Pulse Point

by Don Pendleton

  NEITHER MAN HEARD the suppressed shots offered by Manning and Hawkins. Able to see the towers over the roof of the main building, Encizo and James did spot the reaction as first one, then the second tower guard, was hit. Both men fell out of sight in the tower boxes.

  “Let’s do this,” Encizo said.

  He shouldered his own P90 and drew down on one of the closest guards patrolling in the vicinity of the helicopters. Beside him James did the same. They fired within seconds of each other, the suppressed shots hardly heard above the rain. Encizo saw his man jerk sideways as 5.7 mm slugs hammered into his chest. He fell without a struggle. Only feet away, the Korean James had fired on stepped back as the pair of 5.7 mm slugs dug in through the side of his skull and shut down his brain in an instant.

  The other two sentries, attracted by the falling bodies, rushed forward to determine what had happened. They ran into the next round of shots coming from the Phoenix Force pair. Caught unprepared, the Koreans were put down quickly.

  Encizo left his partner to stand watch as he pulled a fragmentation grenade from his pack. He pulled the pin from the M-69 and signaled for James to move away. Once James had cleared the fence, Encizo let the spoon go and dropped the grenade at the foot of the chain-link fence. He beat a hasty retreat and followed James down onto the ground. The grenade detonated, and James and Encizo felt the shock wave pass over them. As the sound faded, they scrambled to their feet and headed for the torn gap in the fence.

  They cut across to where the pair of helicopters stood. While Encizo handled the explosives Manning had provided, James yanked open the covers of the MD-500 engine housings. Encizo wedged the activated packs into the body of the power plants.

  “Let’s move,” he said to James.

  They were about to head for the generator housing for cover, when armed figures appeared from around the far side of the research building. The hammer of autofire reached them, and they sought immediate cover, ticking off the countdown of the explosive packs. They had chosen to move on the far side of the helicopters, using the aircraft as cover. Behind them the angry yells of the Koreans could still be heard.

  James spotted a slight depression in the ground and the two Phoenix warriors launched themselves in hurried dives for the promised cover. They hit the water-soaked earth seconds before the helicopters blew. Flame and smoke obscured the bulk of the machines as the powerful explosives ripped them apart. The ground underneath James and Encizo shuddered.

  Fragments of shredded metal were hurled in all directions and caught the milling Koreans too close and in the open. Razor-edged shards ripped into clothing and flesh, taking off limbs and turning living flesh into bloody chunks. The wash of heat from the blazing fuel added to the chaos and pain.

  As the sound of the blast began to fade, the Phoenix Force operatives were able to hear distant autofire, this time from somewhere on the far side of the building.

  “Let’s get out of here before they regroup,” James said.

  As they moved around the large tank that held the fuel for the site, James paused to pull the final explosive from his backpack. He clamped it under the base of the tank, setting the timer for forty minutes, then pressed the button. “Give them something else to think about after we’re gone,” he said.

  “Nice thought to leave them a parting gift,” Encizo said.

  The pair moved away to rejoin the rest of the team.

  It appeared the battle for the research site had been fully engaged, and there would be no retreat.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Unaware of the events about to unfold, Major Ri On Choi waited for the technician to make his report. The slim white-coated man, plainly nervous at being put on the spot by Choi, looked around with obvious unrest as he stood in the major’s office.

  “Well?” Choi snapped.

  “I...”

  “Do you think I might shoot you, if I receive the wrong answer?”

  The tech gave a halfhearted smile. “You might,” he ventured.

  “Is my reputation considered so bad?”

  “You are known not to favor fools, and any kind of failure you look on as betrayal.”

  For the first time in days, Choi actually smiled. He knew that every person within the facility feared him. His command of the establishment was without equal. Yet even Choi had not realized just how strong his reputation had grown. It pleased him. He turned his attention back to the tech.

  “Ki Yen, I admire a man who is not afraid to speak his mind. So tell me what you have found. I promise not to shoot you.”

  “Even if my answers are not what you are seeking?”

  Choi considered that. “Probably not. But don’t try my patience by giving me all negative ones.”

  Yen decided he had little choice now. “The signal the launch mechanism delivered from the ship would appear to have been infected with a code intended to render the NNEMP sequence unstable. It was meant to disable the missile and make it harmless. However, this did not happen. The missile overrode the instruction and continued to its target. It released the NNEMP blast, which in turn did create the desired effect. I have analyzed everything in the computer system, and this is the only conclusion I can see. The system was sabotaged.”

  “So Absalom’s calculations were correct? The electromagnetic pulse is workable?”

  “Yes. Within the constraints of the launch equipment, it was a successful trial, although the overall power of the pulse was weakened.”

  Choi raised a hand, finger extended. “Then why did the sabotage fail?”

  “My thoughts are that, although the code inserted into the launch computer was activated, the NNEMP pulse reversed the polarity and sent it back to source, that being the launch unit. The powerful electronic feedback created must have increased in strength as it returned to the unit and resulted in the sinking of the ship.” Yen added, “The NNEMP technology is powerful and is something we are still looking into.”

  “So my priority is finding out who did this. I have a whole unit of possible suspects, Yen. All of whom are capable of inserting the code into the program.” Choi managed a wry smile. “We know the good doctor is an amateur when it actually comes to using a computer, so unless he has been fooling us all this time, he would not have the skills to carry out this sabotage.”

  “That is true,” Yen said. “Absalom may be a genius with the theory, but he needs guidance to enter the calculations.”

  “There are going to be questions from Pyongyang,” Choi said. “Answers will be demanded, and if I fail to provide the correct answers...”

  “It puts you in a difficult position, Major Choi,” Yen said.

  “Tell me something, Yen. How do I find out who did this? Think about it. How would you go about sabotaging the equipment, writing in the code sequence to compromise the program?”

  Ki Yen became nervous again. It was the way Choi was looking at him, a glint of malice in his gaze. A sudden thought occurred to Yen.

  Did Major Choi suspect him?

  He almost blurted out that he was innocent of any wrongdoing. He forced himself to remain silent. Any sudden denial might draw unwanted attention. Yen had no hand in the crime. He only wished he could convince Choi of that. But how to do it without sounding guilty? Yen decided to stay silent. To gain Choi’s trust by working for him and not against him.

  Yen allowed the empty silence to drag on for a while. He turned to face the computer sitting on Choi’s desk, studying it intently as his mind worked at a furious pace. He knew Choi would be following his every move. He moved closer to the computer and ran his eyes over the equipment. He heard the hard sound of Choi’s boots treading the floor behind him as the major moved closer.

  “Major, may I show you what I am thinking?”

  Choi nodded. He followed Yen from his office and up the stairs that
led to the research lab. It was deserted at the moment because Choi had canceled all work, while he began his investigation.

  The faint glimmer of an idea had permeated Yen’s conscious thoughts. He considered the idea and allowed it to grow in his mind, as he scanned the room, his gaze moving from unit to unit. He finally stopped, as he stared at the metal door at the far end of the lab.

  It was of heavy construction, with a thick glass viewing window in the upper half. A secure unit that held the master computer, fed from every station within the research labs—in fact from all equipment within the building. Its digital memory banks held a record of every command and every piece of information put into each individual unit. It was a secure receptacle. In simple terms: a gigantic memory bank. There was no access to the storage except through Major Choi, who held the electronic access code.

  “Major,” Yen said, “I believe I may have a way of finding out who put the code into the system.”

  “Yes?”

  Yen pointed in the direction of the steel door and said, “We will find the identity of the traitor in there.”

  Choi moved so he could see Yen’s face. “Tell me.”

  “The master memory system records every keystroke, gives it a time and date number. If we go though the digital log, it should offer us the code that was entered into the NNEMP’s launch sequence.”

  “It can be done?”

  “Yes. But it could take time, Major. With all the keystrokes enabled every day, there must be hundreds, if not thousands, of lines of memory.”

  Choi nodded. He picked up one of the phones and tapped in a number. When it was answered, he spoke rapidly, ordering one of the guards to come to him. He crossed to the door and entered a code number into the pad on the wall. The steel door clicked, a light coming on inside the room.

  “There you are, Yen. Ask for whatever you need. I will supply it. Find me that entry. I don’t care how long it takes. Just identify that code. No one will interrupt you. I am posting a guard at the door. If anyone tries to get inside and disturb you, he will have orders to shoot them.”

  Yen nodded. He understood the enormity of the task ahead. He also knew he could complete it. This would be his chance to prove himself to Major Choi. His success could lead to bigger things, to a chance to be promoted to a better position.

  “Major, I need a starting point,” Yen said.

  “Explain.”

  “The date when the NNEMP trial was announced. I am making an assumption that, once the field trial was given the go-ahead, the saboteur would make the decision to insert the sequence code. If I have that date, I can work forward from there.”

  “Good thinking. The trial was announced six days before. That was when I instructed Absalom to inform his team. But only Absalom and I actually knew where the trial would take place. It was a simple safety precaution.”

  “Of course.”

  Yen was thinking the secrecy over the location was because Major Choi did not trust anyone on the team. The man believed traitors were waiting behind every door.

  On this occasion he had been correct and someone had attempted to disrupt the trial.

  The man was paranoid—but his paranoia had a basis in reality.

  Yen crossed to the door and pulled it open. The solid steel structure moved easily on balanced hinges. As Yen stepped inside the room, he became aware of the electronic hum of equipment. He also felt the light caress of fresh air coming from the ceiling. The room was temperature controlled.

  Until this moment only Major Choi himself had ever been inside the room. Entry was forbidden to everyone in the unit. Choi guarded this sanctum obsessively. Yen considered himself privileged to be allowed inside.

  There was a bank of monitor screens, with a working area and keyboard. A comfortable-looking high-backed chair was situated in front of the display.

  Yen sensed Major Choi behind him, so he quickly sat down, feeling the contoured seat grip him. He rolled it forward until he was comfortable, pulled the keyboard to him and began to tap in commands.

  “I will go back six days, then begin to scan the retained data,” Yen said. “I will create a search parameter to seek out what could be considered unusual entries. It should help to eliminate normal requests.”

  Choi turned as a uniformed, armed soldier appeared at the open door. He snapped out his instructions, and the Korean took up his position to one side of the door.

  “There is a phone on the desk. Press number one to reach me. I don’t care if it is in the middle of the night. You will report anything you find.”

  “Yes, Major.”

  “I will have refreshments sent to you. Is there anything you need right now?”

  “Just some bottled water, sir.”

  “Thirsty already, Yen?”

  Yen did not tell the major his thirst was more from fear than anything else. He had committed himself to giving Choi what he wanted. It would not sit well for Yen, if he failed to deliver.

  “A little, Major.”

  “I will have some brought to you.”

  Major Choi turned and walked out, leaving Yen alone, partly closing the steel door. A sense of relief washed over the tech. He had asked for water, because his throat had become very dry, and he knew it was due to the realization that he was, without a doubt, still under the watchful eye of Major Ri On Choi.

  * * *

  HIS SUPPLY OF bottled water was brought in a few minutes later. Yen broke the seal on one of the bottles and swallowed some of the chilled water. He set aside the bottle and began to work at the keyboard, tapping in the commands, as he created his search program. Depending on how smart the saboteur had been, Yen couldn’t guarantee his attempt to isolate the individual’s record trace would work.

  Not working would be unacceptable to Major Choi. As far as he was concerned, Yen had made a promise. Choi would expect that promise to be honored. In theory Yen’s idea should work. Somewhere within the multitude of computer lines was the one that would identify the saboteur.

  Yen simply had to find it.

  He noticed his hands were trembling as they hovered over the keyboard. He clenched and unclenched his fists a few times, willing himself to calm down. The trembling ceased, and Yen took a breath.

  You can do this, he told himself. They are just lines of code. All you need to do is unravel them.

  He completed his input and activated his program, then watched the monitor in front of him as columns of digits flashed by.

  The flow was interrupted every minute or so, as blocks of text were separated. He had asked that anything out of the ordinary be moved to a fresh cell to be displayed on one of the other monitors. As each block was checked and cleared, Yen felt his spirits sink. He realized the process could take hours, and all he could do was sit and wait.

  The first hour passed and still the backup files produced nothing abnormal. They appeared to comprise tedious day-to-day records of the research lab’s work. Nothing that should not have been there.

  Into the third hour Yen was starting to believe there was no trace to be found.

  Perhaps the saboteur had been smart enough to write the code sequence in such a way that it was able to fool the computer into believing it was an acceptable string and would be overlooked by his program.

  Staring fixedly at the monitors strained his eyes. His body became stiff from being immobile. Yen felt the screen images blur.

  He almost missed it when the second monitor suddenly flashed a section of numbers. The block sat on the screen, and Yen’s concentration on the main monitor prevented him from picking it up for a minute, until his eyes caught the text. He turned and stared at it for a while. His fingers reached down to the keyboard and quickly hit the save symbol.

  He studied the data and read through it, seeing the subtle way it had been written,
cleverly constructed to blend into the already programmed instructions for firing off the NNEMP projectile, yet artfully worked out so as to override the safety protocols and reverse the launch codes. Yen realized he would, after a careful analysis, be able to determine how the alphanumeric string had failed and countered itself.

  A clever plan that had backfired in more ways than one. In retrospect, Yen decided, it must have been planted too quickly and errors in the program had not been strong enough to fully maintain integrity. The NNEMP burst had proved Absalom’s work. It had inflicted damage to the American target but had been tampered with.

  The final result was that the delivery system had been sent to the bottom of the ocean. Even Yen realized the danger behind that. If the Americans got their hands on the launch equipment, they would be able to point the finger directly at North Korea. And also offer them valuable technical information.

  The saved data filled the screen. Yen read through it and then ran his diagnostic, bringing up the information that told him the computer station that had generated the sequence. Each member of the research team had his or her own station, accessed by individual names and a personal entry code. This was a safeguard to maintain overall control of the data input. It took no more than a few keystrokes to bring up the computer station and the person assigned to it.

  Yen spotted something else. The mass of collected data on the NNEMP system had been downloaded onto removable drives. Something that was not sanctioned. Someone had been stealing the research data.

  Yen tapped in the override code that would display the identity of the guilty person.

  The name that flashed on the screen, with the security photo image, was Li Kam.

  The last person Yen would have expected to see.

  But then the very nature of being an undercover operative was that of being the most unlikely one to commit any criminal activity.

  Yen sat back, groping for his bottled water. He took a long swallow. His mind was still having difficulty absorbing what he was seeing.

  In the end he had to accept the inevitable.