“Stay out of this,” she said.
“Go get security. Now,” the director told the head curator.
The woman ran away and the director lunged toward her, reaching for the hammer. He yanked the tools away and said, “You’re insane.”
She allowed him his moment and simply reached for the phone. “What do you want to do?”
“You know damn well what I want,” Danny Daniels said through the speaker.
The director seemed shocked. He clearly recognized the voice.
“Sir,” Danny said. “Please hand those tools back to Ms. Nelle, and get the hell out of the way.”
Though a command, for Danny, it had been delivered in an uncharacteristically cordial tone.
“Take it from me,” Joe Levy said. “You don’t want to argue with him.”
The director definitely appeared to be in a quandary and she could sympathize. His entire job was to protect everything within the museum and here she was about to deface one its original treasures. But Andrew Mellon had specifically wanted that plug removed. If she was right, he’d been the one to actually place it there. So she doubted her violation would inflict any historical damage.
“I’m waiting,” Danny said through the phone. “You don’t want me to come over there.”
The director handed back the tools.
“I also need you and the other lady, Ms. Williams, to leave,” Danny said. “Please make sure Ms. Nelle and Mr. Levy are not disturbed, and that no one comes anywhere near the gallery. Have those security guards you summoned seal the area where you are right now. And shut off any cameras that are recording.”
“I assume it matters not that I don’t actually work for you,” the director said.
“You’re kiddin’, right? You think some civil service rules are going to stop me from kickin’ your ass.”
The director could see he was outgunned, so he nodded his assent, then he and Carol Williams left the gallery.
“Make sure we’re alone,” she called out to Chick-fil-A Man, who nodded, then followed the others out.
“They gone?” Danny asked.
She still lay on the floor. “Yep.”
“Open that sucker up.”
SIXTY-THREE
CROATIA
Malone watched as the first man from the train joined his compatriot in the station and they realized that Kim was armed and on the move.
“Everyone down,” he screamed in English as he found his own weapon.
The few people on the platform who understood him looked his way, saw the gun, then fled toward the station doors. Kim also reacted to the warning, jamming the barrel of his gun into Howell’s ribs. Malone gave that act some respect, but the two Koreans seemed not to care. They’d taken cover behind a metal bench and aimed their weapons. Their mission did not include returning either Kim or Howell alive.
And here was a golden opportunity.
*
Isabella spotted Kim and Howell fifty feet away, the station platform dim, people fleeing. Both she and Luke were exposed with no cover. But Kim’s attention had been drawn in the opposite direction.
To Malone.
Whom she saw had drawn his gun.
Hana Sung, though, was staring straight at her and Luke.
A row of luggage carts stood lined to their left, which offered some protection.
She leaped that way as Sung aimed her gun and fired.
*
Malone had seen Isabella and Luke exiting the train, and while the father worried about him, the daughter was shooting at them, rounds popping out in rapid succession.
A woman screamed.
Another man yelled.
In Korean.
Kim turned his attention away from Malone and toward the other two. More Korean words passed between them. Isabella and Luke had lunged for cover behind a row of luggage carts. Kim forced Howell ahead, toward the doors that led from the platform to the station, using his captive as a shield. It would only be an instant before Luke and Isabella started firing. He hoped they realized that Howell was in a bad predicament.
“Luke,” he yelled. “Two more to your left. Both armed.”
Bullets came his way from the Koreans as they now realized his presence. Luckily he’d found cover behind one of the iron pedestals that held the ceiling aloft. Rounds pinged off the metal, tossing sparks, ricocheting in every direction.
He steadied himself and prepared to return fire.
*
Kim’s heart fluttered with panic. Alarm burned at the back of his ears. This town was a trap, one set by both the Americans and North Koreans. He had to flee. Hana had occupied the man and woman from the train, and the two Koreans were shooting at someone else off to his right. Unfortunately he had to cross that line of fire to escape. His left arm wrapped Howell’s neck, the gun still tight to the man’s ribs.
One of the Koreans stopped firing and turned back his way.
Anan Wayne Howell was of no use to him any longer. He’d been played on the train. Surely Howell had been told not to mention that he knew Jelena was dead, but the younger man’s emotions had gotten the best of him. Still, though Howell was of no value in one respect that did not mean he was completely useless.
He pivoted left and placed Howell between him and the rising danger.
A shot came his way and thudded into Howell’s chest.
The man’s breath left him in a gasp and the body jerked from the impact. Another round and a second bullet slammed into Howell.
Neither penetrated through to Kim.
He released his grip on the American.
*
Malone winced as Howell was shot twice.
He fled his cover, aimed at the Korean shooting, and took him down with one shot. The second man then went on the offensive, firing Malone’s way, which caused him to dive to the concrete floor.
Rounds whizzed past him and dinged off the train.
He rolled and used another iron pillar for cover.
The last he saw, Kim and Hana Sung were fleeing the platform into the station.
And the remaining Korean followed.