by David Archer
“Now that we’re all here,” said Allison, “we can get down to the actual briefing. Donald?”
Jefferson tapped a tablet that was in his lap and the screen behind him lit up. The first image showed four people: three women and one man.
“The people you see on the screen behind me are agents of the CIA. They were in North Korea posing as consultants on an engineering project and the plan was for them to meet up with some of the agency’s local sources in order to receive and retrieve data relating to the recent ballistic missile testing that’s been all over the news. The agency has reason to believe that the DPRK has developed a missile capable of reaching anywhere in the continental US with a nuclear warhead. These agents were sent in to collect and retrieve that missile’s blueprints and specifications.”
He tapped the tablet again and the image changed to an overhead view of a city street, zoomed in so close that they could see a car surrounded by armed men pointing guns at it.
“The day before yesterday,” Jefferson went on, “all four of them were arrested on spying charges and taken into custody.” Another tap and the image changed to a long, narrow building seen from above. “They were brought to this building in the Sunan-guyok Industrial District. It sits on the back edge of Pyongyang’s largest cement plant, but it appears to be used primarily as a secret military facility. Military vehicles and troops can be seen around the building at times, and it is suspected that the single-story building is camouflage for a larger underground structure. Your targets are almost certainly being held somewhere under that building.”
The image disappeared and Allison leaned forward. “We have no intelligence regarding the interior of that building or its sub-levels. For that reason, it’s almost certainly going to be necessary for you and your teams to infiltrate the building itself, and that means that you cannot have a public presence in the country. Because of that, you’ll be flying into Incheon International Airport, which is on an island just off the coast at Incheon, South Korea. You will be met there by some of the CIA’s local operatives, South Korean nationals in the employ of the agency. They’ll take you to the north coast of the island, where a small submarine will be waiting. It will take you across the border into North Korea, where more local operatives will be waiting with a truck to smuggle you into Pyongyang. There is a CIA safe house that is uncompromised less than two miles from the cement facility, and that’s where you’ll be taken. Once your mission is complete, the locals will transport you back to the sub, which will take you directly back to Incheon. The plane will be waiting to get you out of the country as quickly as possible.”
“Any questions?” Allison asked.
“I have one,” Jenny said, actually raising her hand as if she were in school. “I get the impression this is going to be more like a commando raid than anything else, am I right?”
“That will be up to Noah to determine,” Allison replied. “He has command on this mission. Because of its importance and its unusual nature compared to what we usually do, I feel it’s best to have his detachment running the show. You will all be under his orders.”
“Yep, I understood that,” Jenny said. “For something like this, I want that computer brain making the decisions, and his combat experience running point.”
“Exactly. Should anything happen to Noah, you’ll take charge. Remember that the mission is paramount. With the risk that critical secrets could be revealed, I have to tell you that I expect the mission to be completed regardless of the cost to yourselves or your teams.”
“Hell, Allie, isn’t that always the way it is?”
Both teams got up and started to leave, but Allison called Noah back for a moment. The two of them spoke quietly, and then Allison put something small in the palm of Noah’s hand. He slid it into his pocket and followed the rest of them out the door.
SEVEN
Noah, Jenny and their teams were given identity kits and told to go directly to R&D, where luggage containing clothing for each of them was waiting. They could study the back stories on their mission identities while on the flight, but their personal identification, cell phones and jewelry were all to be left with Donald Jefferson. Once they left R&D, they would then go to the Kirtland airfield and board a Gulfstream IV that would take them directly to San Francisco International Airport.
At the R&D facility, after they picked up the tightly packed duffel bags that were prepared for them, Noah asked to speak to Wally for a moment. The clerk who had given them the bags smiled and called through a walkie talkie, and Wally appeared with a big smile a moment later.
“Noah!” Wally said as he grabbed his hand. “Man, I heard about Sarah, I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks,” Noah said, “but we’re in a rush, and I need something you let me use once before.”
“No problem,” Wally said, “just tell me what it is.” The two of them walked off together while the others carried the bags out to their cars. When Noah returned, they all headed for the airfield together. The Gulfstream was waiting as promised, and they were led aboard and seated quickly. A field crewman loaded their luggage and the plane was closed up and the engines started. Fifteen minutes later, they were in the air and climbing, destination San Fran.
When they reached the Bay, the plane was led directly into a hangar, where they were led down the boarding stairs and then into a special cargo container that had been fitted with seats, a bathroom and a small galley.
“This is what we call a special delivery cabin,” said the CIA operative who showed them into it. “We have an agreement with various airfreight carriers to use these, but it’s not always feasible. South Korea, luckily, is one country that accepts our freight seals, so once we close the doors and put the seal on, no one will tamper with it until it gets to our people there. It’s got its own power supply, air supply and everything else, and there’s enough food for several days. Eat what you want, there’s plenty more where that came from.”
Noah looked around and nodded. “Enough seats for a dozen,” he said. “This is slick.”
The CIA man grinned. “Glad you approve,” he said. “Wanna sit down and put on your seat belt, please?”
They all sat down and strapped in, and then the crew closed it up, the latches making a loud thump as each one caught and snapped into place. There were a few minutes while they waited for the seal to be applied, and then a lift truck carried it to a waiting FedEx 777 that was headed for Incheon.
“Randy,” Jenny said once the container was sealed, “got an extra book with you? This is going to be a long, boring flight.”
“I got a couple of Terry Pratchett’s books,” Randy replied. “I got Hogfather and Monstrous Regiment. Which one you want?”
“Hell, I don’t care, just toss me one.”
Ten minutes after the container was fastened down in the plane, the big jet engines began to scream and they felt themselves moving. It took a few minutes to taxi out to the runway, and then they felt the thrust kick in as the plane launched itself into the air.
This leg of the trip would take about nine hours, they’d been told, and the seats that had been mounted in the container were designed to recline so they could sleep on the way. Noah kicked his seat back as far as it would go while the plane was still climbing, and it wasn’t long before the rest of them followed his example. They woke off and on during the flight, especially when they had some rough turbulence over the Pacific, and ate some of the frozen meals a couple of times, so all of them felt fairly well fed and rested by the time they landed at 5:15 AM Seoul time.
The container they were in was offloaded within minutes of landing, and they felt it being trundled away on the lift truck. The ride seemed to take a few minutes, and when it came to a stop the door was opened quickly.
“Come on, come on,” a couple of young Korean men said to them. “We gotta get you going now, you come on!”
A stepladder had been set up in front of the door, and Noah was the first one to step out and climb down. They
were less than twenty feet from the shore, on a roadway that appeared to circumnavigate the entire island. The sun had not yet made it over the horizon, but Noah could just make out a dark shape bobbing in the waves a short distance from shore. An inflatable boat was waiting for them at the water’s edge, and they quickly loaded their duffels and climbed inside.
The two young men pushed the boat into the water and then hopped in, and one of them turned on a pair of electric outboard motors. The boat moved silently out onto the water toward the submarine, and then the bow slid right up over it.
The sub was black and almost flat on top. The hatch stood open right beside where the boat had ridden up onto it, and they were able to step over the side of the boat and onto the solid surface, then grip the hatch and climb down a short ladder. Another young man inside quietly urged them all to move toward the back of the chamber they found themselves in.
Once they were all inside, the boat was pulled the rest of the way onto the sub, deflated and quickly rolled up. The electric motors and batteries were lowered through the hatch, and then were followed by the boat itself. It was made of thin, rubberized nylon, and had rolled up into a package that was less than eighteen inches in diameter and not over three feet long. The two men who had brought them from shore climbed down the ladder and the hatch was sealed above them. It was only then that a few small LED lights came on.
“Which one of you is in charge?” one of them asked, and Noah raised a finger in the dim light. “Okay, here is what is happening. We will take you past the border and drop you on the shore about ten miles past. Our associates from that side will pick you up and take you to Pyongyang.”
“How will they know where to find us?” Noah asked.
The young man smiled. “Because we do this every week,” he replied. “We take people in and bring people out, sometimes every morning for three or four days. Our submarine is made of fiberglass and rubber, not easily detected by sonar, and our associates are never noticed because they are doing their jobs. They work on the farms, and several times a day they drive the trucks to and from Pyongyang. They know exactly where to find you, don’t worry.”
Noah nodded and leaned back against the bulkhead he was sitting beside. Neil leaned a little closer to him. “Did he just say this thing is made of fiberglass?”
“They’re not that uncommon,” Randy Mitchell said softly. “They call them smugglers’ subs. Drug smugglers use them in the Gulf of Mexico to bring dope up from South America. Very hard to spot, but they travel along at about three knots, just barely deep enough not to leave a wake behind them on the surface.”
Neil looked at him for a moment, then closed his eyes and leaned his head against his arms, which were propped on his knees. Except for a low whirring sound that must’ve been the electric motors, the interior of the vessel was almost completely silent.
“Wish it had portholes,” Jenny whispered. “I’ll bet there’s some beautiful fish out there.”
“Probably,” Noah said, “but even this little bit of light might show up on the surface if it did. For what they’re doing, it’s better to run dark and silent.”
Slipping past North Korean border security and naval patrols required the little submarine to swing out to the west a couple of miles before cutting back to the north, then turning east again to reach the shoreline. The entire voyage took nearly five hours at such a low speed, and all of them were delighted to get out of the vessel when it finally broke the surface.
A small but effective periscope was raised, scanning the shoreline. There was no sign of anyone observing, so the hatch was opened and the inflatable boat quickly carried up the ladder. An electric air pump was passed up, and five minutes later Noah and the others were told it was time to disembark.
As quietly as they could, they climbed up the ladder and onto the boat, each of them carrying the small duffels they had been provided, and slipped into the boat as it lay atop the hull. Two of the men expertly pushed it off and jumped in, and one of them took the tiller. The motors came to life as the submarine hatch closed, and the vessel sank beneath the surface before they had gone twenty yards.
The next fifteen minutes were nerve-racking, as they were completely exposed on the open water. The nearer they got to shore, however, the less it became likely that anyone would spot them bobbing across the waves. The boat ran up onto a muddy shoreline, and both teams quickly got out and made their way to the undercut bank.
“Wait until you hear a diesel motor stop just above you,” said the man who had stayed in the bow. “That will be your ride into Pyongyang. When you are ready to return, they will bring you back to this place and we will watch for you each day at this time. Good fortune to you.”
He pushed the boat out into the water and jumped in, and the two of them were gone.
The teams waited less than twenty minutes before the sound of the diesel engine could be heard approaching, and when it stopped almost directly above them, Noah stood and peeked over the bank. An enclosed truck stood on a gravel roadway that ran along the shore just above the bank, and two men were standing beside it sharing a cigarette. One of them spotted Noah’s face and reached up to open a door on the side of the cargo compartment, then looked at Noah and nodded.
“That’s our ride,” Noah said, and then he was up and over the bank. The rest followed, jogging low until they got to the truck and then hopping inside. The door closed and left them in darkness, but it was easy to find places to sit behind what appeared to be hanging bales of produce. A moment after the door was closed, the truck began moving again.
This leg of their journey took another ninety minutes, and the truck seemed to stop often. Each time, the teams prepared themselves for discovery, but the doors never opened. The truck would start moving again, and the whole thing would be repeated a few minutes later.
“Stop signs,” Neil muttered, “or maybe traffic lights.”
“Long as that’s all it is, I’m happy,” Marco said.
Finally, the truck drove slowly along for several minutes and then came to a stop. They heard the cab doors open and close, and then the side door swung away to let the midday sunlight come in. One of the men looked inside and smiled.
“This where you go,” he said. “Safe house. We come back every day this time, see when you ready to leave.”
Once again, Noah led the way and hopped out of the truck. The “safe house” appeared to be a run-down shack surrounded by several small gardens and a number of chickens scratching at the ground. A young Korean woman stood in the doorway of the shack, motioning for them to hurry inside, so they did so.
She closed the door as the truck drove away and turned to look at them. “I am Soo Mi. You already know who I work for, so we don’t need to go into that. Follow me and I’ll show you where you can rest for a while. You’re probably exhausted.” They followed her through the little shack to what appeared to be a kitchen, with a tiny gas stove and an ancient refrigerator sitting next to a sink with a pair of ancient faucets. She turned one of the knobs on the stove and lit the burner with a match, then grabbed it and swung it aside.
“The knob controls the locking mechanism,” she said. “Nobody would ever think of that, because they’d smell the gas when they turn it.”
“Isn’t that cute?” Randy asked. He looked at Soo Mi and grinned flirtatiously. “Almost as cute as you.”
The girl grinned back, and didn’t even object when Randy crowded in close to her, obviously grabbing her butt for a second. While this might be considered some form of sexual harassment in other situations, men and women in the assassination business tend to have a cavalier attitude about such things. Should the opportunity arise, the two of them might act on the obviously mutual interest, but they also knew that the mission had to come first. Soo Mi just rolled her eyes and pointed down, where a hole had opened up under where the stove normally sat.
A ladder led down into a cellar, and she went down it first and turned on a light. When the others had
followed, she showed them a set of wooden shelves, and how to press on a particular bolt head to make it swing away and reveal a door into another room. She led them inside and they were surprised to find what looked like a nicely furnished hidden apartment with a small kitchen much nicer than the one upstairs. There were two other rooms that each held four bunks, and a smaller one that had a single full-sized bed.
“I call dibs on the bed,” Jenny said quickly.
Soo Mi smiled at her. “If they don’t give it to you, let me know. I’ll kick their butts.”
“Oh, deary, don’t worry,” Jenny replied with a saucy grin. “They all know better than to mess with me.”
“Okay.” She pointed to a panel on the wall beside where they had entered. “That’s an intercom that reaches upstairs to me. If you need something, push the red button and wait for me to answer. That button makes the lights upstairs flicker, and that signals me that you need to talk to me. The yellow button opens the door we came in through, and there’s a rope hanging beside the ladder. Pull that rope, and you can push the stove out of the way without turning on the burner.”
She turned and indicated the refrigerator and cabinets. “I keep that pretty well stocked, so you should be able to find plenty to eat. There’s also some soft drinks and coffee, can’t do without those.”
She pointed one more time, at a very small door that stood beside the sink. “Bathroom is in there, and it’s small, but the shower has great pressure and hot water. Don’t worry about making noise, unless you plan to sing opera or something. This whole thing is pretty soundproof, but nothing is perfect.” She pointed at some boxes that were sitting against one wall. “Weapons and explosives. The big box holds seven IWI Tavors, each with six 30-round magazines. The smaller one has a dozen grenades and six blocks of C4 with radio-controlled detonators and a trigger transmitter. Oh, and there’s a couple of Colt .45’s upstairs that I can spare, and I’ve got a couple mags for each of those.” She looked around at them. “Any questions?”