CHAPTER 67
“It’s okay. It’s me,” whispered O’Neil, relaxing his grip. “Sorry if I surprised you. Figured you might be a little jumpy. Couldn’t risk you shouting out.”
Alton raised an eyebrow in silent accord. “Where are the others?”
“Hiding inside that building over there,” O’Neil replied, pointing to the fabrication plant.
“Inside the building all the soldiers are running into?”
“Yeah. Don’t worry. Here’s the plan…”
Alton and O’Neil waited several minutes for the flow of soldiers into the plant to slow to a trickle, then moved towards the edifice themselves. They skirted around piles of supplies stacked inside the roofed courtyard formed by the three buildings. Good thing the supplies hadn’t yet been moved into the inventory section of the building that housed Alton’s cell. Otherwise, they’d have nowhere to hide.
They crouched behind the closest bundle, a tarp-covered pallet of boxes containing printed-circuit boards that had yet to be etched. A good twenty yards of open space lay between this location and a side door on the fabrication building. Could the distance be traversed without detection?
A timely explosion from outside the concrete wall served as a perfect diversion. The duo rose and made for the door, O’Neil reaching it first and Alton bringing up the rear.
They burst through the entrance and ducked behind a waist-high inventory conveyor with rollers on top. The steel structure didn’t provide perfect concealment, but it would have to do for the moment.
A few more troops rushed through the building’s main entrance and raced down a wide corridor towards the rear of the building. Peering in that direction, Alton spotted more soldiers who had already converged on that area.
“The explosions were on the other side of the exterior wall,” whispered O’Neil, pointing to the back of the building.
Alton studied the structure and converging troops. “You wanted to draw the soldiers in.”
“Yep. Chegal said their protocol would be to protect against a breach by lining up. They’re so used to this approach from guarding the border, it’s like their default response.”
“And when they do…?” asked Alton, leaving the question hanging in the air.
“You’ll see,” said O’Neil with a grin. “Follow me.”
Leaning over at the waist, they darted from one piece of equipment to the next, from a looming set of power shears to a hydraulic press to an integrated-circuit etching machine so new, it was still swathed in packing materials.
As they neared the rear half of the building, a haze of smoke trailed across the ceiling, and the hum of troops preparing for battle grew louder. Near the exterior wall, enemy soldiers made impromptu barricades out of anything handy to protect themselves from an outward attack. Clearly, the North Korean soldiers expected an unknown enemy to break through the concrete wall at any moment.
Alton and O’Neil crawled on hands and knees the last fifty yards. The effort sent spasms down Alton’s damaged leg. His newly beaten limb didn’t fare much better.
The sight of his wife tucked behind a row of drill-press machinery provided a new spark of energy. He covered the distance in short order.
“You okay?” Mallory whispered.
“I was just getting ready to ask you that,” said Alton. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“He broke out before I could reach the prison block,” O’Neil explained to Mallory. He gestured toward a barrel. Affixed to its side was a red “flammable” label with the image of a flame. He turned to Alton. “We’re getting ready to set a timer. Then we’ll need to haul ass out of here.”
“Where are Chegal and Camron?”
“Directly across from us, on the other side of this building. They’re setting fuses for two more barrels.”
Mallory stared at her watch, then reached down to toggle a switch on a black detonator box the size of a wallet. “Chegal should have kicked off his timers by now, and I just started mine. Let’s roll.”
Without speaking, the trio scrambled towards the side exit—crawling at first, then standing and leaning over in an awkward run. Their mad rush carried a risk of being spotted, but lingering too long in this building represented a more dangerous alternative.
The distance to the exit had closed to twenty yards when a harsh voice rang out to the right.
Dropping behind a nearby packaging machine, they turned in unison. A North Korean soldier in winter gear had raised his Type 98 rifle and now scanned the area, looking for his target.
Mallory slipped a suppressed Beretta 92 from the recesses of her coat. The muffled sounds of the rounds she pumped into her adversary couldn’t break through the noise of the general chaos.
The teammates made their best time out the door. Alton’s legs throbbed, but there was no stopping now—not if he wanted to live.
They had traveled scarcely ten yards outside the building—headed for the pallet of electronic components—when a terrific explosion rumbled from inside the fabrication plant. Glass from the building’s window shot outwards, and the ground trembled momentarily as the shockwave passed. The tremor knocked loose several of the ceiling’s acoustical tiles, revealing a crawlspace of some four or five feet between the new ceiling and the moldering, original one.
Staggering, the trio dove for their hiding spot and sprawled onto the ground.
Alton’s breath came in ragged gasps. Leg pain brought on by the last half-hour’s exertion produced waves of lightheadedness and nausea. He drew in deep breaths, and the sensations eased.
“It’s the caves of Okinawa all over again,” said Mallory, herself gasping. “We knew if we could lure the North Koreans into those concrete hallways, we’d have them. Camron said raising a threat on this site’s exterior wall would make the North Koreans rush to defend it—the same mentality they’ve developed from years of defending their side of the DMZ. So we set off five timed detonations along the wall outside that building. It worked. They rushed right in.”
“Where’d you get the explosives?” said Alton. “The stuff we brought with us wouldn’t create fireballs like that.”
“Fuel deposit,” said O’Neil, hiking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the tank farm and grinning. “There’s hundreds of portable containers down the hill.”
“What about the inside explosions?” asked Alton. “Surely you didn’t drag fuel in for that?”
“Naw, we had to sneak in without being spotted. For the explosion we just set off, we found some type of flammable chemical on the production line. Iso…something.”
Alton nodded. The solution was brilliant. “Any idea how many soldiers are left?”
“Probably not many,” said Mallory, “not the way they swarmed in there.”
The fire had spread. Smoke billowed from the fabrication plant’s shattered windows, and flames licked up the walls. Anyone still alive in there wouldn’t be getting out anytime soon, if ever.
“Our first mission is complete,” said O’Neil. In response to Alton’s questioning eyebrows, he continued. “Getting you out.”
“And knocking out those troops was an important part of our second mission,” said Mallory. “Getting the Heat Wave files back from Tong and his flunkies.”
“Agreed,” said Alton, pulling himself to a sitting position behind the stacked boxes. “Let’s get Camron and Chegal over here so we can plan our next steps.”
CHAPTER 68
Within minutes, Camron and Chegal joined the rest of the team behind a stack of old wooden pallets, the team’s prearranged rendezvous spot.
The crackling of flames and shouts of soldiers and other staff sounded throughout the courtyard. Good thing the roof covering it all contained dozens of aluminum vents; otherwise, the enclosed space would have quickly filled with smoke.
Taking a knee, Alton spent the next five minutes debriefing the team on the portion of Dr. Tong’s activities they hadn’t overheard. “It’ll be tough getting our hands on the so
lar-array files,” he concluded. “Once Tong learns I’ve escaped, he’ll assume I’m seeking them out.”
“Wouldn’t he expect you to just high-tail it out of the country?” asked Camron.
“No. He probably regrets telling me how valuable this solar technology is. But since he did tell me, he knows I can’t leave without trying to get it back. That’s going to make our job a bit trickier.”
“In one way, it might help,” said O’Neil.
“How’s that?” asked Alton.
“For a lot of people, when they’re afraid of losing something, they’ll rush to protect it. If Tong did the same thing, his location right now could tell us where the files are.”
“Makes sense. Anyone know where he is?”
“If we could get ahold of one of the Northerners’ walkie-talkies,” said Chegal, “we could probably find out.” He glanced back at the disintegrating fabrication plant. “I doubt we’ll be getting one out of there. We’ll have to get one off the soldiers that are still left.”
“Take O’Neil and lay an ambush for one,” said Alton. “Mallory has a suppressed Beretta you can use to keep it quiet. Come back here with a walkie-talkie as soon as you can.”
Mallory handed over the sidearm, and the duo scurried off in the direction of the storage building, where the occasional enemy soldier could be seen running past.
“Let’s keep our eyes peeled for Tong or any of the other scientists,” said Alton. “If they come close enough to our position, we’ll drag them back here. They could probably tell us where the files are.”
The four agents kept a silent vigil for nearly ten minutes, but no enemy scientists or soldiers neared their out-of-the-way position.
“Here they come,” said Alton. He motioned to a pair of shadowy forms making their way towards the team with a series of winding movements.
Seconds later, Chegal and O’Neil rejoined their teammates behind the crates. As he returned the Beretta to Mallory, the South Korean’s face lit up with excitement.
“What is it?” asked Alton.
Chegal held up a walkie-talkie. “Your friend Dr. Tong just ordered the remaining guards to form a perimeter in the Information Technology center.”
“Perfect. We watch where the guards converge, and that’s where the center is located—and the Heat Wave files.”
“Yes. But that also means they’ll be waiting for us.”
Mallory pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Wherever the IT center is, Tong and the remaining soldiers will assume we’ll be launching a frontal attack and will be ready. Doesn’t sound like good odds to me. What other approach could we use that they won’t be expecting?”
“To some extent, it’ll depend on where the IT center is located,” said Alton. “We’ll have to craft our strategy around that specific area.”
“Would files like Heat Wave’s normally be stored on an individual laptop inside there?” asked Mallory. “Or would Tong need to use the whole IT center to store them?”
“If he’s smart—which he is—Tong will store them on one of the IT center’s servers,” said Alton, “which would have an automatic backup process already in place.”
“Look there,” said O’Neil, gesturing to a double door on the left side of the lab building.
Five soldiers scurried through the door. Three more could be seen converging on the same entrance. All of them carried rifles, except one who lugged a tripod-mounted machine gun.
“Guess we know where the IT center is,” said David. “Left side of that building.”
“Speaking of alternate strategies,” said Camron. “I think I might have one. The North Koreans like to use moles. Why don’t we use one, too?”
“I like the idea,” asked Alton. “What exactly you have in mind?”
“None of the North Koreans have seen Chegal or even know he’s alive. If we can dress him in a Northerners’ uniform and weapons, he should be able to march right inside and scout out the IT Center.”
Chegal grinned. “And I have this walkie-talkie to report back. We’ll just need to get one more so you can hear me.”
“What about the uniform?” asked Camron.
“The solider who…um…donated this walkie-talkie will be happy to give me his uniform and rifle, too.”
Alton produced his own lopsided grin. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get cracking.”
CHAPTER 69
The second soldier nearly stumbled upon Alton’s team while they were lifting a rifle from the side of the first’s body.
O’Neil, standing guard, alerted the team and took out the North Korean as he rounded the corner. O’Neil didn’t kill the undersized soldier but rather bound and gagged the man, leaving him looking for all the world like a trussed-up turkey.
He passed the turkey’s walkie-talkie to Alton. “Here’s number two.”
“Good work,” said Alton. “Now to send in Chegal.”
O’Neil lowered his voice. “Any chance he’s working with these guys?” He motioned to the enemy soldier.
“What makes you say that?”
“Tong sent one guy to our team to keep tabs on us. Couldn’t he have sent two?”
Alton exhaled. “Anything’s possible. But remember, Chegal has worked in Seoul for years. We know he wasn’t switched with the real McCoy like Nang was.”
“But not every mole is a plant like that, right?” said O’Neil. “Wouldn’t most of them be legit South Koreans who were bribed to switch sides?”
“Probably. But I’ve never gotten that sense from Chegal. And at this point, we don’t have a choice. We have to trust him.”
O’Neil shrugged. “I guess. Just watch your back.”
Alton huddled the team around and turned to Chegal. “Let’s use a different frequency on the walkie-talkies—channel ten.”
The two men adjusted their devices.
“Wait for another soldier and follow him all the way to the IT center,” continued Alton. “Make note of the building’s layout and guard locations and relay them back to us. Also, look for any alternative entry spots or routes to the IT room besides the ones the guards are using. Since you’ll be inside, I won’t reply unless necessary. I’ll key the mike once for yes, twice for no.”
Swallowing, Chegal nodded. He moved to the side of the pallet and turned alert eyes to the courtyard, waiting for his chance to act.
Within moments, a soldier appeared from the right, making good time for the lab building. Chegal shouldered the rifle and strode in the same direction, careful to arrive at the side door after the North Korean.
The two men entered, and the side door swung shut.
Now to wait.
No one spoke. Distant shouts rang through the courtyard, and a tinkling of glass heralded the collapse of a windowpane in the damaged fabrication plant.
Ten minutes passed before Alton’s walkie-talkie crackled to life.
“There are only two entrances: the door on the left side and the main door in the middle,” came the barely discernable voice. “The IT Center is on the far left side of the building. The guards are using the first hallway, directly to the left when you enter the door, to travel there. But if you go straight for twenty meters or so, there’s a second hallway in the middle of the building that leads to the IT center, too.”
Alton clicked the walkie-talkie once. Roger.
Chegal said nothing more.
Alton had begun to consider the message complete when the South Korean spoke again. “I count twenty to twenty-five guards, most in the IT Center and five or six in the first hallway. There’s only two in the second hallway.”
Alton sent the acknowledgement signal once again.
“I have to get back or they’ll grow suspicious. If you need to talk, key the mike three times and I’ll try to break away.”
Alton spoke into the mike. “In ten minutes, give me a double-click whenever the guards in the first hallway are distracted. We’ll try to make our move to the second hallway then. Then head
for that hallway to meet up with us.”
“Roger.” This time the mike fell silent for good.
Alton examined his teammates’ faces. He saw anticipation, focus, a touch of nerves—but nothing that would give a team commander a reason to doubt. Even the desk jockey Camron exuded confidence.
“We know our route of approach: the second hallway,” said Alton. “I know that hallway myself. I caught a glimpse of it when I was a prisoner in there. It runs parallel to the lab, which takes up the back half of the building.
“Once Chegal gives the signal, we’ll go through the main entrance. Go straight to the second hallway but don’t enter. We’ll advance by twos up that hallway: me and Mallory, O’Neil and David. Camron, you stay with the second team. We’ll send Chegal into the IT center ahead of us and position him behind the rest of the guards. Once we enter, we’ll have the other guards caught between us in a crossfire.”
Camron licked his lips. “I’m game for this, but aren’t we going to be outnumbered?”
“Yes, but we have a few tactical advantages that should be more than enough to offset their superior numbers.
“Such as…?”
“First is the element of surprise,” said Alton. “We’ll be entering through the lightly defended second hallway, so we’re likely to make it into the IT center itself before any of the troops in there are aware of us. And perhaps more important, they won’t expect one of their own to start taking them out from behind. That should lead to mass confusion on their part, the perfect environment for a successful mission.”
“Okay…if you say so.”
Alton chuckled. “That’s the battle plan, but you always have to be ready to improvise. Things usually change once the fighting starts.” He looked around. “Any questions?”
His teammates shook their heads.
“Let’s roll.”
Alton moved his team from behind the pallet and led them across the front of the fabrication plant, a building the North Koreans had ignored in lieu of converging in the lab building to guard the IT center.
The fabrication plant’s fire had filled the now-deserted courtyard with a haze, an artificial fog obscuring one’s vision. The smoke caused throats to itch and eyes to water but also shielded Alton and his teammates from the prying eyes of any North Korean stragglers—not a bad tradeoff.
When the Killing Starts (The Blackwell Files Book 8) Page 21
