Pulse Point

by Don Pendleton

  Transporting the item overseas to the PRC would place it in the hands of the Chinese, and they would take it apart and learn every detail. The Chinese were masters at retrofitting anything. Their teams would be able to recreate the original, incorporate the knowledge into their own research and advance their own NNEMP. The North Korean failure would become China’s success.

  Chi saw and understood the logic. He would allow Tak the privilege of recovering the item, then take it off Macklin’s hands.

  Chi’s final act in the matter would be the elimination of Tak. The man had served his purpose now. Removing him would enable Chi to close the book. Without Tak, the North Koreans would be left with no answers. Tak and his Korean team would not be able to voice any suspicions once they were dead.

  Chi would have no regrets. Sacrificing Tak was necessary. In the great scheme of things, the Korean’s life was insignificant. Added to that was the fact Tak was becoming a bore. The man had no style. His mantra was 100 percent that which was dictated by his North Korean masters. He would not veer from it by a fraction.

  He lived and breathed what had been drilled into him by the overpowering masters in Pyongyang—or should that be master? Chi wondered. North Korea was ruled by one man, and the country followed his rule with blind obedience. That rigidity infused all thinking. Independent thought was frowned upon and punished severely.

  Soon Il Tak was a true child of North Korea. All thought, all action, was for the state. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else was even allowed to filter through. And it was that blind obedience that stifled creativity. Tak would walk the decreed line and never once consider looking left or right.

  While Xian Chi followed Chinese policy, he had no qualms when it came to free thought. His country today had moved on a distance from the staunchness of the old ways. China, while still following the well-trod paths of Communism, had emerged from the shadows to embrace, in part, the twenty-first century. It had increased global trade, had embraced technology and conducted business on a worldwide scale.

  China looked with envious eyes on the rich pickings still out of its reach. It maintained a delicate balance with the West, and even America, though there was still an underlying desire to oust the USA from its encompassing involvement with the Pacific Rim. Behind the economic overtures, China wanted more influence in the Pacific. And to that end it looked for new and powerful means of upstaging America.

  The NNEMP concept appealed to the Chinese military. If the weaponry could be fully developed and added to the ChiCom arsenal, it would prove a devastating weapon. It would be a means of hitting out at American targets without reducing them to radioactive wastelands, a clean way to cripple and still maintain the infrastructure.

  What use would the Hawaiian islands be if there was nothing left but rubble and poisonous earth? Better to disable the American defense shield and then move in before any chance of restructuring took place. It was a far-reaching dream, yet one that Beijing was looking at.

  Taking over the North Korea development was a small step but one worth risking a reaction. North Korea, if Chi’s plan worked, would have no idea what had happened to its hardware. Their first reaction would be that the Americans had it.

  If they admitted the something was theirs, by default they would also admit they had launched the strike against the USA. Such an admission would work against them. North Korea might be a hostile regime, but it was not a stupid one. Loss of face, especially when America was involved, would be less than welcome in Pyongyang.

  As far as China was concerned, the matter would be quietly written off. Beijing would play the disappointed backer mourning the loss of financial assistance but staying a few steps back. It would quietly hide away the stolen equipment and allow its own scientific teams to work on it in anonymity. Any success would be kept strictly under wraps. There would be no fanfares. No flag waving. The perfected weapon would be entered into the Chinese arsenal, ready to be used in some future capacity.

  A good result for China.

  North Korea would have to lick its wounds and think again. Only this time there might not be financial assistance coming its way from Beijing. After the Hawaiian fiasco, North Korea would have little to make a fuss about regarding China’s reluctance to bankroll them a second time.

  Chi glanced at his watch and decided he was ready to eat. As he made his way to the hotel restaurant, he felt satisfied with the result he had achieved. He had the time to relax and also the inclination to enjoy a good meal. He smiled.

  Wasn’t that the American way?

  Secure a good deal, then give oneself a reward.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  PHOENIX FORCE, SOUTH KOREA

  The USAF C-17 Globemaster touched down midmorning at the U.S. Air Force Base at Osan, South Korea. The weather had changed during the final half hour of the flight, and heavy rain was streaming across the runway as the massive transport made its way across the concrete apron. Thick black clouds were banking up overhead, threatening more bad weather.

  Gary Manning pulled his ball cap low as he stepped from the C-17’s rear ramp, staring out across the base. Behind him McCarter stomped down the ramp and stood next to him.

  “Bloody hell,” the Briton muttered. “Just remind me, did we have a choice of missions this time round? If we did, somebody pulled a fast one on us.”

  Hawkins took a long look at the inhospitable scene. “Boss, we done got ourselves screwed,” he drawled.

  Encizo and James paused beside the others as they took in their South Korean welcome.

  “Man, this is not what I signed up for,” James said.

  Behind Phoenix Force the packed cargo interior was being readied to off-load its freight, and one of the crew paused beside the Stony Man unit.

  “You guys just chose the wrong day to drop in,” he said. Then he pointed at an Air Force Hummer rolling in toward the aircraft. “At least they sent someone to collect you.”

  “See, things are picking up already,” Hawkins said.

  The Hummer stopped short of the ramp and a slim uniformed figure climbed out from behind the wheel. He wore tan BDUs and highly polished boots.

  “Major Cassidy?” McCarter said.

  The man nodded. “Put your gear in the back, and I’ll get you over to somewhere dry,” Cassidy said.

  He led the way to the rear of the Hummer and helped load Phoenix Force’s gear. He slammed the door shut and moved to climb back inside the vehicle. The rest of Phoenix Force crowded into the rear, leaving McCarter to take the seat beside Cassidy.

  “My orders are to give you what you want and not to ask too many questions,” Cassidy said as he drove away from the aircraft. “In fact no questions at all.”

  “Don’t hold that against us,” McCarter said. “We get stuck with these bloody information blackouts wherever we go. Major, we’re just doing our job. Its very nature forces us to keep closemouthed.”

  Cassidy smiled. A genuine expression. “Don’t worry. I’ve worked clandestine ops myself, so I get the picture. Just sing out, if there’s anything I can do.” He paused, glancing across at McCarter. “That’s a British accent you’ve got.”

  “We’re a mixed-up crowd,” McCarter said. “But it works for us.”

  The Hummer sped across the base, raising high sprays of water as it hit puddles. Through the rain McCarter could see the distant buildings of the base. Cassidy swung the Hummer to a smooth stop outside one of them. Phoenix Force climbed out, grabbed their gear from the rear and followed the major inside.

  “We were asked by your people to provide the basics. Not sure how long you’ll be here, so we catered for all eventualities. Cots and bedding. Ablutions at the far end. With hot water. You have electricity. Power points. You can use the PX, if you need. Mess hall is down the line. Now this is an active base, so there’s pretty well round-the-cloc
k food available.”

  “All the comforts of home,” Hawkins said, taking a wander around the facility.

  “I could send over a TV, if you need one.”

  McCarter said, “I try to keep them away from television. Too many violent programs and excitement isn’t good for them. The way things are moving, I doubt we’ll be here long.”

  Cassidy stared at the Briton for a moment, before he realized it was McCarter’s sense of humor breaking free.

  “Something tells me that you guys will find plenty of excitement when you move on from here.” He took a long look at each member of the group and made up his mind. He nodded his head in understanding. “You do realize the neighbors are not exactly the friendly kind,” he said.

  Cassidy had worked out for himself that this tight group of men had not come all the way to South Korea for any peaceful break. It wasn’t the first time he had encountered their type. They were the guys who came without any official fanfare, stayed in the background, before they embarked on whatever mission was waiting for them, then disappeared quietly. There were occasions when they never showed their faces again, having carried out their business and moved on.

  Covert operations.

  Shadow warriors.

  Black ops.

  Need-to-know kept their operations in the dark. John Cassidy had lost his curiosity over these people long ago. It did no good to make waves by trying to find out the reasons why. Even if he did learn their particular agendas, there was no profit. What they did was way above his pay grade, and there were some things it was better not to know. So Cassidy followed his orders. Provided what was asked for and left it at that.

  “Couple of flasks over there filled with hot coffee,” he said.

  “Best thing I’ve heard all day,” James said. “One thing this burg isn’t is warm.”

  “You need anything else just call me on the wall phone over there. Hit number one and it goes straight through to my office.”

  “We should be getting a visitor,” McCarter said.

  “I was told. He’ll be escorted here when he arrives.”

  “Thanks for your assistance,” McCarter said. “Much appreciated.”

  When Cassidy had gone, the Phoenix Force warriors unpacked their gear and laid out their ordnance on one of the trestle tables that had been erected for their use.

  James had opened one of the stainless-steel flasks and poured himself coffee.

  “That is good,” he said after tasting it. “Just how I like it. Now what is it? Yeah, reminds me of me. Hot and black.”

  “Sweet, as well?” Manning asked.

  James grinned. “With what I have going for me, I don’t need to be sweet, brother.”

  “I think he was talking about the coffee,” McCarter said.

  “You think?” James said innocently.

  They checked out their weapons. Each man had a Beretta 92F handgun except McCarter. He adamantly refused to change from the Browning Hi-Power and carried one with him at all times. The 9 mm autopistol had served the Briton for many years, and he saw no reason to swap it for anything else; McCarter’s skill with the pistol couldn’t be faulted. He hit what he was aiming at ninety-nine times out of one hundred, so it was no contest. It fired the same bullets as the Beretta handguns the others used, so there was no disparity when it came to ammunition.

  The same applied to the semiautomatic machine guns the team was using. Each man would carry an FN P90 SMG. The Belgian-made weapon fired 5.7 mm rounds and could deliver 900 rounds per minute from the top-mounted translucent magazine which held 50 rounds in parallel rows.

  For extra silence the P90 could be fitted with a suppressor which allowed the use of special subsonic ammunition to further reduce sound. Screw-on suppressors were included in the backpacks Phoenix Force would be carrying.

  Built from impact-resistant polymer, the P90 had an effective range of 200 meters. Its bullpup design allowed the weapon to maintain a compact size and add an ambidextrous capability, even to the shell casings being ejected from the underside of the SMG.

  The compact P90 was easy to store and carry. A fire selector gave a safe position, semiautomatic and full-auto. With the selector in the full-auto position, the trigger allowed a two-stage pull function, where a slight pressure gave semiautofire, with the full pressure being applied for all-out auto.

  Phoenix Force had used the P90 previously on clandestine missions, and where a restricted carry weight of equipment was needed, the weapon was ideal. A nylon strap could be used to sling the P90, easy to carry and bring quickly into operation.

  Over their camou dress, they would wear a harness to accommodate the loaded magazines for their individual weapons. Pouches for extra magazines and a sheathed Tanto combat knife hung from each waist belt. They would also have lightweight comm sets to enable them to keep in touch, once they were dispersed on mission. McCarter also carried one of the sat phones so he could contact Stony Man, via the Zero connection, if the need arose. Lightweight backpacks would hold extra magazines, plus fragmentation and smoke grenades.

  Calvin James, as the team medic, also had a field pack in his backpack.

  As the resident demolitions operative, Gary Manning had a comprehensive selection of explosives in his pack, along with detonators and a couple remote units, if he needed them. Manning only had to choose the target, place the pack and activate the detonators. The burly Canadian had a sure touch with explosives, and pretty well anything he tackled would be efficiently wiped out.

  The intention behind Phoenix Force’s upcoming foray into North Korea was to locate the facility where the ongoing development of NNEMP weaponry was being carried out. A high-risk incursion into North Korean territory. If successful, they were aiming to destroy the development lab and any construction in progress, putting a stop to the work and an end to the research.

  None of them had forgotten the second part of the mission: to locate and extract Li Kam, the young Korean woman who was putting herself on the line to provide information about the North Korean development of the NNEMP weapon.

  The five men were aware of the difficulties ahead, but every mission they undertook for Stony Man was under the same rules. They handled the deals no one else could. And they undertook them with the clear proviso that, in the field, they were on their own. Phoenix Force, as with everything applied to Stony Man, officially did not exist. Their nonexistence on any books allowed them complete freedom of operational decisions.

  On the reverse side of the coin, they had no recourse to expect help, if they were compromised. Each Stony Man warrior understood the limitations of assistance he might expect if something went wrong. Hal Brognola and the team back at the Farm would do their utmost to help, but the anonymity of the setup often worked against them more than token assistance. The Stony Man operatives understood and accepted the criteria.

  The safety of the Stony Man operation had to be maintained. Its success depended on it remaining a covert organization. Despite the strictures placed on them, the Stony Man teams never once considered stepping away from the responsibility that was placed in their hands. They accepted the way things were and worked on the premise that their lives were less important than the missions they were taking on. They understood the threats and the dangers placed in front of them, and stepped up to the mark each time.

  Someone had to take on the madmen intent on inflicting suffering and mayhem on a beleaguered world. In truth the big wars were not always what solved global problems. Sometimes success came from a few men stepping up and putting out the small fires before they grew into raging infernos.

  Phoenix Force, Able Team and even the man who had been the creative force behind them, Mack Bolan, were in for the long haul.

  As they waited for their South Korean contact, the group took time to relax. Once the mission was underway, they might not
get the chance. Rest and eat when you can was something they all ascribed to. In the field, distractions could occur at a moment’s notice. Keeping their physical needs met was crucial to operational success, like the need to keep a vehicle well maintained and fueled up. Miss the signs and the vehicle could fail at a critical time.

  No matter how dedicated, or motivated, the fittest men could not go on indefinitely. Pushing themselves to the limit had a point where even the toughest would begin to falter. Exhaustion would eventually be reached, and even extreme willpower would drain away.

  The men of Phoenix Force were well aware of their limitations, and they would always admit to needing a recharge time. One man failing could have an effect on the others, even putting them at further risk. So staying in prime condition was more than simply important. It was vital, because none of them would want to be the one who put his teammates in jeopardy.

  An hour later their contact arrived.

  Tien Hiko was of average height, lean and carried himself with ease. He wore dark clothing, and there was nothing about him that suggested he was anything more than a local worker—which was how Hiko wanted to look. When he was shown into the hut, he nodded to his escort, dragged off the cloth cap he was wearing and faced Phoenix Force.

  “I am Tien Hiko,” he said in clear English.

  McCarter made the round of introductions. Hiko studied the group, keen eyes scrutinizing them closely. He flicked his gaze over the weapons on the table, nodding to himself as he assessed the potential firepower gathered there.

  “Do you think you have enough?” he asked lightly.

  McCarter smiled. “I guess we’ll find out, if things turn nasty.”

  “Going into North Korea, that is very possible and very likely.”

  “You been over the border?” Encizo asked.

  “Yes. A couple of times. But not for as long as Kayo Pak. He has been in North Korea a long time. Perhaps too long. Under such pressure. Apart from the mission, North Korea is a sad place. Very sad.”