“I’m sorry I let you down,” she whispered to her grandfather, who died before she was born.
She grabbed hold of herself and tried not to be agitated.
Across the building she caught sight of a younger man dressed in low-slung jeans, a collarless black shirt, and a pale jacket. He moved with the sinewy ease of an athlete and approached one of the Italian customs officials, flashing a badge. He was maybe late twenties, blond hair cut short, but shaggy on the edges, the face clean-shaven and warmed by a wide, toothy smile. He had a military look about him and was trying to gain entrance to the terminal, but the guard resisted. Eventually, though, he managed to make his way inside. Definitely American, and from the way he strutted in those boots, the Southern variety. Maybe even a little redneck. She knew the species, an odd offshoot of the American male.
The newcomer walked straight toward her.
“Ms. Schaefer,” he called out. “I’m Luke Daniels.”
“Is that supposed to mean something?”
He chuckled. “I see the reports were correct. You’ve got an attitude.”
She’d heard the talk about her. Twenty-two partners in eleven years. None stayed long, but none of them cared like she did, either. “What kind of badge were you flashing over there?”
“The kind that can save your ass.”
Interesting answer. Okay. He had her attention.
“I saw your cannonball earlier,” he said. “It was Anan Wayne Howell who shoved you.”
Now he commanded her full attention.
“I know where Anan Wayne Howell is right now.”
She said, “He’s the least of my concerns.”
“Actually, he’s the only lead you’ve got. Everybody else is gone.”
Intuitive, she’d give him that. But he could also be bluffing.
“I can point you the right way,” he said. “But it’ll cost you.”
To the Southern charm he added a grin, which annoyed her. But she kept her feelings to herself and asked, “Who has the pleasure of employing you?”
“Is that charm? I didn’t expect it. I’m told you’re not the most likable type.”
“Maybe I’m just choosy.”
“Or maybe there’s another word for it, but I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot. I myself don’t ever buy the peaches at the top of the bin. Too many hands on them. The ones down deep are always much firmer.”
What she liked was that he wasn’t throwing his weight around. He clearly held the upper hand, and seemed to know her predicament. But he wasn’t cocky or arrogant. Instead, he seemed genuinely interested in making a deal. Which made her wonder how much this guy knew. Or was part of his job to find out what he could from her?
“You still haven’t answered my question,” she said. “Who do you work for?”
“Magellan Billet.”
No surprise. But they did move fast.
“Are you with Malone?” she asked.
“I’m afraid I do have to claim him.”
“He didn’t go home, did he?”
He shook his head. “That dog simply does not take commands.”
“What’s the price I have to pay for learning Howell’s whereabouts?”
“I want to know what’s going on. Exactly, with no bullshit. Otherwise, you can fend for yourself. But I will tell you, you’re never going to find anything without me. It’s all flown the coop.”
She thought she could provide enough to satisfy this cowboy without jeopardizing a thing. So she said, “Do you know the name Haym Salomon?”
He shook his head.
So she told him all about a debt that now totaled in the hundreds of billions of dollars.
“Is that what’s in the black satchel?” he asked when she finished. “Proof of an old IOU?”
She nodded. “An expensive IOU.”
Then she waited.
It was his turn to tell her things.
TWENTY-SIX
VIRGINIA
Stephanie tried to recall anything she knew about the Chinese ambassador. He was born to humble roots, but rose to earn a doctorate in economics. His father had been a low-ranking government official who insisted that his son become something more. Ambition, along with capitalism, had made steady inroads into Chinese culture. She’d read reports where this diplomat had been described as both sharp-tongued and quick-witted. But it had also been noted that he never challenged the communist central authority on any issue. Which, more than anything else, explained why he was here. To be given the coveted post of ambassador to the United States, a long way from the eyes and ears of Beijing, meant that he was trusted beyond measure.
Relations with China had definitely warmed since the selection of Ni Yong as its new leader. She, Malone, and Danny Daniels had played a key role in that ascension. But the country remained a perplexing tapestry of ancient customs and dark secrets. As far as she could recall, this was the first time Danny had ever sat face-to-face with this ambassador. If he had, no briefing report of any meeting had ever been circulated, which was standard procedure when a place like China was involved. For the ambassador to first agree to such a meeting, then travel from DC in the middle of the night to a stranger’s home, showed clearly the level of importance.
Introductions were made, then Danny said, “I appreciate you coming tonight. From your call yesterday, it appears we have a mutual problem.”
“Forgive me, Mr. President, but I asked to speak with you alone.”
“Your message said that you have information about North Korea and Kim Yong Jin. This lady is knee-deep into that problem, so she needs to hear what you have to say. She’ll be the one dealing with it on my end, and time is short.”
The ambassador considered the situation, then seemed to concede the point and said, “I agree, time is short. For the past month we’ve been noticing an alarming amount of talk from North Korea about Kim Yong Jin. There are people there nearly panicked over him.”
“We’ve picked up the same chatter,” the president said. “And I imagine the reason you’re here is because they also discussed your country.”
The ambassador nodded. “North Korea has always been a source of contention for us. We try to help—they are, after all, our neighbor. But it is a place reason seems to avoid.”
Danny chuckled. “That’s a mild way of putting it. At least your two countries are allies. They hate us. So why are your people so concerned?”
“Our relationship with Pyongyang has not been the same since we acknowledged the world sanctions.”
The United Nations had long imposed penalties against North Korea for its nuclear testing. The country was without a doubt developing a bomb, and no one thought that would be a good idea. A few months ago China had finally joined the economic sanctions, providing further evidence of a change in its political direction.
“I am aware,” the ambassador said, “of my premier’s great respect for you. I am here on his direct order. Our joining the world sanctions was something North Korea clearly did not expect. Their Dear Leader has made it known that he is not happy with us. But of course he can push only so far, as without us he truly has nothing. We are his only route of trade remaining.”
She’d read the confidential CIA analysis. The Chinese had signed off on international sanctions to appease the world, but had continued quietly to supply North Korea with food, medicine, and manufactured goods.
“We have also loaned North Korea money,” the ambassador said. “Dear Leader fashions himself a great builder. He has erected amusement parks, apartment blocks, even a ski resort. We recently provided him $300 million U.S. for a new bridge across the Yalu River. Money has also been advanced for highways and rail links. We believe that it is in everyone’s interest to keep that country stable.”
“Not to mention the mining concessions you obtained for magnesite, zinc, and iron.”
She was impressed with the president’s depth of knowledge. Say what you want, but he was no fool.
“Tra
de runs the world,” the ambassador said. “We need to receive something for all our generosity.”
The president smiled. “Again, why the concern? Seems like you own Dear Leader lock, stock, and barrel. What’s the problem?”
“Kim Yong Jin has no such loyalty to us.”
A valid point. But she said, “Mr. Ambassador, Kim is hardly in a position to do anyone much harm. From all reports he drinks too much, gambles incessantly, and is more interested in women than politics. He’s been gone from North Korea since his father died, which was twelve years ago. He’s a nonplayer. What could he effectively accomplish?”
“We believe he is intent on deposing his half brother, proving to his dead father, and himself, that he is not—as he was labeled—incapable.”