Sword of God paj-3

by Chris Kuzneski

  In Jones's mind, he had just walked through the mouth, a gruesome cavity filled with blood and gore. Now he was staring at the belly, the place where the bodies were disposed.

  The cave stretched farther than his eyes could see, fading to black somewhere in the depths of the mountain. Thick metal bars were anchored at irregular intervals on each side of the expanse, makeshift cages that were part man-made, part geology. Computer lights blinked in the distance, the glow of technology in an otherwise archaic world.

  To him, none of it made any sense.

  Like pieces from several jigsaw puzzles all mixed together.

  Payne noticed the confusion on Jones's face and came forward to investigate. Seconds later, he was just as bewildered. "What is this place?"

  "I have no idea."

  Dr. Sheldon heard the comment and asked, "Have either of you heard of Roh Tae-woo, the former president of South Korea? In the early nineties, a large cave was discovered on Jeju that housed the remains of several islanders slaughtered just after World War II. Instead of announcing die discovery to the world, Roh sealed the cave, hoping to keep it quiet. Eventually word of his cover-up was unearthed and he was imprisoned for his actions."

  Jones considered the information. "And this is his cave?"

  "No. That cave is on Mount Halla. This cave is still a secret."

  "Whose secret?"

  "Ahhh, now we're getting somewhere. Whose secret indeed?!"

  Sheldon squeezed past the duo and walked toward the small table that sat in a natural nook along the right-hand wall. He clicked on a desk lamp and rummaged through a large stack of folders. Each of them classified. Each of them critical. Yet in his mind there was no need for a locked safe, since the front door was being guarded by snipers.

  "Here you go," Sheldon said. "Who wants to read it first?"

  Jones took the file while Payne held the flashlight. No arguing. No bickering. No ego of any kind. Both men knew mat Jones was better at analyzing information. It was his specialty. He had an innate ability to spot important facts and incongruities faster than anyone Payne had ever met. So Payne did the smart thing and let Jones decipher the data.

  According to the folder, they were standing in a lava tube that was discovered by locals in 1824. It measured 1.2 miles in length. Parts of it were narrow, less than 4 feet wide, while other sections were spacious. One gallery soared to more than 22 feet in height and was originally used as storage space for smugglers, who valued the constant cool temperature and natural protection of the black stone. Decades ago smuggling was the main source of income on the island, so the exact location of the cave was a fiercely guarded secret. Villagers protected it with their lives and were rewarded for their efforts.

  Unfortunately, their loyalty was used against them in the aftermath of World War II.

  In an attempt to establish control on Jeju, the South Korean government labeled everyone who was associated with smuggling as Communists and demanded their capture. This set off a chain of events that led to the bloodiest event in the island's history: the Jeju Massacre.

  On April 3,1948, rebels from Jeju's "people's army" attacked police stations and government offices on Jeju, causing the death of an estimated fifty people while freeing many islanders who they felt had been wrongly accused. They kept control of the island until June 25, when the South Korean government invaded from the mainland and overwhelmed Jeju forces. Thousands of islanders were detained and sorted into four groups (labeled A, B, C, and D), based on their supposed security risk. Unfortunately, the South Korean Navy realized they didn't have the manpower to guard that many people in captivity. So they did the unthinkable. Instead of letting people go, they ordered the local police to execute everyone in groups C and D.

  No trials. No appeals. Just bloodshed.

  Thousands of innocents were slaughtered. Bodies were stacked in the streets.

  Yet this brutality didn't stop the rebellion. Over the next six years, a reported eighty thousand islanders were killed- nearly a quarter of Jeju's population.

  Jones glanced up from the file. "How accurate are these numbers?"

  "Very," Sheldon answered. "They're based on firsthand accounts of American troops."

  Payne interrupted. "You mean we watched the executions?"

  Sheldon nodded. "We were summoned to South Korea after World War II to help set up a provisional government. Unfortunately, we had no authority to intervene in an internal conflict. All we could do was keep meticulous records and pray the violence stopped on its own."

  Payne scowled because he knew that was bullshit. The U.S. military had a long-standing tradition of butting into battles where they didn't belong. Not that he had a problem with that. Sometimes the biggest kid on the block needed to flex his muscles to protect the weakest. Yet for some reason mat wasn't the case on Jeju. The only question was, why?

  Jones wondered the same tiling. "What was our real reason for doing nothing?"

  Sheldon smiled under his mask. "Take a wild guess."

  "Because we had more to gain by staying out of it."

  "Such as?"

  "Damning information against the new government."

  "And why was that important?"

  Jones gave it some thought. "Because Jeju is an island in the Korea Strait. The perfect place for Americans to spy on Japan, Russia, China, and North Korea."

  Sheldon nodded, then signaled for them to follow him deeper into the cave. "Smugglers used this facility until 1951. That's three years after the revolt started, which goes to show how secret this place actually was. Outside of locals, no one knew about it. Not the police. Not the government. Not even us. At least until much later."

  He stopped in front of the first cell and admired its simplicity. Iron bars were anchored in the volcanic rock, creating a series of jail cells that stretched deep into the darkness. "Local villagers were held here by the South Korean government. Young, old, men, women. It didn't matter. Everyone was locked in this cave for weeks. Then, one by one, they were tortured for information about the rebel army that most of them knew nothing about. To this day, the unlucky ones are still buried in the deepest sections of this cave. Hidden behind piles of rock."

  Payne hated stories like this-especially ones that happened so long ago-because no matter how good a soldier he was, there was nothing he could do about tragedies from the 1950s. Of course, there was something he could do about the present-that is, if he was given all the facts. Yet for some reason he sensed that Sheldon was hiding something important from them. He wasn't sure what it was, but his patience was wearing thin.

  "Not to be rude, but can we fast-forward to recent history?"

  Sheldon glanced at Payne. "Of course we can. What would you like to know?"

  "Everything you're keeping from us."

  The smile faded under his mask, the crinkles disappearing from the corners of his eyes. "Nothing like cutting to the chase."

  "Actually, the chase started two days ago, when we first got on a plane. Yet for one reason or another, you've been stonewalling ever since. First by proxy, now in person."

  "What do you mean?"

  Payne pointed at him. "There you go! A perfect example. Most people respond to questions with answers, not other questions."

  "Jon," Jones whispered, trying to calm him down.

  But Payne brushed him aside. "Seriously, Doc, it's time for some straight facts. No more history lessons. No more bullshit. Why the hell are we here?"

  "To find a missing person. Actually, several missing people."

  Payne rolled his hand in front of him, urging Sheldon to go on. "Some names would help."

  "Before I continue, I need to give you some more background info on-"

  "Holy hell! Give me a fuckin' break!"

  "Seriously. This is important information."

  Payne shook his head, unwilling to listen further. "D.J., I swear to God, if he starts talking about the Korean War, I'm going to kick him in the balls."

  "Jon!" Jones
shouted, thankful his mask covered his smile. "Let the guy talk."

  "Talk? All he does is talk. Ten minutes ago I asked him about this facility, and he started blabbing about the effects of molten lava…. Seriously, who the hell does that?" He pointed at Sheldon. "Why would you do that? Do I look like I give a damn about molten anything?"

  Jones stepped between the two, knowing full well that Payne wasn't really mad or the least bit out of control. But when it came to acquiring information, they realized fear often went a long way toward lessening someone's reluctance to speak-especially someone like Dr. Sheldon, who was holding his cards much tighter than he should have been. Thankfully, when someone as large as Payne started to roar, people usually did whatever they could to calm him down.

  This was their version of good cop/bad cop.

  They called it Payne in the ass.

  "Jon," Jones said, "calm down. Let me talk to him for a minute. Alone."

  "Fine! Maybe you two can discuss the history of molten liquor."

  Jones rolled his eyes. "It's called malt liquor. And my guess is he doesn't drink Colt .45."

  "Okay, Billy D. Discuss whatever you want. But I'm going outside to make a call." He pulled out his cell phone and fiddled with the buttons. "If you learn any news about this century, you know where to find me."

  Payne stormed off, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the cave like rolling thunder. Jones waited for the rumble to pass, then apologized for his friend's behavior, blaming it on jet lag and his close connection to Trevor Schmidt.

  "You have to understand," Jones said, "Jon is very protective of his proteges. Two days ago Colonel Harrington told us that Trevor was missing and asked for our help, but that's the last we've heard about it. No updates. No progress reports. No nothing. That's tough for us to take."

  Sheldon nodded. 'Trust me, I'm empathetic to your situation. I truly am. But there's a reason why I've been rambling on and on about this cave's background and answering all of your questions with questions of my own. I know you think I'm playing games with you, but I swear that's not the case."

  "Then what is the case?"

  Sheldon fidgeted with his gloves, trying to delay his answer. "Honestly, we've been on Jeju for several days now, and in all that time we've only learned one thing."

  "Which is?"

  "None of us have any idea what happened here."

  11

  Payne smiled as he walked outside. The smell of blood still lingered in the air, yet compared to the interior of the cave, he felt like he was standing in a daisy-fresh meadow. His mood brightened further when he scrolled through the picture gallery in his cell phone and saw the clarity of his latest image: Dr. Ernie Sheldon, the unwitting star of a sneak attack.

  Laughing to himself, Payne typed an encrypted text message to Randy Raskin, one of his best contacts at the Pentagon, asking him for basic intel on the man in the photo. He gave him Sheldon's name but stressed it might be an alias. At this point it was too early to tell.

  After hitting send, he returned his attention to his current surroundings. With a quick glance he scanned the rocky path that sliced through the trees toward the road. No sign of Kia. She'd fled the scene several minutes earlier, but he fully expected to see her sitting there. Her head between her knees. Cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Several excuses ready to spring from her lips to explain her actions. But none of them was necessary, since it wasn't her fault.

  If anyone was to blame, Payne knew it was himself, for he was the one who let her enter the cave. The one who knew she was a translator, nothing more. Certainly not trained for that type of gore. Yet for some reason he urged her to tag along, even though she served no purpose inside. Even though he knew they were about to stumble into something much worse than a rescue mission. Not with that smell. Not with all those soldiers carrying all that firepower outside the scene. Obviously this wasn't about a missing person. This was something different. Something more significant. But for the life of him, he didn't know what it was. That's the main reason he wanted to step outside and get some fresh air. He needed time to think. To figure out why they'd brought him in. What role they wanted him to play.

  Now all of that would have to wait. His focus was no longer on the cave. It was on Kia. She was his number one priority. Not because she was a woman or defenseless, but because she was part of his team. And that's what leaders were supposed to do. Protect their squads at all cost.

  Payne knew snipers were nestled in the camphor trees and buried on the hillside, tracking his every move through mounted scopes. He couldn't see them, but he knew they were there. Watching. Waiting. Hoping someone did something aggressive so they could pull their triggers. The key was not to give them an excuse. Slowly he turned and studied the rock face behind him, trying to determine where he would have positioned his men if he'd been in charge of security.

  One up top. A couple over there. A few more down the path.

  No way Kia went anywhere without being watched. Without them telling her where she could puke and where she couldn't. This was their land. Their terrain. They were the spiders, and this was their web. They could tell him her exact location. No problem at all.

  But first he had to get one of them to talk.

  Payne crunched down the trail, focusing on a thick grove of trees. It looked dark and impenetrable. The perfect place to take residence. With a grin on his lips, Payne pointed toward the dense brush and signaled for the sniper to come out. Then Payne just stood there, staring and smiling, until he heard some movement. A snap was all Payne needed to know that he was right.

  A few curse words later, the guard emerged from the thicket. Mud on his young face. Twigs on his helmet. A rifle in his hands. "Dammit, sir. How'd you see me in there?"

  Payne shrugged. "Who said I did?"

  The sniper cursed again, this time even louder. Pissed at himself for giving up his position to someone who hadn't even seen him.

  "Wow. When you were a kid, you must've sucked at hide-and-seek."

  "Actually, sir, I never lost."

  Payne smiled. "Actually, son, you just did."

  The sniper was tempted to argue, but what could he say? Instead, he quickly changed die subject. "Was there something you needed?"

  "I'm looking for my translator. Female. Asian features. Probably covered in vomit."

  "You mean the hottie? She headed toward the village."

  "There's a village?"

  The sniper pointed down a side path that cut through the woods. "Can't tell you much about it. Haven't been there yet."

  "Is it secure?"

  "Don't know. Don't care."

  Payne nodded, not surprised by the answer. In the military, most information was compartmentalized- especially on secured projects such as this one. A guard over here didn't need to know what was going on over there unless it posed an immediate threat. And even then, he sure as hell wasn't going to talk about it with someone he didn't know or trust.

  "We done here?" asked the sniper, who waited to be dismissed before he slipped back into the woods to find a better place to hide. Payne watched him for a while, then turned his attention to the village path. It was dark and foreboding, like everything else in the area. Protocol told him that he should let Jones know where he was going, but something in his gut told him that time was of the essence. That Kia was in a lot more danger in the village than Jones was in the cave.

  And as usual, Payne's gut was right.

  Kia walked through the center of town, staggered by the silence. It was the middle of the day, yet there were no dogs barking, no kids playing, no errands being run. No movement or activities of any kind. Tiny stone huts sat back from the rocky road, separated by stone fences and guarded by dozens of harubang, their friendly stone faces no longer quite so inviting. In fact, in the stillness of the village, their presence was somehow disconcerting, as if the people themselves had been consumed by these ancient stone figures. As if they were suddenly the only residents.

  A gus
t of wind added to the chill that Kia felt surge through her body. She was accustomed to the warm tropical breezes of the Marshall Islands, not the whipping wind of this volcanic ghost town. Or was the chill from something else? Perhaps more to do with her fear and apprehension than the temperature itself. The thought was an unpleasant one, especially after her recent behavior in the cave. No way she was going to turn and run again.

  Once was bad enough. Twice would be unbearable.

  The strength of the wind increased, this time bringing the faint scent of burning wood. Not maple. Not oak. Maybe pine. The musk filled her nose, quickly erasing the memory of the bloody cave and replacing it with the promise of survivors. She turned toward the smell, staring into the face of the breeze, looking for a sign of life. Any sign. And then she saw one. A tiny wisp of smoke rising from a stone chimney on the far end of the village. It wasn't much, but its presence gave her hope. A rope to cling to as she journeyed forward, searching for answers.

  Kia passed house after house, yard after yard, all of them seemingly deserted. Each adding to the mystery of this vacant town, each filling her head with more questions. Were the villagers dead? Or were they hiding? If so, from whom? Or what? She prayed the blood in the cave didn't belong to them, but every empty home, every abandoned car made that seem less likely.

  Obviously there was a connection between the two mysteries.

  She hoped it wasn't a tragic one.

  Payne heard the scream from the far end of the village and reacted instinctively.

  In a single motion, he pulled his Sig Sauer P226 from his waistband and broke into a full sprint. His eyes scanned the horizon, searching for danger. The only movement he saw was the bouncing of tree limbs as they swayed in the breeze. Payne leaped a log gate in a stone fence that lined one of the nearby yards and checked his weapon. His magazine was full.