When the Killing Starts (The Blackwell Files Book 8)

by Steven F Freeman

  CHAPTER 4

  Alton watched the tarmac slip away as the military charter flight rose into the air. An hour earlier, he and Mallory had traveled to the Dunlow’s house to drop off Buster and pick up their teammate. Fahima and Mastana, David’s wife and daughter, had jokingly agreed to watch over Alton’s Labrador if the Blackwells promised to watch over David.

  Arlington National Cemetery slipped into view. Whitewashed headstones covered acres of rolling hills. Part of Alton’s job on this mission would be ensuring none of his teammates joined those somber ranks.

  Alton turned from the window to find Mallory smiling at him.

  Her smile turned to a look of concern. “You all right?”

  “Yeah. Just thinking about the job ahead of us.” Thank God for his wife of almost one year and friend of five, able to read his thoughts seemingly at will. Who knows what lonely path life would have led him down without her.

  Smiling at his wife, Alton stretched his bad leg to alleviate its growing discomfort. “Looks like we’ve hit cruising altitude. Time for a briefing.”

  Ten minutes later, the team members gathered next to an emergency exit, the only space large enough to accommodate all of them.

  While his teammates sat, Alton remained standing in order to face them. He gripped a wall handle as the jet encountered a bit of turbulence. “We ought to make as much progress as we can now. That way we’ll be able to hit the ground running when we arrive in Seoul. Agent Camron, what can you tell us about North Korea?”

  The man pursed his lips. “Kim Jong-un has been president since two thousand eleven, when his dad died. Unfortunately, he’s proved to be as unstable as his old man.” He tapped his fingers on the armrest. “The North Korean economy is as bad as ever. They have a few state-owned businesses—Pyeonghwa Motors, General Zinc Industry Group, and Korea Chemicals Corporation are the biggest—but not enough output to support their population.”

  “And no exports due to the U.N.’s trade embargo, right?” asked Mallory.

  “That’s right,” said Camron. “Most of the population is dirt poor, but Kim’s doing all right. His family is everywhere. His second cousin, Ri Areum, is a finance minister. And his uncle, Tong Shin, is chief scientist at Korea Chemicals Corp—KCC for short. Best of all, his half-brother, Nambung Seung, is top dog at the infamous State Security Department.”

  “The guys who take away dissenters in the middle of the night?” asked David.

  “Exactly,” said Camron. “It’s easy to ensure loyalty to the state when your family is running the whole country.”

  Alton’s bad leg had begun to ache, but he couldn’t face the entire group if he took a seat. “Ka, the deserter, said North Korea is up to something. Any idea what that might be?”

  Camron shook his head. “It’s hard to say. When the North Koreans aren’t getting offended by the west, they’re issuing threats against them. The problem isn’t identifying a potential plot. It’s identifying which of the hundreds of threats they’ve made over the years they’re actually planning to carry out.”

  “I see. Needle in a haystack kind of thing.”

  “Yep. We’ll need the South Koreans’ most recent intel to whittle down the list.”

  “Understood.” Alton checked his watch and faced the group. “We won’t arrive in Seoul for another eleven hours. It’ll be mid-afternoon local time when we get there, and we won’t have time to take a siesta once there. So after chow, try to get some shuteye.”

  The group broke up, spreading out to three-seat rows that could serve as impromptu bunks.

  Alton lowered himself into a seat and gazed out the window. A bank of dark clouds gathering on the horizon seemed as foreboding as the myriad questions the NSA team hoped to answer.

  “Hey, Sweetie,” said Mallory, sitting next to him and studying his face. “Don’t worry. We’ll get to the bottom of it. Besides, Ka might have made up his story.”

  “Maybe, but if he didn’t, we’re battling the clock. The Olympic Games start in six days…five by the time we get there. If Ka was telling the truth, we won’t have long to discover North Korea’s plot—not if we’re going to stop it.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Commander Yun Ki-Woo smacked his gloves together to rid them of a dusting of snow. A shiver ran up his spine. His body’s tolerance for North Korean winters diminished every winter. Fortunately, this project would be conducted by younger men. He contributed via his intellect, which had lost none of the perseverance and enthusiasm of youth.

  Kam, Yun’s younger colleague, entered the remote shack and repeated the glove-smacking ritual while stomping snow off his worn boots. He pulled off a pair of equally worn gloves and made quick time across the room to warm his hands over the glow of a grimy electrical space-heater.

  “How are the preparations coming along?” asked Yun.

  Kam answered without turning. “The preparations are fine. It’s the plan I’m worried about.”

  “Still?”

  Kam turned from the heater and approached Yun with a mouth drawn into a thin line. “What if Seoul retaliates? What if the Americans do? We’re taking a big risk.”

  “Dr. Tong assures me it’s worth the risk.”

  “Yes, well, he’s not the one invading enemy territory. Technically, we’re still at war with the South. They can shoot us on sight.”

  “What’s the life of a soldier—or a company of soldiers—compared to the payoff of this project to our country?” asked Yun, wondering if he was this cynical at such a young age.

  The door swung open and slammed into the back wall with a crash. Accompanied by a gust of snow, a thin man of unusually tall stature strode into the room, looking for all the world like a Korean version of the somber-faced, pitchfork-wielding farmer in the famous “American Gothic” painting. If the subzero conditions fazed the visitor, he didn’t show it.

  Yun moved forward and performed a deep bow. “Dr. Tong, this is an unexpected pleasure…”

  “Yes, yes,” said the doctor, waving his hand dismissively. “Where are the vehicles? Are they ready? How about the troops?”

  “Yes, sir. Would you like Agent Kam to take you to them?”

  “Yes. You come, too, Yun.”

  The trio exited the warmth of the building and set off down a narrow trail. With flashlight beams scarcely penetrating the swirling blizzard, they began a treacherous descent down the steep hillside. Constant gusts of snow battered their bodies, and tree limbs pulled at them from every side.

  Yun breathed a sigh of relief when the trail leveled out. Almost there.

  Camouflage covered the vast warehouse so effectively, Dr. Tong nearly collided with the building. Broad nets of artificial foliage overhead ensured air reconnaissance would have no better luck spotting the mission’s jumping-off point. The troops gathered here had taken to calling their temporary abode the Warren. Like rabbits in their underground community, the soldiers could sequester themselves away from predatory eyes until ready to depart for their mission.

  “This way, Doctor,” said Yun, leading the scientist to the rear of the windowless edifice. With a swirl of snow following them inside, they entered the brightly lit building through an aluminum door.

  Yun slammed the door shut, anxious to avoid casting a tell-tale arc of light an observant satellite could pick up. Paranoid? Probably. But better to be paranoid than send the strike team members to their deaths. Of course, odds were that this mission was already of the suicide variety, but why shrink the chances even more?

  Dr. Tong strolled along a row of compact, rugged motorcycles painted in white, perfect for blending into the winter landscape. The vehicles had been specially modified for this mission. Steel teeth protruding from tires would provide traction in the snow, and aluminum boxes attached to tailpipes would capture and disseminate the motorcycles’ exhaust, reducing the heat signature detected by infrared satellites.

  Behind each motorcycle, a sled had been attached. Some of the sleds had equipment piled high, w
hile others sat empty.

  “You’ve inventoried the supplies?” asked Tong, still examining the bikes.

  “Yes, sir,” replied Yun, matching the doctor’s pace.

  “Blasting caps? Containment vessels? Night gear?”

  “And weapons.” Yun stopped at the end of the column of vehicles and faced the scientist. “Trust me, Doctor. The team is ready to move.”

  Tong shook his head. “The motorcycles…they’re so small.”

  “Where they’re going, they have to be. But don’t worry. They’ve been designed for this mission. They’ll be more than enough for the job.” He drew in a deep breath. “The South doesn’t think we can slip a man across the border, let alone an entire squad of vehicles. We’ll be deep into their territory before they know it. This will be a moment of glory we’ve waited a lifetime to witness.”

  “For all our sakes,” said Tong, “I hope you’re right.”

  CHAPTER 6

  As the charter jet soared over the Midwest, a flight attendant brought out dinner to the small NSA team.

  Alton removed the tray’s aluminum cover to reveal a hunk of meat as mysterious as any the Army had served. He picked at the stringy mass a few times and moved on to the mixed vegetables.

  He turned to find David grinning from across the aisle. He nodded at the mass on Alton’s tray. “And you thought shit on a shingle was bad.”

  “Hey, I actually liked that. It definitely wasn’t the Army’s worst chow.” He examined his long-time friend. “No Mastana on this trip?”

  “Nope. That’s my daughter,” David added in explanation to O’Neil and Camron, who had turned curious heads in his direction.

  “Considering what a good job she did on the last mission,” said Mallory, “I’m surprised she didn’t ask to join this team.”

  David cracked a smile. “Not this time.”

  “Really? That’s a shocker.”

  David’s mouth widened into a grin. “What’s the only thing that could keep her home?”

  “I don’t…” said Mallory. “Wait—Kevin?”

  “Yeah,” replied David. “He just flew in from Melbourne on Sunday.”

  “I knew he was coming out, but I didn’t realize he was already here,” said Mallory. She eyed David. “They must still be on good terms for him to fly so far.”

  “Good terms is an understatement. All I’ve heard about the past few months has been his upcoming visit.”

  “I didn’t know they were that serious,” said Alton.

  “Oh, yeah,” said David, shaking his head as only a parent watching their child in love can do.

  “Watch out, Dad,” said Silva with a grin from two aisles over. “Better break out the shotgun.”

  “I guess my kids will be at that stage pretty soon,” said O’Neil. “My daughter’s twelve, so I shouldn’t have long to wait.”

  “Probably not,” replied David with a chuckle. “Are you and the misses ready for that?”

  “We…I guess there’s no choice.” A flicker of emotion played across O’Neil’s face but disappeared too quickly to make out the feelings behind it. He cleared his throat. “My little Katie in love. It’s hard to imagine. Guess I’ll just have to deal with it whether I’m ready or not.”

  “Good luck,” said Silva.

  O’Neil’s eyes flicked across the aisle in her direction. Was his glance one of approval or sorrow—or both?

  Alton sat back in his seat. Did O’Neil have an interest in Silva, his new teammate? Alton knew he wasn’t the best person to render such a judgment. Heck, for months after meeting Mallory, he hadn’t known she had returned his love. He hadn’t made this discovery until over a year had passed.

  Hopefully, O’Neil’s glance meant nothing. This was the last place the man would want to stoke a relationship. Better to keep his mind focused on the mission…and stay alive.

  CHAPTER 7

  “General Zheng will be with you in just a minute,” said the security guard as he ushered the NSA team through a doorway. “Kindly make yourselves comfortable in here.”

  Alton and the NSA team took seats in a richly appointed conference room, nestled deep inside Seoul’s massive National Intelligence Service HQ building.

  Silva rubbed her eyes. “Think they’ll have coffee?”

  “It’s over here,” called David, who had already made his way around the room’s central table to an urn on the room’s opposite wall. He poured a cup and took a sip. “Nice and strong, too. Just what I need after that flight.”

  Moments after the rest of the team crowded around, the door opened and a procession of soldiers entered.

  The first man possessed a small stature but maintained a bearing of authority. Grey temples bracketed a countenance that bore evidence of years of experience. A pair of stars on the man’s uniform revealed the rank of major general.

  He strode to the nearest person and extended a hand. “I am General Zheng.”

  “David Dunlow. Pleased to meet you, sir.”

  The general made his way around the rest of the group and introduced himself while his entourage waited in deferential silence.

  “Please, take a seat at the table,” he said. “Mr. Blackwell, as leader of this group, can you introduce your team?”

  Once Alton had done so, General Zheng cleared his throat. “To my right is Captain Nang.”

  The captain nodded in greeting. Rugged good looks complimented a set of inquisitive eyes.

  “Captain Nang is on loan from the border force. Until yesterday, he commanded the troops guarding the eastern half of our DMZ border. But I think his expertise will be better used here. His combination of training in military intelligence and on-the-ground experience will be a great asset to our investigation.”

  From his sitting position, Nang produced a modest bow in response to his superior’s praise.

  “On my left are Sergeant Chegal and Corporal Ru,” said the general.

  Chegal, a short fellow with a solid frame, produced an unsmiling nod to the NSA team members. Ru, tall and lanky, presented a deeper acknowledgment.

  “They’ve been assigned to the team based in part on their experience on the western half of the DMZ wall and, more importantly, on their work here in HQ over the past two years as members of our UDT unit—what you would call your Navy SEALS. Of course, they’re also on this team because of their English skills. We need everyone to be able to communicate with each other on this mission.” The general stood up. “And now I leave you to your work. Let me know if you need anything. All of my resources are at your disposal.”

  Everyone rose while the general left, then took their seats again.

  Alton wasted no time getting down to business. He turned to Captain Nang. “Do you have any indication whether the North Korean officer’s story is true?”

  “No confirmation of the story itself, but we have validated his name and occupation as a lieutenant in Kim’s army. So at least he was who he said he was.”

  “That’s a start. But how do you recommend validating his story? Do you have any contacts on the other side who can confirm it?”

  Nang grimaced and shook his head. “It’s notoriously difficult to communicate with the North. And recruiting a double agent there has proved to be impossible. Kim’s government has built an electronic wall around the entire population. Almost no outside communication gets in. We must identify the plot—if there is one—on our own.”

  “What about checking into the most likely targets?” asked David. “That’s usually the best place to start back home.”

  “Agreed,” replied Nang. “Normally, I would give you a list of military installations, but with the Olympics Games about to begin, I’m not so sure.”

  “We’ve been thinking about that, too,” said Alton. He ran a hand through his closely-cropped, chestnut hair, a habit he often invoked during moments of deep thought. “If I’m North Korea, I’d view the Olympics as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for any shady business I’ve been wanting to pull o
ff.”

  Mallory nodded. “Did the deserter…Ka, right?…say anything else besides there being a plot brewing? Did he mention times or places?”

  “He didn’t mention the place of the attack, but he did insist our forces take him to Seoul. We assumed it was because he wanted asylum. But perhaps there was more to it than that…” He looked thoughtful.

  “What do you mean?” asked Alton.

  “Seoul lies in the northwestern part of my country. PyeongChang, the site of the Olympic Games, lies over a hundred kilometers to the southeast. If something terrible was going to happen there, Ka might want to be far from it.”

  After a gentle knock on the door, the face of the building’s receptionist appeared in the doorway. “Captain Nang, your mother is in the lobby. She brought you your dinner.”

  Nang’s mouth turned up in a slight smile. “Ask her to leave the parcel with you.”

  “If you want to go see her, we can wait,” said Mallory.

  Nang grinned. “It’s okay. She just wants to fatten me up after my stint on the border. But my parents live here in Seoul, so I’ll see them soon enough.”

  The receptionist bowed and exited.

  “Getting back to Ka…” said Alton. “We have theories but still no proof. You conduct electronic surveillance on the North, right?”

  “All the time,” said Nang, “as do our friends across the DMZ.”

  “Let’s focus in on any electronic chatter about the Olympics. Also on any topic or location getting a disproportionate amount of air time.”

  “What do you mean by disproportionate air time??” asked Corporal Ru.

  “For example, if the North Koreans rarely discuss a particular border town but have mentioned it twenty-five times in the last week, that’s an area we might want to investigate as a potential spot for a border penetration…if not an outright attack.”

  Nang nodded. “This makes sense. The counterterrorism unit has been searching for references to the Olympics, but I’ll direct them to begin searching with this new criteria you’ve suggested.” His expression turned somber. “If I had to place a wager, though, I would bet that the target will be somewhere among the Olympics Games.”