Brothers in Arms

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Shaun Kingston sat without moving, betraying no emotion as the calls came in thick and fast. General Kwang Yong thrust an encrypted phone back toward a subordinate and started smoothing out his cuffs.

“My people need me,” he said quietly. “I must return to the island. Immediately.”

“Anything I should know?” Kingston asked inoffensively.

“They have captured Mai Kitano.”

“I assume that’s a good thing.” Kingston didn’t pretend to recognize the name.

“It is an interrogation fit only for a General.” Kwang Wong puffed his chest out self-importantly. “And as regards our own enterprise — I need to know what she knows. Only me.”

“Understood. Germaine? What do you have?”

The bodyguard had been busy fielding half a dozen calls. “We’re about to get fucked more times than a porn star. The bastards have exposed us, sir.”

“Be more specific.”

“They know you were at the Desert Palms. They’ve even figured out why we zombied-up to take out those drunk pricks who barged in on us. In hindsight, sir, that might have been a mistake.”

Kingston didn’t miss the gentle irony. “So it seems. How easily our best laid plans can fall apart, eh, Germaine? Years of toil and strategy flushed away in a second by four idiots and an expensive hooker.”

Germaine nodded. “Since time began, sir.”

General Kwong Yang interrupted them. “I too need to leave. I wish to use the same airport I arrived at.”

Kingston nodded. “Goes without saying, General. My jet’s kept in constant readiness there. And I have more properties and friends throughout the European and Asian continents than I do in the Americas. We’ll head out together.”

“Very well. I will prepare.”

“General,” Kingston said softly to the retreating man’s back, “do we still have an arms deal?”

Three seconds of silence passed saturated with such thick tension it could have absorbed the thrust of a knife. Then the North Korean spoke without turning. “Of course we do, Kingston. If you wish I could always awaken our army…”

Kingston shuddered. He knew the effects an army of sleeper agents would have on American soil. The chaos and terror that could be triggered by random violence. He also knew how much the Korean relished making each and every call that turned a sleeper into a zombie-like assassin. The power in his voice could turn a respected, everyday American into a horrific extension of the North Korean army. Kwang Yong had invited Kingston to watch once, to bear witness to the wickedness. Kingston had felt obliged to acquiesce, just once. What he saw in Kwang Yong’s face was something he’d never seen before.

Undiluted hatred. Gleeful malice — the kind a priest might associate with an avenging demon. Wanton and immoral rage.

Just six words: The Devil is in, Miss Jones.

If a man could have a sexual, corrupt and psychotic experience whilst delivering a message on the phone, then Kwang Yong had stolen the gold.

“You would do that just to cover our escape?”

“Wouldn’t you? Mr. Kingston, you have made a deal to supply models of advanced weaponry and top secret blueprints to, quite probably, America’s worst and most proficient enemy. Did you think there would be no collateral damage?”

“Not beyond a certain scale.”

“Then on whom did you think we would use your DREAD system? Your XM-25’s?”

Kingston hadn’t actually taken his thoughts much beyond private island parties, a decadent, faceless lifestyle and megayacht ownership. Now, he pushed it all aside. “We have much to do.”

“Then I should really go and prepare.”

“You do that, General.” Kingston exhaled noisily. “It’s all unraveling. How long do we have?”

Germaine considered the question, whip-thin frame coiled with tension. “We have half a dozen material assets they will check first, but we need to be gone from this house by dawn, sir.”

Kingston checked his bespoke Rolex. “It’s five p.m. now.” He turned to his assembled men. “Load up the trucks, boys, and prep the armored cars. We move out in twelve hours.”