by Bobby Akart
An isolated occurrence of a politician’s use of words resulted in tens of thousands of opponents taking to the street in protest. They created chants, slogans, and signs, all of which vowed to throw the bum out at the next election. Within a few days, a new media-driven crisis was created and theirs was quickly forgotten.
Lee, who was a student of history, continued his fascination with America once he began sneaking his operatives across the country’s northern border. The America of today was nowhere near the America of World War II. The young adults of that time period were known as the Greatest Generation. Born in the twenties, they had endured the deprivation of the Great Depression and then patriotically volunteered to fight in World War II or make sacrifices at home to help the war effort.
Once the war was over, the men who survived the battles returned to create the most dynamic industrial economic base in the world. Over the decades, however, that changed. America became soft and distracted.
Matters of importance gave way to matters of emotion. The conversations in Washington turned from national security and economic prosperity to culture wars.
Lee’s study of the American psyche served him well as he carried forward the mission of Dear Leader over the years. Today, even without Pyongyang’s guidance, the leader of the Lightning Death Squads remained focused on the task at hand.
Lee also studied Sun Tzu, who posited in The Art of War, know thy self, know thy enemy—a thousand battles, a thousand victories.
Lee had spent hours studying the activities of the security personnel and the employees of the Baytown Refinery. They were going through the motions. To be sure, at the beginning of their assignment to this facility, they had probably practiced a heightened state of awareness. But over time, no threat materialized, and their routine became mundane.
He pulled his jacket closer around his chest to ward off the cold wind, which swept down the deserted street. A wintry mix of rain and sleet had reached as far south as the Houston area throughout the day. While many Texans who lived in the area lamented the nasty weather, Lee cheered it. The security personnel at the refinery would be distracted and more interested in staying warm than fighting a battle. His men, on the other hand, fought for a cause. They were trained to fight with passion and grit. Tonight, he would succeed and bring glory to Dear Leader.
Before he sent his men into the cold drizzle, he gave them one final warning.
“Our enemy does not have the courage and conviction that you hold in your heart. But do not underestimate your foe. In Texas, the enemy may dress like a deer, but they will kill like a lion. My honorable warriors, every battle is won before it is fought through preparation. Move swiftly, yet quietly. Position yourself as we’ve discussed. When the time comes, we will attack, remembering our Dear Leader expects victory!”
Chapter 44
January 31
Baytown Refinery
Baytown, Texas
“Alpha One, Foxtrot Two. Over.” The radio contact from the perimeter patrol designated Foxtrot startled Duncan. He’d expected Lee to make his move on the refinery in the early morning hours. Then he considered the big picture. Lee expected to quickly launch the attack, destroy the refinery operations and join his second unit at Port Arthur. Duncan was immediately glad he’d placed his men in position during the four o’clock afternoon shift change.
“Go ahead, Foxtrot Two.”
“We have movement along the western security line at Ashby Street. Four hostiles on foot.”
“Roger that, Foxtrot Two. Stand by.”
Duncan turned to the team of engineers who were prepared to assist Duncan in identifying possible targets. They studied a wall-size map, which provided a flowchart of the refinery’s operations.
“What’s the most likely target on the west side of the complex?” Duncan asked.
“Our operation flows from west to east. Raw crude comes into the area your man referenced at Ashby Street. It is then submitted to atmospheric distillation at these large fractioning towers located here and here.” The engineer used a pointer to direct Duncan’s attention.
“Have you shut down the system in these fractioning towers?”
“Yes, per your instructions. None of the facility is operating at the moment, as we instituted Category 3 Hurricane protocols after your captain phoned us. When major hurricanes are forecast for the Galveston Bay area, we empty all pipelines between the towers, the hydrotreaters, and the final processors, which make the conversion to gasoline, diesel, and other petroleum byproducts.”
Duncan rubbed his temples. It would take some heavy-duty explosives to take down the fractioning towers. Reports indicated that Lee had used RPGs at the nuclear power plant, but he had utilized construction-grade TNT to take down the large transmission towers as well.
His captain interrupted his thoughts. “Sir, Foxtrot Two is still waiting for his orders.”
“Yeah, I know. I don’t know what General Lee’s understanding of refineries is. Do they even have oil refineries in North Korea?”
Another engineer stepped forward. He was of Asian descent but spoke English without an accent. “Sir, if I may. The largest oil refinery in North Korea, located in Sinuiju at the Chinese border, may be known to the general of whom you speak.”
“Sinuiju?” asked Duncan.
“Yes.”
Duncan shot a sly grin at Sook, who smiled back as she continued monitoring the radio with an earpiece. “I know it well.”
Duncan took to the radio. “Foxtrot Two, Alpha One. Over.”
“Go ahead, Alpha One.”
“Targets are likely the three large towers on your western perimeter. Possible use of explosives. Eliminate targets immediately.”
The action was starting to pick up, and the other Foxtrot patrols were advising Duncan of the commandos’ entrance into secured areas of the Baytown Refinery. The entire complex covered over twenty-four hundred acres, and its perimeter was secured by an eight-foot-tall chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. However, the dual-entry gates to parking areas could easily be breached, giving quick access to the complex. After that, the commandos had a more difficult task in their quest to destroy the facility.
A refinery consists of three basic operations to convert crude oil to refined petroleum products like asphalt, coke, liquid petroleum gas, and of course, transportation fuels for jets, trucks, and automobiles. The first phase, which starts with the fractioning towers, is part of the separation process. The finishing process is an interim step primarily required for the creation of gasoline. Finally, the conversion phase produces the final product.
Duncan had discussed these processes with the engineers as soon as they had assembled in the main operations building earlier that afternoon. He’d also warned them that building would be a likely target of Lee and his men. They were willing to take the risk in order to help.
“Alpha One, Foxtrot One. Over.”
“Go ahead, Foxtrot One.”
“A dozen bogeys are running northbound along San Jacinto Avenue toward the center of the refinery complex.”
“Roger that, Foxtrot One. Stand by.”
Duncan studied the map again. One of the engineers assisted him in identifying San Jacinto Avenue.
“Commander, several of our gasoline hydrotreaters are located along this road. It’s possible they’re going to—”
The crackle of the radio interrupted his sentence. “Alpha One, Foxtrot One. They are peeling off in teams of two at each cross intersection. Confirmed. Six teams of two. Over.”
Duncan turned and asked, “How would you disable these hydrotreaters? What are they?”
“Their goal would not be the catalyst systems themselves but rather the mechanical rooms associated with each of the catalysts. First, they’d have to identify them. They’re all bolt-locked and require a torch or small explosive to remove the doors. Then the computer and manual operations could be vandalized in any number of ways.”
“What do the buildings look
like?”
“They’re all the same except their identifying numbers are different. In this part of the flow, they are simply S-J one through six. The S-J represents San Jacinto.”
Duncan returned to the radio and immediately provided the Foxtrot One team the information. His men had the benefit of night vision as well as the ability to quickly find their way to the potential target sought by Lee’s men. Foxtrot One would be able to lie in wait as the commandos entered their trap.
Duncan nervously paced the operations center of the refinery. He touched base with his team at Port Arthur, who were in position to fire upon the commandos the moment they entered the perimeter fencing. Unlike Baytown, where Duncan was attempting to capture the North Korean commander, Port Arthur was strictly a search and destroy mission against the commandos. Duncan wasn’t interested in prisoners. He wanted a high body count to bring this to an end.
After a few more excruciating minutes, he reached out to his security detail, which surrounded the Eco Services Operations Center where he was located. He switched the communications channel to the one dedicated to Bravo team.
“Bravo One, Alpha One. Over.”
After there was no response, Duncan tried again. “Repeat. Bravo One, Alpha One. Over.”
There was still no answer. He turned to his captain, who also had a concerned look on his face. Duncan tried to hail any of the three units assigned to Bravo team.
“Bravo team, Alpha One. Over.”
Duncan took a deep breath and exhaled. “Sook, have you heard any radio chatter at all?”
She shook her head and frowned.
Duncan turned to his officer. “Captain, you coordinate the Foxtrot teams. I’ll remain on Bravo’s channel as its team leader. Lock and barricade the door after I leave.” He shot a reassuring smile in Sook’s direction, grabbed his rifle, and exited into the dimly lit hallway.
The two soldiers guarding the operations center entryway were given instructions to monitor Bravo’s dedicated channel and to remain at their post no matter what they might hear. Their job was to protect the occupants of that room.
“I’ll handle the rest,” growled Duncan as he left through the side emergency exit of the building.
Chapter 45
January 31
Baytown Refinery
Baytown, Texas
Duncan stopped and pressed his back against the brick wall, allowing his body to transition from the warm confines of the operations building to the cold, damp evening air. Lee had chosen the perfect night to undertake his assault upon the refinery. The weather was unusual for Houston, and most of the security staff would’ve spent their time inside guard shacks and enclosed buildings. Lee probably expected little resistance as his men snuck about the operations of the refinery in search of targets to disable or destroy.
At this point, however, Lee had most certainly been alerted to the enhanced security measures put into place by Duncan. If Bravo team had been compromised, Lee and his commandos would realize they were not up against run-of-the-mill security personnel.
Duncan learned something as well. Lee’s men had neutralized or eliminated the six fine-tuned killing machines assigned to Bravo team. If that was the case, Duncan would have to be on his game to defend Sook and the men inside the building.
The staccato sound of gunfire could be heard from the south end of the complex, where Foxtrot was protecting the hydrotreaters. Duncan didn’t need to understand what all of the facets of the refining process were. He just knew that losing the ability to produce fuel would throw Texas into a tailspin from which recovery would be long and ugly.
He adjusted his night-vision goggles, readied his rifle, and went hunting. The operations center was open on the front to a parking lot, which contained half a dozen cars. The side emergency exit he used emptied into a labyrinth of pipes and metal structures that were connected by more pipes branching off in three directions. Every square foot of this high-dollar, bayfront real estate was utilized. There was no room for picnic tables or walking trails. The refinery was a jungle of asphalt, concrete, and steel.
Each side of the operations building had a door, but only the front entrance could be accessed from the outside. The three emergency exits had no exterior door handles. This helped Duncan in his positioning, as he knew Lee had to approach the facility with a full-frontal attack.
With the elimination of Bravo team, and the extended firefight heard from the rear of the building, Duncan knew Lee would be making his move soon. Even if his commandos were unsuccessful in damaging the rest of the facility, destruction of the operations center would bring the Baytown Refinery to a screeching halt.
He edged his way to the front of the building and searched for any form of movement through his night-vision goggles. He decided to move within the adjacent pipelines using the twelve-inch wide pipes as cover. With his head rotating on a one-hundred-eighty-degree swivel, Duncan moved toward the parking area and the block wall that separated the courtyard-style entrance from the asphalt parking lot.
Suddenly, a figure appeared over the wall and made a throwing motion. He heard the distinctive sound of a grenade clanking against the concrete entryway and bouncing against the plate glass.
The resulting blast from the grenade’s impact with the glass was deafening. The entire front entrance was obliterated as glass flew in all directions. Duncan moved into position and dropped to the ground. Lee’s men wouldn’t wait long to move in. Duncan had to be patient. All of his targets needed to reveal themselves before he opened fire.
“Come on out, boys,” Duncan mumbled to himself as he focused his aim on the sidewalk closest to the block wall.
There you are, he thought to himself as two groups of men raced along the sidewalk toward the front door. They opened fire on the entry on the chance that someone was waiting on the other side of the cloud of dust and debris. They never thought to look for trouble on their left flank.
Duncan had silenced his rifle, and the spitting sound couldn’t be heard over the combination of the commandos’ gunfire and the burning front entrance. The commandos, however, felt the bullets tearing through their bodies. He sprayed them with four quick bursts, immediately killing them or knocking them to the sidewalk. If their bodies made the slightest movement, Duncan filled them with a couple more insurance rounds.
Even though the tracer rounds had not yet appeared, meaning he had several rounds of ammunition left, Duncan switched to a full magazine. This battle still had one primary target to locate—General Lee, their conqueror.
Duncan slipped back into the protection of the pipeline maze and worked his way toward the parking lot. He took a moment to raise his captain on the radio.
“Alpha One, Bravo team leader. Over.”
“Go, Bravo team leader.”
“Four kills at front door. Sitrep.”
“Lost one. All others secure. Foxtrot teams are mopping up hostiles.”
“Roger that. Still on watch for the conqueror and more hostiles.”
“Repeat, Bravo team leader.”
“Never mind. Bravo team leader out.”
Duncan looked in all directions. Am I wrong? Would Lee sit this one out in favor of making a quick escape to Port Arthur?
Still puzzled, he worked his way through the pipes and then emerged in the parking lot. As he cleared the last bit of cover, he instinctively lowered his profile into a crouch. The move saved his life.
Automatic gunfire released a barrage of bullets over his head, striking the now empty pipes, but the deafening sound caused his ears to ring. Duncan, still recovering somewhat from the concussive blast in his Humvee a week ago, crawled forward and then ran at a low crouch toward an old Chevy Suburban in the parking lot. A trail of bullets tore up the turf behind him as he went.
He caught his breath and remained in a crouch as he pressed his body against the SUV’s front fender. He listened for his adversary. The attacker knew where he was, but Duncan couldn’t risk breaking cover to stick his hea
d up for a better look. He decided to lure him out with psychological warfare.
“Jeongbogja! Jeongbogja! Isn’t that what they call you, General Lee?”
There was no answer, and he was starting to think that Lee had escaped after firing upon Duncan. He decided to try again.
“How about it, conqueror?” Duncan asked sarcastically. “Why don’t you and I have a chat? I’m sure you speak English.”
Duncan listened and drew his knife out of his pocket. He gently set his rifle against the tire and then used the knife to jimmy the side mirror off the door.
Duncan pulled his sidearm and inched his way to the back of the Suburban. Using the mirror, he positioned himself so he could see the open parking lot. There was a single vehicle, a smallish four-door sedan, parked nearest the street. At least seven cars were parked along the block half-wall separating the courtyard from the parking lot.
After holstering his pistol, he pulled the partially emptied magazine from his pouch and prepared to throw it like a boomerang toward the parked sedan. He decided to taunt Lee one more time before making a second attempt to draw him out.
“Hello, Jeongbogja! Jeongbogja!”
With his left hand, Duncan slung the magazine, which sailed across the parking. It skipped once before bouncing up and hitting the front bumper. Duncan kept the mirror in place, and when Lee immediately opened fire, the muzzle flash gave away his position.
Without hesitating, Duncan spun around and raced toward the front of the Suburban, picking up his rifle as he went. As he ran toward the sixth parked car nearest the sidewalk entrance, he trained his rifle on the target. He used his speed and the element of surprise to catch Lee off guard.
When Lee didn’t show himself, Duncan dropped to one knee and sent bullets skipping under the vehicle until they struck flesh. Lee groaned and fired wildly over Duncan’s head. Duncan retreated one vehicle and circled it toward the rear, anticipating that Lee would focus his attention toward the operations center where Duncan’s gunfire had come from.