The Korean Intercept (24 page)

Galt grimaced. "Advise and organize. We may be in the field, sir, but that sounds like a desk job to me."

"I'm not crazy about the notion either, but for a different reason."

"And that would be?"

"Your personal stake in this, plain and simple. But I'd say you've heard that from others."

Galt nodded. "Including from the president."

"I should have known. So what the hell weight would my opinion carry, right?"

"Plenty, sir, in most cases," Galt assured him. "But this situation is real different, for the reason you just stated."

"It's different for a lot of reasons." Tuttle nodded. "And the bottom line, whether they like it or not, is that you are the best man for the job. So the hell with idle chitchat. Let's get to it before they get any more of us."

Galt hesitated. "Sir, you just got ahead of me. Who have they gotten?"

Tuttle's demeanor softened. "Sorry, Trev. I, uh, was saving the worst for last, from your personal point of view. It's your buddy, Barney Markee."

Galt felt his stomach muscles tighten. He thought, Oh no. Oh no!

"I've been tied up with personal matters since I saw Barney. What happened?"

Tuttle sighed. "He's dead. Car bomb. They caught him coming out of his club this morning after closing, on his way home. Happened about an hour ago. Your friend and his bodyguard were killed instantly."

"Did they get who did it?" Galt realized the question was an automatic response, and added, "Do we have any leads on who did it?"

"No names," said Tuttle. "Someone saw a white Toyota speeding away after the explosion."

"A Toyota with a dent in its right front fender?"

Tuttle's expression clouded. "That's right. How did you know?"

Galt felt a bitter taste in his mouth. "Because I just went through considerable effort to evade them before coming here. They took out Barney and then came after me. If they took Barney with his bodyguard, the boys in that Toyota are a hot ass hit team."

"Why did they hit your friend?"

A chill started at the base of his spine and spread to his stomach, which cramped like a ball of ice. "Because I'd asked Barney to do some checking for me on Connie Yota, the stripper from over here who ended up leading that NASA guy astray in Houston. There's some sort of
yakuza
connection, because the woman's last address before Houston was a strip club here in Tokyo that was owned by the
yakuza
. Barney was going to look into that for me."

"Looks like he got too close to the wrong people." Tuttle emitted the sigh of a man who had lost men under his command in combat. "I'm sorry it happened to your friend, Trev, but here's the spin for now. Since the Tokyo cops hopefully know nothing about us, they will write Barney's murder off as some sort of turf war in Little Texas, and that's good for us because it will keep them distracted and buy us the time we need. I'll see that we get a background package on the local
yakuza
organizations." Then Tuttle did something that utterly surprised Galt. The general extended an arm and placed a hand on Galt's shoulder. "I do feel bad about losing your friend."

"Sir, if I have to shake this corner of the world to its roots, I will find our space shuttle and the ones who brought it down, and when I do, I will kick some serious ass."

"Glad to hear it," said Tuttle. "Let's get started."

 

North Korea

 

A desk and a plaster bust of the North Korean president dominated Colonel Sung's small office. Since 1945, castings of the president, and heroes of the People's Army, had displaced the prior tradition of religious sculptures depicting Buddha. Sergeant Bol was ushered into the office by an orderly. He found his commanding officer staring at the telephone on his desk, as if contemplating a troubling conversation that had just transpired.

Bol saluted. "You sent for me, sir?"

Sung absently returned the salute. His uniform was heavily starched and pressed as ever, but there was about him an air of distraction. He did not take his eyes from the telephone. His eyes were filled with displeasure.

"Sergeant, in my years as an officer I have never been reprimanded as severely as just before you walked in."

Bol was taken slightly aback, wholly unaccustomed to anything resembling personal dialogue with his commander.

"The shuttle?"

Sung raised his eyes, regaining his standard arrogant aloofness. "But of course. What else would so concern the Central Committee in Pyongyang at a time like this? They are displeased because we have failed to locate either the shuttle or Chai Bin and his cutthroats."

"Sir, patrols are continuing the search."

"But without success." Sung rapped his desktop with a clenched fist, a most unusual show of emotion from him. "At least the Chinese have not found it. I spoke with General Iota and he informs me that Chai Bin has approached the Americans. We have no details on how he accomplished this, but I would suppose that this was done through a CIA contact among the local population. It seems apparent that Chai has located the shuttle."

"It could be a trick," said Bol. "Chai is ruthless and not to be trusted in anything. It could be a bluff to extort money from the Americans."

Sung nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps, but I don't think so. Sergeant, I have been ordered to locate and secure that space shuttle without delay. Should we fail, I can assure you that the consequences will be most grave for everyone involved, including this command." He leaned both elbows upon his desk, pyramiding his fingers to pensively stroke his chin with his fingertips. "The Americans, the Chinese and North Koreans, sworn enemies, are converging militarily on a technological treasure that is somewhere near here, within a radius of mere kilometers, within our grasp—and I do mean you and I, Sergeant. We must initiate extreme measures without delay."

"I'm afraid I don't understand, sir."

"I remain unconvinced that those villagers we interrogated were telling the truth about not knowing anything about the shuttle. At least one of them knows."

"The old man," said Bol. "Ahn Chong. He said he was at his wife's grave at the time the shuttle went down, that he saw or heard nothing."

"He is lying," said Sung. "I want him put under surveillance. Have the village watched from a distance. It is vital that the old man not know that he is being watched. Have him followed. Whenever he leaves his village, I want his movements reported to me on the half-hour. Who knows what else he could tell us? I intend to find out. Now do you understand, Sergeant?"

"Yes, Colonel."

"Then see to it. There is no time to lose."

 

The convoy of troop transports crawled along barely maintained, at times nonexistent, roads, forging ahead through mountainous, feral wilderness.

As military commander of Shenyang Province, this was Kwan's first visit to the frontier separating his country from North Korea. He rode in the cab of the truck, behind the point vehicle where General Li rode in the cab. It had been hours since the last sighting of a civilian. The "road" was presently no more than a game trail. The weight of the soldiers riding in the rear of each vehicle helped stabilize the trucks during the rough ride, but Kwan ached from the heavy jouncing of the BTR-40. Its mighty engine labored like a determined ox, struggling along a particularly steep mountainside. Kwan was studying a map, trying to correlate landmarks amid the looming mountain peaks and valleys they traveled through, so as to determine if they were in China or had in fact entered North Korea.

His driver tromped the brakes, jolting Kwan, who almost hit his head against the windshield.

Kwan looked up with a curse and started to reprimand the driver, when he saw that his driver had stopped so sharply to avoid colliding with the general's vehicle. Then Kwan saw what General Li had seen. Smoke was curling skyward, visible over the treetops from less than half a kilometer ahead. The general's stocky, compact form leaped sprightly to the ground from the cab of his truck, and Kwan quickly joined him.

"What do you think it is, sir?"

"Trouble, Major."

"I hear no gunfire."

"We will investigate. Send in one squad. I want that area secured, no matter what they find."

Kwan saluted smartly and stalked off to find a squad leader, who he ordered to move out promptly. The remaining soldiers would remain aboard the transports. He then returned to the head of the column, and found that Li had summoned their radioman.

The general was speaking into the telephone-like receiver, which he returned to the radioman. He turned to face Kwan.

"Beijing has informed me that the Americans have been contacted with an offer to return their shuttle and crew."

Kwan wasn't sure what to say for a moment. He was stunned, but did not wish to appear stupid. He managed to say, "I had thought Pyongyang would never consider negotiating with the Americans. They are sworn enemies."

"Indeed. But it was not the North Korean government that made the offer. I have been advised, Major, of what I already knew. Beijing deems it imperative that we not fail. Had the North Korean government made such an offer, that would of course be between the two governments and there would be nothing for us but to return to Shenyang. But you see, Major, the offer was routed through a CIA contact in this region, and was made not by the North Koreans, but from an enterprising and, it would seem, a most audacious North Korean private citizen. A criminal, in fact. A bandit." Li snorted. "He is much feared in this region, we are told. He calls himself a warlord."

"That can only be Chai Bin," said Kwan. "He is a marauder who operates in North Korea and China in these mountains. He is said to have a private army. He is elusive and, frankly, sir, my orders were to place him as a low priority. He terrorizes the peasants, but has stayed away from military or important government agricultural concerns."

"Your orders are now changed," Li said sharply. He nodded to indicate the convoy of idling troop transports, and the end truck that was loaded with mortars, shoulder-held rocket launchers and crates of ordnance. "I can call in air cover, remember. I defy any mountain hoodlum's ragtag private army to withstand the firepower I can bring to bear."

"With respect, sir," said Kwan, "would that not depend on the size of their force and their position?"

"Let me put it to you this way," said Li. "This brigand, this Chai Bin, has the shuttle. Therefore, we will annihilate him and claim the shuttle before the Americans or the North Koreans can reach it, even if we have to engage them as well."

Kwan frowned. "Military engagement of the Americans and North Koreans? Would that not then plunge our countries into war?"

Li's expression was impassive. "I am a soldier obeying orders, Major, as are you. Here is the situation, frankly. If we fail in this endeavor and return to Beijing empty-handed, it will be the firing squad for both of us."

Kwan flinched as brief bursts of automatic rifle fire hammered in the near distance, as if to underscore Li's pronouncement.

Then the communication man's radio began crackling. It was the squad leader reporting that the area ahead had been secured. Bandits were caught in the process of raiding a family farm. The squad leader reported two of the bandits killed outright and the others taken prisoner. The bandits had slaughtered the adult males, then herded the women and children into a group while they ransacked and set fire to the farm.

The convoy lumbered on.

The small farm, what had been the family compound, a collection of huts and a barn, was a smoldering ruin. Women knelt, wailing over their dead. The crisp mountain air was heavy with the stench of the charred ruins and death. Children and some of the females wandered about in a state of shock, vacant-eyed.

Kwan's squad leader was interrogating the surviving bandits, who had been ordered to sit, their wrists tied behind their backs: foul smelling, raggedly attired ruffians cowering in a loose circle, their eyes wide with fright. The soldiers of the squad stood with their rifles aimed at the prisoners, making threatening comments and gestures. Li stalked in that direction, and Kwan hurried to keep apace. As they approached, one soldier struck the back of a bandit's head with his rifle butt. The prisoner lurched sideways. A kick from the squad leader's boot forced him to remain sitting. One of the prisoners was already dead.

Kwan lengthened his stride, gaining one step ahead of the general. As a ranking member of the Central Politburo, General Li was a man worth impressing. Kwan intended to do that. Inwardly, he steeled himself for what he must do.

The squad leader had the stocky build of a peasant. He saluted General Li. "Sir."

Li returned the salute. "What have you learned here?"

"Nothing yet, sir. They say they're Korean army deserters, living off the land."

Kwan unholstered his pistol. He placed its muzzle to the temple of the closest prisoner, and pulled the trigger. The gunshot cracked sharply. An exit wound blew brains and skull fragments across the other two prisoners, and across the boots of the squad leader and the general. Before anyone could speak, Kwan stepped to the next bandit. He placed the muzzle of his pistol against this man's forehead.

"Chai Bin," he said. "Take us to his stronghold."

The man's eyes and mouth quivered. "But then Chai Bin would kill me! I dare not speak!"

Kwan triggered another round. Blood and brains spurted like red mud from the back of this man's skull, and before his corpse had fallen onto its side, Kwan aimed his pistol to the remaining man's forehead.

"Do you dare speak? Take us to Chai Bin."

This man stared up along the gun barrel, into Kwan's eyes, as if looking into the eyes of a god. "Spare me! I will take you." The words poured out. "I will show you the way. It is a day's journey."

Kwan holstered his pistol and turned to the general deferentially.

Li said, "It will be a night's journey, if needs be. You've convinced me, Major Kwan. The convoy pushes on. We will attack this Chai's stronghold and that will take us to the shuttle." He patted Kwan's shoulder in a reserved manner, an almost unheard of gesture, considering the strict protocol of the Chinese military; surely a sign of how appreciative the general was, thought Kwan. He had most likely saved both of their lives from a firing squad. "Well done, Major. Yes, most impressive. When this is over, you will be a colonel, I assure you of that."