Point of Contact

70

The Reconnaissance General Bureau agents were rousted from their beds behind the crumbling walls of the DPRK embassy compound at twenty minutes after midnight by the RGB chief of station himself. The panic in his eyes underscored the urgency in his barked orders.

The station chief had only seven men in his command at the embassy. The task was straightforward enough: Find three spies who were in transit to Kuala Lumpur from southern Malaysia.

Photo IDs of the three were handed to the agents.

“Won’t finding these three people on a peninsula inhabited by thirty million people prove difficult, sir?”

The chief parroted the explanation given to him. The three spies were almost certainly traveling by car, and two of the three spies were white. Moreover, no one was driving on the roads this time of the night, especially under current conditions. So, in fact, the assignment was not as difficult as it seemed.

“Agreed?”

“Agreed!”

The chief informed his men that he had received their deployment orders directly from Pyongyang. They were to split their forces between the only two crossing points, the eastern Johor causeway and the western Second Link. The mission was also specified:

Recover the USB drive.

Kill Brown.

Kill Fairchild.

“And most important, capture Jack Ryan!”

The four grim RGB men in the Kia Sorento with DPRK diplomatic license plates sped through the early-morning gloom and the drenching rains at high speed — far higher than caution warranted in the current conditions. The drive to the Second Link causeway across from Tuas Checkpoint at normal speeds would take almost three and a half hours. They needed to beat that time, and the late start didn’t help.

Fortunately, the roads were clear at this time of the morning, and traffic warnings had urged Malaysians to avoid driving altogether until noon tomorrow, if possible.

The North Korean driver pushed the four-cylinder to its maximum, breaking far beyond the speed limit. The police wouldn’t dare pull them over with their diplomatic plates — and no police were to be seen, anyway.

The edge of the unusual storm had reached Kuala Lumpur, but it was not nearly as destructive as it had been reported in Singapore and points south. Though the road conditions were dangerous, each man in the vehicle knew that death in a fiery car crash was preferable to what awaited them if they failed their mission.

Jack, Paul, and Lian finally reached the far side, safely away from the river but still pummeled by the ceaseless rain and wind. They stopped to catch their breath. No cars were around. Certainly no emergency vehicles. If anybody saw them make the crossing, they weren’t doing anything to help them now.

“Now what?” Paul asked. “Keep walking?”

“What else can we do?” Jack said. He turned to Lian. “What time is it?” Not only had the wave broken his arm, it had busted his watch.

“Three twenty-eight. Three hours and thirty-two minutes to go.” Lian shook her head. “We need to find a car, fast.”

“You find the drive, Jack?” Paul asked.

“It’s in my pocket.”

“Sorry about that. I’m sorry about everything—”

“Just buy me a beer and we’ll call it even, okay? In the meantime, we need to find some wheels.”

“The Honda’s lights are still on,” Paul said. “Won’t somebody come out and take a look?”

Jack shook his head. “Not in these conditions. Too dangerous. We can’t wait around for them to show up. We’re running out of clock.”

“I know where we might find a car,” Lian said.