Red Shark

Jin held Kim’s astonished gaze. “Given time we could have solved our problems through Juche — self-reliance — and in the bargain made the American pigs and their flunkies, the Japanese and Chinese, cave in to our demands. We could have kept our weapons, our missiles, and our power. Now we have nothing. And it is you, Dear Leader, who threw it all away because you were intimidated by American power. It is you who should be arrested and executed for committing treasonous acts against the State.”

It was the first time Jin had ever seen Kim at a loss for words. But he also knew that a silent Kim was unpredictable and that time was running out. Jin looked at Yi, who subtly raised an eyebrow.

“You two are scum,” Kim sneered. “Scum of the worst kind. Arrogant, deceitful, hateful.”

He fished a cigarette from the package on his desk and with trembling hands put it in his mouth.

“You are describing yourself, Dear Leader, are you not?” Jin said as he produced his own package of cigarettes. He held out to Kim a handsome engraved silver cigarette lighter inlaid with jade and ivory. “And now we must decide what to do about it.”

Kim inclined his head toward Jin’s lighter, which was rock steady, and said, “There is nothing to decide. You will both be executed for treason.” When the expected flame failed to materialize, Kim looked up, into Jin’s eyes, which flared like lasers.

A spurt of colorless, odorless gas shot from the lighter and struck Kim Jong-il in the face. Instantly Jin and Yi produced specially treated handkerchiefs, which they pressed to their mouths and noses to block the powerful Z-10 knockout gas. Kim’s eyes rolled up into his head as his knees buckled. Before the two officers could catch him, the Dear Leader toppled to the carpeted floor on his face, crushing his glasses under his flattened nose.

After the gas had dispersed, General Yi pressed a button under Kim’s desk to summon the bodyguard. The security bolts released and the guard entered the office. He took one look at the unconscious Kim, a mound of khaki lying on the floor at Jin’s feet, then removed his peaked cap and wiped sweat from his forehead with a shaking hand. He put his cap back on, came to attention, and smartly saluted Marshal Jin and General Yi.

“Handcuff him,” Jin commanded the bodyguard. “Then take him away.”

The bodyguard snapped, “At once, Dear Leader.”

Part One Warshot

1

Virginia Beach, Virginia

Jake Scott lay in the dark, his mind racing, refusing to shut off, remembering, until a pale dawn crept into the room and brought him back to the present.

Why torture himself? His breakup with Tracy hadn’t been one of his finer moments. It was over and there was nothing he could do about it, but God, he wanted to see her again. He pictured her standing in the bedroom of their apartment with her head thrown back, striking a vampish pose. She had on a black thong, black high-heeled slides, jewelry, and nothing else. Her black hair, cut short, hugged her head like a shiny helmet.

Scott’s eyes had gone to the ugly greenish-yellow bruises on her wrists, which she had tried to hide under a riot of jangling bracelets. But she couldn’t hide the angry red bite mark on her left breast below the nipple.

Who gave you that? he had asked. Rick? No, you did, she’d snapped. Bullshit. It was Rick, wasn’t it? He’s a toy, that’s all, she had said. He understands me, knows what I like. Yeah and getting knocked around isn’t it. What did he do, tie you to the bed? Is that why your wrists are bruised? She’d cursed him and slammed the bedroom door in his face. Driven by the agony of sexual jealousy, Scott succumbed to the darkest fringes of his imagination and saw the toy plunging between Tracy’s slim, white thighs.

He saw himself with Tracy. Her body arched against his as he’d sucked her swollen left nipple. He remembered that she had grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his mouth from her breast. “I said, stop! It can’t take any more. Look what you’ve done to it.”

“Sorry.”

She had bared her teeth. “No, you’re not.”

A moment later he’d been in her, deep, then convulsing, breath exploding into her scented hair, whispering in her ear the things she’d liked to hear him say when he’d come.