“What about that overseas communication?”
Kwan understood. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a cell phone. He said something to Hea, who explained that it was a disposable phone, a valuable commodity in North Korea, but traceable once powered up. It should only be used when they were near the end of their journey.
Sandor nodded. “But this will definitely get me an overseas connection?”
“Kwan says it will, but you must be careful. They will track the signal as soon as you make the call.”
“Got it. Okay, let’s move out.”
Kwan helped Sandor drag Hwang to the edge of the truck bed. Hea then had a look outside. They were parked off the highway, beside a large rock outcropping that hid them from view.
“Quickly,” Hea urged him.
Sandor jumped to the ground and, despite the stiffness in his back and neck, hoisted the inert man over his right shoulder. He wanted to say something to Kwan, to thank him, but Hea’s brother was busy replacing the floorboards, rearranging the boxes, and closing the tailgate. When he was done, he and his sister paused, but only for an instant, looking at each other as if for the last time. Then the young man nodded and, with a sad smile, climbed into the cab of the truck and drove away.
After a momentary pause, Hea said, “Hurry,” then led Sandor to a path amid the trees, away from the road.
————
Fortunately, Hwang was not a large man and Sandor had little difficulty carrying him over his shoulder as they trudged north through the woods. Their direction was easy enough to discern with the hot sun on their right filtering through the dense foliage above them. Neither Sandor nor Hea spoke for ten minutes or so, they just moved ahead until Sandor asked, “So what, exactly, is our plan? We just going to walk across the border with Hwang on my back?”
Hea did not break stride as she said, “There is a railroad siding. A couple of miles more and we will see it. We can board a Russian freight train as it slows through the yard. That will take us into Khasan.”
“And if we’re seen running for the train.”
“We can pay off the attendant if we have to. Or use these,” she reminded him, hoisting up the pistol she still held, then pointing to the gun in his hand. She had the AK-47 slung over her shoulder.
“Uh huh. And what about the fact that the DPRK military is going to be on the alert for a border crossing?”
“What choice do we have?” she asked, still marching ahead of him.
Sandor nodded approvingly. There were several things he liked about her style, especially the ability to keep her focus while knowing, just a few minutes earlier, she had likely cut off all contact with her family. Forever. “So,” he said, “we’re just like a couple of Depression-era hobos, jumping a boxcar, that’s the plan?”
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry,” he said, “I’ll explain that later. Let’s keep going.”
And so they did, the trail becoming narrower and more overgrown with vegetation the farther north they went, which suited Sandor just fine. The less trampled their path, the less likely they would be intercepted before reaching the yard.
In half an hour the tracks came into view and soon they could hear the sound of trains rumbling along, somewhere off to their left. Hea slowed, then stopped and moved behind a large tree. Sandor fell in behind her and dumped Hwang on the ground. He took the opportunity to stretch his neck back and forth, trying to loosen up the tightness in his shoulders.
“Time to find the road less traveled,” he said, smiling at the blank look she offered in response. “Another story for the flight back to the States, okay?” Then he lifted Hwang again and began to move through the trees with Hea trailing behind.
It was not long before they could see the train yard that Hea had described. It was a large, open area, with tracks acommodating traffic north and south. The tracks leading up to Khasan were closest to them, but there was a large expanse of open ground they would need to traverse if they were to reach the train as it came through.
“This isn’t going to work,” he told her as they stopped behind a large rock to survey the area. Sandor pointed to a couple of structures, two stories high, across the way. “Probably railroad offices and switching stations, but today I guarantee you they’re full of local military, all equipped with high-power binoculars, not to mention rifles.” They were too far away to determine if anyone was positioned on the roofs, but Sandor guessed they were. “We try and make a run for it in the open there and they’ll cut us to ribbons.”
“Can we wait until dark? Would that be better?”
“Better, yes, but they’ll have infrared and night vision goggles. Or they can easily throw floodlights on, and then what? And who knows what patrols they already have in the area? We can’t just sit here for ten hours and hope that we’re not discovered. Our friend Hwang is going to wake up eventually, which will create another issue.” He thought it over as he watched an old locomotive pull a line of freight trains slowly past, traveling south. There was no sign of a military presence, no one boarding the cars as they moved along. “No, I believe our best move is to act now. But not here,” he told her. “Come on.”
Sandor hoisted Hwang one more time, then led Hea back through the woods, staying as close as he could to the rail line without coming out from the cover of the trees, not stopping until they were more than a mile south of the yard.
Now they were much closer to the tracks, although Sandor knew the train would be moving faster here, making it tougher to board. He did not have to wait long before the sound of an approaching locomotive announced it was on its way.
“Not yet,” he said as he watched, gauging the speed, judging how he would make his move. When the entire line of cars had passed, he said, “Okay, we can do this. First thing, it has to be a Russian train. No sense complicating our lives by getting aboard a North Korean line.”
Hea nodded. “Both Russian and North Korean trains run back and forth.”
“Right. Second, and this is the tough part, I don’t think it’ll work for us to board one of the cars in the back. There’s likely to be a customs check, and we’ll be dead if they find us there. I need to get into the locomotive, to make sure they don’t stop when they come to the border. You understand?”
“Yes.”
“Which means I have to try and board first. The question is, what the hell do we do with Hwang? You’re not going to be able to carry him onto a moving train, and I can’t risk lugging him on my back if I’m going to reach the engineer.”
As they talked it over, Hwang finally started to stir. “All right,” Sandor said, “here’s what we’ll do.”
After he explained his plan, Hea asked, “What if the next train is North Korean?”
“The one that just passed was North Korean, which should improve our odds the next one will be Russian. If it’s not, well, then Mr. Hwang turns out to be unluckier than we thought. Right, Hwang?”
Hwang was emerging from his narcotic haze. He heard the plan and began to struggle against his bindings. Sandor reached out and gave him a slap on the cheek. “You just stay nice and quiet, pal. I’d hate to think I hauled you all this way just to shoot you.”
Hwang gave him a venomous look, but stopped writhing around.
Sandor turned back to Hea. “If this stretch of rail is being watched they’ll see me as soon as I move into the clearing with our friend here.” He took the cell phone Kwan had given him and handed it to her. “If anything should happen to me, you get the hell out of here, try and jump the next train going north.” He stood and led her beyond the earshot of his prisoner, behind a large tree. There he recited a set of numbers. “Once you’re on the train you turn on the phone and enter those numbers, then ask for a man named Byrnes, tell him you were with me, tell him everything that happened. He’ll get you out of here. All right?”
She stared at him, not moving, not speaking.
“Hey,” he said, “just a precaution. Now, repeat the numbers
,” he insisted, and she did. Then he returned to Hwang and, without warning, leaned over and hit him with the side of his clenched hand, striking him just between the man’s neck and shoulder, a vicious chop that would quiet the Korean down for a little while longer.
Sandor lifted Hwang over his shoulder and, moving as fast as he could, entered the clearing. As he raced for the tracks he expected something, sniper fire or a shout from a sentry, but nothing came. They were far enough from the main yard with no sign of anyone in sight.
Sandor laid the insensate man across the northbound rails at the end of a long straightaway and turned back for the woods. There was no reaction from anywhere, all was quiet, and Sandor made his way back to safety.
When he reached Hea, she smiled slightly, then held out the phone.
Sandor nodded as he took it. “All we can do now,” he said, “is wait.” Then, as he caught his breath, he grinned. “One way or the other, at least I won’t have to carry that sonuvabitch around anymore.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CIA HEADQUARTERS, LANGLEY, VIRGINIA
DEPUTY DIRECTOR MARK Byrnes was again seated in the office of CIA chief Michael Walsh, and again they were facing the large screen, which this time displayed the image of the President himself, as well as National Security Advisor Peter Forelli, members of the National Security Council, and other administration officials. The group assembled at the White House was in a somber mood. All of them, that is, except for President Forest. He was downright angry.
“How in hell is this possible?” he demanded. “Where was the breakdown?”
At the moment, he was addressing the problem of the downed airliner. They had not even reached the next agenda item, the destruction of the communications center in Fort Oscar.
“So far,” DCI Walsh replied, “we believe it occurred in the pass-through of luggage from one of the smaller islands. A lot of these commuter flights check baggage through when they come into St. Maarten. We’re checking into all of them. We’re also trying to determine the means of detonation.”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, sir, preliminary tests indicate that the explosive device was placed somewhere within the cargo hold. We have not determined if it was ignited remotely, on a timing device, or by an altitude-activated triggering mechanism.”
“No,” the President said, “that’s not what I’m asking, Mike. What’s this about the luggage passing through?”
Walsh turned to Byrnes, the classic Potomac handoff.
“There are local airlines that operate between the smaller islands and St. Maarten,” the Deputy Director explained. “To save time, sir, some of them have arrangements with the international carriers that allow passengers to check their bags through. Without reclaiming them in the Princess Juliana Airport,” he added.
The President turned to Forelli, fixing him with a look that could have bored a hole through a lead shield. “Are you guys telling me that they allow luggage to be checked through from these puddle-jumper flights onto a jumbo jet heading for the States?”
“Yes, sir,” the NSA replied unhappily, “it appears some of them do. The bags are scanned by the security personnel in St. Maarten.”
President Forest shook his head. “That’s comforting. What do they do, have a glance at the screen in between sips of their piña coladas?” He turned his wrath on the head of the NTSB. “Is this procedure sanctioned by your department?”
Saul Adler nodded glumly. “The airlines are permitted certain latitude on how they handle connecting flights. In the Caribbean…”
“Don’t give me any bullshit about the Caribbean,” the President barked. “I got over two hundred people dead in the Caribbean, not to mention this disaster in Fort Oscar. What I don’t need, Saul, is a damned travelogue. What I need is for someone to tell me what the hell is going on here.” He turned back to the screen and said, “Byrnes, you have anything for me so far that means something?”
“Given the attack on Fort Oscar, I think we should focus on flights that came into St. Maarten from St. Barths.”
“Don’t overwhelm me with the obvious. What else have you got?”
“You’ve been briefed on the Jaber defection, sir?”
Forest nodded impatiently.
“It appears he knew nothing about the jetliner, Mr. President. His information and the leads we’ve been developing indicate that all of this may have something to do with energy resources.”
“Energy resources? Like what, a play against one of our nuclear power plants?”
“No sir, but this is all highly classified…”
“Everyone in this room is cleared,” the President announced impatiently. “Just lay it out for us. Why would they blow up an airplane and then Fort Oscar if this is a play against a reactor or something?”
“No, sir, we believe it’s some sort of oil-for-arms play.”
“What in hell does that have to do with downing a commercial airliner?”
Byrnes drew a deep breath. “We believe the attack on the airliner might have been a diversion, sir.”
“A diversion?” the President roared. “These bastards killed two hundred people as a diversion?”
“Yes, sir, that’s how we see it. They may want us to link the airline explosion with the attack on Fort Oscar, send us spinning in the wrong direction, but we believe their real plans have something to do with our oil supplies. This appears to be an offensive coordinated between Pyongyang and someplace in the West. Most likely Caracas. We are still unsure if Iran is actually involved.”
Now the President was listening. “Go on.”
“We have one of our best men leading a covert operation in North Korea. We’re waiting to exfiltrate him as we speak.”
“What sort of operation?”
“Fact finding sir. We believe, if we can get him out, he may have information that will help us connect the dots on this.”
President Forest turned to Forelli again. “This have to do with the mess you told me about at that ridiculous festival they hold with all the cheerleaders in Pyongyang?”
The NSA confirmed it was.
The President turned back to the screen. “When you say ‘one of your best men,’ who do you have leading the ops over there?”
“Jordan Sandor, sir.”
“Sandor, eh?” For the first time, the President allowed himself one of his well-known smirks. “Way I hear it from Peter, satellite photos show they had quite a firefight at that stadium yesterday. That was Sandor?”
“We believe so, sir.”
“You really think he got anything out of that?”
“I hope so, Mr. President.”
“Me too,” he agreed with a quick nod of his head. “All right then, you fellas do whatever it takes to pull him the hell out of North Korea, then let’s start to get us some answers.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
SOUTH OF THE BORDER BETWEEN NORTH KOREA AND RUSSIA
WHAT SANDOR’S PLAN lacked in finesse it made up for with surprise. Hwang lay across the northbound tracks, bound at the wrists and ankles with his mouth taped shut. Sandor had also done his best to strap Hwang in place with his belt, so escape would be nearly impossible.
Hea was hiding in the bushes directly across from where the Korean lay. Sandor was a hundred yards south, so he would have the first look at whether the train was Russian or DPRK. They remained that way for nearly an hour, watching as Hwang tried unsuccessfully to wriggle out of danger. Then they heard the sound coming from the south.
As soon as Sandor spotted the Russian logo he signaled Hea, who ran from cover and knelt beside Hwang. Sandor was racing north through the trees as the freighter barreled ahead to where the girl now stood waving her arms, the incongruent scene causing the engineer to reflexively blow his horn and order his assistant to hit the brakes.
What could possibly be going on, they must have wondered.
But before they could make sense of a man tied to the tracks and a woman calling for help, th
ey slowed their long line of cars just enough for Sandor to charge on the full run from beyond the siding and leap onto the running board of the locomotive with the Tokarev in hand and the AK-47 strapped across his chest.
The engineer was a burly man in his mid-fifties, his brakeman younger and thinner. “Stop this thing!” Sandor hollered at them in their native language, and the operators were too stunned to do anything but comply. As they did, Sandor relieved them of their sidearms.
There was not enough time to bring this huge linkage of rolling steel to a halt before hitting Hwang, but Hea had already managed to free him from the tracks and drag him to safety as the train continued slowly past them.
With the train still creeping ahead, Sandor instructed the brakeman to get down and help bring the girl and Hwang into the cab. “And no heroics, right? No one here is going to get hurt if you cooperate,” he said, still speaking in Russian. “We just need a quick lift into Khasan.” Then he tossed one of the Russian pistols down to Hea, keeping the engineer covered with the AK-47.
The brakeman got down and helped Hea lift Hwang, all three of them clambering aboard. Sandor said, “If you touch the radio, if you try and trip an alarm, I’ll kill you both. You understand?”
“Perfectly,” the engineer replied. “Your Russian is quite good.”
“I’ve had plenty of practice. Now, get this crate going again and tell me the procedure you have to follow when you enter the rail yard up ahead.”
The engineer described the protocol. When they came south into the country, filled with Russian products, they would be stopped and examined. On the way back they were basically empty, since North Korea did not have much to export. There was little to look for except possible defectors. Normally they would be asked to slow the northbound train, but nothing more. Occasionally they would be subjected to an inspection. This morning, however, the engineer said that he had noticed an increased military presence along his route.
“Now I understand why,” the man said.
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