Fires of War by Jim DeFelice, Larry Bond Read Free Book Online Page B

dangerous than hopeful. The fact that inspections have already begun shows how utterly worthless it is; the North Koreans only agreed because they know it has no teeth.”
     
    The editorial writer made a few valid points about the limits of the testing protocols, though it was clear from his overall tone that, in his opinion, nuking North Korea was the only viable way to deal with the country.
     
    Ferg’s sat phone began to ring as he turned the page.
     
    “Batman speaking,” he said, hitting the talk button.
     
    “Ferg, something’s up,” said Jack Corrigan, the desk man on duty in The Cube. “Can you talk?”
     
    “I can always talk, Robin. The question is whether anyone listens.”
     
    “We got a problem, Ferg. Our friend just sent an e-mail to her grandmother telling her she has to stay inside today and work.”
     
    “That’s it?”
     
    “More or less.”
     
    “Don’t tell me more or less,” snapped Ferguson. “Read me the message, Corrigan.”
     
    “But—”
     
    “Read me the message.”
     
    “You want it in Greek or English?”
     
    “Now you tell me, Jack, do I speak Greek?”
     
    “I don’t know what you speak some days,” said Corrigan. “Gram: Hope you’re well. Having a challenging and exciting time in new job. Going to all sorts of places and getting plenty of exercise—I think I’ve lost all the weight your chicken soup put on. Yesterday I got to go out, but today it’s desk work. Even though the sun is shining, I’ll be in all day. Lots of unfinished business. Then there’s a frowny face.”
     
    “Cute. What else?”
     
    “That’s it. What do you think—”
     
    “We’re on it.”
     
    Ferguson slapped off the phone and got up, leaving the newspaper spread out on the table.
     
    “Gotta go,” he told the approaching waiter. He unfolded a five-thousand-won note from his pocket and let it flutter to the table. “ Tto bzvayo.”
     
    Ferguson had just hailed a taxi when his sat phone rang again. It was Rankin.
     
    “Something’s up. Thera didn’t get in the trucks with the rest of the team at the hotel,” said Rankin.
     
    “Yeah, something’s goin’ on,” said Ferguson, stepping onto the curb as a cab veered across traffic to pick him up.
     
    “You want me to go in?”
     
    “No, hang back. She’s OK. Where’s Guns?”
     
    “Sleepin’. He watched her hotel all night.”
     
    “All right. I’m pickin’ you up. We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
     
    The typically thick city traffic made it more like fifty. Rankin, who’d been watching Thera’s hotel from a parking garage across the street, had been standing outside the whole time and felt like a penguin with frostbite. When he grabbed the taxi’s door his finger nearly froze to the metal.
     
    “Cold, huh?” said Ferguson as he slid in.
     
    “No, it’s fuckin’ July.”
     
    “Get warm soon,” said the driver helpfully from the front. “This unusual weather.”
     
    Rankin frowned at him. He hated nosey taxi drivers.
     
    Ferguson leaned across him and bent over the front seat. “Driver, take us to Hard Rock Cafe. Yes?”
     
    “Hard Rock, yes,” said the man. “Good place for party.”
     
    “That’s what I like.”
     
    Ferguson tucked a thick wad of won notes in the driver’s hand when they got to the restaurant. Both men walked silently to the right of the entrance, ducked down a set of stairs they had scoped out the day before, and crossed to the back of the building. Five minutes later they were standing at the counter of a rental car agency three blocks away, reserving a Hyundai.
     
    “You gonna tell me what’s going on?” Rankin said as they walked to the car.
     
    “I didn’t think you were interested.”
     
    “Don’t be a prick, Ferg. I didn’t want to ask questions while people were around.”
     
    “Thera can’t pick up the tags. Her work assignment must’ve changed. You and I are going to go take a closer look at the site and figure out what