of the other man at the scene — the blond man who seemed to have a quarrel with the Americans. Han-Jae watched as the driver of their car finished giving instructions to the other driver from the car behind them. Right now wasn’t the time to figure out who the blond man was or what his connection to the others might be.
All that mattered for the moment was escaping.
Han-Jae had learned many useful tricks growing up in the slums of Pyongyang. He’d become an expert at unlocking doors without keys. While he’d never been arrested in North Korea — which might as well have been a death sentence — Han-Jae took a keen interest in learning how to pick many kinds of locks. He spent countless hours breaking into safes, unlocking multi-pin vaults, and even handcuffs.
The general encouraged all of these practices because he knew that a spy who could access high-security locations without a key was an incredibly useful asset.
As a safety precaution, Han-Jae always carried a small tool — no larger than a paper clip — built into his watch. It looked like an ordinary watch stem, like a million others. This stem was far from ordinary.
Before their car’s driver got in, he’d already started removing the stem with a quick push and twist with his fingers. Ever so carefully, he slid the stem out of its housing, revealing a short pin attached to the knob.
His partner glanced over at him. He barely noticed the subtle movement of Han-Jae’s wrists as he worked the pin into the handcuffs.
Han-Jae’s focus was intense. He stared straight ahead as the cop finished his conversation with the other driver and walked over to the open driver’s side door. He got in and slammed the door shut. A quick glance in the rearview mirror told him his prisoners were still there and keeping quiet, though for one uncomfortable second he locked eyes with Han-Jae’s cold, vapid stare.
The cop started the car and eased it out onto the street, followed immediately by the second car holding Han-Jae’s other two men.
Han-Jae felt the cuffs go limp against his wrists. He lowered them to the seat without making a sound. The cop flashed another quick look into the back. The prisoners remained perfectly still.
Next, Han-Jae reached down slowly to his shoe. With his fingernail, he pressed in on the raised heel of his boot. The button built into the heel was almost invisible, it had been so well concealed.
The button popped out revealing a small, razor-sharp knife. He grasped it in his fingers and returned his hands to their previous position.
As they started crossing a bridge, the cop looked back into the mirror again. This time he saw Han-Jae flashing a toothy grin.
Suddenly the prisoner twisted his body, laying his torso across his partner’s lap. The cop’s eyes widened as Han-Jae kicked out with both feet, smashing his boots into the window.
On the first kick, the window didn’t give. On the second, it shook. The third kick burst the reinforced glass out of its rails and onto the road outside. Fresh air blew in through the window, but it only lasted a second.
The cop spun the steering wheel and pulled the car over onto the side of the bridge. The other car slowed to a stop behind them as Han-Jae’s driver angrily shifted into park and got out.
He was shouting something in German as he stepped around and opened the door. The next move he made would be fatal. The cop reached in to grab Han-Jae by the collar, but the prisoner’s hand moved out from behind him in a quick slashing motion. The cop’s wrist sliced open in an instant. Before he could even scream, Han-Jae reached out and grabbed the cop’s shirt, yanked him close, and shoved the blade tip into the man’s throat.
Horror filled the cop’s eyes as he immediately started grasping at the mortal wound. Han-Jae pulled the knife out of his victim’s throat and in a deft move unlatched the dying man’s weapon from its holster.