With that, Atsuko reluctantly crawled out from under the warm sheets and made her way to the bathroom to turn on the shower.
With a grin on his face, Cypher watched Atsuko’s naked body, remembering their passionate lovemaking only just finished. He had no feelings for her whatsoever. She was a means to an end, nothing more. Like her father, when she was no longer useful, she would be discarded like so many other women in his life had been. There was only room in Gabriel Cypher’s heart for himself and no one else, and he intended to keep it that way.
Ninety minutes later, Colonel Hwan, General Pak’s chief of staff, walked into Cypher’s office. His salt-and-pepper hair was parted neatly down the middle. On his slender frame, he wore a brand-new, dark gray suit, bought during a stopover in the Beijing International Airport.
“Good afternoon, Colonel,” said Cypher in Korean with a wide smile on his face as he stood up from behind his desk and walked over to shake Hwan’s hand. “I hope that your journey here was pleasant enough.”
“It was satisfactory,” replied Hwan dryly in English.
The door behind them opened. Atsuko walked in, wearing a black business suit with an open-collared white shirt. On her slender feet was a pair of Italian black leather high-heeled shoes. Seeing the two men standing together, she smiled warmly and walked over.
“Colonel Hwan, I’d like you to meet my business partner in this venture, Miss Atsuko Satomi,” said Cypher.
“My pleasure,” said Hwan, offering his hand. “I am, however, at a loss. I heard that you had been kidnapped in Washington.”
“More like liberated from my loveless father,” said Atsuko, delicately shaking Hwan’s hand.
Hwan inquisitively raised an eyebrow. He decided that he didn’t care what went on between Cypher and Miss Satomi, as long as Cypher was able to deliver the weapons he was paying for on time. Hwan decided to get down to business. “Mister Cypher, General Pak has asked to me personally convey his concern over the additional time you have asked for to complete the testing of the devices.”
“Colonel, please pass on to the general that there was an unforeseen and very minor technical difficulty with the devices. You can assure him that my people are rectifying the minor problem we encountered during our first field test. You will have the weapons you asked for in four days’ time.”
Hwan took a deep breath and looked hard into Cypher’s ice-blue eyes. “Mister Cypher, we commenced operation Long Sword under the assurance that the weapons that we paid a considerable sum for would be operational and not still mired in testing. A billion dollars in hard currency is not a sum that North Korea can easily afford to throw away. I expect to see results right away, or there will be repercussions. Do we understand one another, Mister Cypher?”
Cypher smiled. He got the message but wasn’t going to allow himself to be intimidated by a mere messenger boy. “You will have what you paid for, Colonel; you have my word on it.”
“Your word is meaningless,” said Hwan coldly. “You are already days behind in the delivery of the devices. Just so you don’t get the idea to run out on us, I intend to remain here to personally watch the testing of the next device. If it fails again, we will have no alternative but to scrap Long Sword and that is something General Pak is not willing to do under any circumstances.”
Like two wolves, Cypher and Hwan stared at each other for a few seconds until Atsuko broke the tension. “Colonel, what you propose is most acceptable. There is an unused guest room on the next floor which you can use until you leave.”
With that, one of Cypher’s men escorted Hwan out of the room.
Atsuko walked over to the bar and poured herself a stiff drink of Scotch. She took a sip and looked over at Cypher. She was surprised to see that he was as cool as ice. Her heart was still racing from the confrontation with the North Korean Colonel, yet Cypher looked quite unperturbed by the encounter.
“Cypher, my love, is there something you’re not telling me?” said Atsuko.
“The man is an errand boy. He doesn’t frighten me. None of them do,” said Cypher.
“I wish I had your confidence.”
“I have five devices ready to go, one for the test to be conducted here in the next couple of days and then four more to be used to cripple the Americans. All we need is one device per site and the world’s remaining superpower will be brought to her knees. With their Strategic Petroleum Reserve threatened with destruction, they will be unable to interfere in Pak’s plan to unify Korea under his leadership.”
Pouring another glass, Atsuko walked over and handed it to Cypher. “Here’s to one billion dollars.”
“To one billion dollars,” toasted Cypher, knowing that he could get so much more than that if he sold everyone out, and that was just what he intended to do.
24
Met at the airport by Jackson and Yuri, Mitchell was bombarded with questions about what had happened in Hong Kong as he jumped into the back of a Mongolian army jeep that had long since seen better days. Belching a cloud of black, oily smoke behind it, Yuri drove their vehicle to the far end of the airport where many of the smaller airlines kept their planes. They pulled into a dilapidated, whitewashed hangar. Mitchell wasn’t surprised to see a small, boxy-looking Soviet-era helicopter sitting in the middle of the hangar, freshly painted in the colors of the Mongolian Air Force.
Jumping down from the back of the jeep, Mitchell stood there shaking his head in disbelief. The hangar was a mess. Dust covered everything. Most of the windows were cracked or missing completely. It probably hadn’t been used in over a decade, and that was precisely why Yuri had rented it. With his long, greasy, black hair pulled back into a ponytail that hung down past the collar of his faded Hawaiian shirt and grease-stained pants, Yuri looked like he belonged there.
“You like?” said Yuri to Mitchell as he pointed over at the helicopter.
“Which museum did you break into to steal this flying hunk of junk?” replied Mitchell.
“I told you he wouldn’t see the genius behind the purchase,” said Jackson to Yuri.
“My dear, Ryan, this is a Soviet-built MI-2 that first flew nearly fifty years ago and is still in use with the Mongolian Air Force. It was going cheap from an old friend of mine. I am proud to say that this is the first helicopter that I learned to fly when I was in the army,” said Yuri as he ran his hand over the stubble on his chin.
“Does it fly?” asked Mitchell.
“‘Does it fly?’” said Yuri mimicking Mitchell. “Of course it flies. Mister Jackson and I were up in it yesterday, taking photographs of that factory in the desert.”
“Can I see the pictures?”
“Follow me,” said Jackson.
Together they walked into a small office. Mitchell smelt the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. In the middle of the room was a decrepit-looking wooden table. On it was a coffee maker and a half-eaten box of pastries.
“I got hungry waiting for you to arrive,” said Jackson, helping himself to another pastry.
“Where are the pictures?” asked Mitchell, looking around the near-empty room.
“Yuri has them on his laptop,” said Jackson. A second later, Yuri walked into the room holding his laptop. He placed it down on the table, opened it up and then placed a small projector down beside his computer.
Jackson reached over and flicked off the lights. The room grew dim.
The first image shown on the wall was of a wide-open and empty desert. There were numerous tire tracks; however, there wasn’t a vehicle to be seen.