by Bobby Akart
Once again, the nighttime temperatures had dropped into the upper thirties. As the sun rose, the combination of their faces thawing and anxiety brought beads of sweat to the foreheads of both operatives.
The atmospheric conditions couldn’t be better. The sky was clear, the air was not particularly damp at this early hour, and there wasn’t a trace of wind. It was ideal for a missile launch, and a sniper’s bullet.
The men completed their range card and made the necessary adjustments. Duncan took one final look through his scope at the observation platform as well as the stairs leading up to it.
Duncan checked his watch. Ten minutes ’til eight. “Where are they?” he muttered aloud.
Park didn’t respond but took the binoculars and began to survey the launchpad area. From the far end, closest to the base, he saw vehicles moving from behind a concrete blast wall similar to those used in airports to protect buildings from jet engine noise.
“Vehicles approaching. Two military escorts. A black sedan of some kind. Another black—”
Duncan interrupted as he saw the vehicles come within the field of vision of his scope. “Mercedes. Of course, Dear Leader rides in style.”
Duncan’s heart began to race as Park announced, “Showtime.”
The vehicles pulled to a stop, and several armed guards exited to quickly check the perimeter. Their focus was under the platform’s decking and behind a thatch-roof-type structure near the pine trees on the far side of Duncan’s position.
Moments later, they waved to their superior, who ordered the doors to be opened for the dignitaries. Several generals in their customary olive drab uniforms poured out of the vehicles. They scurried about to position themselves near the stairs, most likely according to rank and position.
The occupants of the Mercedes remained in the car for nearly a minute, causing Duncan to become concerned.
“What’s the deal?” he asked aloud.
“Hold on,” replied Park, who continued to look through the scope. “Of course. They’re waiting for the photographer to get into position. Be ready.”
Duncan exhaled and relaxed his mind and body. Real time stands still for the sniper, but his mind races at lightning speed. Duncan reconfirmed the adjustments he’d made to the rifle he’d never fired. Once the target was identified, Park would call out the final numbers.
Park, as instructed by Duncan, began to describe what he saw aloud. “Two men emerging from the Benz. Nope. Nope. Not yet.”
“Numbers,” muttered Duncan as he focused on the men who’d emerged first.
“Three mils head to crotch, dial four hundred.”
Duncan carefully turned the knob on his scope to conform to Park’s sighting.
“Zero wind. Hold zero mil. Repeat. Hold zero mil. Target emerging. Duncan, they’re gonna swarm in behind him as he climbs the stairs.”
“Roger that,” Duncan whispered. The trigger’s factory setting on the Barrett MRAD was two and a quarter pounds—light, smooth, and crisp the way Duncan liked it. When he was growing up on the ranch, his dad had taught him to treat his long rifle gently and with respect. His words passed through his mind. Don’t jerk the trigger, son. Nice and easy.
Duncan focused on his target as he received assistance walking up the stairs, knowing there would only be one opportunity to make the kill shot.
Ready. Set. Squeeze. Boom.
The recoil hammered the folding stock into his shoulder. The ground vibrated beneath him. The feeling was exhilarating, powerful.
The long-range, high-velocity .338 round left a slight vapor trail as it flew through the air, creating a distortion in the atmosphere. The crack of his rifle reverberated throughout the valley and off the walls of the surrounding ridges.
Time stood still for Duncan as he awaited Park’s report.
PART FOUR
Chapter 46
November 15
The Situation Room
The White House
Washington, DC
Once again, almost twenty-four hours later, the group had gathered in the Situation Room to watch via satellite the scheduled missile launch at the Kusong launch facility in North Korea. This time, they were joined by Secretary Gregg, whose interest went far beyond the launch. He knew this would be the first, and best, opportunity for his operatives to end Kim Jong-un’s life.
“This is nerve-racking,” quipped the president as she settled into her chair and crossed her legs. Once again, she nervously fidgeted with her watch, her pen, or anything else within her grasp.
Secretary Gregg watched her for a moment. He held no contempt for her although he disagreed with many of her policies. In a way, she was the perfect occupant of the Oval Office for him to accomplish his purpose. The deep state that stood behind the secretive work undertaken by Secretary Gregg’s assassins would’ve never tried this bold action if President Billings were still alive. Say what you will about the man’s advanced age and gaffe-prone statements, he was dialed into world affairs, especially as it affected the military.
“Did you see those trucks pulling away from the missile?” asked President Harman.
“Yes, Madame President, it appears they are readying for launch,” replied her national security advisor. “It appears to be a lot more activity than yesterday, which leads me to believe the launch is imminent.”
“The incoming weather pattern, as predicted, forced the launch for today,” added the CIA director. “In fact, the front has accompanying high winds. If the launch doesn’t go as planned, they might need to remove the missile from the launchpad for safety reasons.”
Secretary Gregg sat in silence toward the rear of the room, periodically scrolling through his messages from the Pentagon. He knew today’s launch would happen because the intel received from Kim Jong-un’s sister had confirmed it. A slight smile came across his face.
A student of military history, his mind wandered to the decisive victory achieved by US Naval Forces over the Japanese at Guadalcanal on this date in 1942. It was the first major offensive and a decisive victory for Allied forces in the Pacific theater.
Building on their success at Guadalcanal, the Allies continued their campaigns against Japan, which ultimately ended in their surrender. President Roosevelt, when he learned of the success of the combined forces at Guadalcanal, said, It would seem that the turning point in this war has at last been reached.
Secretary Gregg saw today as a pivotal point in world history, one that he was a major part of. Within minutes, Kim Jong-un would likely be dead, and North Korea would be on the path to freedom and an accepted country on the world stage. He envisioned millions of grateful North Koreans streaming into the streets in jubilant celebration as the dynastic, oppressive regime collapsed.
“It’s almost time,” said Acton as all attention was directed to the screen. No vehicles were moving. There appeared to be some activity near an observation tent at the fringe of the concrete launchpad.
“What’s happening?” asked the president as trucks began to streak across the paved roads in the valley without choosing any discernible point of interest. “It looks like somebody kicked an ant pile.”
“Have they scrubbed the launch?” asked the president.
The director of the CIA walked up to the screen and studied the activity. “Something has happened. There is too much activity for the launch to occur now. Let me contact Langley.”
He pulled out his cell phone and walked to a remote corner of the room and placed a call. The national security advisor watched the activity as well and then turned to Secretary Gregg.
“Monty, what do you make of this?”
Gregg leaned back in his chair and tried to look as confused as the others. He held up his cell phone to indicate he’d contact the Pentagon for more information. In this moment, silence was his best ally.
Then Acton spoke up with his opinion. “Maybe the Chinese backed him down? Who knows what they told Kim Jong-un, but it clearly appears the launch is not going to happe
n. Madame President, I think you can declare this a success.”
“I don’t know, Charles, it does appear that he has changed his mind for some reason,” said the president. “I want to believe that our diplomatic efforts made the difference. Let’s go back to the Oval and contact the Chinese ambassador. Hopefully, he can shed some light on what happened.”
“I agree,” said Acton, who began to gather up their things from the conference table.
The president turned to her three top national defense advisors. “Gentlemen, find out what happened, and when you have a consensus, contact Charles and set up a briefing for me. Thank you.”
Secretary Gregg pushed himself up out of the chair and returned his cell phone to his jacket pocket. He knew it would be some time before confirmation of the kill shot would be received, unless the North Koreans announced it first.
Most likely, the new head of the regime, Miss Dear Leader, or Dearest Leader, whatever, would be moving quickly to consolidate power and take control. She’d have quite the battle on her hands with the generals, who’d insist on striking back at the assumed perpetrators, most likely the United States.
Whether she gained control or not, Secretary Gregg and the rest of the deep state had what they wanted—a war.
Chapter 47
November 15
North Cascades National Park
Washington-Canada border
Ceremoniously standing with one foot within the United States and one foot in Canada, Kyoung-Joo Lee, a commander in North Korea’s Lightning Death Squad, waved two dozen of his elite commandos to duck through the crooked fence posts with loose strands of barbed wire running through them. One by one, they ducked under the wire and slapped the concrete monument marking the international border between the two countries.
Commander Lee smiled with pride as his special operations forces gained another boost in manpower. Throughout his nine years working in Canada on a temporary work visa, he’d coordinated the entry of fourteen thousand four hundred commandos within his charge across the porous border between the countries.
He laughed with delight as one American administration after another lamented the influx of Hispanics into their country through Mexico, all the while ignoring a much larger border with little or no oversight.
All across the northern border, especially from Washington State to Minnesota, vast expanses of prairie grass with no checkpoints or visible signs of security provided illegal aliens access into America with welcome arms. From terrorists posing as Syrian refugees to Commander Lee’s highly trained and motivated operatives, Canada had become a gateway, a stopover, into the nation that prided itself in being the most secure on the planet.
Repeatedly, for years, he’d proven them wrong. The Canadian government was extremely helpful in issuing student and work visas to Korean nationals, but were horrible at keeping track of their whereabouts. After several months of briefing and training, the commandos were escorted into America at various insertion points in the North Cascades National Park in Washington, where they were handed over to Commander Lee’s subordinates.
The North Koreans were particularly adept at creating false paperwork for his operatives as they were assimilated into American society. Soon, cities like Los Angeles, New York, Seattle, and Chicago were infiltrated by North Korean commandos as part of their Lightning Death Squads.
Kim Jong-un began the relocation program of his best soldiers into the program led by Commander Lee in early 2016. He took advantage of the political divide in America surrounding the relocation of refugees and the open borders policies adopted by the Canadians.
Kim was never sure how and when these sleeper cells would be activated, but he was a forward thinker when it came to hostilities with the United States. While U.S. administrations came and went, changing policies like the shifting wind, Kim Jong-un focused all of his attention on defeating his nation’s arch enemy.
Over time, his special operations forces had increased to two hundred thousand soldiers. Coupled with Commander Lee’s insertions, another six thousand had immigrated to the U.S. via phony South Korean passports. Now ten percent of his commandos resided in the U.S., waiting for their moment to shine.
A 2020 Pentagon report called the Lightning Death Squads the most highly trained, well-equipped forces in the rapidly ascending North Korean Army. They quickly gained a reputation for being lethal when a South Korean patrol boat made the mistake of entering North Korean waters in the Sea of Japan. The commandos responded quickly to the perceived threat, boarded the ship, and executed the South Korean sailors, which almost caused a major international incident.
Numerous, mysterious, yet formidable, the death squads were treated as royalty at home. In America, they were sworn to secrecy except when talking among themselves. They spent their days performing menial tasks, learning English, and studying American military maneuvers.
In the last year, they’d begun to test the fences. From time to time, they’d breach perimeter security at U.S. military facilities to gauge the reaction of U.S. forces. They were instructed to take down critical infrastructure like electricity substations and telecom connections to determine how utilities reacted.
As a small group by comparison to the population, they’d been trained in insurgency operations. Each was responsible to gather the gear they’d need to conduct this type of terrorist activity, including weapons, explosives, and safe places in which to regroup.
They’d even procured chemical weapons such as anthrax. Commander Lee was a proponent of instilling fear in the enemy with the offensive use of biological weapons. While a biological agent like smallpox or other airborne viruses like pneumonic plague were difficult to control, bacteria like anthrax could be. Anthrax had the added benefit of ease of production. For less than three thousand dollars, the necessary equipment could be purchased on Amazon or at a farm supply store to produce anthrax in a garden shed.
Commander Lee was always requesting more operatives as his plans for America grew more ambitious. Pyongyang readily obliged. Soon the border between British Columbia and Washington in the wilderness of the North Cascades National Park became but a speed bump for the influx of North Koreans.
This was Commander Lee’s ninth day in a row of escorting his commandos to their new home in America. Their handlers eagerly awaited them, and soon they were whisked away into the paths worn between the evergreens, giving little or no regard for the delicate ecosystems the Americans fought amongst each other to protect.
He continued to stand defiantly, looking at the open span of forest beyond the border. The dewy mist had fallen on the ferns and lichens, plant species that were protected by the American court systems, ensuring that no border fence or perimeter security would encroach upon the beautiful forest. It was quite beautiful to behold in more ways than envisioned by those who cherished the forest’s biodiversity—a word that didn’t translate into Korean because it had no purpose in his homeland.
One thing that Commander Lee had learned in ten years of studying the American culture was that the enemy seemed willing to fight each other with more hate and vigor than they would their real threat from across the Pacific. He imagined the day when his country would use this character flaw against America.
Chapter 48
November 15
Mountain above Missile Launch Site
Kusong, North Korea
“Hit. Head shot, stand by,” said Park. The target collapsed in a heap, generating a smile from both men. For a moment, Duncan watched through his scope as chaos ensued. Orders were shouted and screams of agony could be heard from a mile away as the target’s lifeless body bled out on the platform. Random gunfire in the direction of the ridge across the valley brought Duncan back to the task at hand.
“Let’s blow this joint,” said Duncan as he scooted backwards on his belly until he was out of view of the soldiers below, who’d been frantically searching for the source of the gunfire. “Time’s awastin’.”
“G
reat shot, cowboy!”
Duncan patted his partner on the back. “Thanks for the spot. I would’ve loved to have seen the look on his face before it exploded. It always bothered me to shoot a man from behind. In this case, he wouldn’t have extended me the same courtesy.”
Within minutes, Duncan and Park had changed into their North Korean peasant clothing and buried any trace of their gear. Duncan switched out the barrels of the Barrett MRAD to turn it into a battle rifle and slung it over his shoulder. After one final look around their sniper hide, the two set out in a hurry along the path they had identified the day before.
With adrenaline pumping through their veins, the men bolted away from the scene and hopped over rocks like mountain goats fleeing a wildfire. After they reached the top of the ridge, they found the tree-lined cover they planned on using to avoid detection. Time would tell if their advance planning would give them the head start they needed to avoid capture.
They fled down the back side of the ridge and in the direction of the nearby mining town. This area was beyond the perimeter fencing of Kusong. Based upon their intel, Kusong was the home to twenty-five hundred soldiers, some of which were supposedly deployed as spy-hunting teams in the surrounding mountains. Thus far, the men had only encountered the patrol sentry on their first night. As they descended the mountain toward the mining town of Anch’ang-dong, Duncan began to notice the activity on the road passing through the valley.
“Park, something doesn’t feel right,” Duncan began as he pulled Park’s arm to slow his descent. “This is more than a quick-reaction team. This looks like they’re preparing for an attack. I’ve counted ten troop carriers passing below us, all full of soldiers.”