Jake feigned innocence with an accurate but calibrated version of the truth. “I didn’t know for sure they were Supernotes. I suspected they were but I didn’t have any samples to run past Secret Service. Park just gave me the three million for the ransom.”
Hafner wasn’t buying it. “So you had three million in samples!”
“But that was for the ransom. All the meetings and calls are recorded. If you listen to the recordings you should get a pretty good idea of how it all went down. I thought the Bureau’s priority would be the safety of this child,” Jake said, pointing to the little girl asleep in the bed. He actually sounded sincere.
Hafner waved some waterlogged counterfeit bills in the air. “These are ruined. We can’t go back to Headquarters with soaked bills.”
“They’d still be counterfeit, wouldn’t they?” said Jake, deciding to prolong the ASAC’s suffering by waiting to tell him $2.9 million in dry Supernotes was stashed in the two oversized plastic toolboxes sitting at Brian Carter’s feet.
Hafner blasted through his agenda. “I’ve scheduled you for an emergency psych eval at Headquarters and I plan on asking for a polygraph as well.”
Jake pointed to Gracie again and motioned for Hafner to lower his voice. Then, in a whisper he asked, “Psych eval? What for?”
Hafner rolled his eyes. “I don’t like the way you respond to supervision. I think you have issues.”
Jake laughed out loud, causing Gracie to stir. “Oh, I’ve got issues, huge issues!” he whispered. “But you don’t think I can fake sanity? I’ll pass. I always do. And forget the poly.”
Hafner had no intention of backing down. “Why?”
Jake smiled and said, “If I don’t pass the polygraph, there goes my credibility. The U.S. Attorney won’t allow me to testify. If I don’t testify, we won’t get a conviction. And if we don’t get a conviction, you don’t get a promotion. You need an unblemished lamb for this sacrifice.”
Jake spotted Olivia Knox standing in the doorway and decided to play his trump card.
“Besides, if I fail, it might screw up the centrifuge and nuclear weapons deal.”
“What centrifuge and nuke weapons deal?” clamored Hafner.
Jake’s smile morphed into a serious expression. “Probably won’t be able to work it now, after you get the results of the psych eval and the polygraph.”
Knox decided to end Hafner’s torture. “Tell him the rest of the story, Jake.”
He complied. “The Supernotes were sent to Park to buy centrifuges and other high-tech components for the nuclear weapons work Pyongyang is now doing for the Iranians. The ayatollahs in Tehran have contracted with the DPRK to do the fissile material enrichment and R&D that’s banned by that new UN treaty.”
Wilson, the CIA ghost, finally spoke. “That fits with chatter we’ve been picking up overseas.”
“Am I cleared to know that?” Jake asked, still whispering.
A pregnant pause hung over the room as all parties looked toward Olivia Knox.
“Charles, I gave Jake until midnight tonight to wrap up the operation. Earlier today, we met and talked about what needed to be done. I personally approved his plan.”
“But why wasn’t I told about this?” said the ASAC, in a whispered whine.
Olivia continued. “Because when I called to tell you, Charles, you were on the phone with the State Department.”
“But I had to talk to State,” Hafner protested. “The Attorney General himself told me to make sure we didn’t do anything that would screw up the permanent nuclear weapons deal with Iran. What did you expect me to do?”
Knox held up her hand. “I expect the same thing from all my agents. I expect them to do what’s right.”
Hafner, chagrined in front of his subordinates, muttered, “I guess I should cancel my trip to D.C.”
“I think that’s wise,” said Knox.
Cradling Gracie in his arms, Jake walked past the police and fire lines and a growing crowd in front of the hotel. He proceeded virtually unnoticed to the undercover Range Rover. As he placed the somnolent child on the backseat and locked the seat belt around her, he said to himself, Katie used to tell me, “All things work together for good to those who love God and are called according to His purpose.”
As Jake pulled out onto Olympic Boulevard his cell phone slipped down between the seat and the console.
He never saw the text message from Trey Bennett.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
As Jake arrived at Park’s San Marino residence, the gate was open. He was greeted in the driveway by Park and his wife, Soo Min. Gracie awoke when Jake shut off the engine and he feared what the tiny ballerina remembered following the shooting. Her eyes had been closed and he assumed she was asleep in the hotel room but couldn’t know if she had heard any of the conversation once Trey and Brian secured the crime scene. He could only hope any story a four-year-old could tell would be dismissed as fantasy by those who heard it.
Grateful grandparents smothered Gracie in kisses. When Soo Min took her into the house, Jake detailed the contrived events at the hotel as Park listened intently.
When he had completed his after-action report, Park said, “Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”
With genuine confusion, Jake asked, “Like what?”
“Like the fact you’re an FBI agent and your wife is pregnant?”
Jake froze; the chill of discovery and death enveloped him. He glimpsed the Green Hornet and Kato out of the corner of his eye. Both were standing in the well-lit driveway, their large-caliber, silenced semi-automatics in their hands. “I don’t understand,” said Jake, turning slowly to face Park.
“Tommy and some of his associates followed you to Gladstone’s restaurant and saw you meeting your wife. He shared it with me the night he was killed. He thought it was strange you never said you were married. I assume she is due any day now.”
Jake paused, then answered calmly, “I’m not married. The woman I met for lunch is the widow of my best friend. He was killed six months ago on an assignment in Afghanistan.”
“No more lies, Jake! After we take care of you, we’ll take care of your family. I must tie up all the loose ends. You didn’t think I’d send you to the hotel unaccompanied? My confidence in you did not exceed three million dollars — even if the bills were counterfeit. I had to retrieve the money for the equipment I had been told to acquire. And I really wanted to trust you, Jake. Apparently my faith was misplaced once again. You betrayed me as did the others. My people knew once they saw the FBI raid jackets at the hotel. It all began to make sense,” said Park.
There was a long pause. Jake said nothing, wondering if today was the expiration date God had set.
Before Jake could act, Park offered an abrupt hand signal to his minions. A shot shattered the momentary silence.
It wasn’t the muted sound of a subsonic round the undercover agent expected as he flung himself to the ground and grabbed the Glock concealed in the small of his back. Rolling into a prone position, Jake spied the Green Hornet already inert on the driveway and Trey Bennett, now firing at Kato as he moved.
Wheeling toward Trey, Kato leveled his weapon and prepared to fire. But before the North Korean could get Trey in his sights, Jake cranked off four rounds — two “double taps”—and dropped the thug.
Jake pivoted, spied Park attempting to escape around the side of the residence, and gave chase across the well-manicured lawn. He quickly closed on the aging North Korean intelligence officer and yelled at the top of his lungs, “Stop, or I’ll shoot!”
Surprisingly, Park stopped in his tracks, tossed his weapon on the ground, and threw his hands into the air. He had decided he wanted to live.