After a lengthy replenishing, Will began again, heading east over the final range of the Kumgang peaks. It would soon be the beginning of his fourth day in-country, and he knew he was short on time. He had perhaps one opportunity for escape, but even then, his timing would have to be perfect.
It was shortly before dawn when he crossed the last line of peaks, spotting both the shoreline and surf crashing into the rocky shoals of the Kumgang. The craggy rocks shot the icy blue water of the Sea of Japan high into the air. As he crossed the last line of rocks, the cold current of wind from the water struck his face. It smelled of the sea.
The ocean seemed in turmoil, but it wasn’t the surface of the water that caught Will’s eye. The roadway to the north seemed like a disturbed ant bed, covered with small black dots moving back and forth on the ground. And they appeared to be expanding to the south. A beehive had been awoken. It was clear that they now knew the invader was still alive and somewhere within their borders.
I don’t have much time at all, he thought, realizing that the North Koreans hadn’t abandoned their search. He couldn’t head north—the searchers wouldn’t be satisfied until someone was found. Heading south would likewise be futile. The layers of men, equipment, weapons, and minefields would be impenetrable. Now, with so many on the lookout for him, Will’s odds were drastically reduced. The water’s currents would not allow him to swim past the patrol boats in the ocean to the south. And heading east would only postpone his problems. There was no refuge in this country. Every man, woman, and child was trained from birth to report the unusual.
But Will had considered all this before arriving. Both the date and time had been carefully coordinated for an exit strategy, but he could escape only if he kept moving.
Just to the south, he saw a washout leading, below a bridge, to the water. Will moved quickly, retreating south a few hundred meters across the rock-covered peaks to a position that protected him from sight. There, he crossed back over, again checking his suit to ensure that it matched well with the rocks, broken snow, and gully. Closer to shore now, the added humidity from ocean and snow made traction much more difficult. Occasionally Will stopped, looking south. The first troops were less than half a kilometer away and moving rapidly up the coast toward him.
As he crossed under the unmanned bridge, fortune smiled on Will. The closer one got to the DMZ, the more sentries and observation posts one encountered. Yet, the bridge was unmanned. He kept moving, knowing speed gave him the best chance of not being caught.
It felt strangely good to him to feel the sand under his feet as he moved behind one rock and then another, until he was within meters of the shoreline.
The backpack contained one last set of items for his survival. It took only a short time for him to don the black dry suit, the rebreather mask, and short fins. Over the dry suit, which had been designed for frigid waters, he slipped into a harness. Velcroed to his chest was a black, round metal disc tethered to the harness, bearing, like everything else, the small markings of the Natick military research laboratory. His source at Natick had provided him with the best of advanced equipment.
It was well past midday when he slid into the frigid ocean. The cold front had brought a cloudless blue sky, though that was of little benefit to him. Several hundred meters offshore, he surfaced, twisting around in a 360-degree arc, spotting the North Koreans as they swarmed along the shoreline. Far up the rocks, near where he crossed over the peaks, Will saw a commotion: They’d discovered a print. Will continued to turn around, soon spotting the faint outline of a small torpedo-like boat to the south. With the surge of water, he was lifted higher, where he saw the faint outline of another boat near the first. The North Korean military drew near. Will looked at his watch and the GPS locator on his wrist.
Another 1.5 kilometers to go. He began swimming on the surface, feeling the sway of the seawater as he headed farther and farther out. It took most of the early afternoon, but he was surprised at how warm the suit kept him. Only an exposed part of Will’s face below the mask felt the cold. Occasionally, he adjusted his hood to cover the spot.
But he would not stay warm forever. The suit gave him twelve hours of protection. After that, the frigid waters would have the upper hand.
Chapter 44
In the Waters of the Sea of Japan
As the late-afternoon sun began to settle down toward the horizon, the GPS indicator showed Will was on his mark. There, he inflated a small buoyancy flotation device on the harness and leaned back into the water. He would try to rest as much as possible, saving his energy for one last push. And there he stayed, floating in the water, waiting, constantly looking at his watch and the setting sun.
Come on. The watch showed 1600 hours local time.
Again, he did a 360-degree scan of the horizon. And again, he saw the military boats to the south. He still saw nothing to the north. Occasionally, Mi-8 helicopters crisscrossed the water at levels so low their props churned up the water. When one came close, Will slid below the surface, releasing the air in his device.
The rest of the time, he waited, floating in the cold water as the sun moved toward the coastal mountains in the west. The frigid water numbed his face, which he occasionally rubbed to keep the circulation moving.
At least I’m still alive. Braving the ocean was a better option than risking being captured in the North. At least, so long as he evaded capture in the water.
Finally, on another search of the horizon, he saw a faint dot to the north. Immediately, Will judged the distance and resumed swimming out to sea. Like an Ironman racer, he matched the pace, looking to the north as the object became clearer and larger.
Will would have only one opportunity and he had to aim for dead center. As it got closer, he noted the distance and finally submerged with the rebreather. He still did not want to be seen.
First, Will heard the churning, rhythmic noise of the propellers. He tried to determine their location. The noise, which grew increasingly loud, let him know this ship was far bigger than any military patrol boat.
Will surfaced one last time to get his final bearing. The boat was close, churning up the water from its bow, but to the far right.
He submerged and began kicking rapidly. From his chest, Will pulled the round black disc and held it forward with both hands, kicking quicker and harder. A miss would throw him into the propellers of the ship.
The noise became louder as he surged forward. He could now feel displaced water pushing him backwards, but Will fought it with all the power he’d gained from months of training. He kicked feverishly until a metallic clank indicated contact.
The passenger ship was returning to the eastern South Korean port of Donghae from Changjon, a North Korean port just south of Wonsan. Following protracted negotiations, the head of the Hyundai Corporation had agreed to pay millions of dollars to the Pyongyang government to own the only vessel allowed to travel back and forth across the border. Its ostensible purpose was to allow passengers to visit the Taebaek Mountains. Thanks to the passenger ship’s run, millions of tourist dollars poured into the North. Still, North Korea periodically threatened to restrict the tourist voyage, or cancel it altogether.
Today was all that mattered to Will Parker. Thanking his lucky stars for vessels than ran to schedule, he let the hull-locked magnet yank him forward like a large hooked fish. He adjusted the harness and moved just below the waterline. The rebreather allowed him to breathe as he deflated the buoyancy device and slid out of sight. If he tried to board the ship, one of the many North Korean spies on board would either alert others or disable the ship. He was far safer riding the hull, bouncing against its side.
Sleep, he knew, would not be possible. Nor would hydration. He settled in for the long ride and tried to relax.
* * * *
The Solbong was actually running slightly late, thanks to a bow-to-stern search the North Koreans had carried out in t
he port of Wonsan. The South Korean captain had never seen such an intense search: Every space, every bag, and every passenger being checked and rechecked several times by the DPRK military.
Apparently, even that had not been enough. “Sir, three patrol boats from the DMZ are approaching.” The voice of the first mate usually sounded far calmer. The repeated inspections had shocked the entire crew.
“Yes,” said the captain.
The three patrol boats, lights flashing, approached, two on the port side and one on the starboard.
“They intend to board,” the first mate said.
“That’s not agreed upon.”
The North Koreans had the right to conduct whatever searches they wished upon entry into Wonsan and prior to departure. However, when the ship left, the North Koreans had agreed it was to be left alone so long as it kept to a specific route, exactly 6.5 kilometers offshore.
A spray of machine-gun fire cut through the water just in front of the bow.
“All stop,” said the captain.
“Aye, sir.”
The vessel slowed, pitching in the heavy seas. A North Korean captain climbed onto the deck, followed by several soldiers carrying machine guns.
“This is not allowed.”
The North Korean struck the vessel’s captain across the face with his type-64 pistol. The older man sank to one knee. “We’ll determine what is allowed,” said the North Korean.
A new spate of machine-gun fire erupted at the fantail and two bloodstained bodies were thrown over the port side.
“Under what authority is this outrage?” said the captain, rising from his knee.
The North Korean struck him again. “You’ll muster everyone to the bow.” He signaled to the first mate, frozen in shock, with a wave of the pistol. “Now!”
In short order, the few crew members and all passengers were huddled together on the cold bow. Most of the passengers were elderly South Koreans visiting the Diamond Mountains they remembered from their youth.
“We have someone on board who has done our republic a great wrong, and we’ll shoot each of you until we find him.”
“We have no idea who you are seeking,” the captain said.
“Thirty minutes.”
As the ship came to a stop, Will sank lower and released the electronic magnet. Using a rebreather, he could stay there, without any signs of bubbles, for hours.
* * * *
When the thirty minutes expired, the North Korean pointed to a young woman dressed in the uniform of a crew member.
“Take her there.” He pointed to the port side of the bow and two soldiers leaned the sobbing woman over the edge. “I warned you.” He chambered a round and aimed the pistol to the rear of her head. The others remained still, stunned.
An instant before he squeezed the trigger, the Solbong shifted to its starboard side, a move so sudden and so violent that everyone on deck fell over, like bowling pins, and slid against the other bulwark. The North Korean fell backwards and as he did, a pistol shot rang out in the air.
The vessel rocked back again violently to the port side.
The captain looked over to that side, spying the black fins of a massive structure passing by. It was as if a giant orca had come out of the deep. One of the smaller North Korean patrol boats pitched up in the air at the sound of a machine gun firing aimlessly, then flipped over like a child’s bathtub toy.
The Trident submarine broke through the surface just to the stern of the last patrol boat, and the North Korean soldiers on the Solbong scrambled into the last vessel, which fled to the North to escape being capsized by the American sub.
“All ahead, full, now!” The captain’s order sent all Solbong crew members scrambling back to their stations.
As darkness fell, the Solbong entered the waters of South Korea protected by a fleet of South Korean destroyers.
When the cruise ship docked in Tonghae, South Korean investigators swarmed the ship, focused on the aftermath of the afternoon’s bloodshed on the main deck. No one noticed a ripple of water near the ship’s hull.
On the other side of the port, near a breakfront, a dark figure pulled up on one of the rocks and removed what looked like fins and a mask. Only one person was watching as he left the harbor and walked up the dirt road.
“Thank you,” said Will, soaking the overcoat of Mi Yong as he pulled her close.
Chapter 45
Downtown Seoul, South Korea
“I just don’t know.”
Will smiled as he leaned back into his seat at the hotel restaurant in downtown Seoul. The Western breakfast of eggs, toast, and coffee saturated his senses after three days of super-fuel patches and adrenaline. He still felt a bit groggy—doubtless, the result of severe sleep deprivation. Mi and he had traveled by rental car through much of the night to cross the peninsula of Korea. She had rented the car, thereby eliminating all evidence that he’d arrived in Korea or was traveling in it.
The local radio news station was reporting that Pyongyang had accused the United States of violating its territorial waters with a Trident submarine, thus raising fears of a possible nuclear attack. The U.S. Navy acknowledged that a navigational error had caused one of its vessels to be just north of the DMZ, but went on to explain that it surfaced only to lend potential rescue and aid to a South Korean vessel under attack.
In the restaurant, Will swallowed another long gulp of coffee as he took in Mi Yong’s presence. It had been a long time since Quantico.
“You obviously got the backpack in Hawaii,” Mi said.
“Yes, thank you again.”
“Your friend from the Natick lab said he wanted feedback on all the equipment on your list.”
Will smiled. “It couldn’t have worked better. How about our ride out?”
“We have two tickets on a KAL flight to Los Angeles at 1500 hours.”
“Immigration?”
“You have a Marine Corps uniform and endorsed orders.”
“Charlies?” He referred to the relaxed Marine Corps dress of khaki sweater, shirt, and gabardine pants.
“Yes,” said Mi, “you’ll be traveling as a gunny.”
Will smiled. He liked impersonating a Marine gunnery sergeant, though he knew one gunnery sergeant on a submarine right now who’d be chagrined to find out.
“It seemed less obvious that way,” she explained.
“Yeah, a colonel going through customs on both ends might stand out.”
“Because you’re on endorsed orders, you need no passport and none would be entered into the system on either end. It wasn’t too hard getting an identification card.” She handed him a wallet, a white military identification card, several hundred-dollar bills, and the papers representing his orders.
The United States military was allowed to travel through customs in South Korea solely on proof of orders.
“A conference on SsangYong?”
She smiled.
“Ironic,” he murmured. She had him attending a conference on the annual joint military exercise that trained forces to stop a North Korean invasion. It involved thousands of South Korean and American soldiers, who “gamed” the movement of troops in response to a North Korean attack. Numerous such conferences occurred between December and August every year. Now, with the international incidents he’d been involved with, the exercise was at risk of turning into the real thing.
“We need to get to the airport,” said Mi.
Will had grown to care greatly for this woman, and not just because of her bravery. He wanted Krowl to pay as much for what he’d tried to do to her as for what he’d done to Will.
“I’ll go change,” he said.
It wasn’t at all unusual for a Marine Corps gunnery sergeant in Seoul to check out of the high-rise Seoul Lotte hotel, especially in the company of an Asian-American woman presumed to b
e his wife. American forces had stayed in Korea now for more than five decades. When the two checked in at Incheon International Airport, many similar couples were already there.
Mi was traveling as Will’s wife and her passport under that name had been accurately stamped upon her arrival a week earlier. In addition, her passports and visas were correctly listed in the Immigration computer system, so there was no suspicion at all when Gunnery Sergeant Donald Ruskell’s orders were reviewed.
“Here on the exercise?” said the customs official.
“Yes, sir,” said Will, alias Donald.
“I guess we’ll see you back in a few months.”
“Probably several times.”
A television in the background had a flashing red news crawl at the bottom of the screen as a CNN reporter was speaking in a muted voice.
“What’s going on?” The South Korean customs official turned to the screen as everyone else in the room. The words then flashed on the ticker.
North Korean Dictator Reported Dead of a Heart Attack.
Will looked at Mi, trying to show little reaction.
They kept moving. Both passed through to the third-floor departure concourse. “We’re flying business class,” she told him.
“I knew there was something I liked about you.” He wanted to say more, trying to connect the dots from the news bulletin. Was it coincidence? Or could the missile program setback have caused the dictator’s death? He could read her eyes.
“The business-class lounge is on the fourth floor.” Mi led him across the Incheon air terminal to a steel-doored elevator, identified by a black-lettered sign marked Lounges.
“We’ve got about an hour until boarding,” Mi said.
He smiled at her again. “Before we go, I’ve got to call an old friend in Georgia.”
“Who?”
“A guy named Gary Matthews. He’s not involved in this.”
The elevator, though empty, felt cramped. As they entered, Mi turned to the sliding doors, glancing through them into the open terminal floor, at the mass of people.
Northern Thunder Page 25
