“Could be the entrance,” Song said over the noise of the machinery, nodding towards a pair of large double doors in full view of the men in the office.
Ryder acknowledged and hoped another existed. He told him and Bom to take a look whilst he and Grace hid amongst the boilers and mass of pipework. The two Koreans slunk away to return a short while later shaking their heads; no other doors, apart from storage areas and the one they had entered through.
Ryder nodded and glanced towards the office. No choice now but to take the men out if they were to leave through the double doors. He signalled this to the others and told Grace to remain hidden. The three then skirted the machinery until they were outside the office door.
Backs now hard up against the wall, pistols drawn, Ryder stepped away and kicked open the door with one violent move. All three sprang into the room.
‘Phut’, ‘phut’, ‘phut’, and the three guards died instantly, a single bullet to each of their heads.
Upon entering the changing area, the group found a uniform for the captain and then dragged the dead guards to one of the stores. Inside, Grace hurriedly changed into the uniform without concern for modesty, whilst the men concealed the bodies behind racking. Leaving the store, they made directly for the entrance doors hoping the dead men would not be found until they were safely out of the mountain.
The group entered a long corridor outside the plant room, busy with people milling between maintenance areas lining both sides. Striding confidently down the grimy corridor bathed in yellow light, they entered into a similar corridor. Here they saw, through glazed screens, small, dingy laboratories occupied by white-coated medical personnel. They were all hunched over desks, test tubes and microscopes. Grace could see from the equipment being used that they were chemical tests only. Martial music played in the background and pictures of Kim Jong Il and his son, Kim Jong Un, hung side by side on almost every wall. Grace’s first priority now was to locate the medical personnel changing areas and dress appropriately allowing her to move more freely around the laboratories.
She found what she was looking for near the end of the corridor. Grace entered the female changing area whilst the men lingered outside. A number of women occupied the big room between the lines of lockers, making it extremely difficult for Grace to break into one without attracting attention. She mingled, walking up and down the lines, awaiting an opportunity. Unfortunately, it never came; there was always someone nearby. None of the women she encountered wore any form of ID. Mouth dry, Grace felt her fear increase as she reluctantly left to join the men back in the corridor.
“We’ll have to wait,” she said quietly to Ryder.
“We don’t have the time,” he shot back, voice edgy. “We take out one your size and be done with it.” Grace understood. With no game plan and feeling somewhat trapped herself in this labyrinth of corridors, he had the right to be on edge. She eyed the flow of women passing by and reluctantly agreed.
A little later they found an unlocked, empty store off the main corridor. Ryder entered, the others remained outside. Grace nervously waited for a suitable victim. Thank God the discomfort caused by the snake bite had gone away.
She did not have long to wait. A woman, about her size and age, dressed in white medical gown, white cap and white mask dangling around her neck, came out of a lab further down and approached. With some apprehension, using the authority of her uniform, Grace pulled the woman to one side and told her she was required to enter the store to determine if the contents of a medical kit were correct. Slightly bewildered, the woman reluctantly agreed and was ushered into the store.
Minutes later, Ryder stepped out from the store and Grace entered. The woman lay dead on the floor with a broken neck. Guilt grabbed Grace, but it was quickly pushed aside as she removed the woman’s gown, cap and mask, put them on and hurried out, steeling herself for what was to come.
Boldly, she strode down to the end of the corridor in a turmoil of uncertainty, followed at a discrete distance by the other three. Her priority now: to locate the hot zones. It weighed heavily on her knowing basically that she was on her own from now on and would need to keep calm. She focused on getting out of this place alive.
The corridor led into a huge cavernous area where prisoners from the camp were being unloaded from trucks and herded into several wire cages at the rear. This was where the men were separated from the women. The cages each held ten to fifteen prisoners, had dirty mattresses strewn about the floor and buckets for bodily functions lining the back walls. This was obviously the holding area before the poor unfortunates were taken to the labs. She hung around unobtrusively with the group of medical personnel supervising the unloading, hoping to establish where the labs were located.
Ryder and the other two kept to the periphery, watching her carefully. Grace was thankful that security inside the complex appeared minimal; not one surveillance camera had been spotted so far and they had not once been challenged. It seemed the North Koreans thought the complex secure enough from hostile intrusion and the guards were there only to ensure that the prisoners were kept under control. Once the unloading was complete and all the prisoners safely inside the cages, the medical personnel began to disperse, most heading for an opening alongside the far cage. Grace followed and the others did the same.
The opening led into another corridor, shorter and narrower than the first, and in the dim yellow light she could make out the international bio-hazard sign above the double doors at the far end. The knot in her stomach tightened; this could be it: bio labs and the hot zone. She increased pace and soon reached the doors with Ryder not far behind. Those up front had gone through quickly, so this must be the entrance to bio safety Level 0.
She passed through the double doors, which opened into a large rectangular space that housed rooms on either side holding small groups of prisoners. Ignoring the personnel, she continued on purposefully, unopposed, towards the only other pair of doors at the opposite side. When through, she entered another corridor that was lined on each side by much brighter and cleaner laboratories than those first encountered and occupied by numerous medical personnel. Again pictures of Kim Jong Il and his son dotted the walls and martial music played in the background. She decided to enter a lab mid-way down to determine the kind of experiments taking place. Ryder and the others waited outside, trying hard not to look conspicuous. She entered and strolled between the work benches laden with Bunsen burners, glass phials, petri dishes and other experimental equipment. No one looked up from what they were doing and as far as she could tell from cursory observation, the experiments appeared low-level and routine. It was too risky to lean over someone’s shoulder to read notes and ask them exactly what they were doing. The walls held charts showing the process of experimenting with various pathological and virological diseases. Grace spent a few more minutes taking in what was going on, then left.
Back in the corridor, she observed a number of personnel moving between the laboratories, but only a few ventured down the corridor and entered the doors at the end. The double doors were sliding stainless-steel, operated by a wall pad – the only concession to modern technology so far encountered in this grimy subterranean complex. If a Level 4 did exist, it had to be through those doors. The question: how could she enter without the lock combination? She decided to wait and attempt to enter with the next group to go through. If that was not possible, she would linger by the key pad and memorize the numbers as they were punched in.
Signalling to Ryder and the others to follow, she made her way slowly towards the doors, engaging in animated conversation with the three men, at the same time keeping an eye on the movement of people in the corridor, praying a group would head for the doors.
Her prayers were soon answered. Three women and a man emerged from the last lab, just as Grace was passing, almost colliding with her, before heading for the sliding doors. Ryder and the other two dropped back slightly, leaving Grace to merge with the group, immersed in conversation and i
gnoring her presence. At the doors, all pulled up face masks and Grace did the same. She moved next to the man near the wall pad when it became clear that he intended to punch in the numbers. He did, she memorized them and the doors slid apart. Grace boldly followed them into an air-lock. The doors closed quickly, denying Ryder, Song and Bom entry. Grace, startled, looked at the concern on their faces and suddenly an overwhelming feeling of isolation gripped her. She was now truly on her own. Her mouth went dry and the knot in her stomach tightened.
Ryder cursed himself for the setback, but would go through with the next group, hoping the captain would be waiting on the other side.
For Chol, guarding the grille, it was a different story. Not long after the others had entered the mountain, a six-man patrol passed within yards of the overhang, luckily without dogs and without closely checking the grille. The hawks too were giving him some grief, dive-bombing and screeching loudly, seemingly resentful of his presence below their nest.
Stepping out of the airlock, a totally different world presented itself to Grace, more like the one she was familiar with – sterile, bright and professional-looking. No rundown third-world feel here, no rock surfaces; only flat white walls and ceilings with hardly a surface to collect dust. This was definitely a Level 1 and she was confident, yet fearful, she would find the hot zone soon, along with the dreaded viruses it would no doubt contain and thus the resultant horrors of possible experiments carried out on humans instead of monkeys.
The area contained several compact laboratories full of personnel, together with a small number of offices all leading off a central corridor. A minority of personnel wore yellow badges on their lapels. A few guards glanced at Grace and appeared somewhat conspicuous by their absence. Uncertain whether or not to wait to see if the others came through, she was in no doubt that they would attract attention – although from Grace’s point of view, without them guarding her back, she now felt very vulnerable indeed. She noticed only those wearing the badges entered another set of sliding doors at the end of the corridor and knew instinctively this was the entrance to a Level 2. She decided not to wait and take a closer look. Again the doors were lined in stainless-steel, set in a seamless frame. There was no key pad this time and she guessed the badges might be the key. This shortly proved correct when a staff member went through pointing her badge at the head of the doors. How could she get hold of one? Only two choices: steal or take by force. She hoped it would not be the latter. Subsequently, after a fruitless excursion around the laboratories to find a badge and steal it, she finally gave up; now forced to adopt the alternative. A big risk, but one she had to take. Fear increased at the prospect.
Meanwhile, Ryder, still in Level 0, worried at what was happening while waiting for his chance to enter Level 1. Observing only medical staff and very few guards here it made him think that maybe he could compromise the situation if he went through. The captain should, he reasoned, be able to handle herself having only medical staff to contend with. Reluctantly, he decided it would be better to await her return – at least for now.
Grace hung nervously around the foyer outside the female ablutions, heart pounding, until a woman wearing a badge entered. She followed, checked that no one else was around then approached her. Taking a gamble, she explained casually that she was due to enter Level 2 and had mislaid her badge; could she possibly borrow hers? The woman stared at her, first in disbelief and then with growing suspicion. Grace knew at that instant she had lost the gamble and a flood of indecision engulfed her. She had to act – and quickly.
Grace lunged out, spun the shocked woman around and clamped a hand firmly over her mouth. Bundling the struggling Korean into a cubicle, she smashed her up against the rear wall and held her in a full arm lock with all the strength she could muster. Fearing it would not be enough to throttle the woman to death, Grace, on the verge of panic, raised her leg and snatched pistol from the holster strapped to calf. The Korean managed to half-turn, but before she could overwhelm her assailant, Grace slammed the suppressor nozzle hard against the woman’s chest and shot her through the heart. Supporting the body, Grace stood for a moment trembling. She felt sick and fought hard to regain her composure. This was the second human being she had killed in a matter of days. She forced herself to become calm, plunging deep into her reserves.
When she did calm down, reality kicked in and her mind began to race: where could she hide the body? Blood was now blooming large on the Korean’s clothing; luckily none had stained her own. Grace eased the woman to the floor, removed the badge and pinned it to her own lapel. She then left the cubicle in search of a place to dump the body. Through a door on the wall opposite, she found a narrow void housing drainage and ducting. Praying no one would enter the block, she dragged the Korean from the cubical, careful not to get blood on her clothes, and managed to dump the body inside the void. Nervous tension now worked overtime on her bladder. Not knowing when she would get the next opportunity, she relieved herself in the nearest cubicle, which helped to calm her before she hurried back out, just as two other women entered. Taking a grip on herself, Grace made straight for the doors at the end of the corridor.
28
“Contact! Bearing one-three-zero. Course three-one-five. Speed two-five. Range thirty miles. Translating.”
Captain Kamani and Lieutenant Zaha, in K449’s control room, looked urgently up at the sonar screen displaying the data.
“She’s heading straight for us!” exclaimed the XO, a slight edge to his voice.
“Reduce speed to five knots. Down fifteen. Take her to 600,” Kamani ordered calmly. The seabed below was at 650 feet.
K449 immediately tilted down 15 degrees to the horizontal and headed down.
“Must be American at that speed,” said the captain.
“Obviously not concerned at being heard.”
“Are we paying the penalty for the increase in speed, Lieutenant?”
“Captain – sonar. Translation positive. British Astute-class. Speed and course unchanged.”
Just then the Acoustic Intercept Alarm sounded.
“Captain – sonar. Active hit.”
“Ya Allah!” exclaimed the XO.
It was the captain’s turn to show concern this time. “God will not help us, Lieutenant. We have to help ourselves here,” he said, outwardly calm, but inwardly feeling the fear grip his chest, knowing they had just been pinged by one of the infidel’s latest hunter-killers. “We are paying, Lieutenant. Cut engines, cut engines. Free fall and lay to the bottom – all haste. Rig for silence.” He glanced urgently at the XO. “Just hope we can get there before they release a fish.”
*
On board Ambush, Captain Curtis and his second in command, Lieutenant Talbot, waited in the control room for the result of the active scan order. Then shortly:
“Captain – sonar. Faint contact, designate Sierra Three. Submerged. Bearing three-one-five, direct path. Range thirty miles.”
“Captain, aye. I knew it!” exclaimed Curtis. “Confirms earlier hit; proves something’s out there, Bob.”
“A whale maybe? Large shoal of fish?”
“Unlikely at the range,” Curtis replied, grinning. “I hear what you’re saying though.”
The XO smiled; fortunately, his captain had a good sense of humour.
“Captain – sonar. Translation?”
“Captain – sonar. Negative, sir. Contact lost.”
“Captain, aye,” Curtis replied, shaking off yet another disappointment. “Whatever it was has gone to ground or maybe you’re right, Bob, could be purely natural phenomena.” However, instinct told him the sonar signals were more than just coastal noises. He turned to the electronic charts on the bench monitors, followed by the XO, and both men studied maps of the South American eastern seaboard.
A short while later, the captain looked up and said, “I’ve made up my mind; we’ll remain on course, search the contact area and then move progressively up the coastline to latitude 15, north. If that was
a sub we’ll nail it eventually, I’m sure.”
“That’s way up out of our search brief, Captain.”
“At our discretion – the orders were specific.” Curtis paused to collect his thoughts. “Tell me, Lieutenant, if you were intending to attack a city in the British Isles or the American eastern seaboard, coming from the South Atlantic, what would be the course you would take?”
“Hug the coastline of either Africa or South America.”
“Mmm…” Curtis murmured softly, allowing a sense of uncertainty to enter his thoughts, then said, more to himself than to his XO, “Whichever way, they would have to cross lat 15, north, somewhere near the Windwards if heading for North America. If Britain is the target, they would come from the African western seaboard, up past the Verde Islands, Canaries and Portugal.”
“Alternatively,” offered the XO, “if the sub is following this coastline, which we suspect it might, they could break off at Recife and head straight up over the narrowest part of the Atlantic towards the Verdes, then to Britain, or if America is the target, and they’re coming from Africa, roughly follow latitude 15 across the Atlantic to reach the Bahamas or the Florida coast.”
“A lot of ‘ifs’ in there, Lieutenant, including mine,” said Curtis, uncertainty taking a firmer grip. What should he do? Although he worried Britain could be the target, his instincts were telling him that America was more likely, simply because it was the most powerful nation in the world and therefore a far more prestigious target for Islamic terrorist aggression.
Captain Curtis stared at the screens surrounding him, his mind calculating as he listened to the subdued noise of the control centre. The gentle hum of machinery and men quietly going about their business for Queen and country somehow soothed his nerves. Finally he decided to gamble and turned to his XO.
Paths of Courage Page 15
