Sirens abruptly began their terrifying wail, screams heard among those in the warehouse district where they now found themselves. The South Korean in charge rushed over.
“We need to get to shelter, now!”
Dawson watched as the Koreans rushed to their vehicles, there apparently no shelter in the immediate vicinity. He turned to their embassy driver. “Go with them.”
She shook her head. “No way, I’m staying with you.”
Dawson was impressed with her desire to stay, but she was a liability now, neither trained or equipped for the situation. He pointed at the heavy bombardment. “This is now a war zone. You’re not properly equipped and you’re my responsibility.” He lowered his voice. “Please, go with them.”
She frowned, though he caught a hint of relief in her eyes. “Fine.” She tossed him the keys. “Just remember, you’re not bulletproof either.”
He smiled. “I’ll remember.”
She looked at the others, concern in her eyes, then ran over to one of the Korean vehicles and climbed in.
Dawson activated his comm. “Control, Zero-One. The North Koreans have begun bombarding Seoul. If we don’t find the hostages soon, they might not live to see a rescue.”
“Copy that, Zero-One. We’ve got something for you. We located an account that paid that kid you found. It had several other minor transactions, but two larger ones. One to a real estate rental company in Seoul, the other—the largest by far—to a private security firm.”
“Have you been able to reach them?”
“The real estate company refused to answer any questions without a warrant, and the security firm appears to have no way to contact it—I guess if you really need them, you already know how.”
“Addresses?”
“Sent to your phone.”
“I’ll be in touch. Zero-One, out.”
He glanced up as F-16 Fighting Falcons and F-22 Raptors streaked by, screaming toward the front to unload their deadly ordnance on the North’s artillery placements. The trails of hundreds of rockets and missiles responding to the attack filled the sky, the thunder of counter-artillery and missile defense systems blanketing the northern approach to the city deafening, more so as they found targets, detonating the incoming warheads harmlessly overhead.
It was an all-out war.
And he was stuck in the middle with his men.
He looked at the others. “Never thought I’d be on the frontlines of the next Korean War.”
Atlas grimaced as a massive fireball roared skyward less than a mile away. “Me neither. And there’s no damned way I’m dying here. You got those addresses?”
Dawson checked his phone. “Yup.”
“Then how ’bout we get a wiggle on.”
Dawson smiled as he turned around, the Koreans gone. “Looks like you’re navigating.”
69
Embassy of the United States Seoul
32 Sejongno Street, Seoul, Republic of Korea
Red rushed toward the Sikorsky VH-60N “WhiteHawk” helicopter, his hand planted firmly on the small of the President’s back, urging him forward. Fortunately, the choppers had returned from the decoy evacuation, fully fueled at Osan. The north side of the compound was a smoldering wreck, two shells having already hit it. Terrified cries from the civilians surrounded them, and though he wanted to save them all, his responsibility extended to only one man.
The President of the United States.
He pushed the most powerful man in the world into his seat as the rest piled in.
“Go! Go! Go!”
The chopper lifted off, Sergeant Zack “Wings” Hauser at the controls, the building holding the chopper pilots taking a direct hit, killing or injuring half the crews. Though he trusted the Marines who normally piloted this bird, he had ordered Wings to take over, leaving the survivors to pilot the decoys—he wanted someone with ten years of combat experience behind the stick.
They cleared the walls and the nose dipped sharply as Wings picked up speed, keeping them low, barely above the rooftops. They all sat in silence as they watched the carnage unfold underneath them, shell upon shell slamming into the innocence below, he left to question why they would leave their capital city so close to such insanity.
There were plans to relocate the capital farther south, though denial prevented them from moving forward with the logical choice. The South Korean people were strong and proud and filled with hope that one day the two halves of their divided country would be united. Today that possibility was either irrevocably destroyed, or if things should go all the way, forced upon them whether they wanted it or not.
South Korea wouldn’t be lost.
Though the cost of victory might be impossibly high.
The side of a skyscraper on their starboard side erupted, shrapnel bursting toward them, the massive chunk now missing giving the appearance Godzilla had wandered across the Sea of Japan and taken a bite out of Japan’s neighbor to the west.
“Hang on!”
Wings banked sharply around another tower as the lead chopper took damage to its tail rotor, it immediately beginning a slow spiral downward. Red leaped from his seat and pressed against the window to see the decoy slam into the ground, smoke billowing from its tail. A door opened and the civilians and crew poured out, a fireball erupting moments later shoving them all off their feet.
“Are they okay?”
Red watched for a moment then saw them all begin to rise, apparently unscathed. “Yes, Mr. President, I think they all got out.” He activated his comm. “This is Evac Zero-Two to Control. Evac-Zero-One is down with survivors. Send ground transport to collect them and exfil to Evac Point Echo, over.”
“Roger that, Evac Zero-Two. Transport on its way. ETA ten mikes.”
Wings swung them hard to port, they now heading due south, threading between buildings in the business district, flames and smoke blocking their view at times, the city ablaze. It was something Red had thought he would never see in his lifetime—a modern, westernized city under artillery attack.
Scores of planes followed by attack helicopters were racing past them in the opposite direction, cruise missiles and rockets tearing toward the North Korean positions.
The South and their allies were responding with full force.
I wonder if ground forces are involved.
“Jesus! Look down there!”
Red looked toward where Wings was motioning and his eyes widened. Soldiers were in the street, firing at civilians.
North Korean soldiers.
“How the hell did they get here so fast?”
70
Unknown Location
Seoul, Republic of Korea
Explosions in the distance had Niner on his feet, collective gasps from the others with each impact confirming he wasn’t hearing things. He rushed toward the walls where the tables loaded with food and supplies sat, slamming his fist on the top.
Metal. Sturdy.
He tipped the closest over, dumping its contents, then pulled it toward the couches. He grabbed the glass table in the center and heaved it toward the door, it shattering on impact, exactly as it would have if the building took a direct hit. He positioned the metal table. “Quick, grab the tables and put them together!” Kim leaped to her feet, Nancy following but Niner snagged her by the arm, pushing her under the table he had just positioned. “Stay there!”
Nancy didn’t look happy, though complied, he leaving her and grabbing another table, Kim already dragging a second toward the center of the room, pushing it tightly against the first. With the others working together, they had a three-by-two rectangle of tables pressed together within minutes.
“Everybody under the tables now!” Niner spun one of the couches around and pushed it against the edge of the tables as the VIPs dropped to their knees and scurried underneath, Kim figuring out what he was doing and helping. They quickly had a soft, absorbent barrier surrounding their makeshift shelter. If they took a direct hit, they were dead, though if it wa
s far enough away, they just might be protected enough to survive.
He held aside one of the couches, shoving Kim inside just as a shell hammered into the ground outside, the windows overhead shattering. He dove in after her as debris rained down on them, the glass and framing slamming into the metal tables only inches over their heads.
And it held.
He turned to Kim. “What the hell is going on out there?”
But the question had only one answer.
The North was attacking.
And their captors were no longer their greatest threat.
71
Operations Center 1
CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia
“Christ, we need to get the President out of there!”
Leroux shook his head at Child’s outburst. “No, forget him—that’s not our job. We need to figure out why whoever is behind this thinks we found him.”
Morrison burst into the room, staring at the displays showing the bombardment of Seoul. “It wasn’t one of our allies that found him.”
Leroux looked at his boss. “Are we sure?”
Morrison nodded, eyes still glued on the horror unfolding live before them. “The Vice President essentially told them that if we found out after the fact that they were the ones who put the hostages at risk, we’d take it personally.” He finally tore his eyes away and turned to Leroux. “Nobody knows who found him.”
Leroux cursed. “You don’t think it’s some private group?”
Morrison’s eyes narrowed. “What, like a news organization? Or Anonymous?”
Leroux and Morrison exchanged looks as their eyebrows rose. Leroux spun toward his team. “Okay, contact everyone you know. We need to find out if there’s some private initiative going on and stop them. They could have just triggered World War Three.”
72
Crawford Residence
Forest Hills, Washington, DC
“Have you seen the news?”
Jeff nodded. “Yeah.”
Clarence moaned. “Oh, man, this is so cool!”
“Yeah, look at that!” shouted Vic, pointing off-screen, all three of them watching CNN’s live coverage of the attack on Seoul. A skyscraper was collapsing, people jumping from the shattered windows, those on the ground screaming in terror as they sprinted uselessly out of the way, disappearing in a cloud of rolling dust and debris.
No one coming out the other end.
It reminded him of the footage he had seen in school of the 9/11 attacks. It had affected him, though not as much as this.
Today he had skin in the game.
Nancy.
Clarence echoed his thoughts. “It’s like that movie they showed us at school about the Twin Towers.”
“Yeah,” agreed Vic. “That was awesome! I would love to have been there!”
Jeff’s chest tightened with rage. “Then you’re an idiot! Three thousand people died that day and they didn’t do it for your amusement.”
“You’re such a buzzkill, dude. I’m just joking.”
“Yeah, well it isn’t funny.”
The dust was clearing, images of mangled bodies and walking wounded now playing live, unfiltered.
They all fell silent.
It was Vic that finally broke the silence, his voice subdued. “I guess you were right, man.”
“That looks like downtown New York,” whispered Clarence. “Those could be Americans.”
Jeff agreed, the pulverized concrete dust had instantly turned everyone chalk white, there no Asians, blacks or whites in these images from Seoul.
There were just people.
Innocent people.
All living a horror no one had thought would ever happen again.
“D-do you think we caused this?” asked Clarence.
Jeff froze, his heart slamming. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, we pinged that IP address and like, not even five minutes later bombs are dropping.”
Jeff’s eyes shot wide open. “Oh my God! I-I don’t know.” His jaw snapped shut as he leaned back, gripping the stool between his legs. He stared at the others. “Man, what are we going to do?”
Vic leaped toward his keyboard. “I’m shutting down and wiping everything!”
“Me too!” cried Clarence, both their images disappearing, leaving Jeff alone.
He reached for his keyboard, about to do the same, when he stopped.
But what if we’re the only ones who know the truth?
73
Maggie Harris Residence
Lake in the Pines Apartments, Fayetteville, North Carolina
They had been sitting for what felt like hours, glued to the television, their numbers having grown slightly as other wives from the Unit had arrived when they heard the news. There had been no further sightings of any of their men, though with the shelling of Seoul now underway, what had been a hostage situation where their loved ones would be perhaps participating in a rescue operation, was now an all-out war.
Maggie hadn’t really been worried when it was just a missing bus.
But now everything had changed. No matter how good the training, sometimes an artillery shell had your name on it, and there was nothing you could do.
Her stomach growled yet again and she decided she was finished with obsessing. She leaped to her feet, marching toward the kitchen. “Somebody start the barbecue. I’m not letting those hamburgers go to waste!”
Shirley rose. “Good idea. I’m going to go crazy if I watch any more of this. There’s nothing we can do about it, and they’re with the President, so they must be safe.”
Vanessa remained seated. “What makes you think that?”
“Because they evacuated to some city in the south hours ago.”
Maggie grabbed the tray of hamburgers that someone had wisely thought to put in the fridge then returned to the living room as Joanne turned off the television, pulling Vanessa to her feet. “Come on, Chef, don’t you want to cook your own burgers?”
Vanessa smiled weakly then giggled when Joanne gave her side a little tickle. “Come on, the big guy wouldn’t want you moping around. Feed us, Seymour! We’re hungry!”
74
Aboard Marine One
Over Seoul, Republic of Korea
Small arms fire ricocheted off the armored plating, North Korean troops inexplicably inside the city already. There was no way they had made it the 35 miles from the DMZ to the city in just minutes, and there were no reports of paratroopers.
This was a fifth column, already here.
A missile streaked toward them from the ground.
“Hang on!” shouted Wings, Red grabbing a handhold and reaching out to push Starling back into his seat, the man leaning out of it to see what was happening below. The WhiteHawk banked hard to port as chaff and flares deployed, the frame rattling with the rapid-fire dispersal. Red could see the third chopper behind them already dipped forward, pushing hard toward the missile and he felt his chest tighten as he witnessed the greatest sacrifice a soldier could make.
To give one’s life to save another.
The chopper erupted in a fireball as the missile struck, the fuel igniting. Their airframe shook with the shockwave, it unnoticed as everyone sat in silence, their final escort chopper dropping from the sky, almost in slow motion, as if time were nearly standing still.
He tore his eyes away in time to catch Starling wipe a tear from his cheek.
“They died performing their sworn duty.”
Starling frowned at him. “No one man is worth what just happened.”
Red shook his head. “They didn’t die for you, Mr. President. They died for what you represent. Their job is to defend the United States from all enemies, foreign and domestic. To protect our Constitution and our very way of life. The President of the United States represents all those ideals. Don’t diminish their sacrifice by thinking it was a waste. That insults their memory.”
Starling nodded slowly, still not happy about what he had witnessed, thoug
h perhaps better understanding why it had happened. It was one thing to order soldiers to their possible death; it was another to actually witness it happen.
And to see it done without hesitation, that pilot already pushing toward the path of the missile before Red had even turned to look, was humbling.
There had never been any doubt in the pilot’s mind as to what he was going to do.
He was going to save his President.
And die in the process.
No chaff had deployed, no flares.
The second chopper had to be the heat source, or the missile might still acquire Marine One.
Red closed his eyes for a moment, saying a silent prayer.
The entire chopper shook from a blast wave, Red’s eyes jerking open.
“Aww shit! Hang on!”
Wings pulled up hard, trying to kill their forward momentum, Red only getting a glimpse of a massive explosion ahead of them, shrapnel blasted into the air from the ground below. The undercarriage rattled as debris peppered them, alarms suddenly sounding in the cockpit.
“Fuel line’s cut!” shouted Wings. “We’re going down! Everyone brace for impact!”
Red reached forward, yanking Starling’s belts tight then checked his gear as Wings radioed in their situation.
“This is Marine One. Mayday, mayday, mayday. We are going down. Deploy rescue teams immediately to our current position. We have hostiles on the ground. Repeat, this is Marine One. Mayday, mayday, mayday.”
Red looked at the two Marines assigned to the chopper. “Everyone get ready. As soon as we come to a stop, open the doors, pop smoke, then secure the immediate area. We’ll get the President out. Watch for hostiles and look for cover away from the chopper. We’ll commandeer vehicles and head south. We can’t wait for rescue teams. Copy that?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Here we go!” shouted Wings from the cockpit as he continued to struggle to control their descent, his autorotation attempts only bleeding off some of their speed. “Hang on! Impact in three, two—”
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