Ghost Ship (NUMA Files 12)

“Okay, let’s go,” Joe said. “But if we end up on the docks at Incheon or getting loaded onto a 747, I’m definitely calling in the cavalry.”

“Deal,” Kurt said.

As Joe covered the bodies once more, Kurt eased the door open and moved out of the stairwell. They stole into the garage as quietly as alley cats, making sure to stay out of the mirrors’ lines of sight. When they reached the back of the first trailer, Kurt unlatched the door and waved Joe inside. As soon as Joe was up, Kurt climbed in and closed the door gently.

By the time Kurt turned around, Joe had his phone out, using the light from the screen as Kurt had done in the crawl space. He was examining the cargo.

“Computers,” Joe said. “High-tech servers, by the look of things. I’ve seen racks of equipment like this in Hiram’s data center.”

“We’re in the right place,” Kurt said. “This cargo must be destined for the North Korean Cyber-Force.”

They settled in, sitting down and leaning against the wall of the truck, hidden by a large stack of equipment in case anyone opened the door for a quick look.

A short time later, the sounds of activity picked up outside the vehicle. Loud voices speaking Korean were interspersed with directions in broken English. Shortly thereafter, the big rig shuddered as the engine came to life and the truck began to move. They seemed to inch their way through the garage slowly before climbing a ramp and then accelerating.

After several turns that felt like they were negotiating city blocks, the truck began to pick up speed. Kurt pulled out his phone, found he had a strong signal, and switched it to map mode. It took a moment to locate his whereabouts and calculate his direction and speed, but soon there was a little blue dot on the moving map.

“Where are we headed?” Joe asked.

“You don’t want to know,” he replied. To Kurt’s chagrin, they were on the main highway, moving due north, heading directly toward the DMZ.

Sebastian Brèvard sat on the veranda of his sprawling baroque palace, overlooking the Olympic-sized swimming pool where he swam most mornings, as a servant delivered his breakfast of crepes and fresh fruit.

After deeming the meal acceptable, Sebastian waved the servant away, only to have Laurent appear seconds later.

“I assume you have news,” Sebastian said.

“Calista reports the infiltration plan is under way,” Laurent said. “Egan is with her.”

As planned, Sebastian thought. “Make sure the extraction team is ready to pull her out as soon as she signals us.”

“Already done.”

“What about the others?”

“Preparing to eliminate Acosta.”

“Excellent,” Sebastian said, grinning. “I only regret that I won’t be there to see his fat face when they dump him into the sea.”

“Yes, it would have been nice to take him ourselves,” Laurent said.

“Make sure there is no evidence,” he said. “It will serve us well if the rest of the world thinks he’s still alive.”

“I’ve already given that order,” Laurent said.

Sebastian took a sip of fresh papaya juice and gazed out over the shimmering pool to the sprawling hedge maze that covered ten acres on a lower level of the property. His grandfather had built the house and the surrounding walls. Sebastian’s father had brought in the flowering plants and built the maze. A reminder, he often had said, that those who don’t know the path are liable to get lost.

Brèvard knew the path he must take.

Much as his great-grandfather had done, Sebastian intended to complete the job of a lifetime and disappear. In some ways, he hated to leave the family home, but it was the only path that led to a future.

To keep the treasure he planned to take, the world would have to be fooled into thinking nothing had been stolen in the first place. To survive, if they ever figured it out, required a second trick: misdirection. He would convince the world that they’d killed him and ended the threat. And, for good measure, he’d point the finger at someone else if they needed a scapegoat to hang.

In that role, he would cast his unstable little sister and her ex-lover Acosta. They would play it perfectly.

He considered her fate for a moment, wondered if he should feel some sense of guilt, and then dismissed the idea as if it were absurd. Much like the family home, she would soon outlive her usefulness.

Dismissing Laurent, Sebastian opened a laptop beside him and tapped a few keys. Calista had set it up to monitor activity of the NUMA crew to their south, the ones investigating the wreck of the Ethernet. According to the latest report, they were in the same vicinity, now getting assistance from a South African tug and setting up a salvage effort on a derelict they’d discovered.