The Korean Gambit

by Charles DeMaris

“You think we should split up now?”

  “Yeah, get your ear bud in.”

  Each inserted a small device in his right ear and they walked apart.

  “You reading me?” Casey asked.

  “Loud and clear.”

  “Okay, keep your eyes open. When we see her disembark, we need to get to her quickly, but make sure nobody else is up to no good.”

  “Like the big white dude with the red ball cap? At your two o’clock, about fifty yards ahead.”

  Casey spotted the man with a red baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, trying to blend in, but spending too much time fixated on the berth where the ship was now approaching. He was touching his right hand to his ear every few seconds, looking left and right, and then looking back at the approaching ship.

  “Keep your eye on him. He’s talking to somebody. I’m going to try to find his friend.”

  It didn’t take Casey long to find another man with a ball cap pulled low and putting a finger to his ear. These guys weren’t exactly pros, Casey thought. They stuck out like sore thumbs. They reminded him of Secret Service agents you would see with the obvious communications devices in their ears, not trying to hide what they were, expect these guys thought they were hiding with their ball caps and rough dress. They probably thought they were dressed like the other sailors coming on and off the ships, but the ball caps were too new looking and the sailors all looked like they were going somewhere. Not these two.

  The man had no idea Casey was watching him. He looked back his way a couple times, but his attention was on the dock, where the ship was coming to a stop and would be secured shortly. The man started walking casually toward the ship and Casey followed him at a distance of roughly thirty yards. He looked across and the other man was also moving toward the ship, with Jefferson about twenty yards behind him.

  What was their play? Were they going to try to take her alive, or just kill her? Both men were moving purposefully toward the ship now, not bothering to check behind them. Poor situational awareness, Avi would say.

  “I’m on number two. I think these are our guys,” he said.

  “I’m still on this one. What’s the play?”

  “Stay on them. If they make a move, we take them down.”

  “Lot of people around.”

  “Weapons are a last resort. We need to get Rachel out of here, but if these guys cause trouble, we need to be prepared.”

  “They’re still talking. Guess you couldn’t take one out without the other knowing.”

  The ship was secure and people were already appearing on the deck, removing tarps and preparing the ship for the cranes that would remove the cargo containers and other smaller cargo that would be brought up from the hold. One of the sailors was pushing a dolly with a crate on it across the deck. Something about the sailor looked familiar. This one was wearing a broad brimmed hat and a pair of sunglasses and was walking with a slight limp.

  The sailor left the dolly, said something to two other men who were standing there, and then started walking toward the pier, still with the slight limp. That was no sailor. That was Rachel, trying to disguise herself, and leaving the ship right away. The man in front of Casey picked up his pace and started making right for her, reaching his right hand into his pocket as he walked.

  Casey was sure he was reaching for a weapon, and he was picking up his pace as he walked directly toward Rachel, who was now off the ship and scanning the crowd for a familiar face. Casey closed the gap until he was only about five yards behind the man, who was walking faster now and still had his right hand in his pocket. Sure of the man’s intentions, Casey moved through the crowd until he was right behind the man and in one movement had the muzzle of his pistol pressed against the man’s back.

  “I wouldn’t make another move if I were you,” he said in the man’s ear.

  The man stiffened, but stopped walking.

  “Turn around slowly and come with me, if you want to live.”

  The man started to turn around, but said something in Russian before he did.

  Jefferson saw his man moving faster and reaching into his pocket, and he likewise closed the gap until he was right behind him. When he heard what Casey was saying, the man in front of him moved his hand partially out of his pocket and Jefferson could see the knife as the man started running in Rachel’s direction. He started to pull his pistol, thought better of firing in a crowd, and broke into a sprint.

  The other man was almost on Rachel, but he never saw Jefferson coming. Rachel turned around to see a man with a knife lunging at her and then going down as Jefferson launched into him with a bone rattling tackle and drove him straight to the ground. The man was still clutching the knife and was trying to raise it up while Rachel walked over and put her foot down hard on his wrist.

  “I’d be letting go of that if I were you,” she said.

  The man let go of the knife and tried to move, but found Jefferson’s 280 pounds impossible to budge. Rachel pulled a pistol out and hit him on the back of the head, knocking him out. Jefferson stood up and stuck out his hand.

  “You must be Rachel,” he said

  “Yes, and you are?” Rachel asked as she took his hand.

  “Jefferson Braxton at your service, ma’am.”

  Casey was ready for the sudden movement of the man in front of him and he pivoted away from the knife slash he knew was coming, grabbing the man’s wrist as it went by and using his assailant’s momentum against him to take him down. He kept his grip on the man’s wrist and gave it another twist, causing him to drop the knife. He was on top of the man in an instant and had his pistol trained at his head.

  “I told you not to make another move.”

  The man looked up at Casey for a couple seconds before his eyes rolled back and he was out, having hit the back of his head on the pavement when he fell. While this was happening, he heard Jefferson and Rachel in his ear and breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Sounds like everything’s good on your end. I’ll see you in a sec,” he said.

  A moment later Casey caught up with Jefferson and Rachel.

  “Hey girl, what’s with the limp?”

  “One of Yuriy’s goons is a bad shot.”

  “What’s up with red cap?”

  “Taking a nap,” Jefferson said.

  “Same with the other guy. We need to get to the car. What do you say we head home?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Rachel said, “I’ve got something here Ahmed will want to have a look at.”

  By this time there were crowds gathering around the two unconscious men and the commotion was attracting more people. They found the going slow as they were having to push their way against the flow to get away from the dock and it took them twice as long as it should have to make it back to the vehicle. They got in the car, Jefferson in front and Rachel stretching across the back seat trying to keep her leg comfortable.

  “You got some kind of intel?” Casey asked.

  “Bunch of files on a thumb drive, but they’re encrypted. Not sure what’s on there really, but it’s from Yuriy’s server room. Might be worth a look.”

  “I have a passport for you in my bag. I’ll stop before we get to the airport and get it for you.”

  “How far to the airport?”

  “Little over an hour. It’s down in Stockholm.”

  “So…Jefferson,” Rachel said, “You’re the one who took out Casey’s knee?”

  “One and the same.”

  “Casey talk you into joining us?”

  “Other way around,” Casey said, “he practically begged to join.”

  “They blew up my hospital. We hadn’t left to get lunch, I’d be dead. And…the nurse…gotta get those bastards.”

  “We’ll get them. You mentioned a nurse?”

  “Kim. Think we had something. She didn’t survive.”

  “So, you got a score to settle?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Same here. He killed my parents and Casey’s
sister. We’ve all got a score to settle.”

  “I’m starting to think it’s more than that. We take this dude out, great, but it’s about making sure other innocent folk ain’t killed.”

  “That’s what the whole group is about. We…what the hell?” Casey said.

  “What’s up,” Jefferson said.

  “I think we’re being followed.”

  Rachel looked out the back windshield.

  “The two bikes back there?”

  “Yeah, they’ve been back there for a while, but they’re coming up fast. Let’s make sure.”

  Casey was approaching the ramp for the E18 highway to Stockholm and at the last ,second, he swerved back and stayed on the road he was on. The two motorcycles almost lost it, but managed to avoid getting on the highway and staying with them.

  “That confirms that,” he said, “we’ve got company.”

  Casey made two more turns and the two bikes stayed on their tail and even gained a bit. He turned on another fairly wide- open road heading north along the water and floored it, but the bikes kept gaining.

  “Told you we should have gotten something faster,” Jefferson said.

  “And try to fit you in a sports car?”

  “You guys got any ideas?” Rachel said.

  “All we have are pistols. You’re welcome to take a shot,” Casey said.

  “You got the ones from the office?”

  “Yeah…okay, never mind.”

  “That’s okay. I got one, but not much ammo.”

  The bikes were getting close now, within range, but they would still be tricky to hit with a pistol. Rachel put her arm out the window and squeezed off a couple rounds, to no avail. One of the bikers raised one hand and fired a burst on full auto, most of the rounds missing but one shattering the side mirror.

  “Crap. Hertz ain’t gonna like that,” Jefferson said, leaning out the passenger window and taking a shot at the pursuing bikes.

  “These guys get much closer, the security deposit’s the last thing we’ll have to worry about,” Casey said.

  “Then step on it.”

  “I am. Just keep shooting. Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

  “Take a lot more than luck to hit moving bikes at 20 yards,” Rachel said as she fired off a few more rounds out the window.

  Jefferson was putting another clip in his pistol when he heard another sound above their own car and the pursuing motorcycles. He looked back and couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

  “Boss, we in trouble. They got an airplane.”

  “They got what?” Casey asked.

  “There’s a damn plane coming up fast, right behind.”

  Casey took one look in the -rear- view mirror and saw what Jefferson was talking about.

  “Stop shooting.”

  The plane was low, barely above the road, and it came up fast, pulling up and shooting directly over the car before going ahead and coming around for another pass. The bikes were still following, but they had fallen back and were now over 100 yards behind. The plane, a very familiar looking amphibious cargo plane, came back over, very low, and made straight for the bikes, knocking one over with the landing gear and causing the other to attempt such a violent evasive maneuver that he wiped out. The plane turned around, made another pass over the car, and dipped a wing.

  “Did I just see that?” Jefferson said, “Tell me I just didn’t see that? Who the hell?”

  “Only one man I know can fly like that,” Rachel said, “but what’s he doing here?”

  “Ahmed must have told him,” Casey said, “but how’d he know where we were?”

  “You gonna answer that, boss?” Jefferson asked, referencing the ringing phone

  “Go ahead, Jeff…and I’m not your boss.”

  Jefferson answered the call, listened for a few seconds, and hung up.

  “He said to go east out of the next town and meet him at the water.”

  “Well, I guess we’re not heading back to the airport.”

  25

  Ken throttled up and took off as soon as he had word that everyone was strapped in. When they reached cruising altitude, Elijah came back from the cockpit with the requested medical kit and handed it to Hank, who was looking at Rachel’s wound.

  “When is the last time this was dressed?” he asked her.

  “Couple days maybe.”

  “You were lucky. The round should have done more damage.”

  “It hit a knife blade, deflected before it went in.”

  “Like I said, you were lucky. A little higher…”

  “Seems like a bit more than luck,” Casey said.

  “Luck, the Lord, and the sweetest dog you’ve ever seen,” Rachel said.

  “Dog?” Casey asked.

  “Yeah, Nikita had this big Newfoundland. Called him Druzhok. He swam and fetched me from the water. I wouldn’t have made it. Then Jelena tended my wound and that darn dog wouldn’t leave my side.”

  Rachel winced as Hank cleaned the wound and applied disinfectant.

  “Sorry about that, almost done. Why don’t you back up and start from the beginning? You were fetched from the water by a dog, some woman patched you up. I’m lost.”

  “I broke out of the house. There was a large open lawn, then a lake. I made a run for it, got almost to the water, and got hit. I tried to swim the lake and blacked out before I made it all the way across. Woke up in a small house on the other side of the lake with this huge dog in the bed with me and this old Russian couple sitting there. Nikita and Jelena Ivanov. I owe them everything.”

  “How’d you end up on the ship?”

  “Yuriy sent men to the house and we killed them, then had to flee. Nikita took me to some friend he had in the next town. That guy had another friend who got me on the ship.”

  “It was that simple?”

  “Not nearly. Yuriy sent another team to attack us on the way to the next town, and another when we got there. Then some guy tried to take me out in St. Petersburg and Leonid killed him.”

  “Leonid?”

  “He never told me his last name. He was an officer on the ship, but he’s no sailor. The way he took that dude out in St. Petersburg…he’s an operative…or used to be.”

  “Let me get this straight. You were fished out of the water by a couple who risked their lives to help you and then at least three other Russians helped smuggle you out of the country?”

  “Yuriy has enemies. Once I mentioned his name, they were more than willing to help. How’d you guys know where we were anyway?”

  “Ahmed called us the minute he got your message,” Elijah said, “Nyangumi was being serviced, so we couldn’t leave right away. We took off as soon as we could and arrived not long before your ship showed up. After that, it was a simple matter of calling Ahmed and having him show us how to track your rental car. When we saw you heading north, we knew something was up. The rest was Ken’s brilliant flying. Scared the crap out of me.”

  “We’re glad you showed up when you did,” Jefferson said, “I thought we were goners.”

  “Pardon me for being so rude,” Hank said, “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

  “Jefferson Braxton,” Jefferson said, sticking out his hand, “Casey’s friend.”

  “Welcome to the team,” Elijah said, taking his hand, “I’m Elijah Kimathi, Ken Omondi is flying the plane, and this is Hank Wilcox.”

  “You don’t sound like an American.”

  “Ken and I are from Kenya, and Hank here is from jolly old England.”

  “Uh…Hank…where’s Leon?” Rachel asked.

  Hank choked out his reply, “He…didn’t make it. Buggers got him at the safe house.”

  “Oh man…that sucks. You holding up okay?”

  “As well as could be expected. We still have work to do. He’d want us to get the bastards.”

  “Yeah, we’ll get them. Which way are we headed, if I may ask?”

  “About the same distance to Kenya or Ohio, so it looks like Ohio,
with a fuel stop in Cornwall. Might as well get comfortable.”

  Boris knocked softly on the study door, not looking forward to giving Yuriy the latest news he had just received.

  “Come on in Boris, give me the bad news,” Yuriy said.

  “How did you—“

  “If it was good news, you would have knocked louder. Have a seat. Grab a drink.”

  Boris skipped the drink and sat in the wing chair next to Yuriy.

  “You’re not having a drink?”

  “Maybe later.”

  “Well, go ahead and give it to me. How many men have I lost this time?”

  “You haven’t lost any, but she got away. She had help. The two men at the dock were knocked out and the other two were taken out by a plane.”

  “A plane?”

  “That’s what they said. The girl was in a car with two black men, Americans most likely, and they pursued the car. A plane came in low and knocked them off the road.”

  “That is one of the most preposterous things I have heard in a long time. What kind of plane was it?”

  “He said it looked like one of those big floating cargo planes.”

  “Let me guess. By the time they resumed their pursuit, the plane and the girl were gone.”

  “It would appear so. They found their car abandoned near the water a few miles ahead.”

  “I think it’s safe to say they’re headed for America, but where in America? Alert our American agents and get me a better description of the plane if you can.”

  Two days later

  Mok Konu had worked at the Tonghae launch facility for nearly 25 years, an impressive feat in a regime where one false step can cost you your job, or worse. He accomplished this feat by minding his own business and doing what he was told. That strategy had paid off and he now ran the facility. Most of what he oversaw were test launches. He and his team would monitor the performance of each missile through its entire flight, looking for any areas where improvements could be made.

  He tried not to think of the political ramifications of some of the tests. Leave the saber rattling to the Supreme Leader. He would obey orders and do his job to the best of his abilities, and by doing so he would keep his head. The upcoming launch would be no different than the many before, a medium range missile they had launched numerous times already, but for some reason the boss wanted another test. He had enough data from the previous launches and this particular missile had performed well. There were others that needed testing more, but this was probably a case of more saber rattling, no doubt calculated to antagonize an already volatile American President.