Shadow Pawn, page 8
But he wouldn’t leave her alone and helpless. He could leave Angela with the taser, plus some of the Korean money Charley had given him. Enough in case she needed to take a car to the airport. Still—his conscience pricked at the thought.
Her expression told him she didn’t give a fuck about the house. She wanted to go home. He didn’t blame her for that either.
“Look. I’m supposed to call in. Tell them we made it here safely. I’ll ask what they have planned for you. No guarantee they’ll tell me anything, but I’ll ask. Okay?”
She blew out a huff.
“I guess. Thank you.” She didn’t look overly happy, but she accepted his offer.
He was glad to have an excuse to ask because just like her he was wondering what the hell this mysterious organization was going to do to get her out.
And more—dammit—why wasn’t he involved?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Walking away from the safe house had Adam’s stomach twisting. In the cab to the airport his mind tortured him by reliving the past day.
Top on the highlight reel on repeat in his head was the expression on Angela’s face as he closed the door on her and left. A mixture of disappointment and disbelief.
There were shades of anger and determination in her too, which convinced him she wasn’t going to sit there waiting for whatever exfiltration plan Charley cooked up.
Nope. Angela wasn’t the type to sit around or do as she was told. Her failed attempt to escape from the hotel through plumbing sabotage was proof of that.
He had no doubt she’d be on her way by nightfall, at least to find a phone or computer, even though he’d told her it wasn’t safe to contact anyone in her life through any means. The bad guys could be monitoring any and all communications to anyone in her circle.
Then there was that phone conversation with Charley—the other thing weighing on his mind. If it could be called a conversation, where he asked questions and got no answers.
How are you getting her out?
That’s not your concern.
I’m here. I can—
Thank you but your job is done. Get on a flight back to the States. The money will be wired to your account when you land.
That last sentence spoke volumes. She never outright said it but he had a feeling if he didn’t fly directly to Virginia, he wouldn’t be getting paid.
Fuck the money.
There were certain things that meant more to him. Like doing what was right. Leaving Angela behind, alone, didn’t feel right.
Fuck doing this all on his own too. He was contacting backup. If he was going to break one rule, he might as well break more.
He might be out of the Navy, but he still had friends there. Friends who knew the raw deal he’d been dealt and were on his side. And, as of last contact, one of those friends was stationed in—wait for it—South Korea.
For once, luck was on his side.
Adam took the cab to the airport, as planned, but he didn’t book a flight to the States. Instead, he headed for a kiosk and bought himself a phone.
The sheer number of burner phones in his possession was proof of how insane his life had gotten lately, but it couldn’t be helped. He knew Charley monitored his personal cell. He sure as hell wasn’t going to use the cell she’d given him for this job. So a new phone was the way to go.
After powering down and taking out the SIM card from the cell Charley had given him, he powered up the new phone.
Knowing his friend was stationed at Chinhaie Navy Base in Busan, Adam had memorized Griffen Garrett’s phone number as soon as he’d found out he too would be in South Korea for this op, in case things went south.
There was exactly one person he trusted in South Korea and Griffen was it.
He and Griffen had been through BUD/S together. That kind of bond didn’t die, no matter how much time or distance was between them.
Right now, he needed someone to bounce this feeling of unease off. A fresh set of ears.
Griff would be straight with him. Tell him if he was being paranoid and should just take the money and not look back. Or if there was a reason to hang around Jeju and keep an eye on things.
Either way it would be good to see him again.
Gimhae International Airport was a one-hour flight from Jeju. Even if he weren’t torn up over leaving Angela behind, it would be a no brainer to spend some of Charley’s won to see his friend…as long as Griff was actually at the base and not on an op.
He typed in a quick text to Griff’s number. The speed with which a reply came back was encouraging, even before he opened the text and read it.
WTF are you doing here? Hell, yeah, you can come visit. Tell me which flight. I’ll meet you at the airport.
And with that, his plans were set.
He went directly to the Korean Air counter and booked the first flight with an empty seat to Gimhae.
Luck was with him. He made it just in time to hop on a plane leaving that hour. An hour after that, he saw Griff waiting for him by the airport exit.
Just seeing his old friend was enough to make Adam smile, but on top of that, the goofball was holding a sign with his name on it, like he was a damn limo driver.
The smile turned into a laugh. It felt like a year since he’d laughed.
Christ. He might have a whole lot of mixed up love-hate feelings about the Navy right now—particularly his old command—but there was no question he missed the guys. The camaraderie.
Seeing Griff reminded him how much as he was wrapped in a bear hug by one of the few SEALs he’d trained with who actually dwarfed him.
“Man, it’s good to see you. But what the hell are you doing in South Korea?” Griffen asked after he released Adam.
“That’s kind of a long story. Is there someplace we can talk? Away from military ears and eyes,” he added.
Griffen’s dark brows shot up. “Yeah. Sure. My place okay? I’ve got a fridge stocked with beer.”
“You living on base?” Adam asked, hesitant.
“Yeah.”
“You sweep for surveillance lately?”
“Oh, sure. Every night before bed.” Griffen laughed, until he looked at Adam’s face and realized he wasn’t joking. His eyes widened. “Jesus. You’re serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
“Damn. Okay. Let’s take a ride to the beach. Go for a walk along the water. Good?”
“Perfect.” Adam nodded. Paranoid. Maybe. But better safe than sorry.
Good thing it was a warm day, because Adam stripped down to as little as possible for their walk. His bag, his phones, even his boots—which he wouldn’t put past Charley to bug—stayed in his friend’s car.
The gun, ammunition and knifes were back on Jeju, secured in a locker at the airport just in case he decided to go back and needed them again.
Silently, Griffen watched with a mixture of concern and surprise as Adam stripped down to his pants and shirt.
He’d understand soon enough.
Barefoot, Adam tipped his head toward the sand. “Let’s walk.”
Griff didn’t move at first. Then he let out a huff and reached for his own shoes. “Hang on.”
Adam smiled as Griffen pulled off his socks and stuffed them into the boots on the floor, before tossing the keys and his cell phone inside one boot as well, slamming the door and hitting the button for the keyless entry to lock the car.
“You’re fucking making me paranoid,” Griffen grumbled as he turned to Adam. “Come on. I’m dying to hear this.”
He strode toward the water. Adam followed, taking a few quick steps to catch up with Griffen’s long stride.
When they reached the water’s edge, Griffen stopped dead and folded his arms. “Talk.”
Adam drew in a big breath and began with the phone call from the mysterious Charley. He didn’t stop until he reached the part of the story where he’d left Angela standing by the door of the safehouse.
Griffen didn’t say a word through the whole telling of the tale, but his expression changed a good dozen times.
When Adam stopped talking, the man let out a string of soft cusses, ending with a final, “That’s mother fucking insane.”
“Yup.” Adam nodded. That pretty much summed up the situation.
“How the hell do you get yourself involved in this kind of shit?”
“Me? I didn’t get myself involved in anything. She called me.” Adam ignored as Griff’s brows shot high. “Anyway, I guess what I want from you is an objective opinion. I can’t shake the feeling in my gut that I should see this through to the end. But that’s the opposite of my orders.”
Griffen drew in and let out a big breath. “That’s a lot of money to risk by making the boss unhappy. But, on the other hand, I don’t think you’re crazy. It doesn’t feel right, you leaving before it’s done.”
“Right?” Adam agreed before biting out a sharp, “Fuck. So what do I do?”
“You want me to tell you what to do?” Griff’s eyes widened. “Or do you already know exactly what you want to do and you just want me to tell you you’re right?”
And that was why he’d gone to a friend as good as Griff with this. Tough love.
“Probably that second one,” Adam admitted, eyes downcast.
Griffen laughed. “Oh no. This decision is all yours. But I can do something for you.”
“What’s that?”
“My friend who lives here. He’s an ex-pat. Retired from the US Air Force and decided to stick around. He runs private helicopter tours. He also owns a small plane. And I’m betting for the cost of the fuel, he’d be happy to fly you back to Jeju.”
Adam shook his head. “Thanks, but I can just take a commercial flight—”
“Not with the kind of firepower I’m going to load you up with, you can’t,” Griffen interrupted.
Adam had been gazing out at the water, thinking what a shame it was he couldn’t stick around and visit for a bit longer, while already planning what he was going to do when he got back to the safe house. But at that statement, his gaze whipped up to his friend.
Griffen lifted one shoulder. “I can’t send you back into the fight with a clear conscience without the proper equipment, now can I?”
Adam’s lips twitched into a smile that broadened to a wide grin. Visiting Griff had been the right decision. He could only hope that going back for Angela was equally as wise.
“So, what do you have in mind?” Adam asked, already salivating at the thought of what Griffen might have procured during his time here.
“You ever shoot a South Korean-made K14, .308 Winchester bolt-action sniper rifle?” Griffen asked and Adam knew he was gonna need a bigger bag.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
He’d actually left her there. All alone. With nothing.
No ID. No cell phone. No clothes except what was on her back.
He had given her some cash. Big deal. What the hell was she supposed to do with that? Use it to take a cab to the dock and stowaway on a container ship bound for the States?
And he’d left her with the taser for protection, so she could defend herself. Great. A hell of a lot of good that would do if there were more than one of them. Or if they had guns. Then she’d be the idiot bringing a taser to a gun fight.
Still, he’d left her anyway.
What kind of man did that? Just left a woman after rescuing her.
She’d thought he was some kind of hero. She’d even started to really like him.
Humph. Not anymore.
The man was nothing but a mercenary. Paid off by his boss to do a job and that job was getting her out of Shanghai. Nothing more.
And who the hell had thought it was a good idea to hire people to get her out of the hotel only to dump her on an island half a day off the coast of China and then leave her there?
The board of the company?
Fern?
She considered that last guess.
Maybe it had been Fern and a rescue but not transportation home was all she could afford.
No. Fern would have used Angela’s credit card to book a flight. The woman ran her household pretty much single handedly. And she paid for more things with that credit card than Angela did.
But how the hell would her housekeeper have access to mercenaries anyway? Unless Fern had some deep dark past she wasn’t aware of, this train of thought was a dead end.
It didn’t matter who had made the decision. The fact remained she was good and stranded.
Adam had said someone would come for her but he couldn’t say who or when. He hadn’t seemed all that certain about any of it, a fact he didn’t hide all that well, if he’d even been trying to hide it.
As much as she was mad at him right now—and she was pretty damn angry—she did respect his skills. If Adam was uncertain, concerned even, she should be too.
She wasn’t being paranoid. In this situation, she had every right to be worried. But what could she do?
Her stomach let out a loud, angry growl and one thing came to mind. She needed to eat. She’d been so upset and angry for the hours after Adam left this morning, she hadn’t eaten.
A little afraid of what she’d find, she went exploring.
She found the kitchen stocked with supplies for cooking for the tourists who rented this house—when it wasn’t being used as a safe house for American fugitives.
There were more kinds of soy sauce and oils than she’d known existed. Jelly, which she had no use for right now. Spices she couldn’t pronounce but which looked like scary hot peppers with their red color.
Lots of different teas. Microwaveable meals of rice or rice with beans. Ramen.
She wrinkled her nose at the anchovy paste and moved on to the next shelf where she found tuna. Lots of it. All different kinds that she’d never seen in the States—judging by the pictures on the labels. Tuna with hot pepper. Tuna with vegetables.
At least she wouldn’t starve.
Curious—and starving—she reached for a can of tuna with vegetables, figuring it would be fast to just crack open the can and dig right in. No cooking necessary. Plus she wanted to see what it tasted like.
While opening the next cabinet door in search of a bowl, what she found had her blowing out a breathy laugh.
Wine.
That she recognized and she’d definitely be cracking that open. She took it down from the shelf and started her search in earnest for a can opener, glass and bowl.
Everything was provided in this two-bedroom rental on what looked, from what little she’d seen on the drive from the docks, like an island paradise. The Hawaii of South Korea.
This would have been a pleasant experience if she wasn’t here under duress. A veritable prisoner but without a jailor.
Not for long. Once fueled with food and drink, she was going to figure a way out of this place. But for now, she settled in on the small stiff sofa and put her plate and glass on the low wooden table next to the remote control there.
Television. Hmm. Why not? She could pretend things were normal, at least for a little bit while she ate before she had to go back into survival mode.
She’d found spoons and chopsticks in the drawers as far as eating utensils. There was no doubt which she needed to choose for the tuna. So after shoving a few spoons full into her mouth and washing it down with a big swallow of wine, she reached for the remote control.
Wondering if there would be English subtitles she could turn on, she hit the power button and the black screen lit.
A menu appeared on screen but there was no way she could read any of it. She started with the menu item at the top and clicked on it. There were a bunch of options to click through, but she’d have to hit on the right one eventually that would yield subtitles for whatever show or news or movie she chose.
Or maybe not… She paused, frozen with the remote in her hands still aimed at the television when a browser opened.
Holy shit. A real internet browser window, with a search bar ready and waiting for her to enter whatever URL she wanted to visit.
Could it be? She had a conduit to the world right at her fingertips?
Her breathing shallow, her hand was starting to shake as she swept the screen with her gaze, zeroing in on language options.
English. There was English. She’d be able to read what she was typing. She could log-in to her email.
But no. Adam had said they could be monitoring her email. Especially now that she’d escaped.
It was likely how they knew what flight she’d been on so they could grab her outside the airport.
Shit. Think, think, think.
Her eyes widened when a long forgotten memory skidded into the forefront of her mind. Long ago, when she’d been in school, she had opened her first email account ever. A free Yahoo account.
She hadn’t used it in well over a decade. Maybe two. She hadn’t even thought about it in at least that long. She’d long since switched to an account attached to her home internet provider for her personal use and then had her work email through the company.
The bad guys wouldn’t think to monitor a decades old account. They wouldn’t even know about it.
Was it still active? She was about to find out. She still knew the password. It was the model and year of her first car. The one her parents had given her for graduation.
As the sound of rain pelting the roof and windows heralded a sudden storm, she painstakingly entered the password with the remote control in her trembling hands. Then she hit enter.
When the page loaded she nearly passed out from holding her breath.
The inbox appeared on the TV screen. She ignored the thousands of spam emails and hit to write a new message.
But who could she contact?
Fern. The poor woman needed to know she was okay. That after all this time she wasn’t dead.
She was about to enter in the email address when what Adam had said made her stop. Everyone she was connected to could have been monitored. Not just her phone and email. But their phones and emails as well.
Could they hack Fern’s email and be monitoring that too since Fern lived in her house and used her WiFi?
