Special Forces Cadets 2

by Chris Ryan

  ‘They’re not in a rush,’ Lukas murmured. He was just behind Max.

  ‘It’s like they’re making a point,’ he agreed.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Lukas said suddenly.

  At the front of the queue the passport control guy was holding the passport of a man in his forties and talking into a phone. Two more armed guards emerged from a room to the right of the cubicle. Wordlessly, they took the man’s arms and led him back through the door. There was a nervous murmur along the queue. The next person in line – a woman in her fifties – approached the passport control guy timidly.

  When Max’s turn finally arrived, he felt himself sweating. Two more people, a man and a woman, had been taken into the other room and had not reappeared. The unsmiling border guard took Max’s passport and examined every page in detail. He checked the photo against Max’s features several times. His face became more suspicious.

  He glanced at his telephone.

  Max held his breath. He tried to seem unconcerned but his heart was thumping.

  There was no word of welcome. The official simply stamped Max’s passport with obvious reluctance and allowed him through. Max had to force himself not to collapse in a relieved heap. He waited for the others. When they arrived, Jerry and Elsa were smiling and as relaxed as ever. Lukas, Sami, Abby and Lili looked as anxious as Max felt. None of them spoke.

  As they walked to the baggage reclaim hall, Max had the unpleasant sensation of being watched. He glanced across the hall and locked gazes with an airport official, who looked away immediately. By the carousel, a security guard seemed to be staring at him. He too turned away when Max caught his glare.

  The cadets had been waiting for ten minutes before the first suitcase – Lukas’s – appeared. The sight of it made Max shiver involuntarily. Lukas hauled his suitcase from the carousel. The remaining cases arrived within a minute of each other. Having collected them, the cadets congregated a little way from the carousel. Jerry and Elsa joined them. ‘What’s wrong with you lot?’ Jerry smiled. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost!’

  ‘They’re just a bit nervous, man,’ said Elsa. ‘Come on. This way. With a bit of luck they won’t want to check our cases. There’s a car park out the front where we’ll meet our chaperone.’

  Their luck did not hold. As they wheeled their cases away from the baggage reclaim area, an official called out to Max. Max didn’t understand what he said, but his meaning was clear. ‘Just do what he wants,’ Jerry told him. Max lifted his suitcase on to a table where the official stood. Jerry, Elsa and his fellow cadets had no option but to carry on into the arrivals area, leaving Max on his own.

  The official had small round glasses, perched halfway down his nose. He had watery eyes and a jowly face. He seemed suspicious and threatening. He said something in Korean. Max understood it to be an instruction to open up the suitcase. It was all he could do to stop his hands trembling as he unzipped it while the official stared at him over his glasses. Max hadn’t packed his case. He had no idea what was in it. Terrible possibilities crowded in his brain. What if someone had got it wrong? What if this suitcase was filled with diving gear, or even contained a weapon? He noticed a camera on the wall behind the official. He was in full view of it, and was certain he was being filmed. He tried not to let his worries show on his face as he opened it up.

  The suitcase was filled with clothes and a small wash bag. The clothes were un-ironed and poorly packed – like a young person had done it, not an adult. They didn’t smell too fresh. The official peered myopically into the case, rooting around among the clothes unenthusiastically for perhaps ten seconds. He uncovered a pair of aviator-style sunglasses with reflective lenses. Max feigned an expression that said: there they are! He took them from the suitcase and hung them from his shirt. This seemed to offend the guard somehow. Maybe it was because his own eyesight was clearly weak. But he had nothing concrete to complain about. He nodded at Max to indicate that he could close the suitcase and move off. He was already searching for another victim.

  The others were waiting for Max out in the arrivals hall. The airport still looked modern. There was a coffee shop, a news stand, a duty-free shop and a couple of restaurants. But somehow, it didn’t seem real. Max felt as if they were standing on a temporary film set. There was nobody in the duty-free shop. Nobody queueing for a coffee.

  ‘All set?’ Jerry asked.

  Max nodded.

  ‘Let’s go then.’

  The cadets followed their tour leaders towards the exit. The morning sun flooded in through the windows, making Max squint. Lili drew up alongside him. ‘When do we swap the suitcases?’ she whispered. There were beads of sweat on her forehead.

  But Max didn’t have an answer. Hector had told them that the British Embassy official would make contact. Well, if that was his plan, Max thought, he’d better do it quickly.

  ‘Oh, excuse me …’

  A man had walked almost directly into Max. He wore an open-necked shirt and an orange jumper. His chin and cheeks were red with shaving rash. Max, because he was on edge, felt a moment of irritation with the man, who dusted himself down and apologised again. ‘Very clumsy of me … wasn’t really paying attention …’ He smiled at Max. When he spoke again, he barely moved his mouth. ‘Get the bags on to a trolley,’ he said quietly. As he spoke, he looked meaningfully across the concourse. Max followed his line of sight. Immediately he saw a young North Korean man with black hair standing just to the right of the coffee shop. He had a luggage trolley. It carried five suitcases. They were identical to the cadets’.

  The bumbling man who had bumped into them wandered off. Max, thinking quickly, called ahead to Jerry and Elsa. ‘Er, guys?’

  ‘And ladies,’ Elsa said archly.

  ‘Right. Er, do you mind if we use the toilet before we go?’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘Didn’t really want to use the one on the plane.’

  ‘Don’t blame you, man,’ Jerry said, nodding his agreement.

  Max affected a nonchalant air. ‘So, you go and find our chaperone if you want. We’ll meet you outside.’

  Jerry and Elsa looked unsure.

  ‘It’s fine,’ Max assured them. ‘Gets us out of this place quicker.’ He waved one arm to indicate the airport.

  ‘Sure, man,’ Jerry said. ‘We’ll be out front.’ He and Elsa wandered towards the exit with their suitcases.

  Lukas exhaled heavily. ‘Those two,’ he said. ‘They’re so laid back they’re horizontal.’

  ‘It suits us,’ Max said. ‘Come with me.’ He had noticed a line of luggage trolleys away to their left. The others followed him towards it. Max took a trolley and loaded the five suitcases on to it. The guy with the new suitcases was heading across the concourse towards them. Distance, thirty metres. The others had seen him. Wordlessly, they stepped away from Max, because they were more noticeable as a crowd than as individuals. Max stayed still. Here, by the line of luggage trolleys, he was less exposed. This was the best place to make the swap.

  The man with the suitcases was twenty metres away when Max suddenly changed his plan. He had good reason. The official with the little round glasses who had checked his case was walking across the concourse towards them. He was coming from a different angle, but was the same distance away as the suitcase guy. The official’s face was hard and suspicious. Max felt a twist of fear in his gut. If this guy noticed the identical suitcases, he would surely want to investigate. And if he searched the right one, he’d find more than a pair of aviator shades.

  Aviator shades. They gave Max an idea.

  Instinct took over. He swung the trolley round and headed to the exit. In his peripheral vision he saw the suitcase guy look confused. What was Max doing? The guy altered his trajectory and headed towards the exit. Max could sense him over his right shoulder. Spread out, the other cadets followed to his left. Did they know what his plan was? Could they guess?

  The exit doors were made of glass. As Max approached he saw the guy with little round glasse
s behind him, perhaps fifteen metres away. The other cadets had positioned themselves in a group between Max and the official. Good. They knew what he had in mind.

  The suitcase guy was approaching an exit to Max’s right. Both doors slid open at the same time. As Max pushed the trolley outside, he put on the aviators. He was aware of the suitcase guy putting one hand over his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun. Max scanned the car parking area in front of the terminal. He could see Jerry and Elsa straight ahead. They were standing by a run-down white minibus with a thin North Korean man, perhaps in his early twenties. The minibus was open. Their tour guides were engrossed in conversation, paying no attention to Max.

  The suitcase guy drew up alongside Max, who quickly looked over his shoulder. The official had stepped outside. The sunlight had momentarily blinded him. He had removed his round glasses and covered his eyes with one hand.

  ‘Now,’ Max whispered.

  Instantly, he and the suitcase guy swapped places. The suitcase guy veered off to the left. Max upped his pace and headed straight for the minibus. He looked over his shoulder again. Lukas, Sami, Abby and Lili were in a group just in front of the official, who was putting his glasses on and blinking. The guy with the shaving rash appeared through the exit and spoke to the official. By now, Max was at the minibus. Jerry began to introduce him to the young Korean man, but Max interrupted. ‘Shall we get loaded up?’

  He started to haul one of the suitcases into the bus. It was very heavy. Jerry took another. ‘What you got in here?’ he said. ‘A body?’

  Max smiled nervously and continued loading up. By the time the other cadets arrived, there was only one suitcase left, which he stacked on top of the rest. The British guy was still talking to the official, but didn’t have his full attention. He was peering suspiciously towards the minibus.

  ‘Let’s go!’ Max said. He and the other cadets bundled into the back of the minibus. Jerry and Elsa climbed into the two front passenger seats while the young Korean man took the wheel. Max slid the door shut and the minibus moved off. Through the window he could see the official. He had shaken off the British guy and was squinting after the minibus, then looking in the direction of the suitcase guy. Max, whose heart was thumping fast, could tell the official knew something had happened right under his nose. He just didn’t know what.

  6

  Songbun

  Max removed his aviator shades and glanced at the other cadets. They were sitting in two lines down either side of the minibus, with the suitcases piled between them. From the expressions on their faces, and the way none of them looked at the suitcases, Max could guess that the others felt the same mixture of anxiety and relief as he did.

  ‘Guys!’ Jerry said from the front, looking over his shoulder to talk to them. ‘Meet Hwan. He’s going to be our guide while we’re here. There aren’t many people in NK who speak English. Hwan’s the exception.’

  The driver held up his right hand. The cadets could only see the back of his head, but Max caught sight of his face in the rear-view mirror. He was unnaturally thin, with a mop of floppy black hair and a narrow, aquiline nose. He smiled. It was a friendly, sad expression. ‘Welcome,’ he said, ‘to my country.’ His voice was hushed, but his English was obviously very good.

  ‘How you doing?’ Lukas said.

  Hwan’s face twitched. ‘American?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ Lukas said.

  Hwan kept his eyes on the road.

  ‘What you have to understand,’ Elsa said, ‘is that from the day they’re born, North Koreans are taught that America is the enemy. Hwan here seems pretty enlightened. But I wouldn’t go around announcing where you’re from to just anybody.’

  ‘Roger that,’ Lukas said. The military phrase made Elsa raise an eyebrow. ‘I mean, whatever …’ Lukas mumbled.

  They had left the airport complex. Max was relieved to be out of sight of the official with the little round glasses. They found themselves on a main road. The cars travelling in either direction were old and battered, and the road was pot-holed. Beyond the road was flat farmland. In the distance, he could see an ox pulling a plough. The animal was surrounded by a few workers. Max felt he had been dropped back in a different century. The land was dotted with abandoned buildings.

  As Lukas spoke, they approached a huge roadside placard. It showed a painting of a smiling Korean man with gleaming teeth and perfectly brushed hair, his head surrounded by a glowing halo. ‘Who’s that?’ Sami asked.

  Hwan answered. ‘That is the Supreme Leader, Kim Il-sung,’ he said. ‘We mourn him greatly.’ Hwan’s voice had a strange, monotone quality. He sounded like he was reciting words he knew by heart.

  ‘Kim Il-sung was the grandfather of the current Supreme Leader, Kim Jong-un,’ Jerry said. ‘You’ll see a lot of pictures of them both, as well as Kim Jong-un’s father Kim Jong-il.’ He glanced at Hwan. ‘Don’t, er … don’t take the mickey,’ he said quietly. ‘If you fail to be respectful it can get you into a whole heap of trouble.’

  Max saw Hwan clenching his jaw. It was almost as if he was nervous about hearing the cadets say something bad about the regime. But they kept silent and he seemed to relax again. Max looked out of the window. The surroundings were becoming more urban. There were concrete tower blocks in the distance, and cranes on the horizon. Closer by, there were little groups of men in orange jackets, sweeping the roadside with old-fashioned brooms. The traffic was not heavy, but there were many people on bicycles. And there were more posters – tens, hundreds of them – portraying the painted features of the supreme leaders. There were pictures of happy, smiling workers in the fields too, and colourful pictures of soldiers in military helmets thrusting assault rifles into the air. One of the largest posters was on top of a concrete tower. It showed a missile marked with an American flag being crushed from above by several enormous fists. Everywhere Max looked there was grey concrete and colourful propaganda posters.

  The further they drove into the city, the more people there were. ‘Have you noticed that nobody’s wearing jeans,’ Abby said.

  ‘Jeans are not allowed,’ Elsa said. ‘Western fashions are frowned upon. Piercings particularly.’

  Abby touched her cartilage piercings a little anxiously. She had removed the studs, but the holes were still visible. Max tried to pick out individual faces in the crowd. He had the impression that pedestrians were trying to avoid each other as they passed. ‘Why is nobody talking to each other?’ he asked.

  At first Jerry seemed reluctant to answer. But Hwan showed no emotion.

  ‘They live in fear,’ Jerry said in a low voice. He spoke fast to make it hard for Hwan to understand him. ‘This is a police state. The government operates a huge system of informants. It’s not safe to have risky conversations with anyone, even if they seem friendly. You never criticise the government, or the police, or the country. You can’t really trust anybody.’

  ‘Do they have, like, phones?’ Abby asked. ‘Internet? Snapchat?’

  ‘Snapchat, definitely not,’ Jerry said with a smile. ‘Smartphones are becoming a little more popular, but they can cost half a year’s salary so not everybody can have one. There’s an internet of sorts, but it’s very limited. The people can only access websites that the government permits.’

  ‘So I’m guessing we’re not going to kick back and watch some Netflix while we’re here,’ Abby said.

  ‘Right,’ Jerry said. ‘No Netflix.’

  ‘Do they have, like, bands … celebrities … What do teenagers do for fun round here?’

  ‘There are bands, but they’re strictly controlled by the regime and they mostly sing propaganda songs.’

  ‘Sounds great … not.’

  ‘You can’t even buy a radio without permission from the government,’ Jerry said, ‘and they’re specially modified to jam foreign radio broadcasts.’ He raised his voice again. ‘Hwan’s agreed to show us some of the sights before we go to your hotel,’ he said.

  The cadets glanced at ea
ch other, then at the suitcases. Max reckoned they were all thinking the same as him: that they wanted to get the cases stashed away.

  ‘We were hoping to freshen up,’ Abby said. ‘It’s been a long journey.’

  ‘Sights first,’ Hwan said. ‘Hotel later. That is the itinerary.’

  It was clear that there would be no argument.

  Pyongyang was not the city Max had expected it to be. Lili’s talk of prison camps and bodies left out for the rats had led him to believe that the city would be run-down, dirty and impoverished. It did not seem that way. There were skyscrapers everywhere. They were concrete, not glass, but still imposing. There were wide boulevards and green spaces. There were restaurants and department stores. There were colourful murals alongside the propaganda posters that appeared on almost every street.

  And yet, Max could tell Pyongyang was not quite the modern city it pretended to be. There were very few cars on the road. The department stores and restaurants were almost deserted. The open spaces seemed a little too well tended amid the concrete jungle of the tower blocks. There was not a single item of litter on the streets. No graffiti. The crowd of schoolchildren standing in front of a vast stone monument depicting three fists holding tools in the air? They were just a little bit too well-behaved. It was like a show town.

  The cadets watched in tense silence as the minibus drove into the centre of Pyongyang. Part of Max’s brain was instinctively navigating: the sun was rising to their left, which meant they were heading south. They crossed over a broad waterway.

  ‘The Pothong River,’ Hwan announced. These were the first words he had spoken since insisting on giving them a tour of the city.

  ‘It meets the Taedong River further to the south,’ Elsa added. ‘And your hotel is on a little island on the Taedong River.’

  But they didn’t head south. Hwan turned left up a long, broad avenue towards an enormous stone arch. Max had never been to Paris, but he had seen pictures of the Arc de Triomphe. This was similar, but larger. Hwan stopped the minibus nearby and urged the cadets to step outside and approach the arch. They did this reluctantly. None of them wanted to leave the suitcases. But to insist on staying in the vehicle would be suspicious. They followed him and listened as he recited a history of the arch, which he plainly knew by heart. ‘It was built where our Supreme Leader Kim Il-sung was met with great applause when he returned from victory over the Japanese …’