“Dr. Won, we ask that you wear this blindfold for the duration of the trip. For security reasons, I’m certain you understand.”

Won did as she was told, taking the nighttime mask and placing it over her eyes.

The vehicle stopped an hour later and she was escorted carefully across a gravel driveway and into a building. A maze of corridors and steps came next, and by the time Fox helped her into a chair she was utterly disoriented.

Finally her blindfold was removed, and she found herself seated at a table in an opulent dining room. Outside the window she saw a beautiful expanse of lawn, several acres in size, surrounded by a well-manicured and extravagant-looking garden.

Fox was there, seated next to her. A bearded man in his sixties sat across from her at the table, but he stood as soon as she saw him and bowed.

Fox made the introductions. “Dr. Won, this is my employer, David Mars.”

Mars extended a hand. “A pleasure, Doctor. I trust your journey was both comfortable and uneventful.” He poured tea from a service for all three of them, then sat back down. “It’s green tea, from Korea, in honor of your visit today.”

Mars sat close to her, leaning closer still. Won did not like having her personal space violated, so this intrusion disquieted her, although the man still smiled at her like they were long-lost friends.

He said, “Your nation has served you well with your operation to move you into the West, and you, in turn, have served it quite admirably over the past three and a half years.”

“Who are you? You aren’t Russian, either.”

“I trust the fact that Fox has been cleared by Russian intelligence will put you at ease, but I will tell you something about me. I represent interests here in the United Kingdom, interests that I believe coincide with your own.”

“How would you come to know of my interests?”

When she stole another glance at Fox, Mars said, “I have your file from GRU. It’s all there.”

She nodded slowly.

“We also know you’ve been recalled by Pyongyang.”

Won’s eyes narrowed. “There would be nothing in my file about that. The Russians are not privy to my orders directly from Pyongyang.”

Mars sipped his tea. “You put your flat up on the market; you’ve not been shopping for another residence. You haven’t taken on new assignments at the Centre for Disease Prevention; it certainly seems as though you are winding your time down in Sweden. We don’t see evidence that you are moving to another job in the West, and Russia did not recall you, so we can only assume your birth nation has asked you to return home.”

“You are spying on me. I do not think my birth nation will like hearing that.”

Mars shrugged now. “They don’t know you are here. I doubt you’ll be telling them anything I tell you.”

Won realized this man knew more about her than she did him, or the reasons he was interested in her at all. “I think you should tell me exactly why I am here and why you know so much about me, Mr. Mars.”

“I want to use your talents.”

“In what way?”

“I want to build you a laboratory, here in the UK, and I want you to create a weaponized version of pneumonic plague.”

Won cocked her head. “For what reason?”

Mars smiled, then pulled his chair closer. She could not help but find his smile surprisingly warm and charming, for a Westerner. “I understand you, Janice. You and I think alike. You want to matter, you want to utilize your life’s work, you want all the years of toiling for a cause to be about something. Not something theoretical. Something tangible. Something real.” He paused. With unmistakable passion, he clenched his fist in front of his face and said, “So do I.”

Won said her next words as a statement. “You are planning a biological attack.”

“Yes. Real world, against the West. I am thinking aerosol delivery will be the most efficient, but I will leave that to your expertise.”

Won was utterly confused. “But . . . why would you attack the West?”

Mars smiled. “I have my reasons. If you agree to work with me, at some point I am sure you will learn them. But Fox is my liaison with Russia, and Fox is your insurance that this operation is sanctioned by one of your two masters.”

Still baffled by this, she said, “But not the other. Pyongyang has given no instructions to—”

“They have not, and they will not. And this is the best part for you, and for them. Your nation will in no way be implicated by what happens. You can act, you can make the difference you have been longing to make, and your nation will remain safe from harm. We will go to unimaginable lengths to keep your involvement a secret.”

This seemed almost too good to be true to Janice Won. She fought to maintain some objectivity, some skepticism. But in the end she failed. Considering it a moment, she said, “I would need a sample of Yersinia pestis, the bacterium that causes pneumonic plague.”

Mars waved a hand in the air. “You have it back in Stockholm. For testing and research.”

“You think they will just let me walk out of the lab with it?”

“Yes. Yes, I do. We will provide you with equipment to safely and secretly remove and transport it. We will help you do it. Once you have it, you will come here, and we will be ready for you.”

“What is the target, specifically?” she asked, but Mars immediately shook his head and poured more tea for himself and Fox. Janice Won hadn’t touched hers.

“That is information you will receive at the right time, and not before.”

Won made no decision immediately; she spent the night in the massive home, then left blindfolded on the way to the airport the next day. Fox and his bodyguard returned with her to Stockholm, gave her a number, and told her to call it when her decision was made.

But her decision was made. Russian intelligence wanted to use her skills to attack the West, and this would only implicate Russia in the action. She saw it as a perfect opportunity to strike a blow that would help her nation without worry of reprisals against her nation.

She knew she could not tell any of her North Korean handlers about Mr. Mars and the trip to London, or about the laboratory and the theft of bacteria from the lab.

No, she realized she had to become a rogue agent to protect her country from being nuked into dust in retaliation for what she would do.

CHAPTER 17

PRESENT DAY

Two and a half hours after the rolling firefight ended on the British highway, Court drove a stolen station wagon on the A15, heading north, just to get away from the gun battle. He’d taken plates off a Renault parked in the service lot at the gas station and then put them on an old Volvo nearby. He hot-wired the Volvo and now he was passing through the town of Lincoln, waiting for Brewer to get back to him with some answers.