Korean Intercept

by Mertz, Stephen

  Trudging alone, Kate found herself to be fully awake. Next to her, Paxton muttered his surprise at the sight suddenly revealed to them. They picked up their pace by unspoken mutual consent, the dead weight of Scott being carried between them. On their way into the camp, they passed sentries who shouted familiar greetings to Han, and made obvious sexual insults directed at Kate. For the first time since this ordeal had begun, she was glad that she didn't speak their language.

  They passed scores of bandits, some cleaning their dismantled weapons, others lounging or seeing to various tasks. At least fifty men were visible at any given time, but no women. A surly, mismatched crew, each man was heavily armed; she saw pistols, rifles and automatic weapons of every description. Bunkers were along the edge of the cliff. She observed four-barreled anti-aircraft artillery. She saw a pair of military half-ton trucks parked at a big hole that had been burrowed into the face of the cliff. Behind the trucks was what looked like a well-stocked arms and munitions depot.

  The center of activity was the mouth of a cave in the rim-rock formation. Their group was led into the cave, entering a natural corridor of stone, large enough to drive a car through. Like the terrorist caves that the American military had gone after in Afghanistan, this cave complex was cut deep into the mountain to avoid flyover thermal detection. The air in the tunnel was fresh, which bespoke hydroelectric power that ran a ventilation system and kept the lights on.

  Several yards in, they came to a well-lighted, spacious cavern with a naturally vaulted ceiling, and an impressive if primitive array of appointments, such as animal skin rugs and rough-hewn, bulky wooden furniture, all of it well-lighted by oil lamps affixed to the cavern walls.

  The sole occupant of this cavern was a man who lounged indolently on what could only be described as a throne—a tall-backed chair on a raised dais—set against a wall opposite the entrance. The man took a long pull on an aluminum can of beer and tossed the empty can over his shoulder. He wiped the back of a soiled sleeve across his bearded mouth and observed Han Ling and his men as they herded the three Americans in. Like Han, the man on the throne was not Korean, and he was older than any of the other men, in his mid-thirties. He had the more finely-boned physique of the Chinese, but because of his muscular build, he presented the impression of being a large man. Kate wondered what his background could be. There was about him the animal aura of the meanest dog in this pack, and yet she sensed a classical sensibility not far below the surface. This was a man of sharp wits and schooled intelligence, as well as of animal cunning and brute force. There was an old knife scar; five inches in length and a quarter inch in width, bisecting one side of his face. A headband held back long hair that glistened with grease.

  When the Americans could advance no farther without tripping onto the dais, Han shouted what was obviously an order for them to halt. Without losing his indolent posture, slumped with one leg tossed out straight, both hands on the arms of his throne, the man issued a quiet directive. Han moved with dispatch to return with a metal folding chair that he set down for Scott. Kate and Paxton managed to get Scott into a sitting position on the chair.

  Kate straightened, feeling renewed energy flowing back into her psyche and her body now that she had been unburdened. She and Paxton both stretched their overworked muscles, but they had been trained to endure rugged physical challenge. She stood at Scott's side with her arm on the flight commander's shoulder, so as to steady him from falling. Scott groaned fitfully, exhibiting no indication of regaining consciousness. She lifted her chin, making eye contact with the man on the throne.

  "I don't know if you speak English, but I want to thank you for this small courtesy." She nodded to the seated, unconscious Scott. She realized belatedly that her hands were clenched into fists. She unclenched them and continued in what she hoped came across as a cordial, reasonable tone. "We are American citizens, and we—"

  "I know exactly who you are, dear lady." He spoke with an Oxford accent that sounded weirdly out of place. "Would you like to know, perhaps, who I am?"

  She tried not to appear taken aback at the culture and sophistication in his voice.

  "Of course."

  "I am Chai Bin. I command here."

  "1 had assumed that much." She meant to reflect his coolness. It was an impossible task, of course. Panic was a mad beast gnawing at her sanity.

  He arose from the throne. Paxton, standing directly before the dais, his face bloodied and nose puffy and inflamed, flinched before the abrupt movement as if he'd been physically slapped. Chai sniggered. He shifted his attention to the woman. He easily saw through her façade of outer courage. And yet he found himself entranced, if that was the word, for she seemed at once a female combatant while exhibiting the maternal instinct, resting her hand on the shoulder of the unconscious man. Chai found himself strangely infatuated. It had been so long since his days at Oxford that he had almost forgotten the confidence and forthrightness of Western women, behavior unknown, unthought of, by the women of his culture. He had often wondered what he would have become if he had stayed in the West. A successful, married, driven capitalist, perhaps? His family in Beijing had purchased for him the best education the world could provide, thanks to considerable bribery and bureaucratic sleight of hand between Beijing, Hong Kong and the West. But after his return to China came enlistment in the military, the career expected of a young man of his class. He'd shown scant capacity for military discipline, yet it was wholly in his nature to command.

  He pounded his chest with the palm of his hand. "I am a renegade from the Chinese army. The North Koreans have had a reward on my head for years. The Chinese and North Koreans both call me brilliant . . . and insane, yes. But they have never come close to apprehending me. My men do as they wish along both sides of the border." He saw no reason to brag of his primary source of revenue. He personally oversaw the raising of poppy plants, the production of opium in the fields and the product's transportation and ultimate sale. This revenue subsidized food farms in the region, and the food farms sustained his men. Chai said abruptly, "Identify yourselves."

  "I am Kate Daniels, co-pilot of the space shuttle Liberty." The woman steadied the unconscious man, propping him in an upright, sitting position in the chair. "This is our commanding officer, Flight Commander Scott." She eyed Paxton, who stepped back a pace under Chai's glare. "And this frightened fool is Specialist Robert Paxton."

  Chai chose to address the woman directly, something he would hardly have done had an able-bodied man been present. But their commander was unconscious, and Paxton reminded him of a frightened toad. "And now that I know who you are," he said, "I wish to know precisely where your aircraft is. And you will tell me."

  She stood with her feet firmly planted, evidencing a backbone that could have been made of iron. "I don't think I want to tell you, unless you promise to help us."

  He sensed that she was gaining inner strength with every passing second. There was something about this foreign Western woman, who had so literally dropped into his world from the sky, that simultaneously provoked, infuriated and aroused him. Chai concealed his aggravation beneath a mien of indolence. "If I do not find your space shuttle, miss, the Chinese army or the North Korean army will. Would that be any better for the United States?"

  "That's hardly my decision to make." She indicated the unconscious man beside her. "Commander Scott needs medical attention. We need your assistance. Sir, in the name of the American government, will you help us?"

  Chai regarded her, his arms folded, the posture he favored before meting out punishment. Everyone present was holding their breath, waiting for him to lash out at this impudent female who dared display insolence toward Chai Bin. And yet the woman herself seemed oblivious to this. Infuriating, yes. He replied in a sensible tone. "If you were lucky enough to survive the shuttle's crash landing in these mountains, then there will be equipment aboard that also survived. Let us consider a trade, dear lady. Tell me what I want to know, and I will accommodate your ever
y request during what time you are my guests here."

  Kate snorted.

  Chai continued. "Your commander will be properly cared for, as we have a staff of excellent medics here. And I will arrange for prompt communication with your government."

  This took her aback. She blinked in surprise. "You would do this?"

  "Why should I not? The equipment aboard that shuttle is of immeasurable worth to all concerned. I intend to give America the first bid, and if that bid is unsatisfactory, I will approach the North Koreans and the Chinese. I daresay they would outbid each other to pay dearly for the technology I would be offering them."

  Kate was about to respond angrily when something happened that surprised everyone.

  Scott raised his head. His chin had remained slumped against his chest since he'd been dragged in, and he looked as if the act of raising his line of vision to Chai Bin was painfully difficult. There was, however, keenness to his eyes that suggested that he had been conscious for a while and had heard most of what had been said. He stared defiantly at Chai for a moment before he spoke.

  "Piss up a rope, Fu Manchu. You're not getting jack shit from us; do what you goddamn well want."

  Chai displayed no anger. Instead he addressed the group of Americans in general. "Who among you is in command?"

  In a weak voice Scott replied, "I am, damn it!"

  Kate glanced down at her commander. "Sir, are you sure about that?"

  "I'm sure." The barely-conscious man maintained eye contact with Chai. "I am in command."

  "Very well," replied Chai. He nodded to Han.

  Han swung the butt of his rifle, hitting Scott along the side of the head, not forcefully enough to knock him unconscious but hard enough to knock him to the floor. Han then placed a boot on Scott's splinted, broken leg.

  Kate was already moving toward Han, calling over her shoulder to Paxton. "Bob! What are you waiting for?!"

  The scientist, staring pointedly at the ground, pretended not to hear.

  Han began grinding his boot heel into Scott's fracture, leaning all of his weight onto the broken leg to inflict more pain than Scott's system could possibly tolerate. The flight commander cried out once, a short yowl of pain, then lost consciousness again. Han Ling whirled, next aiming his rifle at Kate.

  From the dais, Chai nodded at Scott's inert and sprawled form. "This man cannot command."

  Kate turned to face Chai. "Then I am the ranking officer of the space shuttle Liberty, you heartless bastard!"

  "You are not in command," Chai said flatly. "You are a woman. A woman is good for only one thing." He scrutinized her from head to toe. Lewd fires shone in his eyes. The corners of his mouth quirked. She felt naked before him. She shivered as if at the callused touch of a rapist's hand. Chai said, "Han, seize her. Bring her to me."

  What happened next was instinctual reflex melded with training.

  Kate brought up her hands defensively and bent her knees. The weariness of her uninterrupted ordeal— since waking up to an alarm clock that morning at Cape Canaveral (how many lifetimes ago?) until this instant—suddenly vanished. Her estranged husband had instructed her in martial arts, and Trev Galt had been a very good teacher. He had trained in Kung Fu at the Shaolin Temple off Victoria Road in Hong Kong, personally taught by the Tung-Chia, the Master of the Temple. The deal struck between Kate and Trev was that, in return, she would teach him gourmet cooking. However, Trev quickly lost interest; he was a hopeless beer-and-ham-sandwich man, not a gourmet. But his instruction in the martial arts continued during their years together.

  The sight of a woman preparing to defend herself in such a manner made Han Ling guffaw in shared amusement with his boss's obvious snickering. Han then returned to the business at hand, snapping a command at his three men who moved swiftly toward her, one coming in from behind, another rushing in from the left, and the third approaching from the right.

  She drew a deep breath and delivered a direct kick to the solar plexus of the man behind her, exhaling as she struck his body, instantly paralyzing him. He crashed to the ground even as she whirled to face the next man who was almost upon her, his rough hands reaching for her throat. She deflected his attack with her left arm, and with an explosive yell, dealt him a seiken fist blow to the Adam's apple. Choking and fighting for breath, the man collapsed, sagging backward. Kate readjusted her feet and swiveled to smash the third man a killing blow to the forehead. Then she wheeled around to resettle into her original defensive position, facing Han and Chai.

  Chai had stopped laughing. "Most impressive, Miss Daniels."

  "It's called equality." She spoke calmly and was not out of breath. "Where I come from, sometimes the girls have to beat up bad boys."

  Bob Paxton was watching all of this with wide-eyed, slack-jawed amazement. "Kate, what are you—"

  She did not have time for him right now. The adrenaline was pumping through her every fiber; yet her exterior countenance appeared relaxed, yet strong and alert. Push your advantage, Trev had taught her. Never let up. Without relaxing her combat stance, she directed her focus to Chai.

  "Must the mighty warlord take a puny woman by force?"

  Han stiffened and implored something of his leader. Kate couldn't understand their language, but she followed Han's intent. He was asking Chai Bin for permission to blow her brains out on the spot. After hearing Han out, Chai raised a hand in a placating gesture and spoke to her in English.

  "You are indeed most impressive."

  She released herself from her martial arts stance, absently brushing away a stray wisp of chestnut hair that had fallen across her forehead. "Have you not thought of the obvious, Chai Bin?"

  His furry eyebrows creased in a frown. "Share your thoughts with me, woman."

  "You were talking about the equipment aboard the shuttle, of selling it to the Chinese or the North Koreans."

  "I was."

  "Well, why deal with your enemies? You can't be high on the popularity list of either one of those countries."

  He sighed. "Sad, so sad, but true." In a mock display of chagrin he gazed toward the ceiling, then abruptly shot his glare back at her. "Your point being. . . ?"

  "My point being," she replied with an exaggerated show of patience, "why put yourself at risk? Why not deal with the rightful owners of the shuttle? Why not ransom it and us back to the United States government?"

  Chai studied her, stroking his chin, no longer amused, nor lewd. "The Americans have no love of me, either. I hold you as my hostages. Unlike the Chinese or the North Koreans, your government could possess the power to destroy me."

  "The power, yes . . ."she conceded, "but not the will. My government will do anything to get the Liberty back. I can assure you that they do not want it falling into the hands of the Chinese or the Koreans. Anyone who prevents that from happening will be considered America's friend, not their enemy! Okay, maybe 'ransom' was the wrong word . . . what I mean to say is that you negotiate with the government for the return of the shuttle and for us."

  Bob Paxton stepped forward, his face pale. "Kate, are you sure this is what the commander would want?"

  Commander Scott's voice croaked thinly from the floor behind them. "I'll damn sure tell you what I want. We give these bastards nothing!" Scott remained stretched out on the earthen floor, too weak to rise. He propped himself up on one elbow.

  Kate crossed over to kneel beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Commander, please. You have to trust me. I'm assuming command. I have to do what I think is best."

  He stared up at her uncertainly. "And what do you think is best, Kate?"

  Overhearing this, Chai stepped down from the dais. "Young lady, I have considered. And I agree. You are right. I will do as you suggest. But first, of course, I must know the location of the shuttle."

  Kate remained at Scott's side, returning Chai's gaze. "I'll show you."

  Paxton muttered under his breath, "Traitorous bitch!"

  Chai threw his head back and enjoyed anot
her hearty laugh. "Mr. Paxton, I recommend that you mind your manners. Has not the lady proven herself to be of considerable personal resource?" He glanced around at the sprawl of men she'd taken down. "Miss Daniels is prone to respond severely when displeased. If I were you, I'd mind what I said!"

  Scott reached up with tremendous effort and placed a hand weakly on her arm. "Kate, please. Don't. . . ." His touch was so feeble that she barely felt it. His voice was so faint, she could hardly hear it.

  She leaned forward, lowering her voice for his ears alone. "Commander, please trust me. I don't see that we have a choice. I know what I'm doing."

  This communication, beyond Chai's earshot, elicited a snort of displeasure from him. "Enough. There will be no delay. You have yourself a deal, as you Americans say."

  He barked a command to Han, who responded by smashing the butt of his rifle into the back of Bob Paxton's head. Paxton grunted and collapsed to his knees, his head hanging. His body rocked back and forth.

  Kate heard Scott's soft words to her. "Kate, don't trust these bastards. Whatever you do, don't show them where Liberty is!"

  Chai lashed out with a boot, kicking Scott in the temple. Scott's eyes again rolled back in his head, and once again he passed out. Then Kate felt violated before the naked, direct gaze of Chai Bin.

  "And now, dear lady, considering your, uh, proficiency in the martial arts, we will summon a unit of men who will accompany us. And remember, no martial artist can outfight a well-aimed bullet. In any event, I never leave here without my bodyguards. I have enemies in these mountains who would like very much to see my head on a pole. Do you understand?"

  "Believe me," said Kate, "I understand."

  Chai nodded agreeably. "Very well. You will lead us to your precious space shuttle, and you will not try any tricks. If you do, I can assure you, Miss Daniels, that you will pray for death for a very long time before you die. Come, we prepare for departure."