“Let’s get closer,” he said. “You go ahead and move to a seat at the end of this car, near the exit door. I’ll be along.”
She stood, walked down the center aisle, counting six others scattered among the empty seats. She claimed a spot near the exit door, facing toward Kim, whom she could see through the half glass in the doors between the cars. Luke appeared and sat in the row across the aisle, he, too, watching ahead.
“Where’s Howell?” she heard him mutter over the clank of the wheels on the tracks.
She was wondering the same thing.
Howell had been sent to occupy Kim.
But that wasn’t happening.
“It has to be the daughter,” she whispered. “She’s got him.”
*
Hana studied the man called Anan Wayne Howell. He watched her with a stern gaze that did not betray even a hint of fear. She’d observed Howell and the dead woman in the dining room on the ferry. They were obviously close, their touch and looks those of lovers. She envied him. Never had she experienced affection. Not with her mother, her father, her siblings, or anyone else. She’d even escaped the guards’ lust and kept her virginity. Perhaps only with Sun Hi had she ever experienced any form of close connection with another human being.
“Did you throw Jelena into the ocean, or did he?” Howell asked.
“I have never killed anyone.”
Her English was perfect, learned in Macao at a private school where she’d lived for the past twelve years. It had taken time for her to catch up with the other students, but she’d been determined to free her mind of ignorance. And she had. Reading was one of her few delights. Howell’s eyes signaled that he did not believe her declaration, but she did not care what he thought.
She knew the truth.
“What’s wrong with you?” Howell asked. “There’s not a speck of feeling on your face or in your eyes. It’s all blank, like you’re a machine.”
He was the first person to ever say that to her. Not once in fourteen years had her father ever inquired about how she felt. Everything had always been centered on him. His thoughts. His desires. Especially during the past few months, as his excitement rose in proportion to his potential success.
She said nothing and continued to stare at him.
“I’m leaving,” Howell said.
She produced the gun from beneath her jacket.
Howell froze.
*
Kim faced the four men, the black satchel in his lap, its zipper open, the gun inside easily accessible. “I asked a question.”
The man closest to him, on his right, said, “We’re here for that satchel and for you.”
“And did my bastard of a brother send you?”
“The people of the Korean Republic sent us. You have been named an enemy of the state, as was your other brother.”
“Who was slaughtered, along with his entire family.”
“You cannot escape this train,” the man said in Korean. “We have people waiting in Solaris.”
“Might I inquire how you know so much about my whereabouts.”
“We have friends helping, supplying excellent information. And they have the means to know.”
That meant the Chinese. Then it occurred to him how. They were monitoring his mobile phone and computer use. He’d honestly thought nobody cared what he was doing. Definitely a miscalculation, but not insurmountable given his present location. Isolation worked both ways, and he intended to take advantage of the situation.
“The Chinese are not our friends,” he said to the man, who was apparently in charge of the other three. “Far from that, in fact.”
He gestured with his head to the satchel in his lap. “I assume you want the documents this contains?”
The man nodded. “All of them, especially an original crumpled page with numbers on it.”
Amazing. How much did these people know? And just who exactly were the Chinese monitoring?
“Do you think me a fool?” he asked.
“I think you are a reasonable man. There are four of us here and more waiting when this train stops. There is literally nowhere for you to go. Can we not do this without violence?”
He seemed to consider the inquiry.
“Let us start,” the man said, “with you handing over those documents.”
He lost all of his curiosity at these men’s intentions as another more vital desire rose within him. Survival. So a nod of his head seemed to accept the inevitable, and the hint of a tolerant smile masked his right hand as it slipped into the case and found the gun. He did not bother to withdraw the weapon. That would provide too much of an opportunity for his targets to react.
Instead he angled the satchel to the left and pulled the trigger.
*
Isabella could see that something was happening in the next car. Kim jerked the black satchel, first left, then right. The four men sitting across the aisle from him were only partially visible, but over the train noise she heard faint pops and saw part of the satchel burst open. One of the passengers in the car ahead leaped to his feet and the exit door was flung open. A bearded man in an overcoat rushed her way. Through the glass she saw others bolting for the exit at the other end of the next car.
Luke saw it too. “What the hell?”
*
Kim fired three shots, leaving neat holes in the two men to his left and one to his right. The man in charge, sitting closest to him, had clearly been caught off guard but recovered and managed to pivot in his seat and thrust with his legs. The man’s feet slammed into the satchel and threw Kim back, but he managed to keep a grip on the gun, which he now withdrew from the case.
His target was quick.
Slipping to the floor, and finding a gun of his own.
FIFTY-EIGHT
WASHINGTON, DC
Stephanie sat straight on the bench and never moved, her gaze locked on the Chinese ambassador.