“Sorry, Colonel,” Hilldecker responded, “but I’m a little tapped out in the patience department, so can we skip the guessing games?”
“A freight train from the north just rolled through Panmunjom about an hour ago,” Michaels reported, “and when it pulled into the yard, they found a KPA official stowed away between two of the boxcars.”
“Defector?” Joe Leeton said.
“Well, he is now,” Michaels said. “Apparently he was racing to get out of Dodge when he heard about this coup business, only somebody gave chase and put a bullet into him while he was hopping the train. Guy’s in critical condition and about to go under the knife.”
Hilldecker didn’t seem impressed by the news. “I know it’s always nice to reel in somebody from the other side,” she said, “but I’m missing the part where this is worth turning somersaults over.”
“Well, here it is,” Michaels said. “This guy came to long enough to spill a few things to an interrogator. Turns out he’s a contractor and has been spearheading that new construction that’s been going on over in Kijongdong. That big new mall they’re putting up? Guess what. It’s not just an empty shell. They’re building a launch pad there.”
“What?” Hilldecker and Leeton exclaimed simultaneously.
“You heard me,” Michaels said. “It’s less than a week away from being operational. And how are they getting the missiles to the launch pad? Get this—the bastards have drilled themselves a tunnel all the way from Kijongdong back to that mining camp in Changchon our ops are heading for.”
Hilldecker and Leeton took a moment to absorb the news, then the UN representative glanced at the undersecretary and pointed to her phone. “You might want to get Russia and China back on the horn,” he suggested. “Tell them we’ve got that proof they were looking for.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Changchon Rehabilitation Center, North Korea
Once he’d stripped himself of his parachute rig, Akira Tokaido parted his way through the poppies until he’d joined up with Major Stevens and several of the other Ranger ops from Camp Bonifas.
“So far, so good,” Stevens said once he’d scanned the fields and confirmed that the rest of his men had landed safely, as well.
“Any word from the others?” Tokaido asked.
Stevens nodded, tapping the radio headset affixed to his helmet. “They took a few hits but the convoy’s theirs.”
The major quickly explained how the KPA had intended to use a dummy missile to smuggle troops to the Changchon site, then said, “If they felt they had reason to be wary coming in, we’re gonna have to be extra cautious.”
“Maybe so,” Tokaido said, “but I think we can still stick with our game plan.”
“Agreed,” Stevens said.
On the flight from Camp Bonifas, Stevens and Cook had scanned a topo map of their target area, using NSA sat-cam data to sketch in a layout of the old mining camp and what seemed to be the primary access tunnels into the mountainside. It had been decided to use three-man teams to encircle the camp and set up an effective offensive perimeter. Now that half of the intended force had been diverted to the convoy, Stevens figured they would have to trim the teams to two and narrow down their perimeter coverage. Still, as Tokaido had suggested, the basic strategy remained intact.
“We’ll just scrap the teams we’d planned on situating along the roadway,” he said. “The guys in the convoy should be able to handle that.”
Stevens paired his men off and gave each team a designated target area, then gave the signal for them to move out. He’d opted for Tokaido as his partner, and once they cleared the poppy fields, the two men stole their way through the darkened forest area that lay between them and the concentration camp.
“Any chance we’re gonna run into land mines?” Tokaido murmured.
“I don’t think so,” Stevens said. “At least not until we get closer to the perimeter fences.”
The men had advanced fifty yards through the forest when they both froze in unison. Up ahead they could hear a faint scuffling sound, and when the breeze shifted, it carried the charnel scent of rotting flesh. Tokaido recoiled from the stench, grimacing.
“What gives?” he whispered.
Before Stevens could answer, the men heard an insistent growling. It didn’t sound human. Holding their breath, the men carefully stole forward. Soon they were within view of the shallow, mass grave where the victims of the executions in the poppy fields two days ago had been buried. A pack of wild dogs had dug away at the gravesite and begun to drag corpses up out of the dirt. The growling came from two dogs fighting over the same corpse. One had its jaws clamped around the body’s right leg while the other had bitten into an arm. They continued to growl at one another as they engaged in a grisly tug-of-war. Meanwhile, other dogs continued to rut through the soft earth for more bodies.
“Let’s just hope the guards can’t hear this,” Stevens murmured. “The last thing we need is to have them looking our way when we show up at their doorstep.”
“Not much we can do about it,” Tokaido said. “On the bright side, with their snouts in the grave the dogs aren’t gonna smell us. I say we make a slight detour and move around them.”
Stevens nodded. The men traipsed to their left, heading deeper into the forest. They made it the rest of the way without incident and soon found themselves at the edge of the forest. Directly in front of them lay the outermost fences of the concentration camp; thirty yards to their left, a four-story watchtower loomed up between the second and third fences. The structure was made of wood and designed primarily to allow a clear view of the camp and anyone who might try to escape. The idea of the camp being raided hadn’t been in the equation, and both Tokaido and Stevens could see that when the time came to attack it would take only a few well-placed shots from their carbines to take out the sentries. The men could see five other towers in the moonlight, all similarly constructed and equally vulnerable.
“Big break in our favor,” Tokaido said. “If we can erase all the sentries, we might not have to bother clipping through the fence. We can just storm the main entrance or circle around and join the guys coming down from the mountains.”
“You’re probably right,” Stevens said, “but first things first. We’ve got to wait for the convoy before we make a move or we throw away our advantage.”
Tokaido nodded. “I’ll jockey a little closer to the tower.”
He moved away from Stevens, crouching low as he crept through the vegetation. Once he reached a point that gave him a clear shot at the two guards posted in the tower, he stopped. As he began to wait, he allowed his gaze to stray to the barracks situated in the middle of the old mining camp. Provided the intel was correct, there was a good chance Lim Seung-Whan and the other kidnap victims were being held in one of the enclosures.
“Hang tight, cuz,” Tokaido whispered. “Help’s on the way.”
WHEN LIM Seung-Whan awoke on the barracks floor, his first thought was one of wonderment. He couldn’t believe he’d actually fallen asleep. Given his anxiety over the pending prison uprising and the impact it would have on his family’s chance for freedom, the businessman had been certain that he would be up the entire night, but apparently his second straight day of slaving away in the mines had given his body other ideas. His body still ached and there was a crick in his neck from the way he’d slept, but he quickly dismissed these discomforts as he opened his eyes and waited for them to accustom themselves to the darkness. He could feel his wife’s breath on his shoulder and he turned slightly, putting his arm around both her and his daughter, Na-Li. Both women stirred slightly but remained asleep. Lim kissed each of them gently; once he was better able to make out his daughter’s features, he was moved to tears. Curled in a fetal position, clutching her mother’s hand to her chest, Na-Li so looked innocent and angelic that Lim was engulfed by a renewed sense of shame for the way he’d placed them in harm’s way. If they managed to escape from this nightmare alive, he vowed he wou
ld spend the rest of his life making it up to them as well as to his good friend Ji Pho-Hwa and his family.
It was only after Lim sat up and looked around the barracks that he became aware of the other prisoners, a surprising thing given the near rumbling of their labored snores and the vaguely fetid smell of their comingling breath. When he saw Prync GilSu and several other men crouched together near the middle of the barracks, his thoughts promptly turned back to the matter of the planned insurrection. Slowly rising to his feet, he carefully negotiated his way around the men sleeping closest to him and joined the conspirators. Besides Prync, there was Vae Jae-Bong, Reir Jin-Tack and the deposed military officer who’d been cast in with the other prisoners the night before. Sergeant Dahn was helping Prync pry loose one of the floorboards leading to the crawl space beneath the barracks.
“What time is it?” Lim asked the men, whispering low.
“A little before sunrise,” Prync whispered back. “Time to start making our move.”
“How will we know when the guards have been sedated?” Lim wondered nervously.
“We can see two of the watchtowers through slats in the outer walls,” Vae Jae-Bong explained. “They change guards at sunup, and the new sentries will have just eaten before they take their stations. We’ll be able to tell when the drugs start to take effect, and that’s when we’ll go on the offensive.”
“How?” Lim wondered. “Even if they’re drugged, I don’t think we can just walk right up and overpower them with our bare hands.”
“Who said anything about bare hands?”
Once he’d set aside two of the floor planks, Prync reached into the cavity and pulled out a few small weapons: three of the cutting tools used in the poppy fields, several scavenged lengths of pipe and some wooden posts whose ends had been honed into sharp points.
“We’ve been storing up,” Reir Jin-Tack told Lim. “I know it’s not much of an arsenal, but it should be enough to help us overpower a few guards and get our hands on some carbines and automatics. If all goes well…”
Reir’s voice trailed off, and he glanced over his shoulder with a look of sudden apprehension. It was then that Lim first heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps heading toward the barracks. And whoever was approaching, it didn’t sound as if they were dragging their feet. If anything, it sounded to Lim as if they were running at full speed.
“Quick!” Prync whispered, grabbing back the wooden stake Reir was holding. “We need to put everything back!”
The conspirators hastily stuffed the weapons back into the crawl space and were just setting the floor planks back into place when the barracks doors flew open and a handful of armed soldiers stormed into the confines with AK-47 assault rifles. Several of the guards were carrying flashlights, as well, and they raked the floor with the beam, rousing the few prisoners who hadn’t already been awakened. Lim shrank back in horror, realizing that something had gone terribly wrong.
The guards shouted for everyone to stand and place their hands in the air. When some of the awakened prisoners cried out and were slow to respond, the guards lashed out with the butts of their rifles. Lim tried to move back to his family, but his way was barred by several of the guards and he could only watch as Na-Li and U-Pol struggled to their feet, eyes filled with horror.
Once the prisoners had all complied with the guards’ commands, Lieutenant Corporal Yulim strode into the barracks clutching a leather-strapped nightstick. He patted the cudgel against the opened palm of his other hand as he sized up the situation.
“As you can see,” he said to the prisoners, “there’s been a slight change in plans. The insurrection has been, shall we say, called off.”
Above the murmuring among the few prisoners who were unaware of the planned uprising, Sergeant Dahn called out to the commandant.
“Over here!” he said, pointing out Prync Gil-Su and his coconspirators. “These are the instigators!”
Prync whirled and had to be restrained when he tried to charge Dahn.
“You?” Prync screamed. “You set us up?”
Dahn smirked faintly, unfastening one of the listening devices affixed to his clothing.
“You’re a shrewd man,” he told Prync, “but not shrewd enough.”
“Take them out and line them up against the rock pile!” Yulim ordered, gesturing at the masterminds behind the uprising. As Prync was led past him, he added, “If it’s any consolation to you, your betrayer will be shot alongside you.”
“What?” Sergeant Dahn cried, suddenly finding a pair of carbines aimed at his chest.
“You’ve done your part,” Yulim told the undercover MII agent. “We really have no other use for you.”
“You won’t get away with this!” Dahn protested.
“We’ll see,” Yulim countered.
Once Dahn and the conspirators had been led out of the barracks, Yulim turned to the guards flanking Lim Seung-Whan.
“Let him be with his family,” he told them. The guards lowered their weapons and Lim hurried to his wife and daughter. Yulim watch the three of them huddle close together, then added, “You realize, of course, that I also know you had a hand in their plans.”
Lim stared at Yulim, realizing the consequences of the commandant’s words.
“You’re going to kill us, too?” he said.
“We agreed on an arrangement, then you turned around and tried to double-cross me,” Yulim said coldly. “You signed your own death warrant.”
RETURNING FROM HIS mission in Kijongdong, Euikon Gryg-Il rode his appropriated motorcycle out of the tunnel linking Propaganda Village with the Changchon storage facility. He was in high spirits. True, he couldn’t point to Park Yo-Wi’s corpse as proof that he’d carried out his mission, but he was certain that Major Jin would take his word that the contractor was lying dead on the tracks somewhere between Propaganda Village and the DMZ. All that remained was for the major to follow through on his promise of a promotion, and Euikon wasn’t about to be choosy. As a low-ranking private, there was nowhere for him to go but up.
After pulling the bike off the service road leading into the tunnel, he headed for Jin’s office. The door was closed so he knocked and waited patiently.
“He’s not there,” came a voice from behind him.
Euikon turned and found himself staring at two fellow soldiers. Both had their carbines leveled his way.
“He’s outside,” the second soldier said. “He’s been waiting for you.”
“What’s going on here? Get those rifles out of my face!”
“You’re in no position to order anyone around, traitor!” the first guard said.
Euikon’s jaw dropped. “Traitor!” he exclaimed. “There’s been some kind of mistake!”
“Tell it to the major,” the second guard responded, gesturing with his carbine. “Outside! Now!”
The private was about to protest further but checked himself. Clearly there was no point in pleading his case to these imbeciles, he decided. The major would clear things up.
Outside, the first gray light of dawn was just beginning to fall across the encampment. The sky was choked with clouds, however, lending an aura of foreboding gloom to the prison grounds. Adding to the grim atmosphere was the sight of more than a dozen internees being lined up in front of one of the rock piles in the middle of the prison yard. The rest of the prisoners stood around, forced at gunpoint to witness the executions that were about to take place. As he watched the ominous tableau, Euikon felt a sudden pang of despair, and once he was led into the prison yard and stood face-to-face with Major Jin, it finally dawned on him how he’d come to be referred to as a traitor.
“You’re just in time,” Jin told him. “We’re cleaning house, and you’re the last bit of trash we need to get rid of.”
“You used me,” Euikon said. “Why?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the major responded. He turned to the guards who’d apprehended the private. “Line him up with the others so we can ge
t on with this.”
As the guards moved toward Euikon, he took a step back from them, shaking his head. “No,” he protested, glancing around at the other soldiers stationed around the compound. “I’ve been set up! I was only acting on orders!”
He was about to explain in detail how Major Jin had ordered him to kill General Oh and Park Yo-Wi, but before he could get the first words out, Jin calmly withdrew his service revolver and fired. Euikon twitched as the shot ripped through his chest. He stared at Jin, eyes filled with rage, but as the life began to fade from his gaze, the major raised his gun higher and put a second slug through the private’s forehead.
Jin watched the private collapse to the ground, then turned to the row of soldiers lined up in front of the prisoners who’d been marked for execution.
“That’s how it’s done,” he told them. “Let’s get on with it!”
As the soldiers slowly raised their rifles in unison, Lim Seung-Whan pulled his family close beside him. Na-Li was sobbing disconsolately and her mother was in tears, as well, as was the family of Ji Lhe-Kan. Prync Gil-Su and the organizers of the failed revolt, however, refused to display any emotion. They solemnly stared down the barrels of the rifles aimed their way, resigned to their fate. Sergeant Dahn did likewise, although he allowed his gaze to stray past the prison yard to the nearby bungalow, where Lieutenant Corporal Yulim had just emerged and was heading down the walkway so that he could witness the executions.
“Ready…” Major Jin shouted.
The executioners steadied their rifles against their shoulders and peered through the sights, lining up their targets.
“Aim…”
The riflemen placed their fingers on the carbines’ triggers and were about to unleash their lethal volley when they were distracted momentarily by the sound of a racing engine.
Major Jin heard the sound, as well, and glanced over his shoulder, puzzled. Seconds later, a jeep roared into view, with a man in the back crouched behind the barrel of a swivel-mounted .50-caliber Browning machine gun.
Ballistic Force Page 28
