Special Forces Cadets 2

by Chris Ryan

  Max stopped listening. He was aware of a middle-aged Korean man standing by the arch, watching them intently. The government operates a huge system of informants, Jerry had said. Was this one of them? Or was Max being too suspicious? He’d only been in the country for a couple of hours. Already the place was getting to him.

  It was a relief to be back in the minibus, and to see that the suitcases were still there. Untouched. Hwan drove around the Arch of Triumph a couple of times, then headed south along another impressive street. Turning left, the minibus crossed a bridge over a much wider river. ‘Oknyu Bridge,’ Hwan announced.

  ‘This is the Taedong River,’ Jerry said. ‘That’s your hotel.’ He pointed out of the minibus at a tall building set on a little island in the middle of the river. There was a bridge between them and the hotel. The building only commanded Max’s attention for a couple of seconds. Instead he found himself examining the banks of the river.

  He saw it immediately. Halfway between the two bridges, a pier protruded into the river from the bank. Moored at the end of it was a barge, half a football pitch in length. There were armed guards stationed on the pier and a cordon around the bank. There were three other boats in the vicinity. They were unmarked, but Max was certain they were keeping surveillance on the barge.

  The other cadets were staring at it too. Lukas was looking from the hotel to the barge, as if estimating the distance. It was a good hundred and fifty metres, maybe more. A long way to swim.

  Max caught Jerry watching him. He immediately stared out of the opposite window. On the other side of the bridge, more boats were moored by the bank. They were small, old and ramshackle. He wasn’t sure, but he thought a couple might have outboard motors. But there was no way of accessing these boats, because the river bank was high. You could only get at them from the water.

  They cleared the bridge, turned right and approached an enormous obelisk. It was the second sight on Hwan’s itinerary and, as they stood underneath it, he recited his pre-learned description in the same monotone. ‘This is the Tower of the Juche Ideology. It is the tallest monument in North Korea and is constructed of 25,500 granite blocks. Each block represents a day in the life of the Supreme Leader Kim Il-sung on his seventieth birthday …’

  But Max wasn’t interested in the granite blocks. He was staring across the river at the barge, and thinking about the job they had to do that evening.

  The third monument on Hwan’s itinerary was back on the other side of Oknyu Bridge. ‘The Mansudae Grand Monument,’ Hwan explained as they stood in front of it. It comprised two enormous bronze statues. Two groups of schoolchildren were laying flowers at the statues’ feet.

  ‘Let me guess,’ Abby said, pointing at one of them. ‘The Supreme Leader Kim Il-sung.’ She put herself in a similar pose, mimicking one of the enormous statues.

  ‘Do not do that …’ Hwan hissed. ‘Please, do not do that.’

  He seemed so alarmed that Abby immediately relaxed out of the pose. ‘It is not allowed to mimic the Supreme Leader,’ Hwan said. All of a sudden he was sweating. ‘The punishment is … severe.’

  ‘Right,’ Abby said, chastened. ‘Sorry.’

  Hwan continued with his tour-guide monologue. ‘These are statues of the Supreme Leaders Kim Il-sung and Kim Jong-il. It is the most sacred monument in North Korea and …’

  He faltered. Somewhere behind Max, something had caught his attention. Max turned and saw two uniformed police officers approaching. Unsmiling and severe, they wore caps, white jackets and blue trousers. They walked up to Hwan and started to talk to him in Korean, pointing now and then at Abby. They sounded aggressive. Hwan wrung his hands. He inclined his head, bowed and spoke in a calm, humble voice. The cadets couldn’t understand him, of course, but it was clear he was digging Abby out of a whole world of trouble. It took at least a minute for the police officers to step back. They narrowed their eyes at Abby, gave Hwan a final curt instruction and moved away. Hwan turned to the cadets. ‘We must go,’ he said quietly. He was sweating badly and he kept glancing at the two policeman. He met no resistance from the cadets. They were ready to get out of there.

  ‘Thank you,’ Abby said as they made their way back to the minibus. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean …’

  ‘You didn’t know,’ Hwan said. ‘It is okay. But do not do it again. Please, for your own safety, do not bring attention to yourself.’

  The reprimand from the police officers seemed to have changed Hwan. Before, he had been friendly but a little distant. Now he was obviously scared. Max was warming to him. ‘Where do you live?’ he asked. ‘In Pyongyang?’

  Hwan shook his head. He glanced nervously over at the retreating police officers, then spoke quietly so he couldn’t be overheard by them. ‘Very few people are allowed to live in the city,’ he said. ‘We call it songbun. Only people whose ancestors were of a certain status are allowed to live in the city, have certain jobs, or even …’ He glanced over at the police again. ‘Or even have enough food to eat.’

  Max stared at him. ‘So where do you live?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘Outside Pyongyang, in a village. It is not much. I am the wrong songbun.’

  ‘Do your family live with you?’ Sami asked.

  ‘No. No family.’

  ‘What about your mum and dad?’ Abby asked.

  ‘Please,’ Hwan whispered, ‘do not keep asking questions. It is not a good idea. Sometimes you don’t want to know the answer. Just … just complete your tour and leave the country. That is the best thing for you to do.’ He lowered his voice even further. ‘It is what I would do if I could.’

  The cadets knew Hwan had said more than he should have.

  ‘Thank you for helping us back there,’ Max repeated. ‘We owe you.’

  Hwan nodded and they walked back to the minibus in silence. When they were inside, Jerry checked the time. ‘It’s gone three o’clock,’ he said. ‘You lot must be tired. I think we should get to the hotel.’

  Nobody had any argument. Hwan started the engine and headed back towards the river.

  7

  Superglue

  Yanggakdo International Hotel was one of the tallest buildings in North Korea. Hwan told them this as they walked up to the skyscraper at the eastern end of the small island in the river. He no longer sounded like a tour guide. Some of his stiffness had gone. But he looked nervously around, as if he was checking nobody was watching them.

  The cadets wheeled their suitcases into the reception area of the hotel. Max was glad to get inside. The weather had changed. A smog had descended over the city, and although it was still quite cool, it was unpleasant to be outside.

  They were in a large reception area with a stone floor and fake pot plants dotted around. There seemed to be too many hotel staff for the number of guests. Apart from the cadets, he could only see three other tourists but counted at least fifteen reception staff. How many were there to greet the guests, he wondered, and how many to spy on them? Certainly the cadets had attracted attention. At least four members of staff were watching them closely.

  Hwan, Jerry and Elsa approached the reception desk with the cadets’ passports. Check-in took a long time. Twenty minutes at least. There was a lot of paperwork. The cadets themselves stood apart. At first they were silent. After a couple of minutes, they seemed to realise their silence was unnatural and would draw attention to them, so they forced themselves into conversation.

  ‘I wonder what the food will be like,’ said Abby.

  ‘That’s all you ever think about,’ Lukas said.

  ‘No,’ Abby replied sweetly. ‘Sometimes I think about punching you in the face.’

  ‘It will be quite bland,’ said Lili. ‘Food is scarce in North Korea, sometimes even for visitors.’

  ‘We must eat as much as we can,’ Sami said. He was right. The cold river water would sap their energy. They needed all the fuel they could get, and they’d already skipped lunch. But somehow Max didn’t feel hungry.

  ‘I’m glad
Hwan managed to talk those two policemen round,’ Max said. ‘I wasn’t sure about him at first, but I think he’s a good guy.’

  ‘He didn’t want to talk about his family,’ said Lili. A concerned expression crossed her face. ‘Do you think they’re okay? Do you think they’re even alive?’

  ‘Who knows?’ Lukas said. ‘It doesn’t matter either way. Remember what Hector said. Trust nobody. That includes Hwan.’

  The cadets nodded grimly.

  When Hwan, Jerry and Elsa returned, they no longer had the passports but were carrying heavy old-fashioned keys. Two members of the hotel staff accompanied them. ‘We’re on different floors,’ Jerry said. ‘Hwan, Elsa and I are on the thirteenth.’ He handed out keys. ‘Hwan, you’re room 1313 – unlucky for some.’

  Hwan didn’t seem to understand Jerry’s comment.

  ‘I’m 1314, Elsa, 1315.’ He handed out keys to the cadets. ‘And you five are on the ninth, rooms 903 to 908.’

  Max glanced at the other cadets. None of them appeared surprised, but he wondered if they were thinking the same as he was. It was convenient that they were on a different floor to the adults. He wondered if the same people who had arranged for the suitcases to be waiting for them at the airport had influence in the hotel too. He guessed he’d never know.

  ‘We’re done for sightseeing today,’ Elsa said. ‘You shouldn’t leave the hotel by yourselves. The authorities don’t want you talking to civilians. There’s a revolving restaurant on the top floor. Let’s meet there for dinner at seven, and we’ll have a full day of it tomorrow. Sound good?’

  The cadets nodded and followed the two hotel staff to the lift on the far side of the reception area. ‘Often the lifts in Pyongyang do not work,’ Hwan said. But today was not one of those days. They crowded into the lift with their suitcases. Max examined the buttons. They had been warned that the fifth floor would not appear. Sure enough, the sixth-floor button was immediately above the fourth floor. The lift itself made a loud, mechanical creak as it rose to the ninth floor. It opened on to an empty, stale-smelling corridor with a threadbare red carpet and brown walls. The cadets exited the lift, confirmed they would meet Hwan, Jerry and Elsa at seven in the restaurant, and watched the lift shut.

  It felt to Max like they all exhaled with relief at the same time.

  ‘Is anyone else freaked out by this place?’ Abby said quietly. ‘I feel like I’m being watched everywhere I go.’

  ‘Try being black,’ Lukas muttered. ‘It’s like they’ve never seen someone with dark skin before …’

  Lili was looking suspiciously up and down the corridor.

  ‘What is it?’ Max asked.

  ‘We shouldn’t speak too freely,’ she said. ‘It’s probably safe in the corridors, but we can’t be sure there aren’t listening devices in our rooms.’

  ‘You think the hotel knows about us?’ Sami said, clearly anxious.

  ‘No. But surveillance is normal here. We must be careful what we say.’

  Their rooms were at the far end of the corridor, just past a water-cooler machine that didn’t work. Max’s was room 903. He unlocked it and stepped inside. The room was plain and tatty. A double bed, a desk, a chair and a wardrobe. A sink in one corner. No bathroom. Two pictures of the country’s smiling leaders on one wall. The ceiling was constructed of panels that looked like they could be removed. The curtains were closed. He switched on the light – it was dim and flickering – and locked the door from the inside. Then he lodged the chair under the handle. He hauled his heavy suitcase on to his bed and opened it, his hands shaking.

  He was expecting the contents, but the sight of them still made his heart beat a little faster. His rebreathing apparatus and a wetsuit were tightly packed in a black dive bag. It resembled a plain rucksack, but bulky. There was a second black bag containing one of two underwater welding units – Max knew that the second would be in Abby’s case – the chain cutters and a black semi-automatic pistol. The main GPS unit would be with Lukas, the satellite phone with Sami and the high-powered optics with Lili. Thinking about what would have happened if the official at the airport had found any of that stuff made him shudder. He quickly lifted the gear out of the suitcase and stashed it under the bed. There were also a few clothes, toiletries and a spare pair of trainers in the case. Tucked among the clothes there was a small tube of Superglue. He allowed himself a smile. He knew what that was for: the Watchers had taught him how to use Superglue in his first ever counter-surveillance lesson. He put it in his pocket then placed the clothes in the wardrobe before walking over to the window and opening the curtains.

  His room faced out on to the river and over Pyongyang. The smog that had increased throughout the day was thicker here. It cast a haze over the Tower of the Juche Ideology and the sea of concrete tower blocks. His gaze was drawn to the river and the pier emerging from its western bank. The prison barge was still there. He counted four patrol boats. They weren’t moving, and one was positioned directly between the hotel and the barge. If it was still there tonight, they would have to swim around it.

  Max was suddenly overcome with tiredness. He lay on his bed. In seconds, he was asleep.

  A knock woke him with a start. He sat up quickly, momentarily unsure of where he was. It was almost dark outside. From his bed he could see lights along the river. The person in the corridor tried the door handle. It jammed against the chair.

  ‘Who is it?’ Max called groggily.

  There was no answer. The handle noise stopped. Max hauled himself off his bed, removed the chair and opened up. Nobody. He stepped outside and looked along the corridor just in time to see a figure disappearing round the far corner. He had no idea who it was. Just a member of the hotel staff? Or was somebody trying to keep tabs on them?

  Sami appeared from the room next to him. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ Max said, his voice distracted. ‘Hey Sami, did someone just knock on your door?’

  Sami shook his head. ‘You?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Max narrowed his eyes. ‘Get the others,’ he said quietly. ‘Tell them to meet in my room.’

  ‘Is everything okay?’ Sami said.

  Max mouthed the answer silently. ‘We’re being watched,’ he said.

  He returned to his room and removed the rebreather apparatus, welding unit and gun from under his bed. He had decided that wasn’t a good enough hiding place. He jumped up on to the bed and lifted one of the ceiling panels, revealing an access hole to a cavity above.

  The door opened. Max jumped, but it was only the others, who filed in silently. They looked askance at Max, who lifted up his illicit gear, stashed it into the cavity above the bed and replaced the panel. He climbed down from the bed and collected up a few crumbs of plaster that had fallen from the ceiling, which he washed down the sink. Then he pulled the Superglue from his pocket and held it up for the others to see. Nobody said anything, but they nodded in understanding and silently left the room.

  Max plucked a hair from his head. He opened the tube of Superglue and applied a tiny amount at either end of the hair. He stood up on the bed again and stuck the hair at the edge of the panel. It was too fine to be visible unless you were searching for it. But if anybody opened the panel while he was having dinner, he’d see that the hair had been dislodged. What then? He guessed they would have no option but to abort the mission. He stepped out of the room and locked it behind him. Then he repeated the process with a second hair, sticking one end to the bottom of the door and the other to the frame. Now he would know if anybody had entered his room.

  Lukas appeared next. He nodded at Max and, using his own tube of Superglue, stuck a hair at the bottom of his door. Sami, Abby and Lili exited and did the same. None of them had spoken a word to each other.

  ‘Dinner?’ Abby said.

  ‘Dinner,’ the others replied in unison.

  They took the lift to the top-floor restaurant. It was circular, but revolved so slowly that you could barely notice it. It was almost fully
dark outside and they had a good view over Pyongyang. Max noticed that only certain sectors of the city were lit up. Could whole areas be disconnected from the power supply? But there was one light that grabbed his attention. It was a single moving floodlight on the southern bank of the river. It was scanning the water surrounding the prison barge. Max was reminded of prison camp spotlights in old war movies. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of what would happen if it illuminated one of them in the water later that night …

  Hwan was sitting with Jerry and Elsa. He had his head bowed over his food and was eating intently. Max remembered what Lili had said about food being scarce in North Korea. The cadets approached a serving area at one end of the restaurant. Max recognised nothing on the hotplates. An unsmiling young man handed him a plate of food. He and the other cadets took their plates to the table and sat with the others.

  Hwan had finished his food. Jerry and Elsa were picking over theirs unenthusiastically. Their North Korean guide couldn’t help staring at the others’ dinner. Max had the impression that he was still hungry. He tried a few mouthfuls. There were cold noodles, somewhat congealed, and a piece of something raw and rubbery. Octopus, maybe? It wasn’t to his taste and he found he wasn’t hungry anyway. It was probably nerves. He found himself thinking about what Hwan had said regarding songbun. ‘I don’t think I want this,’ he told Hwan. ‘You can have it, if you like.’

  Sami gave him a look that said: you need to eat. Max ignored it. Hwan seemed a little embarrassed, but he accepted the food with a silent bow and ate it slowly, as if savouring every mouthful.

  Jerry and Elsa gave them a run-down of the following day’s activities. It was a list of sights that Max barely even heard. His mind was too occupied by the prospect of the work they had to do that night. Tomorrow seemed an impossibly long time in the future. He couldn’t even imagine what it might bring.