Pulse Point

by Don Pendleton

  Choi’s investigation would sweep through Absalom’s department. Each member would be under suspicion, even Absalom himself. Li was hopeful she had covered her tracks, that she had not left any trail that could be traced back to her. She was not naive to believe she was in the clear, and her thoughts were directed toward Kayo Pak. The sooner he arranged to take her out of Choi’s reach, the better. Her time here was done. Whatever success she had achieved would have to be enough.

  Until that happened, she would have to maintain her cover. She understood that was going to be doubly difficult. Major Choi would not rest until he got to the bottom of the matter. His investigation would encompass the whole of the research facility, and they would all be under the spotlight. Li realized she would need to remain in control and not allow her inner feelings to show.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Rafael Encizo crouched in the shadows thrown by a couple of close standing trees, his trained eyes checking the back trail. He had been monitoring the sparse conversation reaching him from McCarter and Pak over his comm set. While he listened, he scanned the area, keeping in mind the possibility of roving sentries. If this Major Choi was as keen as Pak suggested, then it would be expected the man would maintain an armed presence to watch over the installation.

  Encizo’s vigilance paid off when he caught a glimpse of movement some yards away to his left. He focused in and spotted the outline of two armed and uniformed figures checking the area.

  The North Koreans wore camou-style dress and carried Type 68 auto rifles, a copy of the Soviet AKM. They also wore steel helmets and had waist-length waterproof slickers. Neither man looked as if he was enjoying patrolling in such poor weather, and as they advanced through the trees, Encizo could see they were discussing something. One of them kept pointing at the ground, which suggested to the Phoenix Force pro that they had seen something that had caught their interest.

  Encizo didn’t take too much time speculating. This area was isolated and most likely off-limits to anyone not part of the research establishment. As far as he could work out, the two Koreans had picked up on something out of place. His suspicions were further heightened when the two soldiers raised their rifles and increased their pace.

  One reached for something under his cape and his fingers emerged clutching a handset.

  He wasn’t about to call in anything trivial.

  Encizo couldn’t let him make the call.

  He shouldered the P90, aimed and put a short burst of suppressed 5.7 mm slugs into the Korean’s chest. The ammo raised spurts of blood as they cored in. The guy toppled sideways, banging against his partner.

  As the first man dropped, Encizo arced his weapon a few inches to the side and hit the second guy. His aim was higher, the burst impacting with the side of the target’s head below the rim of the steel helmet, spinning him around, then depositing him on the rain-soaked ground. Before the bodies had stopped moving, Encizo closed in, standing over the pair and firing again into each man to ensure his kills.

  Encizo heard McCarter’s urgent call in his earpiece.

  “Fredo?”

  “I just took out a pair of sentries. Looks like they had picked up our tracks. One was about to call it in. He didn’t make it. Both down.”

  “They on their own?”

  “Far as I can tell. But there have to be more in the area.”

  McCarter said, “We have sight of the installation.”

  “I’ll stay back a ways. In case there are any more in the area. But I’ll work around in your direction. If you need me up close, just yell.”

  “You good?”

  “I’m fine. Go ahead. I’ll watch your backs.”

  “No worries, then.”

  Encizo smiled. He slid into deeper cover and watched the surrounding area...

  * * *

  “FIRST CONTACT?” JAMES SAID over his comm set.

  “Mmm-hmm, and it won’t be the last. Rack it up, fellers, the party seems to have been cracked open. Kayo, you ready to play?” McCarter asked.

  “I am ready, but this is not a game, is it?”

  “I keep forgetting you might not understand my humor.”

  “When we have time, perhaps you can explain it to me,” the Korean said, his face expressionless.

  McCarter found himself not sure he could, so he shook his head. “Lock and load,” he said over his comm set. “Let’s pay this Major Choi an unexpected home visit. Spread out.”

  * * *

  THE WATCHTOWERS HAD sloping covers to protect the machine gunners from the regular rainfall that plagued the area. It kept them and their weapons dry, though it did little to protect them from the cold. While they were reasonably isolated from the downpour on this particular day, the guards found the heavy rain reduced their visibility.

  Beyond the fence, leading up to the dense wooded terrain, the steady curtain of water dropping from the leaden sky made it hard for them to see more than a misty image. The thick undergrowth at the base of the trees simply added to the confusion. Bending and swaying under the downpour, the thick greenery fooled the eyes into imagining there might be someone looking back at them. A second glance and the imagery had vanished.

  * * *

  AS PHOENIX FORCE expanded their area, Manning dropped back to check the wider aspect. The rest of the team had moved on ahead, when Manning made eye contact with a single armed sentry who had maintained a watch from his position. The guy had his Type 68 slung over his right shoulder, his face turned away from the wind-driven rain still whipping in from the punitive sky. It was the fact he had his face turned that created the eye contact. He reacted quickly, dropping to a crouch, as he slid his autorifle free and swung it in Manning’s direction, his finger finding the trigger even as the weapon lined up.

  Manning jerked to the side, bringing up his P90, aware that the Korean had reacted extremely fast. The stuttering crackle of full-autofire was loud in the comparative quiet of the area.

  Manning hit the ground, rolling on his stomach. The 7.62 mm slugs struck the earth inches away, geysering up mud.

  McCarter’s voice came through the comm set. “What?”

  “I’ve been made,” the Canadian told him.

  His suppressed weapon kicked out a burst at the Korean, forcing the guy to jerk aside, briefly losing his firing stance. That gave Manning the thin window to take steady aim and trigger a second time. He saw the enemy soldier pull almost upright, his throat and lower jaw bursting apart as the 5.7 mm slugs hit. He arched over onto his back, legs going into spasms.

  Manning pushed upright and pulled back into tree cover, as he spotted more armed figures clustered at the enclosure’s metal gates. Hard autofire followed him, the copper-jacketed 7.62 mm slugs whacking into the thick trunk, sending bark and splinters into the air.

  In the brief moment when the gunfire ceased, Manning risked a look and saw the gates being swung open. A tight group of North Korean soldiers spilled out, breaking apart as they cleared the gates.

  “Just great,” Manning muttered as the armed figures began to advance on his position.

  He leaned out from cover and opened fire, hoping to scatter the advancing figures. He saw one Korean stumble, then drop to one knee, clutching at his side. Manning fired again, putting the man down for good. The others hesitated for a few seconds, allowing Manning the chance to pull farther back into the timber. He knew the stalling action wouldn’t last for long.

  As he pounded into the shadows, he heard more hard firing from the North Koreans’ weapons and picked up on the solid chunk of slugs hitting tree trunks around him. The Koreans were firing blind as they followed him into the timber. That might easily change as they worked their way deeper.

  This was their home ground, and they would know the forest. If they picked up sight of him, took their time aiming before they f
ired, Manning might suddenly become the preferred target of the day.

  He was depending on his team backing him, hoping they had taken up positions ahead and would track in on the Koreans, if they continued to follow the obvious trail he was leaving for them.

  A crackle of shots sent more slugs in Manning’s direction. A number of them were too close. He felt flying wood chips patter against his BDU jacket. He felt suddenly very exposed.

  Too exposed.

  The Canadian spotted dense and tangled undergrowth ahead. He crouched and pushed his way into the greenery, feeling the tendrils claw at his body. Spiky lengths drifted across the side of his face, a thorny end scraping his cheek. Manning knew it had drawn blood. He ignored the sting. An advantage of the steady rain was its effect on his cut. The blood was washed away quickly.

  Now he could hear raised voices behind him, the thrash and scramble of the North Korean soldiers as they stayed on his trail. Persistent if nothing else, he decided.

  As if to make him realize they were still there, the Koreans opened up, raking the greenery with autofire. The slugs zipped through the air, chopping and slapping at the undergrowth, slamming into the trunks of trees. Luckily for Manning none came too close, but he knew he was not going to shake off the pursuing soldiers so easily.

  Manning pushed on, working an M-69 fragmentation grenade from his harness. He slung his P90 around his neck, letting it dangle free, as he gripped the smooth shape of the fourteen-ounce grenade. Manning gripped the sphere in his right hand, fingers of his left pulling the pin. He stopped running, pivoted and faced the enemy he couldn’t see clearly through the foliage, pinpointing them by the sounds they were making.

  “Catch this,” Manning mouthed as he tossed the grenade into the dense greenery.

  The metal spoon sprang free as the M-69 curved through the air and the internal fuse activated and detonated the tightly packed Composition-B inside the metal casing. Manning had already dropped to a crouch, clear of the blast radius. The grenade blew with a solid crack, sending vicious fragments of metal in a deadly swathe. On the tail of the explosion, Manning heard at least one agonized trailing scream as the grenade found a target.

  The vibration from the blast was still radiating out as Manning gained his feet and moved on, repositioning his line of travel to take him back to the group. He moved fast, ignoring the drag of heavy foliage. The grenade he had dropped on the enemy soldiers might only hold them there temporarily, so he had to make the best use of his time.

  Manning grasped his P90 to stop it from bouncing around and held it close to his body, ready to use if needed.

  It seemed he was moving for an eternity, but in reality he had covered only a short distance.

  He could hear raised Korean voices behind him now. It was as if the opposition was coming out of the woodwork in hungry packs.

  Autofire sounded. Slugs shredded the foliage. He felt one slug slice through his sleeve.

  That, Manning thought, was cutting it too close.

  “Take a dive,” a voice he recognized came through his comm set.

  Manning didn’t need a second warning. He threw himself forward and down, hitting the rain-sodden forest floor full-length. Despite the soft landing, Manning felt his breath burst from his lips on impact.

  Over his prone body, a concentrated rattle of autofire drowned the hiss of the rain. The burst felt as if it went on for a long time, but Manning realized it was over in seconds. There was some return fire from the Type 68s.

  Manning felt the slap of rain hitting his clothing as he raised his head. The firing had ceased. He pushed up off the ground and saw his team emerging from the undergrowth, weapons up and still ready if needed.

  “Hey, man, you look a sight,” James said.

  “More leaves on him than the rest of the forest,” Hawkins observed.

  Manning turned his face to the sky and let the falling rain sluice the mud from his face.

  “Took your time,” he said as McCarter appeared.

  “We had to be sure they were in range,” he observed.

  “In range? They were so close one of them was ready to go through my damn pockets.”

  “He gets an easy job, and all he does is complain,” McCarter said. “Just no pleasing some people.”

  “It might not be as easy to deal with the ones still inside the fence,” Pak said.

  “When their buddies don’t come back, they’re going to be harder to crack,” Hawkins said.

  “So let’s not give them too much time to think about it,” McCarter said. He spoke into his comm set. “Fredo, join us.”

  They waited, crouched in the shadows of the foliage until Encizo rejoined them.

  “Fredo. Landis,” McCarter said. “You circle around to the rear and put those choppers out of commission.”

  Manning slid his backpack free and opened it. He reached inside and withdrew a trio of prepared C-4 blocks with battery-powered detonators already attached. He handed them to Encizo and James.

  “Place them inside the engine compartments. Timers are set for two minutes. Activate and then get the hell clear.”

  Encizo and James took the explosives and slipped away through the trees.

  “You have enough for the main event?” McCarter asked.

  Manning nodded. “No problem,” he said.

  “You people always this busy when you go out?” Pak asked.

  “They don’t pay us to sit around drinking tea and cracking jokes,” Hawkins said.

  “Well, not the part about drinking tea,” McCarter said.

  He jerked a hand in the general direction of the watchtowers and the machine guns. “Our first priority,” he said.

  Manning closed his backpack and slid it over his shoulders again.

  “Allen, those machine guns are going to be a regular pain in the arse when we try to breach that fence,” McCarter said.

  Manning scanned the tall towers, assessing distance and angle. They were well within the range of the P90 he was carrying. He watched as the gunners swung the weapons back and forth, aware they could fully traverse across any approach.

  Hawkins’s whispered voice reached McCarter’s ears.

  “I’ll take one,” he said. “If I can’t hit one of those jokers from here, I’d turn in my sharpshooter’s badge.”

  “You saying you have a badge?”

  “No, boss, but if I did, I’d hand it in if I missed. Can’t say better than that.”

  “Cheeky sod,” McCarter muttered. “Okay, cowboy, you’re on.”

  “Left or right?” Manning asked.

  “Left,” Hawkins said.

  * * *

  THE ROUND OF autofire exchanged deep in the trees had alerted the watchtower guards. But the rattle of shots were not within their view, so the pair of machine gunners were helpless to help their comrades in the wooded area. They knew something was happening, yet it was hidden. The guards exchanged glances, frustrated. Until someone actually came within their range, they could only wait and listen.

  Their fellow foot soldiers had rushed through the gates and into the trees. Gunfire had erupted once more. Faded to silence. No one came back. All the two guards could do was watch until the enemy showed. Then they could employ their weapons.

  They never got their chance. Saw no sign of any enemy. Only heard the distant gunfire, and when the silence returned, the guards went back to passive observation.

  It stretched out...

  * * *

  ENCIZO AND JAMES ended any conversation as they made their way through the greenery surrounding the perimeter fence. The teeming rain helped to cut down on any sound they made as they traveled. That would also work against them. The deadening rain covered any sound the opposition made, as well. Neither Phoenix Force warrior liked the situation, but a
ll the technical gadgets in existence couldn’t control the weather. They stayed within the natural protection of the undergrowth, which helped hide them from sight.

  They reached the farthest point around the perimeter of the fence. The forest had been cleared for the construction of the helicopter pad, leaving an open area that would provide little or no cover for their final approach. The landing patch stood inside the perimeter fence.

  Crouching, the Phoenix Force pair scanned the way ahead. They had already counted the four-man team covering the choppers, on the alert since the earlier gunfire.

  On the far side of the helicopters was the fuel tank.

  Encizo watched the cautious movement of the helicopter squad. He glanced over the roof of the main structure to where the outlines of the pair of watchtowers showed.

  “We’re in position,” he said into his comm set and received McCarter’s brief response.

  * * *

  “LET’S DO THIS,” Manning said to Hawkins.

  They set the P90s to single shot, taking up positions just inside the timberline. The targets were obliging by not moving around inside their roofed boxes. If they had been alerted by the flurry of gunfire, they were content to wait until they had visible targets rather than spray the trees with random fire.

  Hawkins aligned his weapon on the chest of his chosen target, waiting patiently until he heard Manning’s whispered command to fire.

  Hawkins stroked the P90’s trigger, felt the soft kick against his shoulder. He fired a second shot close after the first. It struck the unsuspecting guard a half inch from Hawkins’s first. The guard fell back out of sight.

  Beside the younger man, Gary Manning had fired two quick shots. The second guard toppled back and leaned against the rear box surround, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

  * * *