That was no coincidence.
His half brother was on to him.
He’d expected repercussions from the $20 million, but not quite so fast. How had Pyongyang traced the debacle in Venice? He’d heard nothing more from the men hired to steal the $20 million, but their fate was immaterial. Unless they’d been taken prisoner and interrogated, little existed connecting him to them. No one had followed him onto the ferry. How could they? Everything happened so spontaneously. Telling the world about those six executions was a way for his half brother to send a message. Decades of inertia had long anchored North Korea in cement. What had his father said? We must envelop our environment in a dense fog to prevent our enemies from learning anything about us. So when that fog was intentionally lifted, that meant something.
The laptop dinged, signaling an incoming email.
He glanced at the listing and noticed the sender. PATRIOT. That was the tag Anan Wayne Howell had always utilized. He had many emails stored away that bore the label.
He slid the machine closer and opened the message.
You left me on the ferry. I’m assuming that was you in one of those lifeboats and some American agent named Malone in the other. He confronted me after you left, then took off when the fire alarm sounded. Which was fine by me. He came to bring me back to the United States. I’m assuming you started the fire. Jelena was nowhere on the ferry, so I’m also assuming she’s with you. I can tell you now, there’s no way you’re going to make any progress with those documents without me. There are things you don’t know. I want Jelena back, unharmed. I also want my freedom. You have what I need to prove my innocence. Let’s deal. Interested?
Yes, he was.
Thankfully, Howell seemed in the dark about what had happened on the water. But that was understandable given the storm and the fog. Visibility had been next to nothing. Malone was who-knew-where, and Howell had apparently fled, now contacting the only person who might be able to help. Unfortunately, Howell was right. There were things Kim did not know, and he did not have the time to discover them on his own. Those six executions alone were reason enough to speed up the process. Discovering the legal and historical particulars of this puzzle were one thing. What he did with that information, once known, was an entirely different matter. That would involve careful maneuvering among lawyers and publicists, the press and the courts. Bringing the United States to its knees would not be easy, but it also no longer seemed impossible.
His fingers worked the keyboard, formulating his reply.
*
Malone was betting that Kim Yong Jin would react as a gambler. From the little he’d read, and from what he’d observed, Kim surely fancied himself as someone smarter than everyone else. And that kind of arrogance usually led to mistakes. So he’d drafted an email for Howell to send, taking advantage of what he perceived to be Kim’s main weakness.
Ambition.
He now understood the stakes.
Kim wanted to destroy the United States, and if some of that misery spilled over to China then so much the better. To his credit Kim had stumbled onto something that might just work. He’d meant what he’d said earlier. They had to contain Kim here, and hope no one on the other side of the Atlantic was waiting for instructions. Stephanie had told him earlier that the NSA, thanks to a court order, was listening specifically to Kim’s cell phone. As usual, though, all international calls in and out of the United States were also being monitored. Millions of them, the NSA recognition software on the lookout for words like income taxes, 16th Amendment, Andrew Mellon, Roosevelt, among others.
“Do you think he saw the email?” Isabella asked.
“And if he did,” Luke said, “will he take the bait?”
He was certain. “It’s his only play. There are things he just doesn’t know.”
They were still inside the American Corner, that entire section of the library temporarily closed off. His clothes were damp and crusty from the seawater.
The desktop rang.
All of their gazes locked on Kim’s reply.
I am prepared to deal.
*
Kim was taking a big chance, but he thought it a calculated one. Howell, as an American fugitive, after three years of running, would have no love for any agent like Malone. He wouldn’t necessarily care much for Kim, either, but in Howell’s mind Kim had Jelena, and that he did care about. All he had to do was play out the bluff.
A new message appeared from Howell.
We need to meet and I want Jelena there, to make sure she’s okay. Once that happens, I’ll tell you things that will open your eyes. I don’t know what you have in mind, nor do I care. But if you expose all of this as the fraud that it is, that only helps me. I don’t want to go to jail. I’ve spent years studying this, and I didn’t write everything I know in the book. In fact, you have the most important piece to the puzzle. That original sheet of numbers. But for that to do you any good, we have to chat.
*
Isabella had to admit, what Malone was doing seemed clever. He was working a con, using the con man’s own fears and expectations against him. Not unlike when she worked a tax cheat, making him or her think she was there to help, easing her way closer and closer to the truth. She’d investigated so many, her conviction rate an impressive 93%. It helped that she was selective, walking away from the questionable ones, zeroing in on the real criminals. Unfortunately, no such luxury existed here. You played the hand dealt. Luke Daniels had been right. Malone was tough, and smart.
But so was she.
Another reply came from Kim.
How do you suggest we accomplish all this?
“The fish is on the hook,” Luke said, with a smile.
Malone nodded at Howell.
“Reel him in.”
FORTY-SIX
WASHINGTON, DC