Retired US Army General Homer Lapry sat in the fighting chair of the fishing boat he’d hired on the northern coast of South Korea and stared out at the large expanse of water. The contact had been sent to him while he was on vacation, and he’d been thrilled to finally be noticed. His retirement had been shoved down his throat, and he’d been livid from the moment he’d been escorted from his office. President Peter Khalid was on a mission to bring down every military institution and twist it into his perverted view of the future. It was sickening to watch.
“Two boats closing fast, sir,” the charter captain said as he brought the engines to idle.
Homer picked up his reel, in case it wasn’t who he thought it was, and put his cigar back in his mouth. “You sure you’ve done this before?”
“Yes, sir, and you have to go with the northern soldiers to get to who you want. That might make you nervous, but it’s the only way.”
The military boats with multiple weapons in front and back seemed to be overloaded with men, but the one alone at the back was evidently in charge. The man stood ramrod straight and issued orders as the two boats were tied together. “You come.”
Homer placed the rod in the holder and moved, the thought of how crazy this was playing in a loop in his head. They’d bombed these people the year before and destroyed their nuclear facilities, and here they were welcoming him into the country. At least, that’s what he hoped this was.
“Please sit, General,” the man said after shaking his hand.
The trip wasn’t as long as he figured, and on shore a helicopter with a sun rising over a mountain was waiting on him. He guessed it was rising and not setting, since the logo was the same as on the initial letter he’d received from what he’d believed was a new Washington lobbying group, New Horizons. The names listed as board members along the side were impressive, but now a number of them were dead or locked away for treason.
Congress had started an investigation almost from the second former Vice President Dick Chandler’s home blew up, killing the head of the FBI and four of his agents. The US government was trying to root out those loyal to Chandler and the open rebellion he was waging against what he saw as the downfall of America, being led by Khalid and his bitch Vice President Olivia Michaels.
“Sir, welcome to North Korea,” the young man with blond hair and a pristine black uniform with the logo on the pocket said as he saluted. “I’ll be your pilot today. If you’re ready, we’ll take off.”
The flight lasted only twelve minutes, but Homer realized why it was necessary as they traveled away from the coast over thick vegetation with no visible roads. “Is this the only way in?”
“There are actually two roads—one that leads to Mongumpó by the coast where you landed, and the other inland toward the capital—but it takes over an hour of rough riding.” The pilot circled the large compound and landed on one of the pads close to the forest. “Please follow me, sir.”
Over a thousand people, all wearing the same black uniform, were walking around performing different tasks, and they all appeared American. The house at the edge of the main compound was large, beautiful, and strangely out of place. By all accounts this backward country was poor and struggling under crushing sanctions, but this facility made Homer wonder about the truth of that perception.
“Sir.” He stood at attention and saluted before taking the hand Dick Chandler held out. “It’s a pleasure.”
“Thank you for coming, General. Let’s sit.” Dick led him to a beautiful table outside on the wide porch and sat. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
* * *
Gromwell Enterprises’ private jet came to a halt inside the hangar at the end of their private airstrip. According to the manifest, it was returning from their offices in Montana, so there was no need for customs agents to board. The defense contractor had been one of former President George Butler’s biggest supporters, and their loyalty and generosity to the ticket had been well compensated with enough government contracts to last years.
The CEO, Tom Bristol, was waiting for the arrival of his guests, since he was curious as to why all the cloak-and-dagger shit his old friend Dick had insisted on. He’d tried to get some information out of Marine Major Franklin Porche, who’d showed up to wait with him, but asking the man anything was like talking to a corpse.
Rachel Chandler was the first one out, followed by her brother Jeffery and a few other guys Tom didn’t recognize. “Rachel, welcome.” He held his hand out. “How’s your father?”
“He’s fine, and thank you for helping us today. Is there someplace where we can talk to Major Porche in private?”
“Sure, but what exactly is going on?”
“I’ll fill you in while my sister talks to Franklin,” Jeffery said.
He led them all to the offices, and the guy who appeared heavily armed followed them into an empty space while Rachel took the small conference room. Suddenly the small favor for an old friend didn’t seem so simple.
“What’s all this about, Jeffery? We still have government contracts, so if you’re in some kind of trouble, I can’t be involved.” All the news coverage on Dick’s crimes against the government that he’d chalked up to being farfetched had a ring of truth now that it was too late to get out of the mistake he’d made.
“Tom, I need you to sit and be quiet. By helping us get into the country illegally, you’re now complicit. That alone will get you some jail time and the loss of all your contracts.” Jeffery nodded in the other man’s direction, and the guy pushed him into a chair. “Your part is done for today, so hit the road. Think before you don’t take any more calls from my father though.” Jeffery knocked on the desk with his knuckles, making him look up. “You know him well enough to realize he’ll take pleasure in destroying you.”
Rachel glanced at the door when Jeffery came in with Kevin Skinner. The trip over had been long with all the refueling stops, and they all appeared exhausted, but they didn’t have much time to finalize their plans.
“My father put the big pieces of this together,” Rachel said to Franklin Porche, and the man nodded without a hair on his head moving because of the severe marine haircut.
“I swore to Mr. Chandler he’d have my complete cooperation and loyalty, but what’s the end game?” Franklin asked, his eyes momentarily going from her to Kevin and the other man with him.
“The old ways of government are too hardwired to completely overthrow what people know, but there’s another way to replace it with something that works better.”
Franklin ran his hand over the top of his head and laughed. “That’s the kind of bull crap the recruiting office tells you, Ms. Chandler. What’s the end game?”
“This is our plan for now.” She started talking, and Franklin leaned in as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “The time for backing out is over, Franklin. You’re in this.”
“I owe a lot to your father, and I’ll spend the rest of my life paying him back. You have no worries on my end.”
“Good.” Rachel stood but didn’t head for the door. “I’ll be in touch.”
“I guess we’ll know in a few minutes how loyal these guys are,” Jeffery said and laughed. “If they get on the phone to the FBI we’re fucked.”
“Do you want to review everything before we go?” she asked, ignoring Jeffery’s sarcasm. Their brother Robyn had stayed behind to help their father, so she was stuck with the reluctant one.
“I’m a marine, remember? We’re always prepared. Besides, dear ole dad has a spare. I’m sure Robyn will be happy to pitch in if something happens to me.”
“It’s not too late for me to send someone else.”
“Forget it. I’ll be fine.”
“Remember to stick to the plan, and I’ll see you at the safe house once you’re done.”
“Sure, if we do that, what could go wrong?” He kissed her forehead before leaving for the place outside the beltway.
“Plenty can go wrong, little brother, so hopefully your head’s in the game.”
* * *
“Wait out here, and I’ll go in and find them,” Aidan said as Berkley drove slowly through the arrival and baggage area of the New Orleans airport.
“Your father’s going to think I’m an asshole for not helping with the luggage.”
“I’ll get a porter, baby, and you can impress him later when you carry it all up the stairs. Or I can tell him you were busy making love to me, so we didn’t have time to park.” Aidan gave Berkley a quick kiss before hopping out and disappearing into the cool space crowded with passengers ready for the July fourth holiday weekend. “Daddy,” she said, putting her arms around retired Admiral Preston “Triton” Sullivan and kissing his cheek.
“Where’s Cletus?” he asked gruffly but squeezed her before letting her go. “Your mama packed like we’re moving here.”
“I made her late, so no giving her a bad time, and I’ll get a porter.” Her mom joined them a few minutes later when she exited the restroom, and they laughed together as Preston pointed to numerous bags that needed to be loaded. “Come on. Berkley’s waiting outside.”
Aidan relinquished the front seat to her father and shook her head practically all the way back to the Quarter as her father gave Berkley a hard time about everything he could think of. Berkley’s string of “yes, sirs” meant nothing he said would rattle her, but it seemed to be an important part of their relationship.
It took five trips for Berkley to carry all the bags up from the car to the place next to theirs, but her parents were staying considerably longer to scope out the city that might become their permanent home. “Will you promise not to kill my father if I take my mom shopping for a little while?” Aidan asked, putting her arms around Berkley’s waist.
“She packed everything she owns. What could she possibly need?” Berkley asked softly as her parents changed in the bedroom into something cooler.
“A few things, but I promise we won’t be long.”
Berkley slid her hands down to Aidan’s ass as she kissed her. They were back to the solid belief that nothing would ever come between them, and that made it impossible to keep their hands off each other.
“Get your hands off my daughter’s backside,” Preston said loudly, making Berkley lift her hands and take three steps back.
“Behave, or I’ll have her put all that stuff back in the car and ship you home,” Aidan said, shaking her finger at Preston. “Do I need to separate you two while we go shopping?”
“Shopping? For what? Your mother packed everything she owns. What could she possibly need?” Preston asked, and Berkley laughed until he glared at her.
“That’s too scary to think about,” Aidan said and kissed her father on the cheek before she kissed Berkley. “Try not to pick up any more bad habits before I get back,” Aidan said and pinched her side.
“Can I buy you a beer, sir?” Preston smiled as he placed a cigar in his mouth and offered her one. “I’d like to talk to you about something.”
“Lead the way.” Preston lit hers before following her out, and she hoped she had time to brush her teeth before Aidan got back. This definitely counted as a bad habit, she was guessing.
They picked a place where they could sit outside to finish their smokes and enjoy the beers they’d ordered. “What’s on your mind, Cletus?”
“As you know, we took the assignment the president offered, and after we’ve put in the time, we were planning to retire. With the change in ‘don’t ask don’t tell,’ it’s made things easier, but Aidan is still my commanding officer, so I’m not about to advertise our relationship.” He nodded and took a large swallow of beer. “To our families, though, I want to declare what Aidan means to me.”
“I’ve got no doubts or fears when it comes to what you feel for my daughter, and I couldn’t have asked for better when it comes to her future.”
“Thank you, sir, and I hope you mean that. I’d like your blessing to ask her to marry me. The ceremony might need to wait some, but I don’t want to postpone making the promises I swear to keep.”
Preston put his cigar down and stood, waving her up. “I’m damn proud and happy to give you that,” he said, hugging her. “Welcome to our family.”
“I have to get her to say yes first.” She tapped her glass against his when he sat and raised his.
“I’m sure you’re up for the job.” He ordered another round before pointing his cigar at her. “Remember to always love her, and that I’ll kill you and dump you at sea if you don’t.”
“I’d never break a promise to the son of Poseidon, sir.”
“Smartass.”
* * *
Dick Chandler watched his troops go through different drills, pleased by how well they were working together since he’d recruited them from different military branches. He’d reluctantly sent Rachel and Jeffery to undertake the next part of his master plan, and it was too late to call them back and send someone else.
“Sir, we received Khalid’s most up-to-date calendar a few minutes ago, so we’re clear for our mission.” Robyn, his son, read from the notebook in his hand, and Dick was long used to Robyn’s need for perfection. “Now that Jeffery and Rachel are there, we can start thinking about the next phase.”
“What have I told you about rushing?” He saluted a few of the men who were looking his way before turning to face his eldest child. “We have to make sure everything is in place before we move on. If we skip anything, nothing else will fall in line.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Stop being sorry and learn. Did you speak to your brother before he left?” Robyn had wanted nothing to do with the military, but Jeffery had enlisted in the marines without telling him. It was like his youngest didn’t want anything to do with him or his entire family.
“He promised to be good,” Robyn said with a smile. “He was looking forward to putting his training to the test.”
“All he needs to do is supervise,” he said, thinking it’d been a mistake sending Jeffery. Rachel knew how to follow orders as well as give them. “You need to keep talking to him and telling him we’re doing all this for the country and our family.”
“You know how he is. Jeffery has his own mind.” Robyn sat after him and put away all his prepared statements. “I think you’re trying to accomplish a good thing, but I had to really think about what I was doing. We had to sacrifice plenty to follow you.”
He let out a loud bark of laughter. “You gave up a grunt job at the National Gallery. How exactly is that a sacrifice?”
“It was my chance to do what I loved, but I gave it up for you. The least you can do is respect that choice.”
“You and Jeffery are just like your mother.” He’d said that from the moment Robyn had learned to walk. The boy was too soft, and he’d never ventured into his personal life only because he was afraid of what he’d find. Jeffery wasn’t soft, but his head was too thick to achieve anything in life. “Get back to work and finalize the next part of the plan for review later.”
“Yes, sir,” Robyn said, and he sounded as if their talk had deflated him. But they didn’t have time to worry over a few hurt feelings.
“Are you ready?” he asked into the phone since it was immediately answered.
“I’ve done jobs harder than this, sir, so it should be easy if your people came through.”
“Good to hear, and don’t worry about anyone on my end. I’ve got a few more jobs for you when this one is complete, so I want you back here when you’re done, unless I tell you otherwise.”
“The price is the same.”
“So are the jobs.” Dick hung up and glanced over the schedule Robyn had brought in. “You brought this on yourself, Khalid, and when I’m done, people aren’t going to believe how easy you made it for me.”
* * *
The cell walls should’ve been cool. Cinderblock was, after all, sterile, cold, and something that all institutions had in common. These weren’t though. The damn beige blocks were warm to the touch, which made sense—the air in this place was always hot, humid, and fucking uncomfortable. It was far away from the life Erika Gibson had before the bitch she worked for had sent her here. She’d been Captain Aidan Sullivan’s second for a few years until Commander Berkley Levine had come along. Then she was working in the mess hall before landing in this pit.
All the months she’d been here were like an endless repetitive misery that reminded her of the movie Groundhog Day, only without the comic relief and ice-sculpting lessons. The day after day of this fucking heat was like an enveloping wool coat meant to drive you insane because you could never take it off.
“Hey, I demand a shower,” she’d screamed, followed by a yell to try to bleed out the insanity that clawed the inside of her skull like a badger in a field burrowing a den. The only out was tying her bed sheet to the bars and hanging herself, but she was constantly monitored, and her jailers would probably end up tying her to the bed.
“You need something, Ms. Gibson?” Walby Edwards, head CIA interrogator, asked, standing outside and appearing like he was ready for eighteen holes of golf.
“I want a shower.” She’d have no problem wrapping her hands around this guy’s neck and would gladly watch the life drain out of him.
“Come with me,” Edwards said when a guard joined him and waited for the door to unlock. This wasn’t something she fought anymore since the guards didn’t tolerate noncompliance at all.
They walked to a new section of the facility, and she looked up and down the hall to get a hint of where she was going. Hopefully it was outside, and along with the sun, a firing squad would be there to put an end to the heat and the long stretch of identical days she knew would drive her over the edge.
“What’s this about?” she asked, her pesky desire to live kicking in.
Walby opened the door at the end of the hall, and she held back a sob as the cold air brushed over her skin better than any lover she’d ever had. “Sit.” Walby stood behind her chair, holding a glass with ice in it.
Funny how the very small things in life stood out when they were gone. She often thought of ice water and chips. “Are you going to answer my question? What’s this about?”
“It’s been a year, Erika. A year of heat, of bad food, of listening to the other prisoners, and most importantly, a year without your family.” The clink of the ice against her glass made her think of the mundane days she’d wasted in her life and wished God would give them back. “Don’t you think it’s time to start answering questions?”
“What do you think I can tell you?” He refilled her glass after she drained the first one. “I’m innocent, yet you’ve kept me here without charging me or letting me talk to anyone who can legally help me.”
“Drink up then, Ms. Gibson. If that’s how you want to play it, we won’t play at all.”
She savored the cold water but didn’t smile, but oh she wanted to. “Good.”
“Since you want progress, we’ll accommodate you.”
“Good,” she repeated, finishing her second glass, but Walby didn’t refill it again. “You have all misjudged me.”
“You decided to play for the wrong team, and the military is ready to press charges. That’s what I meant.” He took the glass before she was able to slide a piece of ice into her mouth and dumped it into the trash. “Trust me. You’re not getting out of this, and more importantly, you’re never leaving here.”
“I simply talked to that bastard Blazer. I talked to him and Skinner,” she said of Hattie Skinner, another crewmember on the Jefferson’s first mission. “Aidan totally misunderstood.”
“Captain Sullivan, Ms. Gibson,” he said, enunciating Aidan’s title, “caught you and Ms. Skinner in an act of treason. That’s what she’ll testify to, and continuing to downplay your part will not show the court you have an ounce of remorse.” Walby poured himself a Coke and seemed to enjoy the fizz when it hit the ice in his own glass.
“Why don’t you believe me? It’s the truth.”
“You aren’t acquainted with the truth, but your small apartment and bunk area tell a different story. Electronic trails leave enough rope to hang you with.”
She stared at him and truly detested him. “You can fuck off, and you can tell Aidan the same thing. That big bitch she’s creaming her pants for isn’t going to save her forever.”
That was it then. Her outburst would seal her fate, so all she had left to do was wait and trust she’d be rewarded with freedom for her part of General Chandler’s plan. With any luck, Chandler would leave her here, only she’d be in Walby’s chair watching him slowly lose his mind.
“So clichéd, Ms. Gibson.”
“Not if it’s a promise. You and the rest have no idea what’s coming. Enjoy the cold drink. It’s only a matter of time before you’ll be standing in hell.”
“You’ve already beaten me there,” Walby said and laughed. Something in her finally fractured, and she stood and ran for him, but he only laughed harder when he put her in a hold she couldn’t escape.
The guard took over, and the wall of heat hit her like an open oven on broil. Walby was right. “Oh, God.”
She was in hell.