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  The photograph showed the same woman in the previous photo, only she looked composed and calm. She was Asian, mid-thirties, pretty in a severe way with turtle-shell glasses and a birth mark on the right side of the chin. Vessler flipped the photo over and saw someone had written her height, weight, eye color, and date of birth on the back.

  “You think she broke bad?” Choi asked.

  “We don’t think so,” Casey said. “Mori had a twin brother who died from a meth overdose. Lately she’s been devoting her efforts into finding a way to neutralize the drug once it’s in the body.”

  “She was working in Japan four months ago when she disappeared,” Tanner added.

  A trilling phone interrupted the conversation. Casey frowned as he pulled out his device. “I need to take this. Everyone, take a break.”

  #

  Naomi caught up with Vessler outside the conference room. “Can we talk? Somewhere private?”

  “My office.” Vessler motioned toward a door a few feet away.

  The windowless office wasn’t very large and looked like Vessler didn’t spend much time in it. A few pictures of her hung on one wall, including a couple with recent presidents, a senator, and a famous actor. The desk held piles of folders, a coffee cup filled pens and pencils, a name plate, and a San Francisco Giants bobblehead.

  “Nice place,” Naomi frowned at the mundane space.

  “Cut the charm.” Vessler dropped into her chair. “What the hell’s going on, Nay? You had a good job with the ATF. How the hell did you end up with a black ops gang?”

  Naomi sighed. “Had is the operative word. And need I remind you that this gang just saved your butt?”

  “So what happened with ATF?”

  “You remember the Environmental Protection Front bombings? The ones that destroyed a sawmill and a bunch of million dollar homes?”

  Vessler cringed as she mentally pictured the devastation. “Yeah, wasn’t there something about the ATF being involved in selling explosives to one of the EPF suspects?”

  Naomi nodded. “The same sort of thing the ATF did with Operation Fast and Furious, they did with Operation Backburner. They set up and sold what they thought were inert explosives to a known supporter of the EPF. Only they weren’t inert, and by the time those assholes realized it, two homes were destroyed and three people injured. They tried covering their asses, but I was lead on the case and I traced the explosives back to them. They tried shutting me down, blocked every attempt to trace the explosives, and finally took me off the case and assigned me to the Bismarck, North Dakota office. After three months of banging my head against a bureaucratic stone wall, I’d had enough. I contacted a reporter I knew, turned over all the evidence I had to them, and waited for the media shitstorm.”

  “That didn’t go over well.”

  “It sure didn’t. They spent months trying to cover their asses, but it was too late. They threw a couple of their own to the wolves, endured the media and congressional scrutiny, and made a few internal policy changes. But in the end they got a big black eye, and a few careers were derailed.”

  “They fired you?”

  “They knew I did it, but they couldn’t prove it. I was ‘encouraged’ to resign, and by then I was tired of the entire situation, so I did.”

  Vessler leaned back in her chair. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re in a black ops outfit.”

  “Well, I was sitting in a bar in Bismarck, having resigned from the ATF a few days before, feeling like crap, when this guy with mismatched eyes sits next to me at the bar and asks if I want a job. Not a drink, but a job.”

  “With a lot of guys at a bar, that line could backfire easily.”

  Naomi chuckled. “True, but Tanner Wilson is not a lot of guys. I wasn’t in the mood to talk, and I’d been hit on by more than one guy that night already. So, I told him I wasn’t a dancer, a hooker, or a model, and if he didn’t go away, I would break both his legs.”

  Vessler snorted a laugh. “He must have loved that.”

  “He did. He smiled at me and said, ‘Good, because I need someone with your skills, someone who’s not afraid to throw out the regulations if that’s what the mission calls for.’ He left me his phone number and told me to call when I was ready. I did the next morning, and that’s how I ended up with OUTCAST.”

  “I did some asking around Washington about OUTCAST. Their somewhat of a legend already, but no one seems to really know much about them. What’s Tanner’s story?”

  “Former FBI, one of the top guys in the agency’s counter-terrorism section, before a bogus sexual harassment suit forced him out.”

  Vessler nodded. “That’s what I heard. And the others?”

  “Same deal. All good at their jobs until their respective agencies got rid of them for reasons having nothing to do with their actual duties. Dani was NSA until she used their resources to search for her ex after he took their son. Stephen was CIA until he filed a discrimination lawsuit against the agency. Dante, until he got caught up in that South American prostitution scandal, had been Secret Service. Liam’s ‘crime’ was that he wrote a tell-all book about the Bin Laden raid — he was one of the SEALs on that mission. So, we’re all damaged goods one way or another. That’s our common bond, other than our professionalism and sense of duty to our country. Tanner’s given us a purpose and we’re making a difference.”

  “By being a black ops outfit?”

  “Oh, we’re not exclusively U.S. government. We have a group of clients for which we handle security, investigations and now and then, hostage retrieval. But when Casey calls us in, we know there’s a serious threat to this country.”

  Vessler’s gaze took on a harder edge. “Nay, this is a DEA case.”

  “Not any more. Rhee’s presence expands the scope.”

  “We have no proof Rhee was behind the ambush!”

  “Vess, you were set up last night. They eliminated your observation team and your sniper squad, then had security teams in place to stop your police reinforcements. That kind of logistical coordination hints at someone with a military background.”

  Vessler shrugged. “Doesn’t seem too sophisticated to me. They have to know that killing law enforcement officers would only bring more heat on them.”

  “Last night was meant to be a warning; back off or there will be more dead people. That’s why we’re here.”

  Vessler looked at her friend in shock. “You’re talking about all-out war in the city!”

  “Vess, as far as Rhee is concerned, the Korean War never ended. Last night was just a continuation, a flare-up, and it won’t be a one-time thing. There’ll be another incident like this, maybe here, maybe in another city, but with similar results. We need to nip this in the bud, now.”

  “But there are rules! Laws!”

  Naomi smiled. “Rhee’s just started a new game, one the DEA is not ready to play. That’s why we’re here.”

  There was a knock at the door, then it opened and Dante stuck his head in. “We’re back in session.”

  #

  Casey waited until everyone was in their chairs. “That was the President. As of now, Tanner’s team is lead on the Red Ice case.”

  Vessler rose. “Wait a minute—”

  Casey’s tone was soft as he addressed her. “Agent Vessler, this case has been taken as far as you can take it, and at a heavy price in lives. It’s up to someone else now to take the burden of bringing these bastards to justice.”

  “But these people are—”

  “Shut the hell up, Vess!”

  Vessler stopped and turned to look at her partner, Daniel Choi. In the five years she had known him, the last three as her partner, she had never seen him anything but calm and composed.

  He returned her stare, anger etched in his face. “I’m sorry, Vess, but Casey’s right. We can’t deal with these bastards like these…” His head swiveled around as he looked at Tanner and the other OUTCASTs. “…like these ghosts can.”

  “But the law—�
��

  “Screw the law.”

  Vessler stared at him, stunned. “Dan—”

  “No, hear me out. I grew up listening to my grandparents who told me about the North Koreans and what they did to entire villages during the Korean War. I have cousins serving in the ROK army who’ve told me about hunting down North Korean infiltrators and rescuing people kidnapped by the North Koreans. You may think of the Kim family as nothing more than the comically insane leaders of a fourth-rate country, but to my family it’s no laughing matter. If the North Koreans are behind that attack on our people, then as far as I’m concerned, the gloves are off.”

  He motioned to the OUTCAST group. “If they can do the job, let them do it. I’ll gladly hold their coats.”

  “Danny!” Vessler pressed. “What if innocents get in the way?”

  Choi scowled. “Do you think Rhee cares about innocents? My grandfather still carries the scars from the beating a North Korean officer gave him when he was eight, during the war. You don’t understand the hate North Koreans have for Americans. They see us the same way the fanatical Islamics do — as a great evil. They’ve been drilling that lie into their population’s heads every day for decades.”

  “What does—”

  “We are well aware of innocents,” Tanner said. “I suggest the DEA lends us a couple of agents who know the streets. There are going be pieces left over, and it would be a good idea if the law was able to pick up those pieces.”

  Glimsdale looked over at Vessler. “You want in, Sarah?”

  “You want me to be part of this?”

  “You know the case better than most.”

  “I’m in,” Choi said.

  Vessler slumped into her chair. “You’re going to do this no matter what I decide?”

  Tanner nodded. “That’s right.”

  She scowled. “Then I’m in. What’s our first move?”

  CHAPTER SIX

  San Francisco City Hall

  San Francisco

  9:12am

  San Francisco is unique in California because it is the only city that is also a county. The mayor acts as the county executive, and the city’s Board of Supervisors acts as the county council.

  Norman Kwan, President of the Board of Supervisors for the City and County of San Francisco, wasn’t an imposing man. In fact, the slightly-built, fifty-seven year old looked like a storekeeper. As he entered City Hall, he greeted the security guards with a smile and a wave. On the way to his office, he was stopped by more than one person with routine matters related to running the thirteenth most populated city in the country. He handled each with grace and kind words.

  When he reached his office, his secretary, a matronly redhead, smiled at him. “Good morning, sir.”

  “Good morning, Georgina. Anything I need to know?”

  “You heard about the extreme violence down at Pier 80 last night, right?”

  Kwan sighed. “Yes, I’ve already been on the phone with Chief Lee. Inform the Board that there will be a moment of silence at today’s meeting, and that we need to make sure there’s a supervisor at each funeral.”

  “Yes sir. Mr. Tanada is asking for a meeting over the street repaving problems in his district.”

  “When’s the earliest can I see him?”

  “An hour and a half from now.”

  “All right. I’ll see him then.”

  “Also, there’s a man waiting for you in your office.”

  Kwan frowned. “Who?”

  “A Mr. Lee from the Red Phoenix Society.”

  He felt a chill of fear go through him, but kept his smile. “I’ll talk with him. Hold all calls until we’re done.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Kwan entered his office. The guest standing at the window turned slowly to look at him. He was shorter than Kwan, and lean, with cold dark eyes and closely-cropped hair. He was dressed in a mid-priced suit, yet Kwan knew he wasn’t a businessman. “Mr. Kwan,” he began in accented English.

  “Mr. Lee,” Kwan returned, closing the door behind him.

  Lee smiled and said in Korean, “My God is none other than the people. Only the popular masses are omniscient and omnipotent and almighty on Earth. Therefore, my lifetime motto is: “The people are my God.”

  The words of Kim Il-Sung hit Kwan like a physical blow, and it took him several seconds to remember the other half of the code phase. “Th—The basis of the Juche Idea is that man is the master of all things and the decisive factor in everything.”

  “You remembered.”

  Kwan held up a hand, then walked over to his desk and opened a drawer. Once the white noise generator was on the desk and activated, he scowled. “I received no warning of your arrival.”

  “You weren’t supposed to know.” Kwan’s visitor sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. “I am Major Rhee Kyu-chul.” He looked around. “You seem to have done well, Byung.”

  Kwan fought the fear as Rhee spoke a name Kwan hadn’t used in nearly forty years. “What are you doing here?”

  “I need your help.”

  “With what?”

  Rhee traced a circle on the chair’s armrest with his finger, his eyes never leaving Kwan. “You are no doubt aware of the incident at the pier last night?”

  Anger replaced Kwan’s fear. “You did that?”

  Rhee shrugged. “They were nothing more than lapdogs for their corrupt masters.”

  Pot, kettle, black, Kwan thought. “Do you think we…the Americans…will back off? No, they will want blood, and they will come after you hard!”

  The major shrugged again. “That is not your concern. What I want from you is information.”

  “On what?”

  “Someone showed up last night at the pier. They broke the ambush and saved a few DEA agents.”

  “So?”

  “They used military weapons and didn’t act like policemen. I want you to find who they are.”

  Kwan stared at Rhee. “How do you expect me to do that?”

  “Someone must know who these people are.”

  “There are no such groups in the city!”

  “They obviously exist,” Rhee said, his tone dropping into annoyance. “You will use your resources to find out who they are.”

  Kwan clamped down on his anger. “Look, whoever they are, they’re not part of the local or state government — none of the leaders here or in Sacramento would stand for it. It they do exist, it must be on the federal level.”

  “There’s a special assistant to the president currently here. He will know.”

  “He will not tell me anything. The federal government is not beholden to the local or state governments.”

  Rhee scowled. “Do what you have to in order to find out.” He stood and handed Kwan a business card. “Call when you have something. You have twenty-four hours.”

  “And if I don’t find anything?”

  Rhee’s smile was cold. “Your younger brother just became head of the biology department at Kim Il-sung University. It would be a pity if he was to lose that position because of your failure. He’s married and has three children, two of them grown and married. The prison camps are poor places to bring children and grandchildren up in.”

  Rhee walked toward the door. For a moment, Kwan considered throwing the white noise generator at him, but decided not to.

  After Rhee left, Kwan sunk into his chair. He hadn’t thought about his brother in years, didn’t even know if what Rhee had said was true. But he couldn’t take the chance. During his training, he had been taken to one of the camps and shown the fate of those who did not follow the Kim family’s vision.

  He reached over and pressed the intercom button. “Georgina, please continue holding my calls for the time being.”

  “Yes sir.”

  He released the intercom switch and picked up the phone, dialing a number from memory.

  He had to find Casey.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Pier 80

  10:31am

  T
he pier’s gates were blocked by a pair of SFPD vehicles and a contingent of officers. Choi slowed the U.S. government Suburban to a stop as a cop walked up to them, rolled down his window and displayed a DEA badge to the officer. He motioned to the three men with him. “They’re from Homeland Security. Who’s in charge?”

  “Captain Montague and FBI Special Agent Harris.”

  “Good. We’ll check in with them.”

  They drove onto the pier. Choi slowed as he passed the two shattered hulks that had been Suburbans but were now part of a wide-area crime scene. “I never thanked you guys for saving our asses, did I?”

  Liam, who was in the front passenger seat, put a hand on Choi’s shoulder. “Consider it said.”

  “I knew most of those guys longer than I’ve known Vess. We drank together, bitched about women and the job together, attended each other’s birthdays, weddings, all that.” He shook his head. “I want these guys to pay.”

  “They will,” Liam promised.

  They parked with a dozen other vehicles next to a large mobile command truck and climbed out. There were two dozen people in sight, some wearing overalls, others wearing police uniforms, while still others wore suits like Choi and the three OUTCAST members. Evidence markers were everywhere and police tape wrapped around the destroyed vehicles and a few crates near the cargo ship.

  Dante looked around slowly, gauging the surroundings. “Nowhere to hide.”

  “Yeah,” Liam said. “Where were the sniper and observation teams stationed?”

  Choi pointed to the office building Team Two had invaded eight hours before. “Second floor, near the end closest to the ship.” He turned and pointed at a long building with a steel roof perpendicular to the office building. “Sniper team was on the roof there, nearer the bay.”

  Liam looked around. “According to the autopsy, both police officers were killed with single shots from distance.”

  Choi frowned. “How did you see—”

  “Dani retrieved them for us from the morgue’s computer system. Opinion, Dante?”