“I’m sorry,” the old woman said in French. “You can’t come back here.”
Han-Jae didn’t understand what she was saying. He didn’t care, either. What was a stern expression on the woman’s face quickly turned to fear as he pulled the pistol out of his jacket and smacked her on the back of the head with the bottom of the grip.
The heavy woman wavered for a moment and then fell over with a thud. Her big dress spread out on the floor like a blanket. Han-Jae stepped over the unconscious woman and over to the computer. One of his men stood guard at the door while the other two hurried behind the counter and dragged the woman back into a closet next to the office. They stuffed her inside and shut the door, breaking off the knob with a quick kick from the one with a shaved head.
A notepad sat on the counter next to the computer. It contained a list of all the inn’s occupants and their room numbers.
That certainly made things considerably easier for Han-Jae and his crew. In hindsight, knocking out the old woman might have caused an issue had they needed a password to access the computer. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. The notebook contained everything he needed. And the computer was already logged in.
Han-Jae motioned to one of the other men. “Get on this computer and program a key card when I give you the room number.”
The man with a buzzed haircut gave a curt nod and ran around to the keyboard. He stopped there and awaited further instruction.
Han-Jae ran his finger down the lines on the notebook but didn’t see the name he wanted. Flipping the page back, he scanned the next one and finally stopped near the bottom.
“McElroy,” he said, tapping the paper. “Room 311.”
The guy at the keyboard typed quickly, entering the information to program a new key. When he was done, a device near his knees beeped. He reached down and picked up a card with a magnetic strip on it.
“Let’s go,” Han-Jae ordered.
The man at the door joined the rest of them as they rushed down the hallway, bypassing an antique-looking elevator. They pushed through a door on the left with a stairway sign on the wall and ran two steps at a time up the stairwell.
When they reached the third floor, their pace had slowed considerably. The four men panted for air but pressed on. Each was in peak physical condition, having gone through an extraordinarily intense training prior to working for the general.
The guy with the shaved head opened the door leading into the third-floor hallway and poked his head out. He checked both directions. “All clear,” he said and motioned for the others to go ahead.
The other three moved one at a time into the corridor. One took a position on his knees across the hall. The other two spread out, moving several feet down in either direction. The fourth took one last look down the stairwell and then tiptoed into the hallway, easing the door shut quietly.
Han-Jae inspected the signs next to the hotel room doors. Noting the numbers were moving in ascending order to the left, he pointed for the others to move that way. They obeyed immediately and hurried down the hall, moving as silently as possible. The only noise they made was the occasional swishing of their pant legs, a sound that would be nearly impossible to hear through a wall.
The four men reached room 311 and stopped, crouching around it. Han-Jae took the key from Buzz-Cut and carefully slid it into the slot. He pulled it out and waited. Nothing happened.
He pressed down on the latch, but the door was still locked.
Han-Jae frowned and tried the card again. This time he left it in a second longer than before. When he pulled it out, still nothing happened. He looked back at Buzz-Cut, wondering if his assistant had made a mistake.
The guy shrugged and displayed his best Don’t look at me face.
Buzz-Cut pointed at the card and made a motion that Han-Jae needed to turn it around, suggesting he was doing it backward.
Han-Jae nodded and twisted the card the other way. Sure enough, now he could see little arrows printed on the plastic pointing the direction in which the card should be inserted.
He slipped the card back into the reader, and instantly the green light on the side blinked. They heard the door lock click. Han-Jae didn’t wait for it to relock. He grabbed the latch and pulled down gently, careful to make sure he didn’t make any sudden noises that would wake the people inside.
When the latch would move no farther, he pushed the door softly and eased his way through the narrow opening — stopping only to make sure the door chain wasn’t engaged. He was glad to see it wasn’t, even though he knew how to foil that primitive security.
The lights in the hallway would wake any light sleepers in the room, so they’d need to work fast. He drew his pistol and continued through the doorway into the darkened hotel room.
The air conditioning unit on the wall was blowing loudly, flooding the room with icy cool air. Whoever these people were, they liked their temperatures chilly while sleeping. In a minute, their bodies would start to cool permanently.
Han-Jae gave one more twist of his sound suppressor as he stepped around the bathroom corner and into the main sleeping area. The room was faintly lit by a crack in the curtains, which let in a narrow stream of moonlight: a pale line ran across the sheets and comforter on the queen-size bed.
Two of the others followed Han-Jae into the room, stopping a few inches behind him.
The plan was to wake the two Americans and then search the room for whatever they’d found at the dig site. They’d considered executing the archaeologists, but then getting answers might be difficult to come by.
Han-Jae tapped Buzz-Cut on the shoulder, his cue to turn on the lights. The man obeyed, moving back toward the door and feeling his way along the wall until he found the light switch. When he did, he flicked it up.
A single light in the foyer came on overhead, brightening the room but leaving shadows in the far corners. Still, it was enough light for them to see the bed and its occupants.
Han-Jae’s head twisted slightly as he gazed upon the sheets and comforter. It was made to look like two people were sleeping under the covers. In reality, it was just pillows stuffed underneath the blankets.
Fury boiled up in Han-Jae’s mind. He stepped over to the bed and jerked the covers back. Sure enough, nothing but pillows. His nostrils flared as he spun around in a circle, looking all over the room.
“Where are they?” he snarled. “They are supposed to be here.”
Tires screeched in the parking lot below. Han-Jae rushed to the window and shoved the curtains aside. A four-door hatchback whipped out onto the road and sped away heading east.
In a rage, Han-Jae yanked the curtains down. Two of his men joined him at the window in time to see the car disappear around the next corner.
“Someone told them we were coming,” he said. “Someone warned them.”
“Who?” Buzz-Cut asked.
“No time to think about that. We have to follow them. Go. Now!”
The other three ran back into the hallway and turned right.
They didn’t expect to find eight men waiting in the corridor — all wearing the same black outfits, all holding weapons. Four were to the right and four to the left.
Han-Jae and his men were surrounded and outnumbered. He recognized the blond man to the right. He was the one with the Americans in Cologne.
“Put down your weapons, and we will let you live,” the blond said.
Han-Jae couldn’t place his accent. It sounded English, but not quite so refined.
The leader of the North Korean group had no intention of putting his gun down or leaving peaceably.
His hand shot up in a flash, and he fired. The round sailed by the blond guy and struck one of his compatriots in the shoulder, dropping him to the ground.