Vengeance and Reckonings

by Todd Turner

  Returning to his prize, Lim removed the SAT phone from his briefcase and signaled his counterparts in Seoul that the aircraft had been secured, setting phase two into action. Now, to find out if the pilot or first officer were trained agents.

  June 27, 12:02 KDT

  North Korean Airspace

  Several pings were heard over the speakers, indicating the cockpit crew was trying to reach the cabin crew. Usually, four pings is the signal for the cabin crew to pick up the phone to open the communication with the cockpit. Lim knew he better answer but feared there was probably some code the cockpit needed to verify it wasn’t a hijacker or terrorist. The crew members would resist if asked for the code, and the delay alone would alert the cockpit to trouble. He picked up the receiver and hoped for the best, and indeed, the first question was to confirm the code. Fuck!

  At once, the plane dove hard, so hard his head hit the ceiling. Fortunately, the hit was only hard enough to piss him off and not knock him out. Those who were not belted in were flying about the cabin like loose crash test dummies.

  The passengers had, till now, maintained their characteristic behavior of keeping quiet no matter what they saw. Lim and his colleagues had counted on it. People who have long lived under a totalitarian regime usually can be counted on to keep their heads down no matter what. Even so, the passengers began to scream hysterically, even as they tightened their belts. Then these famous agnostics spontaneously broke out in prayers—no matter to whose God, just anyone who would listen.

  A hard turn left, then to the right, as though the pilot were intentionally trying to break the plane apart and kill them all. Lim realized he would have to convince the pilot to cooperate. Getting to the cockpit door was virtually impossible, yet he was thrown hard against it and came crashing through, damn near landing on the flight-deck control console. Then just as suddenly he was tossed back out. He reflexively spread both arms to catch the doorway and pushed back with all his might, and again came crashing forward—this time into the captain—with tremendous force.

  As the captain was hit the aircraft made a violent dive, with Lim wedged between him and the controls. Quickly, Lim reached to the captain’s ankle, where he hoped to god he’d find the ceramic tactical knife—that, was indeed there—he grabbed the knife, then in one quick and powerful motion, he stabbed the captain in the chest. The first officer, who had been struggling to take over, felt response feedback as soon as the pilot slumped in his east and let go of the controls, indicating he now had control of the aircraft, thank god.

  He leveled the jet at 12,000 feet. Looking to the side and seeing the dead captain, the first officer was faced with a complicated decision. North Koreans are taught from infancy that the state comes first, and God is literally the nation’s leader, Il Jong Kim.

  Your duty in life is to faithfully serve the state. Agent Lim knew all too well how deeply the programming and indoctrination went, but he also could see this particular pilot had a keen desire to live. That was evidenced by the fact his primary focus was to gain control of the aircraft rather than coming to the aid of his captain.

  Lim pulled one of the noise-isolating ear cups off the first officer’s head and said to him, “You have two choices: either you and everyone on this plane dies; or, you do as you are told, you will never go back home, but you might live and we will do everything we can to reunite you with your family in the South.”

  North Koreans all have family in the South, whether they know it or not. Most have been living such an isolationist life, they’d never know. Their relatives on the south side of the border, however, do know and have in some cases been seeking contact with their lost Northern family members through two generations.

  The first officer had already made his decision. He hadn’t spent his life learning to fly and fighting to get ahead in the communist regime, a system he never fully believed in, only to end up dead. No, quite the opposite. On his flights to China and the very few times he was able to lay over on those flights, he learned the communist leaders in his country were liars—flat-out, bald-faced liars—who lied to their “comrades” entirely for the purpose of maintaining control. He had no family, so this was his ticket out. He smiled to Lim and told him he’d have no trouble.

  “Good. Now if your countrymen don’t shoot us out of the sky, we just might get out of this alive,” said Lim. The grimace on the first officer’s face spoke for him: there was indeed a very good chance of being shot down.

  June 27, 12:22 KDT

  North Korean Airspace

  Pouring the power on, the first officer dropped the plane to an altitude of 9,000 feet, dangerously low for the mountainous terrain that is the predominant topography of the Korean Peninsula. He maintained his low altitude and continued on course for Pyongyang. He was told to communicate to the tower that they had suffered a power loss due to a brief failure of the aircraft electronics. Altitude was lost, but the redundant systems had kicked in.

  “I report we are not, I repeat, we are not making an SOS. We will continue to Pyongyang as scheduled, and request to maintain current altitude. I’d prefer not to gain altitude so we can begin our descent on time.” The tower’s scratchy and broken response confirmed but refused clearance for approach at the current altitude.

  Lim thought the tower was being awfully strategic. Since at this altitude the radar wouldn’t be tracking their location well, if at all, he suspected the refusal was because they wanted to know where they were. This was no doubt so they could deploy fighter jets to their location. This was getting more and more nerve-racking by the minute. He had to keep cool and wait it out. The trick in any combat situation is not to let them see you flinch.

  Within ten miles of the airport, the control tower made contact, wanting to know if the captain had a visual on the airport yet. “Do you request an emergency landing?”

  The pilot quickly responded. “No, I have visual and full control.” When in reality, he made no intention of landing, and headed for the southern border as fast as the plane would go.

  The tower’s response made both their hearts skip a beat. “We should have visual on you by now. From what direction is your approach?” Lim hoped to hell this first officer could act. He was going to have to pull off a performance worthy of an Oscar. “Our heading is two one eight,” informed the first officer.

  There followed a long pause from the tower; and then, “We do not have visual. We are scrambling jets to get a visual contact.”

  “Holy fucking shit, now what?” The first officer asked Lim.

  Lim shrugged. “We pray our planes get to us before theirs do.”

  June 27, 12:30 KDT

  North Korean Airspace

  Lim used the SAT phone, knowing it couldn’t be traced or heard by the communists below. Calling his control agent, he explained the situation. They could not communicate with the intercept team by radio, who in turn were not to attempt communication with the jet. “The ground has ears.”

  “How will the team signal our exit?”

  Control’s cryptic response was, “Oh, you’ll know.”

  Just then, twelve fighter jets took up positions around the Air Koryo jet, forming a protective arrow pattern around the commercial airliner. Two of the fighters dropped back so their noses were even with the passenger jet. The lead plane rocked his wings side to side, the unmistakable “follow me” sign. What they couldn’t see was two fighters break off and begin doing zigzags behind the aircraft, looking for the promised North Korean fighters.

  The first officer didn’t even wait for Lim to tell him. Swallowing hard, he purposefully grabbed the engine controls and slid them to full open. Soon the Russian engineers who designed this aircraft would know what the true top speed of a Tupolev Tu-204-300 was.

  While he tried not to run down the aisle with the g-force propelling him toward the rear of the plane, Lim went to retrieve the prize, deciding he wanted him in the cockpit. He quickly released Chung and instructed him to move forward. Securing him
to the jump seat, Lim noticed the first officer looking nervous.

  “What’s wrong?” said Lim, feeling the plane shudder.

  “This plane is approved for a top cruising speed of five hundred fifty miles per hour. We are now passing six hundred, and the test pilots never took one over six twenty.”

  Lim thought the best way to handle the man’s fear was to give him bragging rights. “Well, I guess you’re Tupolev’s new unofficial test pilot.” The still fearful yet now more confident first officer cracked a half-smile.

  Oddly, Lim wasn’t worried about the airplane’s flight worthiness. He figured the U.S. military was pretty certain of its absolute limits. No, he was much more worried about being shot down. From Pyongyang to their intended landing strip just south of the DMZ was only ninety air miles; the odds of air-to-air engagement seemed remote. He doubted fighters had been scurried any sooner than the control tower had indicated.

  No, that wasn’t what he was thinking about right now. Rather, what pressed heavily on his mind was the inescapable fact that the most fortified border on earth is the one between North and South Korea. Getting past it was going to be like running naked through a minefield. The reality of this mission was simple. They could conceivably die within sight of their landing site.

  ◆◆◆

  Director Kim sat in his office pale as a ghost, wearing an expression as foreign to him as the feeling that was causing it. That feeling was of complete and utter hopelessness, total wretchedness, the sickness one feels when he accepts the truth of a profound betrayal.

  He’d just been briefed by his agent in charge of the North Korea operation. There had been a SAT phone communiqué from the agent he placed aboard the aircraft. Kim was talking to himself, trying to tell himself he saw it coming. Why the hell am I so shocked? I was suspicious enough to put Lim on the flight in the first place. Still, suspicions are one thing; accepting the realities of those suspicions are another thing entirely.

  The depth of this was impossible to grasp, akin to finding incontrovertible evidence that the most outrageous and audacious conspiracy is true. What earlier could have been dismissed as a slip of the tongue now confirmed, with this new evidence from Lim, that there was a conspiracy—and that the director of U.S. Homeland Security was in on it.

  Not trusting Bonner was one thing; not knowing who else was involved were the uncharted waters on which Kim now sailed.

  He would decidedly need to play this out—but first he had to call Richards at the CIA. He knew this man soon would be feeling the same racing, rushing emotions.

  As he was about to call Richards, Kim’s phone rang, the secure line, meaning it was someone who didn’t need to go through his assistant. Knowing and fearing who it was, Kim answered, desperate to sound as clipped and detached as always, though seething with anger that was fast becoming a homicidal hatred.

  “Director Kim.”

  “Kim, Director Bonner here. What the fuck’s going on? Are you keeping me in the dark on purpose?”

  Bouncing around in Kim’s mind was the thought, This asshole is digging in deeper and deeper. He clearly knows his plan failed. Interesting. Gaining composure now, he would just play it out, as though he had no idea what Bonner was getting at.

  “I have nothing to report. The situation was last left with you. We are following our investigative leads at the plant as per your request, but there is nothing new. Last we spoke you were going to arrange eyes on the prize through the Chinese. Wasn’t that where we left it?”

  On the other end, Bonner felt the air sucked from the room. Realizing Kim was using a tone—was that victorious elation?—he knew something was up. His most effective play was to go on the offense.

  “Yes,” he said tersely, “I’ve covered that front, but the plane has been intercepted by a team of South Korean and American fighter jets. I want to know on whose fucking authority that has happened. Who sanctioned American fighters to go into North Korea? North, fucking North Korea, for Christ sake!”

  “Certainly, sir, only the American military could make such an authorization, and it would seem extremely unprecedented,” said an unflappable Kim.

  Bonner realized he was being baited. Calmly and delicately he ended the conversation with, “You know where to reach me.”

  Kim sorely wished that would be the end of it but knew full well the days ahead would be filled with writing reports, making statements, and likely testifying before his leaders about the events that had taken place today. He had set out on this course knowing his career would end either on a note of heroism or in an inferno of a political firestorm. Kim silently accepted he had no other choice.

  June 27, 12:36 KDT

  North and South Korean Airspace

  The Air Koryo jet was pushing limits even Tupolev’s engineers hadn’t tested for. Full throttle at just 9,000 feet, the jet flashed over the DMZ into South Korea’s airspace. The North’s ground-to-air missiles sat there, manned but not locked onto the passenger jet. Clearly, they never got a radar lock. Director Kim watched the plane approach from a live video feed from one of the bunkers in the hillside along the highway that was closed to all traffic twenty miles in both directions.

  Six South Korean and six American Air Force jets surrounded all positions of the Air Koryo flight, and by now the passengers were convinced they were going to die.

  The ground was flashing below them at an alarming speed, from an elevation no one in a passenger jet experiences on an approach for landing. The jet was pushing Mach 0.91, well surpassing the stated cruising speed for which it had been designed. Luckily those passengers couldn’t see the MiGs behind them, though from their perspective of being mostly North Korean citizens, the Americans and South Koreans were probably more frightening.

  Of course, they had no way of knowing their enemy was now their savior. Those fighter jets were providing a barrier and preventing an attack on the jet. Were they not in place, the passenger jet would have been shot right out of the sky—then proclaimed to be a tragic mishap to the international community. Not that the North gives much of a damn about its image in world politics, but this overkill in defense was positively what kept those passengers alive. That is what Director Kim was counting on: The North simply would be outnumbered; there was no way they could take out the jet and every fighter.

  As the passenger jet flashed over the DMZ into South Korea’s airspace, now came the true test of restraint of North Korea’s leaders and, more importantly, of the discipline of the fighters in those jets. Would they stay on their side of the border?

  Just to drive home their point, immediately behind the last South Korean fighter, as though orchestrated with months of practice, the surface-to-air flares fired, just to let those North Korean fighters know they were there—and that any move beyond the DMZ would result in their immediately being shot from the sky.

  Director Kim, watching the screen, asked the general on the com, “Are you disappointed they are showing restraint?”

  Every intelligence service and military organization it supports has inherent animosities; and, too, this was no ordinary general. He was the man responsible for South Korea’s domestic defense. He was personally overseeing this mission, and while he was pissed at the spy’s implication that he, like most generals, loved war and battle, it gave him pause. To some degree, he was disappointed in the response of the North. It showed a level of cowardice he found distasteful.

  The general’s grunt and sigh were all Kim needed to know he was disappointed in his longtime adversary. Yet, Kim had to wonder, was it cowardice or did the North possibly have other plans in motion? In the life of a spy, every action must be assessed according to its motivation, not merely on the basis of the action itself.

  June 27, 12:57 KDT

  South Korea, along the DMZ

  The passenger jet banked hard back around to line up with the landing strip on the highway below. Since North Korea’s only civilian airport facility had no instrumentation for automatically landing
planes, the first mate and now captain of the plane had experience with visual-dependent landings. This runway was plenty long, but the elevations were tricky; even with the plane’s GPS, it was likely to be a hard touchdown.

  The captain pulled back on the throttle, flaps full, gear down, decent control, but not slow. Suddenly, a bang, then the plane bounced up, followed by another thump.

  Then the nose gear touched down, the brakes were applied hard, along with the engines’ reverse thrusters. The jet, followed down the runway by Humvees with gun turrets, came to a stop as two tanks appeared from the sides and headed toward the front.

  The general arrived in a Jeep just as the stairway was being positioned at the jet’s door.

  General Sung was led up the stairs by two marines in full gear, M16s at their shoulders. One banged the door with the butt of his gun. The door swung open by Agent Lim, who said he didn’t think force would be necessary.

  It wasn’t. The few passengers onboard were sufficiently terrified; not one would even think to do anything stupid. It was enough that they were alive.

  Kim’s plan was to take five of the passengers into custody and bus the others to Seoul to be flown back to Beijing. He hoped the North Koreans would assume Chung was a random choice on his part, but he knew they’d know who the prize was; the theater was irresistible. From there, he assumed the Chinese would arrest and question the others relentlessly, though he doubted they would be tortured—at least that’s what he told himself.

  The same could not be promised for the passenger traveling on the North Korean passport under the name of Robert Lee. Oh no, there definitely would be torture in his future.