The Devil's Playground Read online

The Devil's Playground

  Copyright 2014 Michael Reagan

  Editing by Debs Hartwell of Hartwell Editing

  ISBN: 978-0-9927014-2-0

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Beijing

  Chapter One

  Pyongyang

  Chapter Two

  Beverly Hills / Langley / Georgetown

  Chapter Three

  The White House

  Chapter Four

  Hong Kong

  Chapter Five

  Pyongyang

  Chapter Six

  Langley

  Chapter Seven

  Washington

  Chapter Eight

  Osaka 1996 / 1998 / 2000

  Chapter Nine

  Moscow

  Chapter Ten

  Pyongyang

  Chapter Eleven

  Bangkok

  Chapter Twelve

  Dubai

  Chapter Thirteen

  Moscow

  Chapter Fourteen

  Geneva

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tokyo

  Chapter Sixteen

  Austin

  Chapter Seventeen

  Beijing

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ashgabat

  Chapter Nineteen

  New York City

  Chapter Twenty

  Mexico City

  Chapter Twenty-One

  New York City

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Houston

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Washington D.C.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Moscow

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Austin / Ashgabat / Mexico City / Tokyo

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Beijing

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Tokyo

  Countdown to War

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Saman Depe

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Moscow / Washington D.C / Langley

  Chapter Thirty

  Moscow

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Liancourt Rocks

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Pyongyang

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Beijing / Washington D.C / Moscow

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Moscow

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The White House

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Beijing

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  San Francisco

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Gushgy, Turkmenistan

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Paris

  Chapter Forty

  Washington D.C.

  Chapter Forty-One

  East China Sea / Beijing / Pyongyang

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Tokyo / Beijing / East China Sea

  Chapter Forty-Three

  The White House

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Osaka / Seoul

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Beijing / Osaka / Tokyo

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Tokyo

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Tokyo / Seoul

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Tokyo

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Beijing

  Chapter Fifty

  Upper Barpham

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Upper Barpham / Georgetown / Pyongyang

  Epilogue

  Author's Note

  About Michael Reagan

  Acknowledgements

  This book as always is dedicated to my family. Without their continuing support, none of this would be possible. To my friends who I have met along the way, the inspiration for the characters that make up my stories and whom I admire more than they will ever know, and finally to my friend the "Star" on the wall, the true "Shadow Warrior."

  Prologue

  The loud sound of the telephone ringing by the side of the bed penetrated the mind of the sleeping Rob Ashley. Wearily he reached across the bed, picked up the phone, and waited for the person to speak.

  "Good Morning Mr. Ashley, this is your 5:30 a.m. wakeup call," the voice spoke in English. "Today is October 20th, 2009 and Beijing's weather is 66 degrees Fahrenheit," the voice continued on autopilot.

  After muttering a quick thank you, the man known as 'The Fixer' for the Sheikh of Dubai replaced the handset. Then he waited for his head to stop throbbing.

  "Christ, I am getting too old for this," he said out loud.

  Sent by his employer under the cover of looking at hotel opportunities but in reality to evaluate a business deal on his behalf that one of the Sheikh's hangers-on had presented, Rob had spent the last ten days touring a country known as the "Hermit Kingdom" in Asia.

  The trip unsurprizingly had been a complete waste of time, mostly spent between drinking vast quantities of expensive alcohol and eating huge meals at the banquets that had been laid out by his hosts, an investment group from London, in and around Pyongyang in an effort to convince him of how well they were connected with the various Ministries of the country.

  Nevertheless, Rob had been polite throughout and made the effort to act as though he was interested in everything, all the while using the time to evaluate the leadership of the country and their current positions of power within the country's hierarchy for his other employer, albeit a secret one, The Central Intelligence Agency of the United States of America.

  As he got up from the bed and made his way to the bathroom to take a shower, he reflected on the trip thus far, but more importantly the heavy drinking session he had shared last night with the man in the Karaoke Bar located in the basement of the Beijing's Peninsula Hotel that he had since found out was a 'Princeling'. Thereby a future senior figure in the regime due to his family connections.

  At the time of his arrival in North Korea, as he had sped down the long, dead straight highway from the airport into central Pyongyang, the capital of the poverty stricken failed state, Rob had glibly thought to himself, "God must hate you if he made you a North Korean." because to Rob the whole country truly had look and feel of the mirror image of Orwell's dystopian state 'Airstrip One' in 1984.

  A synopsis he uncharitbaly reached due to it's collection of armed soldiers saluting every time the motorcade passed a monument to the Kim family or whenever they circumnavigated a traffic junction that was bizarrely manned by beautiful looking policewomen; coupled with this was the fact he had not been able to find a single smiling face amongst the Kingdom's subjects as they grimly walked in line along the side of the road.

  Yet by the time they had stopped for lunch on the last full day of the trip at one of the government run restaurants, hosted by the man who ran the steel plant they had toured that morning, his views on the country had completely changed.

  Despite being one of worse meals he had ever eaten, Rob could see it was all his hosts could offer. A trained diplomat, unlike that of his so-called colleagues who, to his disgust, had done nothing but complain about the state of the meal, Rob had thanked the proud man and his team for their kind hospitality. After which the man, who he had tied one on with last night, sitting by his side at the table had apologised in his slow English,

  "Mr. Robin, I am sorry for the level of the meal,"

  The man, who he come to know was called Mr. O was of medium height and build, short hair, bright eyes, and wearing a pair of chinos, open neck shirt and a regular Brooks Brothers style blue blazer one would find on men in the offices and shops of Beijing.

  Having already surmised that O was more or less of the same age as him and was more than your usual minder a conclusion he had reached from the
reaction of all uniformed officers who had, to man, saluted and stood rigidly to attention whenever he walked past them from the moment they had shaken hands in the VIP arrival lounge at the airport, Rob replied, "No need to apologize, Mr. O," before he swallowed another mouthful of the pig entrails broth.

  During the trip, the pair had spent a lot of time together.

  Usually over large shots of malt whiskey in the lounge of the incredible guesthouse located on the banks of the Taedong River overlooking the National Football Stadium.

  Their conversations had been wide-ranging covering everything from business, sports, to the politics of the Middle East.

  When his host ,the rotund Englishman, had at last had gotten up from the table and left the dining room to go to the toilet, Rob had put down his spoon and offered Mr. O a carrot to test the waters.

  "By the way," Rob had said. "I am going to be staying on in Beijing for the next couple of days, so I was thinking that if you wish," he had continued as he had picked up a glass of cheap Russian vodka, "That I could arrange for one of your senior people to meet with the Ambassador of United Arab Emirates and I."

  Should O accept, Rob had known that he should be able to organize the meeting on a moment's notice if he had needed to, as the Ambassador was from Dubai, his employer's clan and not from Abu Dhabi, the senior emirate of the city-states that made up the UAE.

  O's eyes had unsurprizingly immediately lit up.

  "I will ask my superiors to speak to our Supreme Leader," he had said respectfully, referring to the country's ruler Kim Jong-II, the latest incumbent of a family dynasty that had ruled the country since 1946 and were treated as Gods by their people.

  "Excellent," Rob had replied with a wink as he took a sip of vodka to get rid of the revolting taste of entrails broth in his mouth. "I will be staying at the Peninsula Hotel," he had added before promptly dropping the subject on the return of the Englishman.

  Once Rob was back in Beijing, he was finally free of the clutches of the English investment group, which had