Pulse Point

by Don Pendleton

  “Any problems just yell,” James told Li.

  The young woman nodded and watched James join his teammates at the side of the boat.

  The staccato rattle of the opposing big .50 reached them. The shots fell short, splashing harmlessly in the water yards away. Even through the rain mist, they were able to see the weapon’s barrel rising as the North Koreans wound it up. The next burst of fire came even closer, water spouting up and dropping across the smaller boat’s bow.

  “Kayo,” McCarter yelled.

  The Korean didn’t bother to reply. Instead he spun the wheel and took the boat in beneath the rising arc of the enemy gun. It was a sharp, smart move. When the next salvo came from the North Korean gun, the shells cleared the wooden boat and splashed into the water on the far side.

  “Nice one,” James breathed.

  They were all aware they wouldn’t be able to keep up such tactics forever. The enemy vessel would eventually range in and start to unload its magazine of .50-caliber shells. If that happened, the less sturdy timber construction was not going to be able to withstand a heavy attack.

  Pak brought the boat around, coming in line with the North Korean vessel. The big .50 traversed until the wheelhouse prevented further action. Instead uniformed NK soldiers lined the rail and opened fire with SMGs, peppering the smaller boat with 7.62 mm slugs. Every window in the wheelhouse was shattered, showering Encizo and Li, who were on the deck. Pak ducked, holding the wheel with one hand as glass shards struck his back. He felt the sharp bite as one sliced his cheek.

  “We can all play that game,” McCarter said.

  With James and Manning at his side, the Phoenix Force commander opened up with his P90. The NK shooters had been concentrating their fire on the wheelhouse. They were still bringing their weapons around to challenge Phoenix Force when the Stony Man team hit them with shots, seeking human targets rather than wood and glass. Two of the Koreans, exposed, were hit hard, bloodied forms dropping to the deck. Calvin James took a steady aim and triggered a short burst that caught a third man high in the chest. He fell back against the wheelhouse, blood already spouting from a throat wound. He rebounded from the wheelhouse and toppled forward, against, then over, the side rail. The surging water enveloped him quickly, and he vanished.

  “Coming around,” Pak yelled, spinning the wheel so the smaller craft made a tight turn, the stern of the larger vessel being presented to them. He cut back on the power, giving Hawkins and his .50-caliber gun a clear target.

  * * *

  REALIZATION DAWNED TOO LATE.

  The smaller boat had swung in behind the patrol craft. It took it out of range because their machine gun was unable to make a full turn.

  “They cannot remain in that position long,” the captain said.

  “Long enough,” Choi said.

  He had seen the barrel of the smaller craft’s weapon lower, the muzzle locking on to the patrol boat’s stern. Choi realized exactly what was about to happen.

  “The propeller,” he shouted. “They are going to try and disable the propeller.”

  * * *

  HAWKINS WAS READY, the barrel of his big .50 arcing down and lining up on the water directly behind the target. Hawkins tripped the trigger and laid in his full-on volley, the large shells cleaving the water and kicking up silver spouts. Even as the boat drew away Hawkins traversed to keep up his line of fire. As the boat cleared the stern of the other vessel, Pak pushed hard on the wheel and brought it around in a tight full circle for a second run. Hawkins spun the big .50 to the opposite side, and as Pak made his approach behind the larger vessel again, Hawkins was ready and repeated his concentrated fire.

  The thunderous blast of the .50-caliber rocked the boat. Hawkins moved the muzzle to keep on target. The deck at his feet was littered with shell casings and the barrel of the heavy machine gun began to smoke.

  * * *

  “GET US CLEAR,” the captain screamed.

  His warning came too late. A fresh heavy burst from the opposing boat hammered into the churned water. There were harsh metallic sounds as the .50-caliber shells ripped into the blades of the prop, splitting apart the metal. Fragments erupted out of the water. The shaft continued to rotate, but the shattered blades no longer offered any forward motion and the patrol boat slowed and floundered.

  * * *

  “I THINK YOU got the son of a bitch,” James yelled.

  He had seen fragments of metal fly up out of the white foam at the rear of the other vessel. The North Korean patrol boat began to slow as the churning screw lost its thrust. It settled back into the water, as forward movement lessened, and wallowed helplessly. The strong surge of the ocean took over and the patrol boat started to drift away.

  Hawkins let go of the trigger and the big .50 fell silent.

  “If I hadn’t been watching that, I wouldn’t have believed it,” Manning said.

  He stepped up to the machine gun and helped Hawkins ditch the empty ammunition box and replace it with a fresh one. They wanted to be ready in case more firing action was called for.

  * * *

  MAJOR CHOI, AWARE of what had happened, slammed his fist against the bulkhead.

  “No,” he shouted. “This cannot happen. Get your crew on deck and use your weapons.”

  “They will be killed by that damn cannon,” the captain protested.

  “I order you to obey.”

  “On this boat I am in command, Major Choi. Not you.”

  Choi cast around the cabin, searching for something he had seen earlier. His gaze settled on the RPG-7, clamped on the cabin bulkhead. He reached for the launcher, snatched up a rocket and slid it into place, and took the weapon in his hands.

  “Then I will stop them myself,” he said. “These enemies of the state must not be allowed to go free.”

  The captain stepped aside when he recognized the unreasoning expression in Choi’s staring eyes. There was little he could do to stop the man holding a loaded rocket launcher in his trembling hands. Choi’s finger was already curled around the RPG-7’s trigger mechanism. The captain waved his men back, giving a shake of his head, as Choi pushed open the door and moved out along the deck, raising the launcher to one shoulder.

  * * *

  “HEY,” JAMES SAID.

  He had seen a figure emerge from the drifting patrol boat’s wheelhouse. Dressed in full uniform, the man was carrying a long tubelike object that was instantly recognizable.

  “RPG-7,” Manning said.

  He was referring to the old Russian handheld rocket launcher. A weapon that had been in existence for a long time, and while it might be old, the piece still packed a wallop.

  Li had pushed to her feet, curious to see what was happening. She stared out through the shattered window of the wheelhouse as the uniformed man moved along the length of the patrol boat, raising the launcher to one shoulder.

  “It’s Choi,” she called out. “Major Choi.”

  Kayo Pak followed her pointing finger, nodding as he recognized the man. “He doesn’t give up,” he said. “Refuses to stop.”

  “You reckon,” Hawkins said and swung the armed machine gun on line.

  His finger stroked the trigger and the machine gun hammered out its powerful sound again. Hawkins tracked the impact of the shells as they slammed into the wheelhouse, tearing ragged holes through the metal. Then his moving volley caught Major Choi before he was able to bring the rocket launcher fully on target. The large-caliber shells impacted him, shearing off his left leg at midthigh and moving up to shred Choi in a bloody burst. He was literally torn apart and dumped in a grisly heap on the deck plates, the side of the wheelhouse bloodily spattered with flesh, spilled entrails and fragmented bone. The RPG’s muzzle drooped to the deck and Choi’s finger tripped the trigger in a final spasm. The launcher belched flame and
smoke, the rocket impacting against the deck. It detonated with a roar, the full charge burning its way through the deck. The explosion blossomed below the deck, blowing out through the hull and the patrol boat began to list as water rushed in through the ruptured plates.

  “Now he’s stopped,” Hawkins said.

  He raised the barrel of the .50-caliber and raked the superstructure of the North Korean boat, hammering at the wheelhouse and anything he saw moving. The .50-caliber shells punched holes in the thinner steel of the wheelhouse, tearing flesh from the bodies of the captain and crewmen as they ripped through, literally blowing them apart. The relentless power of the .50-caliber was totally unforgiving. The further disabled patrol boat was drifting now, helpless without power and taking on water. Any of the surviving crew were staying out of sight.

  “Get us clear,” McCarter ordered Pak. “They’ve had enough.”

  The Korean turned the patrol craft and headed away from the coast.

  McCarter glanced at the transponder in his hand. The light was still pulsing as it sent out its signal to the submerged Navy sub.

  He moved across the deck, slapping a hand on Hawkins’s shoulder as he passed him.

  “Nice shooting, T.J.”

  “We aim to please, boss.”

  When McCarter reached the wheelhouse, he crossed to where Encizo lay. Li had located blankets in a locker and had covered the Cuban. A second blanket, rolled into a pillow, supported Encizo’s head.

  “Some people will do anything to stay out of the action,” the Briton said.

  “I decided taking down a helicopter entitled me to a break,” Encizo said, his words slurring as the meds James had given him took over.

  “Just this once, then,” McCarter said. “Don’t get too used to it.”

  * * *

  THREE-QUARTERS OF AN hour later the massive bulk of the U.S. Navy sub surfaced. It came up within a hundred yards of the tiny wooden patrol boat, heavy rain bouncing off its steel hull. Armed crew members emerged from the aft hatch, and McCarter identified himself. Ropes were handed down so that the boat could be hauled in close. It took no longer than ten minutes for Phoenix Force, Li Kam and Kayo Pak to make the transfer. Encizo was helped on board by Navy medics who dropped down onto the boat and was then taken to the sub’s infirmary, with James following to advise on his injuries.

  The sub captain gave the order to submerge and depart the area. When he decided they were well clear, he made his way to the galley where his passengers, changed into dry clothes supplied by the Navy, were having hot food and much needed coffee.

  McCarter offered his hand to the captain.

  “Best sight I’ve seen in days when you showed up,” the Brit said.

  “You get it done?”

  McCarter nodded, introducing Li and Kayo. “These are the stars of the show,” he said. “They made it all possible.”

  “If you hadn’t walked in to pull us out,” Li said, “things might have been different. Thank you.”

  “We liable to have any interference from the North Korean navy?” Hawkins asked.

  The captain smiled. “If we do, they’ll go home with a bloody nose.” He glanced at his watch. “In ten minutes we’ll be out of NK waters and diving deep. If they want to follow, I can assure you that they won’t like what they find.”

  “Captain,” Manning said, “that sounds like fighting talk.”

  “Damn right it is. Is there anything else you need?”

  “Secure communication with our base,” McCarter said.

  “No problem.”

  * * *

  “HOW ARE YOU guys doing?” Brognola asked over the Zero link.

  “Better than the residents of camp Choi,” McCarter said. “We blew the research facility, brought out Li Kam and Kayo Pak. Li brought a couple memory sticks with data on the NNEMP device.”

  “Anyone hurt?”

  “Few bumps and bruises, and Fredo caught some flak. He’s going to be laid up for a while, but he’ll survive intact.”

  “The insertion go as planned?”

  “The Navy did us proud,” McCarter said. “Brought us in and picked us up when we called.”

  “How about the North Koreans?”

  “Suitably pissed. We had a tricky getaway but managed to drop one of their choppers and a patrol boat on the way out.”

  “So nothing for Pyongyang to get too upset about, then?”

  McCarter laughed. “If they do, that’s up to the diplomats to sort out. Let’s face it. North Korea started this mess with the attack on Hawaii. Nothing about that is going to make the President happy.”

  “He’s already made that clear. Pyongyang starts getting uppity, he’ll have a few choice words for them. He’s still smarting over what happened on Hawaii. If North Korea makes a fuss, he might go hard on them. Act-of-war type thing and do they want to take it further.” Brognola paused. “So what can we do for you guys?”

  “Have a flight organized for us, Hal. Bring us home, and we can debrief later. We have Li Kam and Kayo Pak with us. They’re ready for a time-out. Li has information referencing the NNEMP device, so she’ll have a lot of talking to do. And she managed to download data onto memory sticks, clever girl, so the mad scientists will be busy, once they get their sweaty little hands on it.”

  “Your flight will be standing by once you get back to South Korea,” Barbara Price said over the comm link.

  “You been listening in to my conversations again?” McCarter said. “That’s a bad habit, young lady.”

  “So sue me, tough guy. If you don’t talk nice, I’ll make sure you get seated in the cargo section during your flight home.”

  “Bloody hell, love, it’s an Air Force plane. They only have cargo seating.”

  “Oops, so they do.”

  “Any update on Able?” McCarter asked.

  “Confusing,” Brognola said. “Turns out they had more than one party interested in that piece of North Korean hardware. But they’ve wound everything up and prevented the NK package from leaving Hawaii. So a nice result there.”

  “I guess our lab techs wouldn’t say no if that box of tricks turned up Stateside.”

  “Not wrong there. Now go and enjoy your ride. We’ll talk when you get back. I’m going to bring the President up to speed. I think he’ll be pleased by your results. Tell the rest of the team thanks.”

  TEN DAYS LATER, STONY MAN FARM

  “ENCIZO IS BEING given his medical discharge tomorrow,” Price said. “Pol is going to be out of action for a week or two more. His hip has responded well.”

  Brognola nodded. “With everything that happened, I guess we got off lightly. What about Carl?”

  McCarter, the only team member at the War Room table, said, “A bang on the Ironman’s head isn’t going to put him down for long. Hard as nails, that bloke.”

  “David, be a little more sensitive,” Price said.

  “I was being supportive,” the Brit said. “Carl would be the first to complain if he thought we were being soft on him.”

  Brognola opened the mission file on the table in front of him. He flicked through the first few pages, then closed the cover and sat back.

  “I don’t need to read through this damn thing again,” he grumbled. “I know it by heart.”

  “Okay,” McCarter said. “We’ve been back for ten days. World War III hasn’t started yet, so...?”

  “Kayo Pak returned to South Korea yesterday. He has a lot of work to do updating his own people on what occurred.”

  “Good bloke,” McCarter said.

  “The data Li Kam managed to download is being analyzed by our people. The information is giving us a lot to think about. Absalom’s NNEMP work was sound. Red faces all around because we were slow in recruiting him.”

  �
�Any sign of him since we left?” McCarter asked.

  “No,” Brognola admitted. “If the North Koreans still have him, they’re keeping very quiet about it. We have no proof one way or the other whether he’s alive or dead.”

  McCarter drummed his fingers on the surface of the conference table. “If we didn’t get him, it would be better if he was dead. Then at least North Korea won’t be able to pick him up and start over.”

  “We are being very cynical today,” Price said.

  “I won’t apologize for that. Absalom represented the worst side of his business. It was obvious he didn’t give a damn who he worked for, so as he’s not one of the good guys, we’re better with him out of the picture.”

  Brognola cleared his throat. “North Korea is staying silent over the whole affair. The fact they were caught employing their pulse weapon on American soil doesn’t give them much to make noise about. We have it. They know we have it, but both sides are pretending it doesn’t exist. They start making a fuss, and we could produce evidence of its existence and make them choke on it.”

  “Our Chinese friend, Xian Chi, is making deals faster than they can be written down. He’s been hidden away because his ex-employers are going to be very upset with him,” Price added. “From what we’ve been hearing, the guy is very smart. He doesn’t fully admit to aiding North Korea in its attempted pulse strike. Or to the Chinese government funding their research.”

  “I’ll bet my next month’s salary he doesn’t think going back home would be a wise move,” McCarter said.

  “Returning to Beijing or staying in the West,” Brognola said, “either way, he’s got to be looking over his shoulder. The Chinese have long memories. And they can be extremely patient.”

  “Xian Chi is going to have some sleepless nights,” Price said. “He’s about to pay the price.” She picked up a printed sheet. “The Chinese guy who ran the food distribution company in Honolulu—responsible for being the cover for hiring the vehicles used by Macklin’s merc crew and transport in general has been arrested by HPD. They have linked him to Chi. Guy is another sleeper. Been in Hawaii for over six years. Crazy thing is, the business he ran was pulling in a damn good profit. He should have read one of his own fortune cookies. Might have told him to quit while the going was good.”