OUTCAST Ops: Red Ice

EPILOGUE

Kwan’s office was quiet. Darkness had fallen again, the third night after the Day of Fire. Despite being the acting Mayor, Kwan remained in his office, taking comfort in its familiar surroundings and quality stock of liquor. Only a couple of dim lights stayed on; this was a meeting to be conducted in the shadows.

He stood at the window, a glass of scotch in hand, staring out at the city, his city. Well, his city for a little longer, anyway. There was a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened and John Casey walked in. “Mayor Kwan.”

“Have a seat please.”

Casey walked over to a chair in front of the desk and sat. “How is Mayor Pagliei?”

“Dying. Slowly, but still dying.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Kwan was silent for a moment. “I never wanted this. I never wanted to be mayor. I was happy where I was.”

“I take it Pyongyang wants more out of you.”

Kwan tensed, then relaxed. “So you know.”

“Rhee left enough intact intel behind. We also found two phones on Rhee’s body—”

“He’s dead?”

“You don’t sound too depressed over it.”

“Quite the opposite. You found my private cell phone number on one of his phones?”

“We did.”

Kwan sipped his scotch. “I never wanted to be part of Rhee’s plans. I still have family back in North Korea, and Rhee threatened to hurt both them and my family here.”

“Is that why you wanted to see me?”

“No, I want to confess and surrender myself to the United States as the agent of an enemy power.”

Casey got up and walked over to the wet bar. “When we discovered the connection between you and Rhee, we looked into your background. Talked to a number of people. There’s word that powerful people want you to run for Senate in two years.”

Kwan snorted. “That group includes Pyongyang. They think I am suitable for the position.” He turned and looked at Casey, who poured his drink. “That’s over. Not even California will elect a North Korean agent to the U.S. Senate.”

“I would dispute that, considering the senators currently in office.”

Kwan downed the last of his scotch. “I’m ready to surrender.”

“I’m not ready to accept it. Have a seat.”

Kwan walked over to his chair and sat. “What else do you wish to know?”

“We’ll explore that later.” Casey walked over to his chair and sat again. “Do you feel remorse?”

“About being a spy? Yes. About being caught up in Rhee’s scheme? I found out about most of it the same time as everyone else. The terrorist attacks were as much a gut punch to me as they were to the rest of the world. I knew many people who were killed in the attacks, and my soul will be scarred by that until the day I die.” He leaned back before continuing. “I have no love for the government of North Korea. It’s my homeland, but no longer my home.” He smiled, mirthless. “Besides, the worse prison here in the U.S. is light years ahead of the ones in North Korea.” The smile vanished. “Won’t do my brother or his family any good.”

“Suppose there was a way to avoid any public scandal?”

“You want me to commit suicide? Buried with honor, but the fact that I’m a spy for a belligerent country swept under the rug?”

“Please, nothing as final as that.” Casey swished his liquor around in the glass while staring at it. “Good stuff. No, I was thinking of something that doesn’t involve you getting arrested, committing suicide, or resigning. In fact, you could even run for that senate seat with a halfway decent chance of winning.”

“You want me to become a double agent.”

“Unless you want to be arrested, dragged into court and your family put through hell, that’s what we have to offer. I would much prefer you said yes, but I can’t force your hand either way.”

Kwan sighed. “I suppose it would help repair the damage that son of a bitch Rhee did.” He quaffed the last of his drink and set the glass on his desk with a resounding clack before making direct eye contact with Casey. “When do I start?”

Casey grinned. “Welcome to America, Mr. Kwan.”

Cypress Lawn Memorial Park was the burial place for George Glimsdale and the other family members who had been murdered by “unknown assailants.” Half the DEA agents in the state had come to pay their respects, as well as representatives from the FBI, ATF, and various police departments. John Casey, representing the president, stood next to the sole surviving Glimsdale daughter. Sarah Vessler and Danny Choi stood next to Casey.

The OUTCAST team was present as well, though they stayed in the background. Dressed in somber clothing like the rest, the clandestine operators watched the funerals in silence. They were marked with outward signs of their actions in the mines; Stephen’s arm was in a sling to ease the strain of his bruised shoulder, while Dante and Tanner had a few new scars. Liam was nursing a couple of bruised ribs from bullets that had failed to penetrate the Dragonskin armor. When the service was over and the mourners departed, OUTCAST waited for Vessler and her partner.

Finally, Vessler walked over to them, followed by Choi. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“We had to come,” Tanner said. He looked at Gloria Glimsdale, who was being comforted by an older woman. “Is she going to be all right?”

“It’ll take a long time, but she has us as her family now. We in the DEA will look out for her. George had a few friends in high places. Whatever she wants to do, we’ll make sure she has any help she needs. How’s Dr. Mori?”

“Recovering in a government hospital. She turned over all of her notes on Red Ice and the formula for something called patbingsu, which she described as a ‘battle drug’ to Uncle Sam.”

“Patbingsu?” Choi asked. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, that’s what she called it. Why, do you know what patbingsu is?”

The Korean-American snorted. “I should. Used to have it a couple of times a week when I was growing up. It’s a desert — shaved ice with sweet toppings, like red bean paste, fruit, or condensed milk. Patbingsu means ‘red beans with ice’.”

“Somewhere there’s a joke in there,” Dante said.

Tanner looked at Choi. “How are you doing, Danny?”

“Still sore,” the DEA agent replied. “I’ll be on medical leave for another two weeks.”

Casey approached the group, escorted by a phalanx of Secret Service agents including Jenifer DuPree. Casey motioned to the protection detail to stay where they were and joined the group. “Good to see everyone’s okay.”

“What about the slaves from the lab?” Dante asked.

“The North Koreans are split in terms of what they want. About half want to stay here and apply for political asylum, while the rest want to go to South Korea. The South Korean Consulate is helping us figure out who wants what and how feasible that is. As for the Chinese, most of them want political asylum. The president is sending a planeload of INS agents to help sort it all out at the local office.”

“What’s happening with the ranch?” Naomi asked. “There’s not much left of either house.”

“We lucked out there,” Casey replied. “We put out the story that it was a base for the terrorists who attacked San Francisco, which is true, and that they were Islamic fanatics, which isn’t. The president isn’t willing to declare war on North Korea, not when he has his hands full with ISIS and the Middle East.”

“Colonel Mulkerin won’t catch any flak, will he?”

“Under the circumstances, no. The president feels that both Agent Vessler and the Colonel made the right call. Officially, it was the terrorists who set fire to ICEHOUSE, and all reports will reflect that.”

“What happened to Hong? The Black Dao is crumbling with him missing.”

“Witness protection program,” Casey said. “He spilled everything about the Black Dao in return for a new identity and life elsewhere. It was either that or a lifetime in a Supermax on terrorism convictions. He chose to cooperate.”

Vessler looked at Tanner and the others. “So what are your plans? Leaving town soon?”

Tanner shook his head. “Not for a couple of days. We need a break before heading out.”

“We can show you around the real San Francisco.”

Tanner looked at the others. “Any objections?”

“Would be nice to see the city without peering at it over gunsights,” Liam said.

“Or running up and down flights of stairs,” Danielle added.

Stephen nodded. “Doc said that I should rest the shoulder a couple of days.”

Naomi shrugged and broke out in a grin. “About time I spent some downtime with old friends. I’m in!”

“Vessler turned to Casey, but the former FBI director held up a hand to stall her impending question. “Go and enjoy yourself. I have a few loose ends to clean up and then I’m heading back to D.C. tomorrow night.” He smiled. “No rest for the wicked.”

The DEA agent nodded. “After the wake, I know a watering hole where we can toast to George’s memory.” She grinned. “And if you get me drunk enough, I’ll tell you about the time me and Nay found ourselves in a biker bar filled with Hell’s Angels and what we had to do to escape with our lives and dignity intact.”

Naomi’s eyes widened. “Don’t you dare tell them that story!”

“If you buy the first round, I might reconsider.” Vessler’s grin widened. “You will not believe what Nay can do with her tongue and a pickle.”

The rest of the OUTCASTs turned to look at Naomi, who flushed. “It’s not like that!” she said quickly. “Get your minds out of the gutter.”

Vessler reached out and grabbed Naomi by the arm. “Come on, Nay,” she said in a more serious tone. “Need a friend right now, and you’re about the only one I can talk to.”

“What about me?” Choi demanded in a mock hurt tone. “What am I, chopped liver?”

“No, you’re a guy. Come on, Nay.” They walked away, trailed by the others.

Before they got out of earshot, Casey heard Liam ask Choi, “Do you know the biker bar story?”

“Yeah.”

“What can Nay do with a pickle and her tongue?”

“Pray you never find out. When Vess told me, I had nightmares for months.”

Casey snorted a laugh, then turned to DuPree. “Thought about my offer?”

“Still considering it.”

“Take all the time you want. For now, let’s help get the city back on its feet.”