Mitchell and Jackson nodded.
O’Reilly’s eyes narrowed. “I know you two. This is one order I expect to be followed to the letter.”
Jackson feigned looking hurt. “So we’re okay not to follow other ones in the future?”
“Don’t play games with me today, Mister Jackson, I need a shower and some downtime,” said O’Reilly.
Mitchell shook his head at his friend’s banter. “Sir, is there a specific reason that you wanted to see us?”
“I just wanted to tell you both that Luis, on top of reviewing our SOPs, will be Polaris’ point of contact between us and the police investigation that is still being ramped up,” explained O’Reilly. “I cannot even begin to guess how many police agencies will be involved in this investigation before this ends. He, along with the company lawyers, will be meeting with the police later today. Don’t be surprised if you spend the next few days being asked a million questions about what happened last night.”
“Swell,” mumbled Jackson.
The phone on O’Reilly’s desk rang. He answered the call. It was Donaldson on the line. After a few seconds, O’Reilly hung up the phone and then looked over at Mitchell and Jackson. “Follow me, gents,” said O’Reilly as he stood up.
Mitchell looked over at Jackson, who simply shrugged his wide shoulders. Together they followed the general out of his office.
A couple of minutes later, they all walked into Donaldson’s briefing room and then sat down around his long worktable. Donaldson was standing at the front of the room with a large grin on his face. A large-screen TV on the wall was on, the image frozen at the precise moment when Miss Satomi was forced inside the unmarked helicopter.
O’Reilly, like a bloodhound, smelled the fresh coffee. Seeing a carafe of on the table, he quickly poured himself a cup. He had been running on stale coffee for hours and knew that he would need to get off his feet before he became tired and irritable.
O’Reilly took a swig of coffee and right away felt more like himself. He looked over at Donaldson, “So, Mike, what do have for us?”
“Sir, I was going over all the news footage, trying to see if I had missed something from last night. Unfortunately, nothing was jumping out at me,” explained Donaldson. “So I decided to see what was posted on the Web and found this video on YouTube. It’s kind of shaky, but trust me, sir, it is quite revealing.”
With that, he pressed the enter button on his laptop, and the image began to move. Silence gripped the room as everyone intently watched as Atsuko Satomi was manhandled into the open door of the helicopter. The Asian woman with her quickly jumped inside. A second later, the helicopter revved its engines, left the ground, and raced off into the night. Donaldson was right: The image from a hand-held cellphone was somewhat hard to follow at times, as the person taking the video had been excitedly moving about the whole time.
As soon as the video ended, Donaldson looked over at the men in the room. He looked like someone who had a secret that they so desperately wanted to tell.
O’Reilly said, “Mike, I’m really tired. Am I missing something? It looks like all the other footage out there.”
“Me too, Mike, I didn’t see anything new,” added Jackson. “It might be the next Blair Witch Project, but that’s about it.”
“He needs to play it slower,” said Mitchell, his eyes still fixed on the screen.
“Exactly,” said Donaldson as he played it back far slower than before. It was as if the people on the screen were moving in extreme slow motion.
Mitchell could feel his heart race as he relived the events from the night before. He leaned forward and studied Miss Satomi. He was about to think that perhaps there was nothing to the video, when he saw it. He walked toward the screen, shaking his head from side to side. He stood there for a moment, staring at the screen. Slowly, he turned his head, looked down at O’Reilly, and then said, “Son of a bitch, we were played.”
Jackson stood and looked at the screen. Although fuzzy, he could see Miss Satomi sitting in her seat in the back of the helicopter with her hand raised, giving another person a high-five.
“Damn,” said Jackson to himself.
Mitchell said, “Gents, Miss Satomi wasn’t kidnapped. This was all some elaborate charade to make us think she was. Now the question becomes, why would she go to such great lengths to disappear?”
“Why indeed?” said O’Reilly, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Mike, can you make out who she is celebrating with?” asked Jackson.
“No. I’ve tried. The helicopter’s door blocks whoever it is from being seen clearly. All I can determine is that there is a person sitting directly across from Miss Satomi who appears to have dark skin and that’s it,” said Donaldson.
O’Reilly said, “Mike, you have to give this information to Luis right away.”
“Already emailed it to him, sir,” replied Donaldson.
O’Reilly thanked Donaldson and then turned to face Ryan and Jackson. “Well, gents, this is out of our hands now. This is a matter for the police. We were hired to give advice and liaise, and that is it. Unless you hear otherwise, I want you both to take a couple of days off, but don’t wonder too far in case Luis needs you.”
“I could use a couple of days off after last night,” said Jackson, rubbing his leg where he had been tasered.
Mitchell looked up at the screen. The image of Atsuko Satomi high-fiving someone dug at him. He felt his pulse begin to quicken. People had died because of her. It seemed as if she thought it was all some sort of elaborate game.
“Ryan?” said O’Reilly.
“Sorry, sir,” said Mitchell, looking over at his boss. “I was lost in thought. A couple of days off… sounds great. Jen and I can straighten out our place.”
With that, O’Reilly grabbed the carafe and took it with him to his office. It was going to be a very long day, indeed. Jackson stood and shook out his tall frame, while Mitchell sat down and looked up at the screen, his eyes soaking in the picture. He knew it wasn’t over, and he wanted his chance to meet the people who had pulled off the kidnapping and give them some payback.
Events on the other side of the world were about to heat up. He wouldn’t have to wait very long to meet the people involved.
16
Cigarette smoke hung thick in the room like an early morning fog as General Pak entered the secure briefing room located in a reinforced sub-level of the Headquarters of the North Korean People’s Army. His uniform was covered in ribbons, some dating back to the Korean War, where, as a mere boy, he had carried ammunition through the deep winter snow to the men fighting to repel the imperialist invaders. Wounded three times, Pak became a folk hero. Although barely in his teens, he was sent around the country to give speeches aimed at motivating the people to work harder and if necessary to give their lives in defense of their sacred homeland. His stern, weathered face masked a keen intellect for survival gained from more than fifty years of loyal service to the various leaders of North Korea. Everyone in the room rose to their feet and went silent while Pak removed his large service cap, revealing a full head of white hair, and then took his seat at the head of the table.
“Be seated,” ordered Pak.
The assembled heads of the North Korean Army, Air Force, Navy, and Special Forces all took their seats, their eyes fixed firmly on Pak. Some were new to the Armed Forces Ruling Council. Not everyone had agreed with General Pak’s decision to proceed with Operation Long Sword. Those who openly disagreed with him had been arrested in the middle of the night and then summarily shot as enemies of the state. The man below them in the chain of command was promoted into their now-vacant position. It didn’t take long for the hemorrhaging of disloyal officers to stop.