“But he would have to have the means to accomplish that,” she said. “Which he hardly possesses.”
“We are not so sure about that. And that is why I came here tonight. I need to ask a question, one we have not been able to answer. The premier is hoping that you will be open and honest with your reply.”
She and Danny waited.
“What is it from your past that so interests Kim Yong Jin? We know from our intercepts that Kim has been in communication with a former official from your Treasury Department, Paul Larks, and a fugitive from your courts, a man named Anan Wayne Howell. They talk of a great fraud and injustice from your past. What is this?”
Stephanie would love to know the answer to that question, too.
“I can only say, Mr. Ambassador,” Danny said, “that there may be something that could cause us all trouble. I was not fully aware of it until the past few days. So it’s impossible for me to provide any concrete details, at least at this time.”
“You can offer nothing?”
“Not right now.”
But she wondered just how much Danny really knew.
“It clearly appears Kim is staging a comeback,” the ambassador said. “He wants his half brother gone and his birthright restored. To do that he apparently plans to harm both the United States and China. He aims high, that I will give him. If successful, he would achieve what no Kim has ever managed—a clear victory over us both.”
She heard the apprehension in the ambassador’s voice as he continued to fish for information.
“Here’s something I can tell you,” the president said. “A few hours ago Kim tried to steal twenty million dollars. It was money generated by an insurance fraud scheme, sent to Dear Leader each year on his birthday. We were there, watching, but the money was destroyed in a helicopter crash. All of that happened in Venice. Kim is there, right now, with Howell, that fugitive you mentioned.”
“And the former Treasury official. Larks. Who is dead,” the ambassador said, a clear signal that the other side was not entirely in the dark. Stephanie herself had only learned that information a couple of hours ago, thanks to a second call from Luke Daniels.
“We have people on site,” the ambassador said. “It seems Larks’ body was found in his cabin. No cause of death was immediately known.”
“What people do you have there?” the president asked.
She wanted to know that, too, since they could prove a problem. Danny was performing at his best, winging things, making it up as he went along. He was part Lyndon Johnson, with his deep voice and strong-arm tactics—part Bill Clinton in Southern charm and disarming looks. Congressmen had complained for years at their inability to tell him no. He adhered to a tried-and-true formula. Reward your friends and punish your enemies.
And that he did, with a vengeance.
The question of the night, though, was which side China fell on.
“You’re going to take Kim out, aren’t you?” Danny asked.
“Not us. But Pyongyang has a different agenda. They are simply waiting for Kim to find whatever it is. Then they plan to claim it for themselves.”
“And use it to coerce us both.”
The ambassador nodded. “Now you realize the extent of our mutual problem. Regardless of who wins this fight between the Korean brothers, the two of us remain in jeopardy.”
“The crazy half brother, disgraced and exiled, isn’t as stupid as everyone thought,” Danny said. “That much we now know. We have a saying back in Tennessee, where I come from. Even the blind-eyed biscuit thrower hits the target every once in a while.”
“And we have a similar wisdom. With time and patience the mulberry leaf becomes a silk gown.”
A few moments of silence passed between them. Everything about the Chinese ambassador signaled both restraint and concern.
Finally, she said, “We have our best people in Venice, right now, working on this.”
“As do the North Koreans.” The ambassador faced Danny. “Please know, Mr. President, that China has no grievance with the United States. We neither started nor wanted this fight. To keep the current stability between our countries is a good thing for us all. But Kim Yong Jin is another matter. He is an unknown. So let us hope we are successful in stopping him.”
The ambassador stood and bid them good night. Danny did not try to stop him from leaving. Apparently, enough had been said. The front door closed and the parlor returned to its former quiet, the lights still burning low. Edwin Davis had waited outside, his job to return the ambassador to Washington.
Not until they heard the car drive off did she say, “You do realize that he’s lying.”
“Of course. China’s after Kim, too. They surely have people over there, ready to move. But they won’t make a move until they have what it is Kim’s after. Beijing can’t, and won’t, let this opportunity pass, no matter how much supposed goodwill exists between us.”
“Which begs the question, why alert us?”
“That’s easy. First, he doesn’t want to disrupt the goodwill that really does exist between us. And second, he had to know if it was worth the effort.”
“Is it real?”
“Unfortunately this is as real as it gets, but I’m not going to make the same mistake Joe Levy made. Cotton and Luke need to know what they’re up against.”
“What are we up against?”
She saw that he understood her inquiry. She wasn’t referring to espionage and some potential assassins. Her question was more specific.
More American.
“I’ll tell you,” he said. “But first, make the call to Italy.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
ADRIATIC SEA
Malone sat at a table beside one of the exterior windows, the long dining room crowded, the air reeking of scrambled eggs and bitter coffee. The ferry was more a liner with 300-plus cabins, salons, bars, lounges, even a theater. Room for more than a hundred trucks and cars occupied its lower decks. Outside, the blue Adriatic rolled by as they cruised east toward Croatia, the ride smooth and level. He’d stayed with Howell the whole way, boarding after him, keeping his distance. There were several hundred people on board across the many decks, plenty of places to disappear into, yet Howell had come straight here and filled a plate from the breakfast buffet.
Not a bad idea, actually. So he’d followed suit, having a bagel, banana, and orange juice. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. But that was nothing unusual. Back when he was a full-time agent, he’d go days without eating. The anxiety and stress of fieldwork seemed to clamp his stomach. The same had been true at JAG when he tried cases in court. Thankfully, once the pressure was relieved, his appetite always returned. At the moment, though, things were ratcheting up. He’d found Howell, so the woman with the satchel should not be far behind. In Venice she’d gone one way, Howell the other, the idea surely to throw anyone interested off track. Of course, he doubted if Howell realized that two separate factions—the Justice Department and Treasury—were now interested in him. Yet the ruse had partially worked, as they were here without anyone from Treasury in sight.
As if on cue the woman with the black Tumi bag entered on the far side, walked over, and sat with Howell.
They kissed.
>
Malone relaxed into the clamor of dishes, silverware, and conversation, eating his breakfast, acting disinterested in anything and everything, his actions no different from those of the hundred or so others around him. The noise, along with the din of the unabated engine became hypnotic and he resisted the urge to close his eyes.
His phone buzzed.
The display read UNKNOWN.
He decided to answer, which also made him no different from a multitude of others engrossed with their own mobile devices.
It was Stephanie.
“Your number didn’t appear,” he said.
“I’m at another location, on a landline.”
“I have Howell and the documents in sight,” he whispered to her.
“Tell me,” she said.
He gave her a quick report.
“You’re going to have company at some point,” she said.
He listened as she explained about Kim Yong Jin, a disgraced exile who had once been the next in line to lead North Korea, and his contacts with Howell and Larks. Then she told him about a conversation with the Chinese ambassador.
“We suspect the Chinese and North Koreans may be after Howell and the documents. How about you secure them both before anything bad happens.”
“This is turning into something far more than a part-time babysitting assignment.”
“Don’t worry,” a male voice said. “I’ll make sure she ups your pay.”
Danny Daniels.