Point of Control (17 page)

C
HAPTER
31

Sunday, March 22, 4:17 p.m., Washington, DC

As the door clicked shut, Bailey sprung into action. The North Korean officer might call the front desk to release her—or he might not. She wasn’t going to sit idly, waiting to find out. She dropped to the floor on her side and curled into a ball. With her hands still behind her back, she worked the cuffs over her butt. Thank goodness she hadn’t developed a midlife spread. Still, the damn sock in her mouth blocked her oxygen and made her jaw ache. She cursed Dukko for leaving it there.

Once she had her hands behind her legs, she felt even more trapped. She pulled up a knee and began the strenuous task of working her leg through the loop her body formed. Once it straightened out on the other side, she knew she was home free. The second leg was easier. When her hands were in front, she reached up and pulled the gag out. Although still bound together at the wrists, her fingers were functional, so she bent over and loosened the belt around her feet. Bailey rolled it up, walked over to her satchel, and shoved the belt inside. If she were contained in the trunk of a car or a shed in the middle of nowhere, her next step would be to find something—a string, a piece of wire—to saw against the plastic cuff until she cut through it and freed her hands. But fortunately, she didn’t have to waste thirty minutes with that tedious effort.

She picked up the old-style phone and called the front desk. “This is Agent Bailey. I’m in room ten-ten, and I need you to send a bellman with a sharp knife or box cutter.”

“Our bellmen are busy helping other guests with their luggage, so it could take twenty minutes.”

“I’ve been handcuffed.” Bailey searched for a plausible excuse. “As a training exercise. But I need help immediately. I also need the luggage I left at the desk earlier. So have someone bring it up too.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She scrambled from her lotus position on the bed and opened every drawer in the room, just in case Dukko had left something behind. But he hadn’t. Nor did she find anything in the bathroom that would cut through the plastic ties. Kneeling on the floor, she used her still-bound hands to rummage through the little trashcan. He hadn’t been in the hotel long enough to leave anything but a used tissue and the plastic cover to a disposable razor. None of it mattered. She wasn’t going to search for Dukko. She had other people to find. For now, she just had to wait for the bellman to show up.

She sat on the bed, shut down her mind, and tried to get into a meditative mode, like she’d had to do when she’d needed an MRI after a motorcycle accident. She’d experienced a lot of injuries in her first twenty-five years—the inevitable by-product of her impulsive and fearless nature. To relax, she let go of her thoughts and imagined herself lying in a meadow, surrounded by wildflowers, staring up at a blue sky, feeling the gentle warmth of the sun. Then a bear walked into her meadow looking for lunch.

Someone knocked on the door, and Bailey jumped up. Out of habit, she picked up her weapon from where Dukko had left it, but with her hands bound she wasn’t able to put it back into its holster. The gun might startle the bellman if no one had warned him she was FBI. But it might save her life if Dukko or one of the kidnappers was on the other side of the door.

A giant young man in a blue blazer stepped inside. “Whoa!” He dropped her suitcase and held up his hands, still gripping something in his palm.

“Relax.” Bailey laid the weapon on the bed. “Bring that box cutter over here.” She held out her bound wrists.

After giving her a quick once-over, he stepped forward. “Who did this to you?”

“Another agent. It’s part of our training. But he didn’t know my luggage was still at the front desk.”

The bellman grabbed the plastic cuffs with a giant hand. “Is this cheating?”

Bailey laughed. “The point is to get free, and there are no rules.”

The young man cut carefully through the ties, then handed her the plastic pieces. “Good luck with your training.”

“Thanks.” She dug a ten-dollar bill out of her purse and handed it to him. “Please never mention this to anyone.”

“No worries.” He flashed a bright smile and left.

Even though she was desperate for a shower, she had to buy a ticket to Seattle first. Dukko had a twenty-minute head start, but she hadn’t told him about Dana Thorpe’s abduction, so he might be headed to San Jose. She still believed that a remote rural area in Washington State was logically the most likely place to serve as a hideaway. She made the call to the airline, then took a quick shower, wishing she could spend more time in the hot water. But her flight was leaving in seventy-three minutes, and she had to keep moving. Her badge would get her quickly through airport security, but it couldn’t move traffic along.

When she was dressed, she called the front desk and asked them to arrange a cab. She wasn’t a guest in the hotel, but who cared? Dukko had paid for the room and its services. What an odd man. She admired his loyalty to his country and his willingness to risk his own freedom to accomplish his goals. But assaulting her without first checking her ID had been reckless. Almost any other agent would have the bureau looking for him already. Bailey reasoned that Dukko was more beneficial in the field, where he would continue to search for the people who abducted Lee Nam—and might even find them. She believed Dukko when he said he would never call Kim Jong-un from a jail cell to stop the execution.

While she waited in the lobby for her cab, she checked her phone. Two missed calls—one from her father and one from Garrett. She called her father back, because he hadn’t left a message.

“Hey, Andra. I thought I’d let you know I’m out of jail.”

“Good to hear. Any update on the charges?”

“Nothing’s changed, except I have a court date in two weeks to enter a plea.”

“Are you going to fight it?”

He chuckled softly. “If you send me ten grand for a retainer. My lawyer won’t take my case without it.”

Because her dad was financially irresponsible, guilty as charged, and would be unsympathetic on the witness stand. “I can cash out some stocks and loan you the money, but I want you to get to anger management counseling.”

He burst out laughing. After a moment, she laughed too. “Hey, you made me go.”

“You were thirteen and still somewhat malleable. I wanted you to have a better life than I did.”

He’d done all right for himself. Except for finances. And relationships. And controlling his temper. “You helped me a lot. Once I accepted the truth of what you were telling me about myself.”

A long pause. Neither of them was good at small talk or sentimental reminiscence. “Are you dating anyone?” he finally asked.

“Sort of. It’s probably temporary, but I’ve connected with him in a way I’ve never experienced.” He would know what she meant.

“Then hang on to him for as long as you can. Or you’ll end up alone, like me.”

“We’ll see.” Thinking about Garrett made her want to check her message. “I have to get going, but I’ll wire the money soon.” She knew it was a waste of time, but she added, “And it’s a loan. I expect you to pay it back.”

“Of course. Thanks, Andra.” Her father hung up.

Bailey called her voice mail, happy to hear Garrett’s voice: “I have good news. I think. A pharmacy in Ellensburg was robbed last night. The thief asked for OxyContin and Lyrica. They’re both pain meds, but Lyrica is also an anti-seizure medicine. Oh, and she described the robber as five-nine, thin, and dressed in all black. He also drove away in a truck. Call me when you can.”

The intel was fascinating. OxyContin indicated an addict had committed the robbery. But the Lyrica was not a first choice for euphoria, and it was so specific that it had to serve some other purpose. She calculated that the chance of the pharmacy robbery being connected to Dana Thorpe’s kidnapping was about fifty-fifty. She started to call Garrett back, but her cab arrived.

As the driver loaded her suitcase into the trunk, she directed him to Dulles Airport. Physically exhausted, she climbed into the vehicle, hoping to put her head back and rest for a moment. But first she googled
Ellensburg, Washington
on her phone and found it in the middle of the state. A further search revealed that north of it was mountainous terrain known for its past mining operations. The odds for the robbery-kidnapping connection jumped another 25 percent.

From his spot behind the coffee vendor, Dukko watched Agent Bailey walk to the cab. He heard her say “Dulles Airport” to the driver. She was leaving DC—after saying she’d been traveling to investigate previous kidnappings. Was she going back to her other cases? Or did she have a clue about Lee Nam’s location? If government agents had taken him, Nam was probably still somewhere in the capital. But if this incident was really about device manufacturing, then getting Nam out of Washington, DC, would be a smart move for the kidnapper.

Dukko decided to follow Bailey. She seemed intelligent and determined. As soon as her cab pulled away, he ran to the curb and watched for another one. This city was so different from Pyongyang. Busier and louder, and the people were so diverse. Every size and color and race. At times, he felt overwhelmed. But he’d been chosen for the assignment because he knew English and had come to the States once before on a college trip. He spotted a yellow cab and threw his arm into the air.

A few minutes later, he was on his way. He looked up ahead for Bailey’s taxi but didn’t see it. He leaned toward the front seat. “My girlfriend just left in a cab, and I need to catch up with her. Can you hurry?”

The driver looked back at him and raised one eyebrow. “Have you seen the traffic here?”

“Please try. She is on her way to the airport and she left her—” Dukko tried to think of the word. “Wallet.”

“Dulles or Ronald Reagan?”

“Dulles.”

“That helps. But I need a hundred dollars up front for that fare.”

He paid the driver and mentally counted his remaining cash. He could access more, but it would be complicated, and he didn’t know where Agent Bailey was headed. America was a big country, and he’d heard that parts of it were still uncivilized. They still didn’t see Bailey’s cab on the expressway, but it didn’t matter. He just had to figure out where she was going.

While his driver took him to the United terminal, Dukko pulled out his cell phone. She had mentioned Nick Bowman, a scientist who’d been kidnapped. He searched online and found that he lived in San Jose—or had. He’d also been murdered. Bailey obviously wasn’t looking for a dead man. Who else had been kidnapped? Another search for missing scientists produced a news report about Dana Thorpe, who’d been taken from Seattle and was still missing. Should he buy a ticket and find Ms. Thorpe’s house? Or would that waste his time and ultimately leave him stranded in this crazy country?

Without Lee Nam, he couldn’t go home. He wasn’t afraid to die, but torture or life in a prison camp intimidated him. Would the Dear Leader hurt his family to pressure him? Dukko knew the answer. Failure wasn’t an option.

C
HAPTER
32

Sunday, March 22, 1:35 p.m., Wanapum, Washington

Shawn paced the house, anxious about everything. He’d gone for a run and read through a pile of manufacturing reports, but nothing could take his mind off the situation he was in. Max’s phone call the night before demanding that he deal with Rocky had him on edge. And now he had another captive to deal with. But at least Lee Nam wanted to be in hiding until he could establish new identification, so he was being cooperative and pleasant.

For the first time, he thought about what Dana Thorpe must be feeling. Obviously, what was happening to her was unpleasant. But he’d also created the perfect circumstances for her to excel and do something amazing in the advancement of technology. Her sacrifice would be worth it. He still wanted to let her go, but thinking through the potential consequences and scenarios created too much stress. Meanwhile, resisting the urge to watch her work or ask questions was challenging, but it was still best to minimize his contact and keep his identify unknown. He couldn’t afford another Nick Bowman incident.

Yet there was Rocky to deal with. How many deaths would he be responsible for in pursuit of his goals? He was so ready to move past this phase of the plans.

His phone rang from the kitchen table and he ran to check the caller:
Max
. Shawn didn’t pick up. His financial backer would ask if he’d dealt with Rocky yet, and he didn’t want to talk about it. In his gut, he knew Max was right. If Rocky was ever arrested and charged—even years from now—he would tell them everything to cut a deal for himself. They couldn’t leave that loose end.

Shawn took another of his focus pills, then went to the freezer, pulled out a bottle of cherry vodka, and took a gulp. Just enough to take the edge off.

“Are you drinking in the middle of the day?” Jia had come into the kitchen behind him.

“Just a sip. I’m bored and frustrated here.”

“While I’m writing and testing code nonstop.” Her eyes pinched in anger, then she softened again. “I’m sorry I haven’t come through for you. I know you’re up against the rollout deadline. Why don’t you hire a real cryptographer?” She slumped her shoulders, defeated.

Shawn touched her arm. “You’ve done your best, and I’ll get someone else on board.” Lee Nam was already at work in the underground facility, so maybe it was time to send Jia home. One less risk of exposure.

“You don’t have to stay.” He pulled her in for a hug and stroked her hair. “I love your company, but there’s no reason for both of us to be here in this godforsaken place. Especially now that Harlan and Rocky are here.” They’d arrived with Lee Nam late the day before and were now staying at a motel in Wanapum, the nearby town.

“I told you I’d stay a week,” Jia said. “I’m more worried about you than me.”

“I’m fine.”

Jia drew back and looked deep into his eyes. “There’s something you’re not telling me, but I know you will eventually.” She kissed him and went back to her workspace near the window.

Shawn sat down to map out the timeline for rolling the new-generation phones off the production line. The encryption was the only real holdup now. Dana Thorpe claimed to be moments from producing a viable synthetic dysprosium. Shawn’s phone rang again. This time it filled him with dread. He looked at the ID:
Uncle Tai
.

He had to take it. “What’s going on?”

“The lady scientist knocked me down and tried to escape this morning. Now she’s lying on her bed and won’t get up. I don’t know what to do.”

Escape?
Shawn leapt from his chair and hurried out to the porch so Jia wouldn’t overhear. “How could she possibly escape?”

“Don’t worry, she didn’t get out. But she says she won’t work anymore.”

Goddammit!
He’d robbed a fucking pharmacy to get her medication and now she was going to quit on him? The little bitch. He would have to handle this himself. “I’ll be there in a bit.” Shawn hung up, hands shaking.
Keep calm.
It could still all work out. Shawn stepped back into the house and headed for the vodka in the freezer.

“What’s wrong?” Jia was behind him again.

He spun around and snapped, “Stop looking over my shoulder!”

His wife recoiled, lips trembling, but didn’t walk away. “What’s going on that has you so worried?”

“I’m sorry.” He scrambled to tell her something plausible and partially truthful. “I’m having trouble recruiting the tech people I need to meet our deadline for the new phone rollout.”

She cocked her head. “So push back the deadline. You haven’t promised consumers anything yet.”

But he had.

“Have you?” She crossed her arms.

“The media campaign kicked off two days ago. We have to condition the market.” Shawn hated having to explain himself, but he owed it to Jia. “Yes, the shortage will drive a lot of consumers to us, especially since we’re encouraging them to buy extra phones as a precaution against the future shortage. But people who love their iPhones and high-end Androids might still buy a used familiar product rather than switch.”

“But in time, they’ll have to come to us.”

“Unless China starts exporting again, or Apple or another major player comes up with their own new production material. Our competitors aren’t going down without a fight.”

Arms crossed, Jia hugged herself.

“Don’t worry. Maybe I’m just not offering enough salary to prospective employees. I’ll go back to the financiers and see if they’ll increase their equity.” He was still surprised that Bowman had refused his initial offer. A half million dollars for a month’s work? But the metallurgist hadn’t wanted to give up the intellectual property rights to his discovery—or the public acknowledgment. Shawn wanted the credit for himself, so he understood that.

“I’ll do my best to master the encryption code before the deadline.” Jia gave him a worried smile and went back to work.

Shawn checked his pulse. Over eighty again. He took another sip of vodka and hurried to the bedroom closet to dig out the ski mask he’d worn during the robbery. He pulled on a light jacket, stuffed the mask in a pocket, and headed out to his truck. He would visit Dana Thorpe in person and convince her to get off her ass and get it done. If money didn’t motivate her, he knew what would.

At the mine, he drove to the back and parked beside the bunkhouse. He didn’t want to see the manager or deal with any production issues today. He especially didn’t want to hear any complaints about working on Sunday. There wouldn’t be any days off until the mine was producing at full capacity. He hurried inside the old wooden building and went straight back to the laundry room that contained the hidden trapdoor. After a glance around, he lifted the iron basin sink, stepped down onto a small landing, and yanked the trapdoor closed after him.

He pounded down the stairs, then hurried through the dark connecting tunnel, the cool air clinging to him, its dampness tangible. He hated being down here and had a flash of guilt for keeping the experts underground. But it was no worse than many other windowless labs and workspaces, and at least they didn’t have emails or irritating coworkers to distract them. They weren’t being abused, and in the end, he would reward them with cash. Once he’d worked through all that, Shawn’s visceral response to the situation faded, and he was ready to do whatever was necessary to accomplish his goals.

At the door to the old bomb shelter, he pulled on his ski mask, unlocked the entrance, and stepped inside. The dark concrete interior was as suffocating as always. He remembered his excitement when he’d discovered it, but that had worn off. Shawn stopped at the first door, stuck a key in the lock, and braced for the unexpected. Dana Thorpe had assaulted Uncle Tai that morning in an attempt to escape. She might try again. He opened the door and waited. But from the hall, he could see the woman on her narrow cot. She was on her back, unmoving except for the shallow rise and fall of her chest.

Shawn stepped in and closed the door behind him. “Dana?”

She sat up, perhaps surprised by the sound of an unknown voice, then recoiled at the sight of him.

The ski mask.
He’d simply meant to hide his face, but it would serve to intimidate her as well.

“Who are you?” Her voice held a note of resignation, and her face looked almost white against her dark hair.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you finish the work. You said the synthetic was only a few days from being ready. Why hold back? I’ll let you go as soon as it’s working.”

“I can’t let you have it. I don’t trust you.”

Taken aback, he sat down on a wooden stool, just out of her reach. “I just want to make electronics. What is there to trust?”

“The new compound is so much more than that. We both know that’s why I’m here.”

Shawn didn’t know what she was talking about, but he couldn’t admit it. “You have no choice. Do yourself and your son a favor. Get up and get to work.”

Her eyes widened. “Leave my son out of this.”

“I’d be happy to. But if you won’t produce what I need, I’ll bring your son here as motivation.” What was he saying? Another kidnapping? The thought unnerved him. But they’d gotten away with all of them so far. Now the FBI was so focused on North Korea, probably no one was looking for him anymore. Even if they were, none of the Washington properties, including the mine, were directly in his name. A holding company within a holding company that was based in Mexico. Nearly impossible to trace back to him.

“No!” Dana Thorpe began to weep and lay down again.

He wanted her up and working. “Do you need anti-depressants?”

The scientist didn’t respond.

Maybe he should bring her son here, just to invigorate her. “What do you need? Music? Lighting that mimics the sun?”

“Just let me go.” She didn’t move.

“I can’t do that until the compound is ready and I have the data to reproduce it.”

Dana was silent.

Her refusal to finish would really fuck up his plans. Rage reached into his chest and squeezed. “Get up!”

Still on her back, Dana flinched, then rolled away from him.

The little bitch. She didn’t believe he would kidnap her son. She didn’t understand the importance of what he was trying to accomplish. He would show her.

Shawn strode from the room, hands shaking as he struggled to lock the door. He needed to calm the fuck down. After a deep breath, he rushed to the lab, wanting to see the sample she’d created but claimed wasn’t ready. On her workbench lay a thin two-inch strip of a silvery-green material that looked like water. He touched it and felt that it was solid. But then the color where his finger had pressed it started to change. That must be what Dana meant by “still a little unstable.” All right, so she had to perfect the formula. And if that meant using her son, he would. He was too close to making it all happen the way he’d envisioned.

Shawn hurried back out of the lab. As he climbed the stairs to the bunkhouse, he remembered the call from Max.
Oh fuck,
he had to deal with Rocky too. What if he combined those things? He could take Rocky with him to kidnap Dana Thorpe’s son. They already knew where to find Garrett. Only this time, Rocky would get shot during the abduction, and Shawn would protect all of them by dumping his body. Harlan would buy that, wouldn’t he?

Dana Thorpe would get back to work when she knew her son’s life was at stake.