by Bobby Akart
“How long has it been? Ten minutes?”
Duncan checked his watch. “Fifteen. They’ve responded much faster than we anticipated. Either way, the roads are not an option. We’re gonna have to move southward through the base. If we travel outside the perimeter, we’ll meet a lot of resistance because they’re more mobile.”
Park caught his breath and then weighed their options. “If we follow the top of the ridge around the missile site, we’ll have the high ground and be moving in a southerly direction. At some point, we’ll have to breach their perimeter patrols, but we can deal with that when the time comes.”
“Yeah, let’s go back to the top and move along using the tree canopy as cover. At least they haven’t deployed any choppers yet.”
“Fine,” said Park with a chuckle. “You get your marathon hike after all. Keep in mind you may have to carry me across the finish line.”
“This will teach you to lay off the fast food, my friend.”
“Whatever,” said Park with a shrug as he passed Duncan and led the way back up the ridge.
Duncan glanced to the mining town one last time and shook his head in disbelief. They were onto us awfully fast.
After they reached the top of the ridge, Duncan retook the lead. He was more familiar with traversing uneven terrain than Park was. He’d pick a route that would be easier on his partner considering his lack of upcountry hiking experience and his physical condition, which was not up to Duncan’s.
A half hour later, Duncan and Park heard the sounds of helicopters performing a grid search across the area where they’d taken the shot. Gradually, the choppers spread out in all directions, eventually crossing over their heads. While they were able to easily avoid detection, the game of cat and mouse was slowing them down.
Duncan was constantly checking his watch and calculating the time to the extraction point. He was beginning to realize their escape was going to require a vehicle at some point, even if it was for a few miles.
Thirty minutes later, after the helicopters veered off toward the woods where they hid their truck, Duncan and Park reached the flatlands of the valley, which would allow them to pick up their pace considerably. They had only traveled a mile in an hour and a half, and Park was already showing signs of fatigue.
Duncan knew the trek through the mountains was the difficult part of their escape physically. It was also the most crucial period to avoid detection. If they weren’t discovered in that first hour, then the North Koreans would begin to extend their search and focus on vehicular traffic. Now it was a matter of making better time than the first portion of their escape.
“Let’s take a break so you can catch your breath,” said Duncan as he found a lean-to shed with several empty drums in it. Park immediately leaned against a post and slid down to the ground, where he propped his arms on his knees. The next few miles would determine if Park could make it all the way to the extraction point at Sinmi-do.
Duncan studied the GPS and then pulled out the map. He studied the area for a moment and then confirmed their coordinates. Satisfied with their route, he repacked his rucksack and offered Park a bottled water.
Park readily gulped the water down before standing. “Thanks. I’m done hiking. Walking, I can handle. Just tell me it’s a straight, flat shot to the Korea Bay.”
“It is,” Duncan responded. “We’re gonna head toward the Taeryong River where it comes out on the southeastern side of the base. There’s a road we can follow that will take us due south. However, somewhere between here and that road will be their perimeter fences and likely beefed-up patrols.”
“I don’t think my voice-throwing trick will work in the daylight.”
“Not to mention the fact these guys will be on high alert for anything out of the ordinary.”
Park adjusted his gear and gave a thumbs-up to Duncan, who led the way once again. He was walking at a quick pace as the two men talked about the reality of their mission for the first time since leaving their sniper hide.
Park began the conversation. “How long do you think it will take for them to let the world know what happened?”
“That’s a good question,” replied Duncan. “Everything they do here is carefully orchestrated. Plus, Kim wasn’t seen in public all that often. It was kinda like bin Laden back in the day. They’d release some pictures or video to Al-Jazeera for distribution, but you could never tell when or where they were taken.”
“So they might hide it until they get their ducks in a row,” added Park.
“Most likely. There are no other sons in the Kim dynasty except whatever little kids that guy had. Remember, he had one of his brothers taken out in Malaysia, and the other brother spends all of his time out of sight and out of his mind at Clapton concerts in Europe.”
They moved swiftly along the pine-needle-covered forest floor. The sounds of the helicopters were way off in the distance, and no other vehicles could be heard, as the pine trees blocked sounds from outside the woods.
“Maybe his sister is next in line?” asked Park, before answering his own question. “Do you think our chap Kensington is playing footsies with Dear Leader’s little sis? Wow, that would be close to the top.”
Duncan checked his watch and subconsciously picked up the pace. We have to make some time along the way.
“He was pretty confident in his source. I’m surprised her brother would let a Brit anywhere near his sister, much less to be sleeping together, as he implied.”
The men continued and came across a dry creek bed, which enabled them to move quickly toward the river ahead. They pushed through a thick area of underbrush. Duncan could see daylight and what appeared to be an open area. They were almost out of the camp.
Just as they were about to exit into the clearing, they immediately dropped to their knees.
Duncan and Park had found the river and the road that would take them to the extraction point. They’d also found a North Korean patrol of a dozen men searching the banks for the killers of their Dear Leader.
Chapter 49
November 15
Kusong, North Korea
“What are they saying?” asked Duncan over his shoulder in a whispered voice. He carefully walked backwards on his hands and knees to join Park. Their visibility was limited by the thickness of the natural vegetation along the river. The shouting of orders and hurried responses indicated the North Korean soldiers were under pressure to find the shooters.
“Just typical commands,” replied Park. “But one officer continues to urge his men upriver. Where is the road from our current position?”
Duncan studied the GPS and then showed it to Park as he replied, “Two klicks to the south of here along the river.”
The voices began to fade, and Duncan crawled to a large pine and stood up behind it. He was only able to make out the helmets of the soldiers, but they were all moving to his right, upstream toward the camp.
Duncan waved Park over, who continued to listen. The voices grew fainter.
“Let’s go for it,” Duncan suggested. “I’m guessin’ there were a dozen men in that patrol. Most likely, they parked their truck at the road and began searching up the river, probably looking for our footprints on the banks. If we can stay along the edge of the woods, we can make good time to get to the road.”
Park was on board. “Yeah, then we’ll jack their truck. We may not be able to talk our way through their checkpoints, but we can pick up a lot of miles before they notice their truck missing.”
“Let’s roll,” said Duncan without hesitation. The men slowly made their way to the clearing and the river’s edge, which was slightly damp, possibly hampering their progress. Choosing the more stable high ground along the bank next to the underbrush, they began running at a steady pace toward the road.
Nearly two miles and fifteen minutes later, they saw a truck parked in front of a short concrete bridge. It was a standard military troop carrier with a green canvas cover on the back and the red star of North Korea paint
ed on the doors.
Park slowed and then abruptly darted into the woods. He motioned for Duncan to join him.
“Duncan, they’ve left a man behind to watch the truck. He may be the driver.”
Duncan studied the bridge and the area around the truck. “That transport could carry more than the dozen soldiers we saw. They may be searching downriver from the highway. Park, we’ve got to move quickly.”
“All right,” said Park. He pulled his sidearm and affixed the suppressor. He handed Duncan his rucksack and his earmuffs. “Here, trade hats with me. I’m gonna wander over there like I’m a lost local.”
“But we’re still inside their base perimeter fence,” cautioned Duncan. “He may not buy it.”
“It won’t matter,” said Park, who was lightning fast when drawing his concealed weapon. “He’ll be dead before he has a chance to raise his rifle.”
Duncan looked back upriver, wondering when the patrol would return. “Gotta go for it. I’ve got your six.”
Park nodded and slowly made his way toward the riverbank and stopped thirty feet from the truck where the woods ended. He pulled his weapon and stretched the sleeve of his oversize jacket, allowing him to conceal his forty-five.
The soldier was smoking a cigarette as he wandered aimlessly at the truck’s tailgate. Park waited until the guard turned to pace in the other direction before he emerged from the woods. He was able to close the gap to twenty feet before the guard noticed his presence and promptly swung his rifle around.
“Nongmin-eul, meomchuda!” the guard shouted as Park emerged from the woods. Stop, peasant!
Park didn’t respond or hesitate. Appearing to raise both hands in surrender, his right arm emerged from his sleeve and fired a single round into the throat of the guard, knocking him backwards until his body crashed onto the pavement.
Duncan burst out of the woods with his weapon drawn to cover Park in the event another soldier emerged from the back side of the vehicle. Park carefully rounded the rear bumper and cleared the bed of the truck while Duncan checked the cab and the driver’s side.
Satisfied they were clear, Duncan walked toward the river and looked for any signs of the troops returning.
“We’re good,” Duncan announced as he caught up with Park at the tailgate.
“More than good,” said Park with a smile. “Look what I found!”
Park held back the canvas cover to reveal the interior of the troop carrier. Three long rectangular boxes lay before him, one of which had already been opened by Park.
“RPGs! Sweet!” exclaimed Duncan. He hoisted himself into the covered truck bed and rummaged through the contents, where he found the coats and caps of the soldiers. “We can put on these coats and bluff our way through.”
“One step ahead of you, Comrade Armstrong,” said Park with a laugh. He’d stripped the soldier of his jacket and pants and found them to be a perfect fit. “I pulled his body out of the pool of blood from his throat. Throw me a cap.”
Duncan tossed him a hat, and Park immediately put it on before standing at attention. “What say you?”
“You look better than the dead guy,” said Duncan. “Come on, let’s toss him in the woods. We can’t do much about the blood.”
The men unceremoniously pitched the dead soldier into a thicket of brush and made their way back to the truck. Without hesitating, they fired up the big diesel and lumbered southbound toward the coast.
Park turned on the military comms mounted to the dashboard of the truck. The antiquated technology resembled an American-made CB radio from the seventies. As he drove, he scanned through the channels.
Duncan checked his watch. It was just past noon. “We’re seven miles from the crossroad where the camp perimeter is located. There will be a manned security gate there. We’ll have to make—”
Loud static from the radio interrupted Duncan. Men were shouting at one another in a clearly excited tone.
Park held up his hand and listened.
“Did they find the dead guy?” asked Duncan.
Park shook his head side to side as he leaned over the steering wheel to concentrate on what was being said. He finally relaxed and leaned back in his seat after turning down the volume.
“Sorry, but I had to concentrate. Although we share a common language with the North, the dialects are different. South Koreans have adopted a number of Japanese words and phrases into their language. American words too. In North Korea, there is a commonly used dialect called Pyongyang. Those guys were worked into a frenzy, making it difficult to follow.”
“What could you decipher?”
“I gather they’ve found our abandoned truck. They’re diverting resources to the west side of the camp.”
“Good. Listen up. We’re only two clicks from one of the base’s main entrance points. It will be fortified and heavily manned.”
Park looked down at the dashboard. “We’ve got half a tank of fuel, more than enough to make it to the extraction point.”
Duncan continued. “We’ll still have a dozen miles or so to Sinmi-do. We’ve got six hours to get there. One option is to ditch the truck short of the checkpoint, find our way through the fence, and continue to hoof it as planned. It’ll take us four hours, getting us to the extraction point at dusk, barring unforeseen problems.”
“Plan B?” asked Park.
“Try to bluff our way through, but that could be shot down before we arrive if those patrols return to find their truck missing and their comrade dead.”
Park grimaced. “That’s a real possibility if they’re diverting manpower to the other side of Kusong. They may have called the patrols back already.”
“There’s a third option,” started Duncan as a grin came across his face. “We’ve got three RPGs and our own firepower. We could blast our way through ’em and make a run for the coast. At the checkpoint, there are three options for them to follow us. We could be in Sinmi-do in twenty minutes, even in this rust bucket.”
“If they chase us and descend upon the coast, which is a natural course of action, we could get caught before the boat picks us up.”
Duncan took another look at the GPS when sirens began to wail from all directions. The radio chatter began again.
“What, Park? What?”
“They found the dead guy. We’re gonna have company!”
Chapter 50
November 15
Kusong, North Korea
“Stop the truck!” said Duncan as he started to open the passenger door. He’d rummaged around in the glovebox and under the seat. He found a rusted, flat-head screwdriver that suited his purposes. “I’m gonna load the RPGs and tear through the canvas so I can stand. We’re gonna blast our way through and figure it out on the other side.”
Park squealed the big tires as he brought the transport to a halt. The forward momentum threw Duncan against the dash and slammed his door wide open. He quickly kicked out his leg to hold it there and jumped out.
Duncan ran around the side and climbed into the covered truck bed. Park was slamming his fist on the window, shouting for him to hurry. Duncan found an area in the canvas that had been repaired previously and drove the flat-head screwdriver into a patch, easily reopening the hole. With all his muscle, he grabbed the opening with both hands and tore the seam wider until it stretched to the wooden sides of the truck.
Within seconds, he’d emerged with the RPG locked and loaded. “Wait here for them to round the bend in the road,” he shouted to Park. Duncan familiarized himself with the trigger mechanism. He recognized the model. Several years ago a freighter was boarded, bound for the Suez Canal. Concealed under bins of iron ore was a cache of thirty thousand RPGs destined for Egypt. A UN investigation revealed Egyptian businessmen were using their companies as cover to buy the rocket-propelled grenades for use by the Egyptian military in violation of the UN ban on DPRK weapons exports.
Duncan steadied the weapon and waited. He could hear the approaching truck rounding the curve. He marked t
he spot where it would appear.
There it was, a vehicle very similar to the troop carrier he occupied. Duncan took aim and fired. The RPG round blasted through the air and hit the truck just above the radiator, tearing through the hood and imbedding in the cab before exploding.
Debris and body parts from the blast flew hundreds of feet into the air. The resulting explosion of the truck’s gas tank also sent a ball of fire skyward, accompanied by black smoke.
Duncan pounded the roof of the truck. “Go, go, go!”
Park gave it gas and the two-and-a-half-ton vehicle lurched forward. The debris covered the road, but Park was able to drive through the grass on the shoulder and avoid large truck parts or bodies on fire.
The firing of the RPG had revealed their position, and now it was time to take advantage of their shock and awe approach. Park continued driving, and Duncan leaned around the cab and reached his arm through the window.
“Hand me the rifle!”
Park didn’t slow down as he passed the Barrett to Duncan. They were now in view of the main checkpoint, which consisted of a center gatehouse flanked by steel gates and concrete barriers that stretched forty feet on both sides of the entrance.
A Humvee-style truck was approaching them. A gunner was scrambling to man a machine gun that was mounted in a turret on the truck’s roof. Duncan never let him get into position.
The Barrett, which he’d converted to a battle rifle by exchanging barrels, was now fully automatic and drawing ammo from its magazine. The powerful .338 rounds shattered the windshield of the truck, instantly killing the driver.
The vehicle swerved toward the shoulder, causing the gunner to reach for the trigger, but he was only able to shoot wildly into the air. The truck careened down an embankment and flipped onto its roof, crushing the gunner underneath it.
“We’re gonna blow-n-go!” shouted Duncan as he prepared another RPG.