Korean Intercept

by Mertz, Stephen

  Hamgyong Province, North Korea

  Ahn Chong sat at a rough-hewn wood table. He was watching his daughter, Toi, prepare a lunch of pulgogi, thinly sliced beef with various spices, and makkolli, a beer made of rice. The tangy scents of spices in the kitchen area mingled with the faint wood smell from a low fire in the stove.

  It was Ahn's daily custom, at his daughter's request, to join Toi and her husband for their midday meal, ever since the passing of Mai. The interior of the one-room home of Toi and her husband had a low ceiling and bare timber walls. The furnishings were simple and rudimentary. A row of windows faced south, away from the village. Sunlight flowing in through these windows, combined with the wood fire in the stove, made the atmosphere warm and comfortable.

  At thirty-seven years, Ahn's daughter had the stocky, thick-boned physique of the North Korean peasant woman, yet there was a delicacy to the line of her mouth, the form of her lips, that reminded him of Mai.

  He considered this to be a sacred time of each day, seated like this at the kitchen table in his daughter's modest home, not far from his own. Sharing these meals with Toi brought back to him sweet memories of the meals he shared with his beloved Mai before the hideous ravages of her cancer had taken her from him. He had returned directly to the village from the cave, encountering neither army patrols nor anyone else along the way. He arrived early at his daughter's home for lunch. Her husband, Cho, had not yet returned from the fields for the midday repast. The conversation with Toi, as she prepared their lunch, was pleasant as always, about those mundane aspects of village life that they always discussed. A certain villager was reported to be a slacker in the fields. A village in the next valley was rumored to be willing to barter services in exchange for produce. They spoke of such things. Although he engaged her about the subjects she brought up this day, Ahn's concerns were elsewhere. His world had been turned upside down, and he could tell no one. His biggest concern was those he should tell. He thought of the compact radio transceiver hidden nearby. And he thought of the jeopardy that he had placed his daughter in by his actions from the very beginning. There had never before been anything this big, which is why he had hesitated in using the radio to make his report. He must let nothing happen to Toi.

  Midway through preparing their meal, she suddenly said, "Father, what is it? We've been talking, but your thoughts are somewhere else. Please tell me what it is that troubles you."

  He reached his bony hand across the table to pat her arm reassuringly. "It's nothing, child. I have but the wandering mind of an old man in his dotage."

  "You are more of a man than most of the younger fellows I see in the village," she said. "Despite your years, Father, you grow ever stronger: toughened, not weakened, by adversity."

  He sighed and lowered his eyes from hers. "Toi, even the strong grow old and infirm."

  "Not you, Father. You hike to visit Mother's grave every day, and yes, I know, sometimes late in the cold darkness of the night."

  He frowned. "How do you know this?"

  She sensed his flaring of concern, and said hurriedly, "Father, I have told no one."

  "Not even your husband?"

  "No, not even Cho. And I will tell nothing. Please, Father, tell me. What is it?"

  It was her intelligence, and her intuition, regarding him, which most reminded him of her mother. Yet he could not in good conscience involve Toi in the extraordinary events he had witnessed, and been drawn into.

  The outside door was abruptly flung inward.

  Toi's husband entered the house. Ahn's son-in-law was squat, but proportionately muscular. Ten years older than Toi, Cho wore work denims, the knees dirt-stained from the morning's work. His expression was of severe consternation. Before Cho could utter a word, someone behind him propelled Cho into the house.

  The man who had shoved, a rifle-carrying soldier, appeared in the doorway. He scanned their faces. "I am Sergeant Bol Rhee. You will join the others outside, at once."

  Toi leaped to her feet, angrily. Another way she reminded Ahn of his Mai was the manner in which she did not gracefully accept personal affronts. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded. "How dare you—"

  Ahn saw in the soldier's eyes that this could escalate out of control without warning. He knew the reason for the soldier's presence. He placed himself between the sergeant's rifle and his daughter. He then brazenly turned his back on the soldier, to rest both of his hands on Toi's shoulders. "Daughter, no. We will cooperate. We will do as he says."

  She started to speak, and then interrupted herself. She whirled on her husband. "Cho, are you a party to this?"

  Cho's expression shifted from consternation to the hint of outrage. "What foolishness to suggest such a thing! Of course not!"

  To Ahn's ears, the young man's denial sounded hollow and insincere.

  The soldier snorted in frustration and disgust, apparently somewhat unwilling to gun down three civilians in their own home. Instead, he shoulder-slung his rifle and stepped forward. The thudding clump of his combat boots sounded radically out of place in the kitchen. He grasped both father and daughter, each in a firm grip above the elbow. "Listen, both of you." He shook them roughly for emphasis. "It is not I that you should fear. I suggest that you do as you're told. My commander is here. Be advised he is a man without mercy or sentimentality. You have been warned."

  He gave neither of them an opportunity to respond. He dragged them through the doorway, outside. Cho trailed several steps behind, voicing what sounded to Ahn like half-hearted protests. They were taken through the bracing midday sunshine to the center of the village, where about thirty villagers had been herded into a group, huddled together under the watchful eye of soldiers with rifles. Bol released Ahn and Toi with a shove that sent them jostling into the huddled mass of frightened people.

  Bol turned to an officer of severe demeanor and posture. The threat of violence was palpable in the air. "Sir, all of the adult males and their spouses are accounted for."

  "Well done, Sergeant." Colonel Sung surveyed the civilians. His uniform was starched. His boots remained brightly polished despite traipsing through inhospitable terrain. His steely eyes settled upon Ahn. "You. Old man. Your name is Ahn Chong. I am told that you know this region as only a native of your years can. I want you to tell me what you know about a space shuttle."

  Ahn respectfully cast his eyes downward. 'Sir, I do not even know what a 'space shuttle' is."

  "I do think you know what a space shuttle is, old man. I know of your late-night wanderings."

  Ahn heard gasps of dismay from the villagers surrounding him. His daughter's was the loudest.

  "Colonel, on my word, I walk late to visit the grave of my wife."

  "Yes. The grave of your wife. The grave of your wife happens to be exactly along the shuttle's line of approach. You know what I want. Tell me. Where did the shuttle go down? Are there survivors? Tell me, old man, or you will come with us for questioning."

  Cho spoke before Ahn could reply. "Colonel Sung, please spare my father-in-law. He knows nothing. I implore you. Do not harm him."

  Sung studied Cho. "You are the leader of this village commune, I am told."

  "Yes, my Colonel."

  "I see." Sung pondered this, then nodded. "Very well. The old man remains here. I will grant you this favor as a faithful member of the Party."

  Cho seemed uncomfortably conscious of the stares of his fellow commune members. He managed to stammer out, "Thank you, my Colonel."

  Sung turned back to Ahn Chong. "As for you, old man, you're lucky for now. I have my reasons for keeping you alive."

  "You hope that I will reveal where the shuttle is. But I tell you, Colonel, I know nothing."

  Sung whirled away from the group of frightened civilians. "Sergeant!" he snapped at Bol Rhee. "Order your men into a column. We are done here." He cast a final, withering glance in Ahn's direction. "For now," he added ominously.

  There came a collective sigh from those around Ahn. The soldiers m
arched away from the village then, led by the strutting commander and his harried-looking sergeant. They took the narrow, rutted dirt road that led into the shadow cast, even at midday, by towering forest trees.

  Ahn found himself reminded of his own military service, so long ago, as a conscript. Then the column disappeared from sight into the trees beyond a crest in the terrain. The villagers erupted into conversations, many of them solicitous of Toi. Ahn had no interest in conversing with anyone.

  "Father." His daughter held her head high. His fatherly pride swelled at the grace and courage that her bearing and posture reflected. She glanced around to make certain that no one was within earshot. The others were conversing excitedly among themselves, discussing what had just happened. She said, "Father, you must be most careful of what you say."

  He bristled. "Why? Are you afraid that your husband will send word to the secret police to come for me? Or perhaps Colonel Sung will arrange a hastily-convened firing squad for your father."

  "No such thing will happen, Father. Cho only follows his conscience. I believe he just saved your life. You should be grateful."

  Ahn looked to where his neighbors were dispersing at Cho's command, to resume work in the fields. "Your husband thinks me a useless old man. He spoke up only to divert problems from his own home, with you. For my part, I wonder who informed the colonel about me, of how well I know these mountains."

  "You think it was Cho?"

  "Of course I do. Who else?"

  The lines around Toi's eyes and mouth became taut. "As the leader of our community, it is Cho's duty to cooperate with the authorities. Father, do not speak disrespectfully of my husband. He is a good man."

  "Those he collaborates with were about to kill me. It may be your husband's duty is to inform for Colonel Sung. But when he informed on me, he betrayed our family and he endangered you."

  "And what of you, Father? Do you know anything about a space shuttle? You could help our village avoid the misery that Colonel Sung will bring."

  "Child, nothing that I can do or say will avert what is destined to happen. No good will come of this. Brace yourself for what lies ahead, for we are in the line of fire."

  Chapter Fourteen

  Beijing, China

  The communications center, in the Great Hall of the People, was far below the street level of Tiananmen Square: a cluttered, concrete-walled room filled with masses of American-made communications gear. The air conditioner was set to a year-round setting. There was the hum of the equipment, a minimum of hushed conversation and no other sound except for the clicking of many fingertips across keyboards beneath rows of monitors. During the Cold War, China and the United States had jointly operated a string of electronic intelligence-gathering stations along what had been the Soviet border. The stations were furnished with American equipment and Chinese technicians. Enormous quantities of that equipment had been diverted to this subbasement, unknown to most of the thousands of people who daily worked in or visited the Great Hall.

  General Chow stood with Huang Peng, the minister of defense, near a wall dominated by a bank of world-time chronometers. Technicians tended the rows of equipment with the precision of ingrained routine.

  "We have been intercepting an enormous amount of North Korean radio traffic," Chow informed the defense minister. "The space shuttle remains missing, but they have escalated their search."

  "What of the American communications?"

  "I regret to say we have not yet been able to break their frequency code."

  Frown lines creased Huang's gaunt features. "1 was not aware such a problem existed. We have access to America's satellite positioning intelligence."

  "Unfortunately the American transmissions are being circuited through one of the new satellites, an extremely sophisticated device that alters transmitting frequencies in a random fashion every few seconds."

  Huang nodded. "I see. Is there no way to break the code?"

  "Perhaps if the Americans command their satellite's computer to synchronize the receivers."

  "And what is the likelihood of that?"

  "I cannot offer a guess." Chow avoided the minister's glare of disapproval, shifting his gaze instead to the row of technicians hunched over their computer terminals against the opposite wall. "But I do understand the urgency of this matter. We are doing the best that we can."

  "And what of our communications?"

  "Our communications are secure."

  "Then apprise General Li that time has become of the absolute essence," said Huang. "He is our only hope of locating the shuttle before the North Koreans. Instruct the general to intensify his search."

  North Korea

  Chai had posted sentries at intervals around the crash site. The warlord's group had traveled openly and brazenly through several villages on their way here, and word would have spread. It would be widely known in the region that a sizeable force of the warlord's "army" was passing through, and everyone gave them a wide berth. No one came around, curious. In Liberty's shadow, men were securing the last of the stolen equipment upon their imported llamas, in preparation for departure. Dusk came quickly at this elevation, casting the mountains in cold shadows that lengthened and widened, evaporating the warmth of day.

  Kate stood several meters away from the looming space shuttle. The shuttle was a towering, majestic monument of modern technology, in stark contrast to the raw, natural surroundings of the clearing where Liberty had crash-landed. A hawk soared high above, basking in the final rays of a sun quickly disappearing beyond craggy peaks to the west. Kate stood in one of the few remaining patches of sunlight. This had been perhaps the most horrific day of her life. She couldn't remember the last time she had slept, yet she was not sleepy. In fact, because of these terrible events, and the contrast of her stark surroundings to the reality she'd expected as an astronaut, all her senses were alive with crystal clarity. From time to time throughout the day, she had cast a glance beyond the activity in and around the Liberty, but she saw no signs of civilians. Not surprising, she reasoned; the locals no doubt lived in fear of these armed, vicious-looking brigands. She had thought several times of the old man, Ahn Chong. She hoped he was all right.

  One of the bandits had been assigned as her personal guard for the day, a pimply-faced boy of seventeen or so who stood nearby, an M16 slung on his shoulder, his attention never leaving her.

  Chai approached her from the direction of the shuttle. His mouth twitched in the semblance of a smile. "Miss Daniels, you and your fellow captives can rest easy. You may inform them of this when you are reunited with them. The first steps have been taken to return you to your country."

  "I wish you had allowed me to communicate with NASA," she said.

  His men continued working with alacrity, inspired in equal measure, Kate suspected, by the oncoming frostiness of night, and by the imposing appearance of their leader. Chai exuded an undeniable aura of brute power, and at present it was focused directly on her.

  "I never trust women. I need hardly point out that your leading me here was an example of your lack of trustworthiness. You are a foolish, faithless woman. You have betrayed your mission, your crewmates and your country" The precise, Oxford accent dripped with a snide, almost sarcastic, tone. She could not get over how weird it was to hear the cultivated British diction from this ruthless, unshaven, scar-faced outlaw.

  Anger flared in her, but she concealed this as best she could. "I thought that I'd already explained myself. I see no choice but to deal with you. At least you are purely motivated by greed. Your motives are not political. I'm no traitor. Commerce is one hell of a better way of getting this resolved than allowing anything to fall into the hands of the North Koreans or the Chinese."

  His gaze swept the crash site with satisfaction. His men, with their llamas, had begun moving in a steady line up a steep slope toward the tree line.

  "They will find the shuttle, you know," Chai told Kate, "and before much more time passes."

  "That's wh
y I'm helping you, and trusting you," she said. "What you've taken from here will be more safe at your fortress than here."

  Chai nodded. "It can be defended from there, and kept safe. My demands will be met accordingly. I will get my money. Your government will respond."

  His cockiness finally got to her. "I wouldn't be too sure of that," she said. "As much as I hate to say it, the good old U.S. of A. bureaucracy can be pretty screwed up, and at times, very slow."

  "Nevertheless, you and your crewmates will serve my intent. Come now, accompany me. We will wish to make a final inspection before we leave here."

  They moved through the length of the shuttle, with the last light of day weakly struggling through the portals, using flashlights to inspect the effect of a day of systematic yet unschooled looting. She accompanied wordlessly, heartbroken at what she saw. Throughout the day, she had remained near Chai's side, had witnessed firsthand his overseeing of the unloading of Liberty. He had required her assistance in explaining the equipment and functions. It was a gut-wrenching experience for her There had been the hideous, ghoulish sight of the dead crewmembers, Leo and Al, still strapped in their seats, preserved by the frigid temperatures, their expressions of the pain of their final moments still etched across their features. Kate recalled the training she had undergone with these people, the rigorous hardships, the laughing camaraderie of what little time off they'd shared; and the memories stabbed at her heart and wrenched her mind. As she'd promised to do, and feeling guiltier with each passing second, she systematically pointed out for Chai the key pieces of equipment.

  The looters were neither careful, nor qualified to perform their tasks. She suspected that much of the equipment stripped from the Liberty was instantly damaged and rendered useless.

  Chai instructed his men to remove those items with the drills, screwdrivers and wrenches they'd brought along in the trucks that carried them here. Kate was reminded of seventeenth-century pirates stripping a high-seas vessel of its bounty. They gutted the control panels on the flight deck, and she had shed tears at the sight of the brutes hacking, pulling and cutting at the delicate controls.