A series of loud metallic clangs followed by a harsh scraping sound told them that the lock was being lifted. Next would come the grating noise of the door being dragged open—
“We’re dead,” David said with conviction.
“Shh,” Irene hissed.
There it was: the grating noise. Bianca’s breath caught. Her pulse raced. The door began to move—
“Do not let any part of your body touch the water,” Bianca warned as the door, aided by water pressure, burst open.
A man cursed in Korean, and she got a glimpse, just a glimpse, of the two guards holding on to the edge of the door as an explosion of water rolled past their legs.
She turned off the faucet, cutting off the flow. Then she dropped the light bulb, still glowing and attached to the long brown wire that plugged it into the socket in the ceiling, into the water below.
29
They died silently. Not a scream, not a shout. The two guards she could see were instantly stricken, unable to let go of the door as the current passed through their bodies. Eyes wide and mouths agape, they shivered and shook, then fell back into the water with a splash. Multiple splashes from farther along the corridor seemed to announce that the wave of electrified water had done its job, although Bianca’s view of what was happening was limited by her position on the pipe.
Gripping her switchblade now in case it came down to hand-to-hand combat, she waited in tense silence for any surviving guards to start shouting, shooting, doing whatever they needed to do to summon reinforcements.
Nothing.
“Fucking awesome,” David whispered after a moment.
Bianca rolled an eye in his direction.
“That was some sick shit,” Tim concurred.
Okay, they were kids.
“Are they dead?” Irene stared fearfully down the corridor. “Really?”
“I would guess so,” Lee said in Korean. “Or they would be making noise.”
“Don’t anybody move until I give the okay.” Tucking her switchblade into her waistband for easy access, she looped the short rubber hose that had been attached to the tank around the wire and pulled the plug from the socket: current broken, electricity off. In theory. She dropped the cord, stared down at the water. There was no way to carefully test to make sure the water was safe that she could think of, and anyway, time was once again of the essence.
What she didn’t want was to have the guards who remained with Yang coming downstairs to see what was taking so long.
Making sure her pants were still rolled up—the last thing she needed was to be slowed down by the sodden, dragging hems of Lynette’s baggy pants—she dropped down into the cold water, which lapped hungrily around her ankles.
She didn’t die.
Letting out the breath she’d been holding, she turned to look at the group on the pipes.
“Okay, we need to move out. I’m going first to make sure the way is clear. Give me a minute and then follow. For us to get out of the building without raising an alarm, we all need to be dressed as guards. Each of you strip off a guard’s uniform and put it on. Hat, weapons and all. And get a uniform for me. And boots. Be as quick and quiet as you can, and then come upstairs. Understand?”
They nodded. From the way they were looking at her, she now had their absolute respect.
Heading into the hall, Bianca stopped briefly in the doorway to survey what lay before her.
The good, the bad and the parboiled.
The guards—twenty-two of them, she did a quick head count just to make sure—lay where they had fallen, some facedown, some on their backs or sides in about eight inches of water. Their bodies overlapped in many places.
First order of business: make sure they were all dead.
Picking her way among the bodies, she armed herself with a pair of their service weapons, which were Ruger P semiautomatic pistols, checked to make sure they were loaded and functional, and added a pair of handcuffs. Then, satisfied that the guards were, indeed, all dead, she started up the stairs.
Behind her, her fellow escapees were already starting to yank uniforms off corpses. There was no time for her to do the same. Every minute the guards didn’t return with her as their prisoner multiplied the danger.
At the top of the stairs she knocked on the closed door as the guards had done earlier, then opened it, stepped inside—and, with a pistol in each hand, shot the two surprised guards point-blank.
Then she whirled to target Yang.
He’d been leaning over the large computer monitor when she’d entered, apparently engrossed in the documents on the screen. At the sound of gunfire he spun around, but he was just that crucial few seconds too slow. She had the drop on him before he so much as touched his gun.
“Did you send for me, General?” She spoke in English. The time to reveal that she was conversant in Korean was not yet. The noise of the shots being fired concerned her for fear they could draw anyone else who might be in the building to the room, but not a great deal. After all, he’d shot Park and no one had come. “Here I am.”
She gestured at him to get his hands up, which he did. The shock in his eyes as he looked first at her and then at the dead guards behind her brought a grim smile to her face.
“You—you—what is this? Where are my guards?” he asked her in English.
He meant the ones he’d sent for her, she knew. She didn’t bother to answer. Instead she said, “Take your gun out, put it on the floor and kick it over to me. And I’d be very careful, if I were you. Killing you would be the most fun I’ve had all day.”
Blinking rapidly, he did as he was told. Tucking the second Ruger in her waistband, she scooped his gun up without ever taking her eyes off him.
“Who are you?” He stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “What do you want from me?”
“Turn around, put your hands on the counter and spread your legs.”
He complied, and she walked up behind him.
“You are an agent! Were you working with Park?” His head turned sharply to his right. She thought he stared at something although she couldn’t tell exactly what, and then he grabbed the ChapStick that still stuck out of the side of the computer canister like a wart on a frog and in pulling it out answered that question for her. “What have I done?”
Forget frisking him. She chopped him in the G-spot. Not too hard, because she was going to need him to be able to walk in a short period of time. But hard enough to drop him to the floor, where he lay unmoving. She retrieved the ChapStick from where it had fallen as he collapsed, and looked at it thoughtfully. He’d risked his life to pull it out. He wouldn’t have done that if he hadn’t feared its purpose, which was, as he’d probably suspected, to infect the system with malware. If she plugged it back in, it might continue infecting the system with malware. On the other hand, if it hadn’t done its thing by now, it probably wasn’t going to happen, and leaving it behind was a giant red flag that begged for further scrutiny from whoever’s job it was going to be to make sense of what had happened in this building. From Yang’s reaction, she felt confident that he was afraid the ChapStick had done something which horrified him. That made her think that it was, indeed, connected with the central system, which was good enough for her. In the end, it was a judgment call, and she made it. She tucked the ChapStick away into a tiny secure pocket in her garter belt. It was going with her.
Then she frisked him. And cuffed him. And closed the laptop on the desk and put it into the black leather messenger bag that was stored beneath it. She suspected that it was Yang’s personal laptop and bag, but it really didn’t matter. Colin had said that any device that had been connected to the central computer system once the malware was installed would be able to connect to the internet and reveal all that system’s secrets once it was taken beyond the borders of the air-gapped DPRK. She was going to take that laptop beyond its borders.
Assuming she made it out.
The kids sidled into the room, giving each other l
ots of side-eye and wearing uniforms as instructed. Irene handed over the one they’d brought for her. They looked scared, and as they glanced around and took in the dead guards and Yang on the floor they looked even more scared.
“If we’re caught, we’ll be torn apart by starving dogs,” Lee said in Korean as Bianca pulled the uniform on over her clothes, stomped her feet into the boots and transferred the weapons, except for the one in the holster on her belt, to her pockets. None of the uniforms fit well, but it didn’t matter. All they needed was to look the part briefly from a distance.
Irene tittered nervously at Lee’s remark.
“What did he say?” Tim demanded.
Irene translated.
“He’s not joking,” David said.
“Tim, David, search the guards’ pockets for car keys,” Bianca intervened before they all ended up freaking each other out. She assumed—hoped—from the way those guards stayed with Yang that they were his personal guards and one of them was his driver. “Irene, you and Lee get the overcoat and hat from the coat tree.”
They complied. Bianca smacked Yang into wakefulness and hauled him to his feet while they did, and was pleased when David came up with a set of car keys.
“Who knows how to drive?” she asked. She was forced to support Yang as he swayed woozily, so at her direction Tim draped the overcoat around his shoulders to hide the fact that his hands were cuffed behind him and Irene plopped the hat on his head.
They all replied with variations of “I do.”
“I need to sit in back with Yang to make sure he does what we need him to do,” she said. “Whoever drives is going to have to pretend to be Yang’s usual driver. Drive slowly to the front gate, stop for the guards, and if they want you to roll down the window then that’s what you do. Irene, translate for Lee. Tell him he’s my first choice because he speaks the language and looks the part.”
Irene translated, and Lee said, in Korean, “I can do that. I can answer their questions, too. To everything I’ll just say, ‘I serve under General Yang.’”
Irene translated. Bianca nodded at Lee and gave him the keys.
“David, I need you to support Yang on his other side. Tim, you go in front of us and open the back door, then stand back with your head bowed, very subservient. You’ll get in the back with David, Yang and me. Irene, you’ll ride with Lee in the front. From the time we leave this building to the time we get in the car, anyone who looks our way can see us, so it’s crucial that we all keep to our roles and pretend to be soldiers under Yang’s command. Is that clear? Irene, translate for Lee.”
As she did so, everyone nodded.
To Yang, whose eyes appeared unfocused and who was still unsteady on his feet, she said very softly, “General Yang. I have a gun in your side. If you make one wrong move I will kill you instantly.”
He blinked rapidly and inhaled, which Bianca knew meant that he was regaining his faculties. Best to get him in the car before that happened.
Whether he understood what she’d just said to him or not, she had no way of knowing.
“Everyone, make sure your hats are on tight. Ready? Let’s go.”
30
With Lee and Irene in the lead, they hurried across the entryway. A quick sideways glance as they passed through was enough to reassure Bianca that there was no one else in the building; the room on the other side of the passageway, the one from which Park had emerged, was a holding cell.
The cold wind slapped them in the face as soon as they stepped outside. After the first shock, Bianca found it invigorating. From the deep inhalations on the part of the others, they did, too. She remembered that they’d been imprisoned for months, and this was probably the first fresh air they’d breathed in all that time. The slight smell of sulfur it carried reminded her that what had once been and might still be a nuclear testing site was nearby.
In commendable soldier mode, the group stepped smartly as they went down the stairs and covered the few yards to the car, a black Mercedes limo. Even as she kept a firm hold and a covering gun on Yang, Bianca reconnoitered their surroundings.
The parking lot opened onto a narrow, blacktopped road that ran between perhaps a dozen warehouse-like buildings set on either side of it before intersecting with another, wider road. That road, she thought from the height of the twin watchtowers that she could see above the buildings about a mile along it to the right, led to the front gate. Her deduction was reinforced by the large crimson-and-blue DPRK flags flapping atop each tower, and the direction taken by the ten-foot-tall barbed wire fence just beyond the parking lot. The field where Stevens was executed was now the scene of some sort of marching exercise by what looked like an entire platoon of soldiers. It was way too close for comfort. The only good news was, their backs were turned: they were marching away. At the precise moment her gaze fell on them, a shouted command from one of their officers caused them to execute a perfectly in-unison about-face and come high-stepping it toward the parking lot.
Great. Chalk up one more opportunity to die.
The cold air was having an effect on Yang, too: his head came up and his eyes were brightening. It wouldn’t be long before he was in full possession of his faculties. She only hoped they made it into the car first. One yell and they were screwed.
Her grip on his arm tightened warningly. She jammed the gun a little harder into his ribs. Just in case.
They reached the car. A beep told her that Lee had unlocked the doors.
He snapped to sudden stiff attention beside the driver’s door. Beside him, Irene did the same thing.
“Sir,” he said to Yang in Korean, and saluted smartly. Irene saluted as well.
Out of the corner of her eye Bianca saw a work detail of prisoners rolling cut logs across the frozen earth and loading them on a truck parked nearby. The work detail wasn’t far from the northern edge of the parking lot, but until she’d looked around they’d been out of her sight. They were under the supervision of a pair of guards. Curious glances were cast toward the crew beside the limo before eyes were hastily averted. She silently applauded Lee’s quick thinking.
Yang’s head turned toward the prisoners.
Tim opened the rear door. Bianca all but shoved Yang into the car, applied quick, light pressure to his vagus nerve to keep him docile for a few minutes longer while she considered what best to do with him, then took the seat opposite. The others piled in. The doors closed. The rear compartment was configured into two luxurious bench seats facing each other. Tim took the backward-facing seat beside her. David was next to Yang, facing forward. Lee locked the doors, started the car and began to drive slowly out of the parking lot.
“You think they noticed us?”
“We’re never going to make it.”
“Tim, tuck up your hair.”
“Stop talking in English,” Irene said.
“I think we turn right at the intersection to reach the front gate,” Bianca said and Irene translated.
Lee said in Korean, “I know where the front gate is. I made a note of it when they brought me in. Then, I was thinking I would escape. After a week in this place, I thought I never would.”
Bianca pulled off Yang’s overcoat, then fastened his seat belt around him so that he was locked tightly in place next to the window. Just in case they had to roll it down to prove to the guards who was inside. He moved slightly and groaned. His head rested back against the seat. He blinked once, twice, then closed his eyes again and went still. To hide the fact that his arms were pulled behind him, she draped his coat over him as if he’d done it because he was cold.
“How far?” she asked.
“Maybe two kilometers.”
Irene continued to play interpreter as they spoke.
“You have controls to the rear windows up there. Practice rolling Yang’s window down about a third of the way.” Yang’s window rolled down and up a few times. Blasted with cold air, he blinked and stirred again, but then when the window stayed up he stopped moving. If he wa
s coming to, which he should be by now, he would be feeling groggy and disoriented. It would take him a little bit to get up to speed.
“Good job,” Bianca said. “If the guards ask to speak to Yang, that’s what you do. Roll it down, wait a beat, then roll it back up again. We want to limit his exposure as much as possible. And before we stop at the gate, be sure to close the passenger partition.”
Lee agreed.
Workers and guards were everywhere, busy outdoors despite the cold. A smattering of snow lay on the ground. Neat fields gave way to what looked like an industrial area. Trucks and heavy equipment rumbled down pitted roads. Beyond the warehouses, buildings were arranged around squares, as in small villages. The camp itself nestled in a valley surrounded by mountains. It would, Bianca judged, be almost pretty if it hadn’t been hell on earth for the people trapped inside.
The limo reached the intersection, turned right.
Lee said something that Bianca didn’t hear. Irene repeated it for Bianca’s benefit. “We will soon be approaching the gate.”
Fear thinned Irene’s voice. Immediately the atmosphere inside the limo changed. Dread hung heavy in the air.
Bianca looked around. All the miles of ten-foot-tall, electrified barbed wire fences that surrounded the prison centered on this: a red metal gate blocking the road ahead. Sentries paced back and forth in front of it. A pair of guardhouses stood on either side. Tall watchtowers rose behind the guardhouses. There would be riflemen inside, Bianca knew, positioned so that they had a clear shot at anyone attempting to pass through the gate.
Her heart started to beat faster. Her pulse rate quickened.
“We are approaching the last connecting road before we reach the guardhouse. If we are going to turn aside, I must do it there,” Lee said, and Irene translated.
The Fifth Doctrine Page 27