Ballistic Force

by Don Pendleton

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “They drugged me and—”

  “No talking!” snapped the man who’d remained with the prisoners. For emphasis, he raised his Glock pistol and pointed the barrel at Li-Roo’s face. The man recoiled and fell silent. Shinn glanced his way and offered a faint, understanding nod.

  Up in front, meanwhile, Hong quickly showed the other man how to operate the CB, then left him to monitor things and got out of the truck. Bryn was already standing on the curb, lighting a cigarette. Hong joined him, holding out his map so that it would look as though he was trying to figure out an itinerary. He stood so that he could peer over Bryn’s shoulder and keep an eye on the elderly couple as well as the man from the Subaru. Hong looked the other way, watching as other cars sped past the rest stop, bound for the highway.

  “They must have found our place in Goffs,” Bryn said, making conversation as he stared at the map.

  Hong nodded. “If they did, I hope they put a bullet through Ok-Hwa for me,” he said. “Never again will I…”

  Hong’s voice trailed off and he cast aside his cigarette.

  “They’re coming?” Bryn said.

  Hong nodded. They continued to look over the map, though Hong raised his glance momentarily as the elderly couple walked past.

  “Good morning,” the old man called to Hong, smiling.

  Hong smiled back. “Good morning,” he said.

  “You fellas lost?”

  “No,” Hong said, gesturing at the map. “We’re just trying to figure out our driving time.”

  “Well, if you’re heading to Phoenix,” the man’s wife interjected, “it’s about a half hour.”

  “Thank you,” Hong said, folding the map.

  Bryn stayed on the curb as Hong followed the couple back to their vehicles. He started to open the door to the panel truck, but once the older man led his wife to the passenger’s side of the Winnebago and was about to unlock the door, Hong suddenly whirled around, pulling out his pistol. He aimed the gun at the husband as he clamped his free hand over the old woman’s mouth.

  “Go ahead, open the door,” Hong ordered.

  “What are—”

  “Open the door!” Hong repeated. “Now!”

  Trembling, the older man unlocked the door. Hong reached past him and yanked the door open, then told the man, “Get in!”

  The man stumbled as he climbed up into the Winnebago. Furious, Hong shoved him the rest of the way inside, then dragged the woman into the vehicle.

  Bryn, meanwhile, strode over and opened the back door of the panel truck.

  “Get everybody out!” he yelled at his colleague. “Be quick about it!”

  The REDI operative in the rear of the panel truck flicked open a switchblade and as he swiftly hacked away at the duct tape bound around the prisoners’ ankles, Bryn told the man up front to disconnect the CB and carry it over to the Winnebago.

  The man in Subaru had finished walking his retriever and was heading back toward the parking lot. When he saw the commotion taking place in the other two vehicles, he frowned.

  “Hey!” he hollered. “What’s going on over there?”

  Bryn cursed under his breath.

  “Hurry!” he told the others as he moved away from the panel truck and started walking toward the man with the dog.

  “Is there some kind of problem?” the man asked as Bryn approached.

  “You’re the problem,” Bryn said, withdrawing his pistol. There was a sound suppressor attached and the gun gave off a muffled pop as he pumped two rounds into the man’s chest. The man died on his feet, a stunned expression on his face, and Bryn was barely able to reach him in time to keep him from keeling onto the sidewalk. The retriever barked faintly and scampered around Bryn as he dragged the man back to the Subaru, then fished through his pockets for keys. He opened the door and eased the man’s body into the driver’s seat, then adjusted the corpse so that it looked as if he were leaning over the steering wheel for a quick nap. The retriever stayed close by, still barking, and when Bryn opened the rear door, the dog bounded into the back seat. Bryn made sure the lock buttons on both doors were pressed down, then tossed the keys to the floor of the car and shut the doors.

  The dead man had bled all over Bryn, and a trail of blood led from the car to where the man had been shot. Muttering to himself, Bryn hurriedly crossed the sidewalk and scooped up some dirt and loose gravel from the edge of the parking lot. He sprinkled it over the trail of blood, then scuffed the dirt with his shoes, obscuring the telltale blotches.

  By the time he’d finished, everyone had transferred into the Winnebago and Hong was behind the wheel, already backing out of the parking spot. Bryn jogged over and climbed in.

  “Let’s get out of here!” he told Hong.

  Hong shifted gears and pulled out of the parking lot, just as another vehicle was pulling in. In the back of the Winnebago, the two other REDI agents were retaping the ankles of their prisoners.

  “You won’t get away with this!” the owner of the Winnebago shouted at the carjackers.

  “No?” Bryn scoffed. He turned his gun on the man and his wife. “You’re of no use to us, so I don’t think you’re going to ever find out.”

  With that, the Korean operative pulled the trigger.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Changchon Rehabilitation Center, North Korea

  Lim Seung-Whan felt his stomach knotting as Prync Gil-Su concluded his proposition.

  “And you don’t even have to know the details,” the prisoner whispered. “All I need is your assurance that you’ll be good for the money we need. We’ll handle the rest.”

  Lim couldn’t believe what he was hearing. When he’d just woken up from a fitful few hours of sleep, he’d taken consolation that within twenty-four hours the nightmare he’d plunged his family and friends into would be behind them. And now this: a prison revolt scheduled for the same time that his release from the concentration was supposed to be carried out.

  “Does it have to be tomorrow?” Lim asked.

  Prync nodded. “We’ve waited too long already. Tomorrow morning will be our best opportunity. We can’t let it get away from us.”

  The two men were standing near the far wall of the barracks. The other prisoners were milling around nearby, waiting for the guards to lead them to the mess for the paltry morning rations expected to fortify them for a day’s labor in the mines or poppy fields. Lim had been pulled aside from his family, and he could see both his wife and daughter eyeing him as he confided with Prync Gil-Su.

  “I need to think about this,” Lim murmured.

  “There’s no time for that,” Prync insisted. “We need to put things into motion. I need your answer now.”

  “I have to discuss it with my wife,” Lim protested.

  “No, you don’t,” Prync countered. “Not a man like you. You can make your own decision.”

  “This affects her,” Lim snapped. “This affects my family. My friends.”

  “If it’s their safety you’re concerned about, they don’t have to take part,” Prync assured the South Korean. He gestured at the straw-lined wooden floor beneath their feet.

  “We’ve loosened some of the floor planks,” he explained quickly. “Women and children will be able to hide down in the crawl space below the barracks when we make our move. They should be safe there. You can wait there with your family if you want.”

  “I don’t know,” Lim said.

  “Don’t force my hand,” Prync warned.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I don’t know all the facts behind your situation,” Prync said, “but I do know that the only reason they’ll let you go is because they know you won’t pose a security risk. You probably convinced them that you won’t mention anything about this camp or the poppy fields. Am I right?”

  Lim stared at Prync. Yes, that had been part of his arrangement with the commandant, but he saw no point in divulging any specifics so he remained silent.
<
br />   “What if the commandant was to find out that you’d told some of us that you were actually a spy for the south?” Prync suggested. “How do you think that news would be received?”

  “You’d be lying,” Lim countered. “I’d tell them as much.”

  “It’d be your word against mine,” Prync said. “And I know how paranoid these people are. Trust me, the smallest kernel of doubt grows fast in their minds.”

  Lim felt trapped, backed into a corner. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to lend a hand to Prync’s cause. The risk to his loved ones was too great. If the revolt failed—and Lim felt in his heart that Prync’s plan would never succeed—the guards would have no problem finding anyone hiding in the crawl space beneath the barracks.

  “Well?” Prync said. “Are you with us?”

  Lim tried to stall. “If you have no qualms about lying,” he told Prync, “why not just go ahead and tell this person you need to contact that I’ve agreed to help? You don’t need my approval.”

  “It wouldn’t work,” Prync countered. “I told you, I know these people. Once I go to them, they’ll come to you for confirmation. They’ll want your personal assurance.”

  “Give me a few minutes,” Lim bartered. “I’ll give you an answer once we’ve had rations. Before we’re sent out to the mines.”

  The other prisoner hesitated a moment, then said, “Fair enough. I wouldn’t have confided in you if I didn’t think you could be trusted to do the right thing. Think it through, and you’ll see that it’s best for all if you help us.”

  Prync walked off, joining the other prisoners he’d conspired with during the night. The men were all watching him, and their look of expectation only added to the burden of responsibility Lim felt weighing on him. Prync had assured him he’d do the right thing, but what was that? Was it right for him to put his family and friends in harm’s way to help these men with their doomed conspiracy? He just couldn’t see the merit of it. He sympathized with the men’s plight, and if there were a way for him to empty his personal coffers and buy the freedom for everyone in the camp, he would. But this? What Prync was asking was sure lunacy. Lim had already subjected his family and friends to enough horror; how could he turn around and put their lives on the line in a lost cause? Lim didn’t see any way that he could go along with the scheme and live with himself.

  Lim took in a deep breath, fighting back the sickness in his heart as he slowly trudged across the floorboards to his family.

  His wife saw the look on his face and asked him, “What is the matter? What did he want to see you about?”

  Lim didn’t want to trouble U-Pol with specifics, so he hedged from the truth.

  “Extortion,” he muttered. “He found out who I am and wants money from me.”

  “We don’t have any money,” she responded. “Not on us.”

  “That’s what I told him,” Lim answered. “I told him I couldn’t help him.”

  “We’d help them if we could,” she said. “They have to know that. But there’s nothing we can do for them.”

  “No,” Lim agreed. He didn’t want to talk about the matter any further, so he said, “Let’s put this behind us. We have another day to get through here, so let’s just do it and keep our minds on the fact that soon we’ll be free.”

  A guard appeared, ordering the prisoners to leave the barracks for rations. As the prisoners began to slowly file out, Lim pondered his situation further. There was one option he hadn’t considered. He could go to the commandant and divulge the conversation he’d just had with Prync. Lieutenant Corporal Yulim would be grateful, and Lim’s disclosure would likely further insure that he and his loved ones would be freed as planned. But just as quickly as the idea had crossed his mind, Lim dismissed it. If he betrayed Prync and the others, there would be harsh reprisals. Most likely there would be executions, and Lim suspected he would be forced to witness them. Did he really want that on his conscience?

  Lim was wrestling with his dilemma when he happened to glance down at his daughter’s wrist. For the first time, he noticed that Na-Li was wearing her charm bracelet.

  “How did you get that?” he asked her.

  Na-Li’s face reddened. “I always wear it,” she told him. “You know that.”

  “No,” Lim said. “You weren’t wearing it on the boat.”

  “You’re mistaken, Father.”

  “No,” Lim insisted. “You took it off because you said it would give you a tan line. I remember distinctly.”

  “Please,” Na-Li pleaded. “Can we not discuss this?”

  Now it was Lim whose face flushed red. He recalled his rendezvous the previous night with the commandant, and how Yulim had been wearing clothes taken from his luggage. If the man had gotten his hands on Lim’s things, it only stood to reason that he’d had access to his daughter’s belongings, as well. The implication was impossible to ignore.

  “You saw him yesterday, while I was in the mines,” Lim said to his daughter, “didn’t you?”

  Lim’s wife intervened. “We don’t need to get into this.”

  Lim ignored his wife and stared hard at Na-Li. “What did he do to you?”

  Before Na-Li could answer, the guard came over, pointing a rifle at Lim.

  “Keep moving!” he ordered. “There is work to be done!”

  Once they were outside the barracks, other guards stood in front of the doorway, gesturing for the men to split off into a separate line from the women. Lim exchanged a glance with his wife and daughter, then moved off, falling in line behind his friend, Ji Pho-Hwa. He was consumed by rage at the idea of the commandant taking advantage of his daughter, and the more he thought about the matter, the more incensed he became, and in no time his fury had outweighed any reservations he’d had about aiding Prync and the other prisoners with their planned revolt. There was no way he could stand by and let Yulim get away with what he’d undoubtedly done to his daughter. No way.

  “He’ll pay,” Lim seethed under his breath, his hands trembling with rage as he took his meager rations and followed the other men out of the mess tent. He looked around until he spotted Prync. The head of the planned revolt had just finished shoveling down his rations and was wiping his fingers on the loose fabric of his work clothes. Lim stared at Prync until he had the man’s attention, then nodded.

  To hell with the consequences, Lim thought to himself. He would back the revolt and, when it took place, there was no way he would cower beneath the barrack floorboards. He would take up whatever arms Prync and the others could make available, and then he would personally track down Yulim and kill the man or die trying.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Stony Man Farm, Virginia

  “Isn’t it nice to be back in the thick of things?” Aaron Kurtzman asked Huntington Wethers.

  “Definitely,” replied the third member of Kurtzman’s cybernetic team. “You can only spend so much time in a think tank before you find yourself wanting to spend a little less time thinking and more time doing.”

  The one-time university professor had been back at the Farm for a little over an hour and was up to date on the various North Korean situations being monitored by Stony Man personnel. Now, seated at his meticulously organized cubicle, Wethers had immersed himself in the foremost task at hand: trying to figure out which avenue of escape the REDI operatives in Arizona would take now that they’d succeeded in capturing two of the three Kanggye nuclear team defectors they’d been assigned to bring back to Kim Jong-il.

  “I’m setting up an autosearch of every LE database west of the Rockies,” the gray-templed African-American told Kurtzman as he worked his keyboard. “‘REDI,’ ‘North Korea,’ ‘Asian Killboys’…As many search words as the systems can handle. I know it’s a fishing expedition, but once I have things in motion, I can run the search in background mode and switch over to something else.”

  “Sounds like you’re on top of things,” Kurtzman said. “Keep at it. I’ll keep you posted if we turn up any leads on some
other front.”

  “I’ll be right here,” Wethers said.

  Kurtzman backed up his wheelchair and motored his way over to Carmen Delahunt’s station. The redhead was wrapping up a phone call.

  “Well, let’s hope things go through without a hitch,” she said. She finished the call and hung up, then turned to Kurtzman. “That was Akira. It looks like all-systems-go as far as making the deal to get his cousin released. They money’s been rounded up and they’ve set up a time for the exchange. First thing tomorrow morning.”

  “Good,” Kurtzman said. “That’ll leave us with one less ball to juggle.”

  Delahunt nodded and shifted her attention back to her computer monitor. “As for the situation in Arizona, we’ve got AHP and sheriff’s personnel from three different counties helping the FBI lay a dragnet. The airports are covered, and if there’s enough manpower to go around, they’ll have a car at every off-ramp on the highways leading away from—Wait, hold on…”

  Delahunt cut herself off and both she and Kurtzman stared at her computer screen. The woman had brought up a partial roadmap of central Arizona and a blinking star had just appeared along a stretch of Interstate I-17 just north of Phoenix. As Kurtzman watched, she placed her cursor on the star and clicked her mouse, zooming in on the flagged area. A text box automatically opened alongside the zoom shot, relaying an instant transcription of LE dispatches from the area in question. There were a few glitches with the voice-recognition software, but Delahunt and Kurtzman were able to make enough sense of the dispatch to realize that the REDI operatives had apparently pulled yet another car switch at a rest stop just off the interstate. They’d left behind a slain motorist, who’d been found slumped over the steering wheel of his locked Subaru.

  “He probably witnessed the switch,” Kurtzman surmised.

  “And he’s probably the only one who did,” Delahunt said, “which means we don’t know what kind of vehicle they’re in now.”