by Terry Toler
“Hey fellas,” I said breaking the silence and the monotony of the ride. I could hear guns rattling as the guards stiffened.
“Can we stop and get a hamburger?” I said. “I’m hungry.”
No one said anything.
“Do you have a McDonalds? I could go for a big Mac and fries. Have you ever had McDonald’s French fries? I hear they put sugar on them. Have you ever heard that?”
“Dagchyeo,” the driver said. He had just told me to shut up in the rudest and most vulgar way possible in the Korean language.
“It’s my treat,” I said.
One of the guards turned around from his seat and hit me in the stomach with the butt of his gun.
“Hey!” I vehemently protested. “I just offered to buy you dinner and you hit me. That was totally unnecessary.”
I was actually glad he did. The banter woke me up from the monotonous drone of the van engine. My senses were alert again. Along with anger that raged inside from him hitting me. I needed that rage to repay the favor in a few minutes when we arrived at the police station, which I knew was coming up.
Sooner than I thought. The van slowed.
18
Two cars were following Bae now. As if she didn’t have enough troubles.
When she ran through a red light, a police cruiser saw her and was now on her tail, with his blue lights flashing and siren wailing. The Arabs had dropped back, still following, but far enough away that the policeman wouldn’t notice.
They ran the red light too! Why didn’t you stop them?
Bae’s indecision caused the situation to escalate further as she didn’t stop right away. Now, the cruiser was crowding her, trying to force her off the road. She thought about speeding away and leading them both on a chase, but if she couldn’t shake the one, how could she lose both of them?
As the cruiser got closer, she couldn’t resist the impulse. One flick of the wrist and Bae was able to put distance between them, obviously taking the policeman by surprise. Ahead was a park. Bae turned into it and got off the road, cutting through the middle, winding through the trees. The cruiser stayed on the main road that made a circle all the way around back to the main entrance. He was racing parallel to her and trying to reach the other side before she did.
The road took a turn which took the policeman out of her sight momentarily as she veered to the right, away from where he was driving. Her only thought was to get away. In the middle of the park, just ahead was an abandoned railroad bridge. If she could reach it before the policeman, she could ride in between the rails to the other side. He wouldn’t be able to follow her.
Before she could reach it, the Arabs appeared out of nowhere. They’d taken the circle going in the other direction. They must’ve sensed her plan because they blocked the entrance to the trestle. Bae let out a scream of frustration as she had to come to a complete stop, or she would’ve hit their car.
One of the Arabs flashed a gun.
Bae shrieked and turned the bike sharply to the right, sliding the back end almost parallel to the ground. She had to put her right foot down to steady the bike. Her knee almost buckled under the weight of the machine, and she cried out in pain.
Fear was burning a hole inside of her. What should she do? What would happen if they caught her?
I have to get out of here―now!
The policeman was back in view, coming up quickly from the other side. Bae was trapped and had no choice but to go back to the road. She gunned the engine, leaving a trail of rocks and dust behind as she sped back toward the entrance.
Which would be better? Should she take her chances with the Arabs who killed her parents and were likely going to kill her, or the police who would put her in a corrupt system that would take away her freedom and probably send her to a child labor camp? The choice was between being eaten by a tiger or a lion. Neither option was a good one. What she really wanted to do was find the nearest cliff and drive over it. The Arabs would never get their satchel, and she’d put an end to what seemed like a hopeless situation.
But there was still some fight left in her. But how long could she keep this up? She was already exhausted from the stress of the chase.
Bae reached the exit first. Once on the main road, she decided to slow the bike down and also her heart that was racing. Tears were streaming down her face. She lifted the flap on her helmet and made a feeble attempt to brush them away. Should she just give up?
What would her dad tell her do? If only she could talk to him one last time.
Before she could decide, the police cruiser suddenly sped up to where he was right on her tail. The flashing lights reflected off the mirror then the face mask of her helmet, startling her. She whipped her head around to look, but he was coming so fast, her eyes were barely able to focus, temporarily blinding her with the bright flashing lights. The siren was so loud it was deafening.
The last thing she saw before everything became a blur was his face. His eyes were widened like saucers, like a crazed maniac. His mouth was as wide as a full moon as it seemed like he was shouting wildly inside the car. Two hands gripped the steering wheel as he was rocking back and forth, clearly enjoying the interruption to his probably normal, mundane existence.
That made her decision for her. She had to get away from the madman and take her chances with the Arabs.
Without warning, the cruiser hit her from behind. Bae lost control. The back wheel was suddenly in front of the bike as she did a one-hundred and eighty-degree turn. Somehow, Bae managed to keep it upright. She was not going that fast.
When the motorcycle came to a complete stop, Bae hit the throttle. The back tire spun in the gravel. The bike kicked itself into neutral. The tire was completely flat from the collision.
Bae threw her hands into the air in exasperation. “You ruined my bike!” she yelled at the policeman.
The policeman was out of his car in a flash. His gun was drawn and in her face before she could react. He shouted instructions for her to get off the bike and onto the ground.
Bae turned the motorcycle off. Unable to hold it upright, it fell to the ground as she jumped away. The man told her to put her hands in the air. Ignoring the instructions, Bae unstrapped the helmet and took it off her head and shook her hair out. The police officer was screaming at the top of his lungs now, but she didn’t hear him. Something else had her undivided attention.
An even greater threat.
The Arabs drove by slowly, and stared at her. She glared back. Bae wanted to stick her tongue out at them but realized how childish that would look. At the moment, she had the upper hand. She had the satchel and was on her way to the police station where she would be out of their reach. If she had her way, they’d never get the bag.
The police station was the best option. There, she could talk her way out of this mess. Once they knew about the murder of her parents, they would understand why she ran. She’d explain everything. The satchel. Two men who murdered her parents. If they didn’t believe her, they could go to her house and see for themselves. Her family was privileged. Part of the family of the Divine Leader. Loyal. She had been invited to spy school. They would have to believe her.
For now, she would do whatever the officer said.
The Arab man flashed the gun again. Bae could see the indecision in his eyes as they flittered back and forth, and he raised the gun, then lowered it back down.
“Get on the ground,” the policeman shouted waving the gun in her face.
“Gladly,” Bae said as she flopped to the ground, face down, making herself less of a target.
The officer took the satchel off her back.
“Be careful with that,” Bae said. “It has my computer in it.”
He slapped her across the back of her head. The blow stunned her, almost knocking her unconscious. For a moment, she saw stars.
“Don’t trust the police,” her dad’s words sliced through the daze of the blow.
She immediately regretted revealing what was in
the satchel. Most things on a person when they were arrested were confiscated. The computer and the bike would be long gone once they got to the station. Better to not say anything about her parents or their house. The police might come and ransack it if they know no one was alive to protect it.
The man pulled her to her feet roughly and ordered Bae to put her hands together where he secured them with a zip tie. He moved the bike off the road completely, inspected it, letting out a creepy moan of approval. Apparently, he liked what he saw.
He searched her body. Apparently, he liked that as well, as he got a little too grabby. Bae pulled away. The man raised his hand to slap her again, but she cowered and turned her head.
He forced her into the back seat. The satchel was thrown roughly onto the seat in front. Thankfully, he got in the front, started the cruiser, and drove away. For a moment, Bae wondered if he was really going to take her back to the station.
The Arabs were parked just down the road and were looking their way.
The entire drive, she kept looking back at the Arabs. They were there. Stalking her like a lion stalking prey. Waiting for the right moment to pounce.
When the cruiser pulled into a parking space in front of the station, Bae let out a huge sigh, even though the Arabs pulled into another space across the street a block from them. She started to warn the policeman but decided against it. He might force a confrontation. Bae knew he was no match for the vicious trained killers in the other car.
Bae was numb. So many emotions had risen to the surface that she had shut down. She wanted to cry again but held back the tears, not wanting to give the officer the satisfaction that he’d hurt her.
He ordered her out of the car.
She hesitated. Would the Arabs use this opportunity to make their move? The two men could break the policeman apart like a matchstick. The Arabs could shoot both of them, grab the satchel, and be on the road before anyone knew what had happened.
When she didn’t get out immediately, the man grabbed her by the hair and pulled her out. She fell to the ground. He ordered her to stand. It wasn’t easy standing with her hands tied, but she managed to get to her feet. Once upright, he shoved her from behind, although it wasn’t necessary. Bae was already walking rapidly toward the door of the station.
As she did, a van pulled in.
Were they with the Arabs? A wave of panic flashed through her body. Bae was relieved to see the men inside were Korean. She had to wait for the policeman to open the door since she didn’t have use of her hands. When he did, she bolted through the entrance where she felt safe for the first time in over an hour.
19
So much for best laid plans.
The van pulled into a parking space at the police station, and I had already planned my moves in detail. The drive over had given me plenty of time to think about it.
There were five guards, so it was five against one. Not exactly, if I planned it right. Most likely only one, maybe two guards would open the back trunk to let me out. Why would it take all five? The men were more confident in their abilities than that.
That improved my odds considerably. Two against one.
Once out of the van, I’d take the opportunity to stretch my legs. That would be a normal thing to do. The other guards would probably follow my lead and do the same thing. My hands were still cuffed behind me, but that particular style of handcuffs was easy to break free from with the proper technique. Two seconds was all I needed.
Once my hands were free, one perfectly timed elbow to the side of guard number one’s head would incapacitate him in one motion. A carefully placed kick to the groin to guard number two would cause any man to double over and drop his weapon. I had to remember that the two guards were considerably shorter, and I’d have to adjust my angle to make sure the blows were delivered on target.
Both men’s guns would be on the ground. I’d grab whichever was closer. Once I had a gun secured, the other three guards would be easy to eliminate as threats. They’d be at the front of the van. I’d be at the back. The doors to the van might even be at just the right angle to block their views.
A few minutes from now, I’d be driving away in the same van that brought me there. Back to where it had come from. The cyber lab. It took two hours to get here. It would take less time to get back. Where Pok awaited. Unsuspecting. Not knowing that I was about to rain the full wrath and fury of my skills on him.
Everything was going as planned. Two guards were in the back opening the door to let me out. They had no idea what was about to happen to them.
The first thing I did when I got out of the van was scan my surroundings. Even before I stretched my legs. The precaution was as second nature to me as opening my eyes when I first woke up in the morning.
What I saw stopped me in my tracks. Across the street was a suspicious vehicle. Out of place in relation to its surroundings. Curly, my handler at the CIA, had taught me to trust my instincts. That I would see things subconsciously before all the facts registered in my conscious mind.
The car was backed into a space facing the wrong direction. No shops were open, and no other cars parked near it. It stuck out like a sore thumb as the saying goes. The biggest tell was that the men sitting in the car weren’t Korean. They were middle eastern. That might not be out of place in New York City, but in North Korea that was something you never saw.
Of course, they were probably as shocked to see me as I was them. As unusual as it was to see two Iranians in North Korea, it was even more unusual to see an American. I gave them a long stare, and they did the same to me. From the looks of them, they were trained fighters. Not spies per se, but they had the look of hardened Iranian National Guardsmen. The type we saw in Afghanistan, Syria, and Iraq.
My focus on the men was interrupted by a commotion next to the van. I only caught a glimpse of the back of her, but it looked like a policeman was leading a young girl into the station. By her size, she looked to be of similar age and build to the girl who stole the satchel in the security video. The policeman had a satchel in his hand, dangling low to the ground, giving me even more confirmation.
It didn’t take much to put the two together. The Iranians were after the girl and that satchel. If I was right, the Pakistan nuclear codes were in that bag.
I couldn’t believe my luck. If I could call it that. Now it wasn’t five against one. I had the five guards, the two Iranians, and at least two police to overcome in order to steal that satchel. Still, there was a real opportunity to keep the nuclear codes out of the hands of the bad guys.
Nine to one.
They were all armed. I wasn’t.
Yeah, I was really lucky.
Luck is when skill and preparation meet opportunity, Curly always said.
Besides, you’re always armed, Curly’s voice rang out in my head for at least the hundredth time in the last twenty-four hours.
That was true. Three guards with assault weapons stood less than four feet from me. All I had to do was commandeer one of those weapons, and I was armed. Outside in the open wasn’t the place to do it, so I scrapped my original plan, and let them take me inside.
I assumed that would escalate the situation for the Iranians. They would presume that I was there to steal the satchel. However, they wouldn’t storm the place with seven gunmen inside. They’d wait for the five-armed guards to leave. That made sense to me as well. The guards from the lab wouldn’t hang around long. I was a nuisance to them. They’d want to get back on the road and to the lab and to their homes as soon as possible.
Once they were gone, all I had to deal with were two policemen and the two Iranians. The two Koreans were likely poorly equipped and inadequately trained. CIA reports said that some local police didn’t even have ammunition for their weapons. I hoped that wasn’t the case because I needed one of their weapons to fight the Iranians.
Four to one. I liked those odds better.
Only two to one, if I could overpower the policemen inside and steal one of th
e vehicles and get away before the Iranians knew I was gone.
But . . .There was the girl. She was in grave danger. I couldn’t leave her behind. That really complicated things.
All of a sudden, I didn’t feel so lucky.
***
The inside of the police station was just like I envisioned it. The entrance opened into a small room with one desk and one chair. The obligatory pictures of the Yang family were on the wall, otherwise, they were completely bare. The lighting was poor, and the furnishings below adequate for even a third-world country.
A door led to a back room that was a makeshift prison or holding cell, roughly twelve by twelve. One long bench was fastened into the wall. The floor was concrete and what paint was on the walls was cracking and peeling. I could see mold growing in the corners and leak spots in the ceiling tile. Fortunately, it wasn’t raining or cold.
The girl was sitting on the bench with her hands secured in front of her by a zip tie. She huddled in the corner of the room, with her legs up on the bench and her head between her legs. Petrified. Her whole body was shaking.
One look at me only made it worse. She scooted even further down the bench, into the farthest corner, and curled up into a tighter ball, with her head turned away, not wanting to make eye contact.
The guards pushed me into the cell roughly and closed the door, which was nothing more than poorly designed, makeshift bars with a lock. When it shut, it sent a loud, clanging sound echoing through the room. The bars were in such disrepair, a good shaking might send them tumbling to the floor.
I sat down on the bench, but away from the girl, giving her some space. The guards were talking to the policemen in the other room, explaining who I was.
She looked up and turned her ear slightly toward them like she was intently listening to their conversation.
“He’s an American spy,” one of them said.
When the guard said it, the girl gave me a furtive glance like she was checking me out.