by Van Torrey
“What if the Canadians beef about this, because the point of departure was Canada?” asked Hoffman, who was now warming to the mission parameters since learning that his submarine had only a peripheral role in the operation.
“That’s not my team’s problem, but I guess the Feds would say since this whole op took place in U.S. waters, it really wasn’t any of their business,” answered Chance.
“Any problems that you can see Commander?” asked Chance.
“I have to be cautious about surfacing in their path if the ferry is moving, Mister Lyon,” replied Montgomery. “Can’t risk being rammed by the ferry. I can surface and move perpendicular to its path once it has stopped moving, if I know you are in control on the bridge.”
“That’s good enough, Skipper,” replied Chance. “When can you leave to get to the operational area?”
“Two hours, and it’ll take us two hours to get up there. We can hang out at a hundred feet depth if we don’t have any boats coming in or leaving,” as he looked at Hoffman.
“Not until next week,” confirmed Hoffman.
“Okay give us a signal when the ferry leaves Victoria. I’ll come to periscope depth and watch for you. When you cross into U.S. waters, and I see your flare, I’ll surface. We’ll use our encrypted sat phones to communicate.”
As the meeting broke up Captain Hoffman asked Chance to stay back for a moment. “Mister Lyon, I have my orders, and I intend to follow them. The last time we were put together I was very worried about the nuclear device your SEALs brought aboard my submarine. I don’t know what happened out there, except that you were seriously wounded, but there are rumors about another nuclear encounter afterward. These things get around.”
“Sir, I can’t comment on any of that, but I am grateful to your people for getting me transferred to the Lincoln and sticking around on the surface long enough to make that happen. I know you sub drivers don’t like being on the surface at all.”
“Lyon, this sounds like another one of those balls-out, counter terrorism operations that CIA cooks up for you adrenalin junkies to keep your attention. That’s fine, just don’t do anything to fuck up this billion-dollar submarine and my career in the process. If this works out, I hope we never have to meet professionally again. Third times are seldom a charm in this business. But if you ever get to Hawaii I owe you dinner and drinks at the best restaurant in Honolulu. Good luck, Lyon,” Hoffman said with a wink and a back slap.
Chance boarded the JetRanger that Peggy had idling and after he and Blackie buckled in she said, “Where to, boss?”
“Fairchild International Airport in Port Angeles. We need to get close to the action.”
*
Miss Joon had only about one hour to come up with a clever and credible ploy to seduce the Koreans into believing she was worthy of them making an intermediate change of plans, at least between Nanaimo and Victoria. With initial, and then follow-on luck, she might even finesse it to stay with them to the ferry that took them to Port Angeles. Miss Joon was aware of Peggy’s important role as a helicopter pilot in the end game of Operation Hard Candy and her competitive nature was driving her to assume an equally important component of the operation, even though she was a rookie. In this case she would have to invent it.
Miss Joon went into the ladies room and pulled a piece of paper towel out of the dispenser and with a marker she had in her purse she marked in large black letters:
HLP MEE!
도움말 좌초! 제발!
The message read, ‘Help, Stranded. Please!’ in Hangul, the alphabet of the Korean people, preceded by what looked like the English language version of the message that might be written by someone not literate in the English language, but familiar with the sounds of the words.
Miss Jon felt she had the bases covered, using pidgin English first, followed by Hangul, in order to advance the illusion that she was trying to reach everyone or anyone on the ferry, but to get the special attention of Gamma and Park who might be lured by the fact that she was legitimately Korean as well as her being genuinely attractive. It was a universal truth that men were often swayed by feminine attractiveness when logic or good judgment failed them.
As the ferry made the night crossing from Horseshoe Bay to Nanaimo a steady drizzle began to fall, driving many of those who had boarded with vehicles back to their cars to stay dry. From the observation deck Miss Jon looked over the rows of cars parked in neat rows and soon found the white cargo van near the rear of the ferry, showing that it was one of the last to board. Logic told her that Park would be mission-oriented and thus not receptive to any diversion from his goal of successfully getting on the first or second ferry out of Victoria tomorrow and making Port Angeles no later than midday. From there the rest of his journey would be downhill.
Miss Joon spent the next thirty minutes fabricating and rehearsing a story about her being stranded and how she would sell it to the two Koreans. Her plan was to hold her sign and walk through the rows of cars hoping to get the attention of a sympathetic motorist who could assist her with her plight. But not just any motorist. She was intent on capturing the attention of Park and Gamma and was counting heavily on Gamma helping her sell her fabricated story to Park.
Miss Joon went down to the vehicle deck and began walking among the cars concentrating on the passenger sides. She began far enough from the van so Gamma and Park would see her approaching and trying to get the attention of other vehicles well before she reached them. What they didn’t see was her sign reversed so that no message was shown to those who might see her. The steady drizzle made it easy to disguise this sleight of hand.
As Miss Joon approached the cargo van, Gamma saw the sign held by the attractive Korean woman and rolled down his window and immediately engaged her before Park could think to object. “Are you Korean?” asked Gamma in Korean, as he gazed at her homemade sign.
“Yes...yes, I am,” replied Miss Joon in Korean. “Speak English no good.”
“Well, what is your trouble tonight? You say you are stranded.”
Miss Joon, as if on cue, conjured up some stage tears and started speaking rapidly in Korean to Gamma, as she also looked urgently at Park, who was looking back at her with befuddlement. He would have immediately dismissed her as a crank if it had not been for her wholesome beauty and how perfectly she spoke their native language.
“My friends and I were going to Victoria by way of this ferry. I boarded as a passenger expecting them to board with the vehicle we were driving. My purse is in that car and for some reason they did not board, either as passengers or with the car. Now we are nearly to Nanaimo and I am stranded without them. All I have is a few dollars in my jeans... nothing else. My phone is dead. I need help.”
Gamma looked at Park who was observing the scene from his driver’s seat with a look of astonishment and incomprehension. It had been a very long while since Park had even spoken to a Korean other than his fellow soldiers, especially one as attractive as Miss Joon, and for a moment his male instincts began to overcome his obsessive compulsion to get the rogue nuclear warhead onto American soil.
“We cannot help you!” Park shouted so loudly that Gamma and Miss Joon both appeared shocked at the vehemence of his outburst. “We are in a hurry to get to Victoria ourselves and we have perishable seafood on board.”
Miss Joon was prepared for such an answer and broke into sobs of anguish at Park’s refusal to render any aid. She hung on to the passenger door of the cargo van and openly wept, her shoulders heaving in a practiced act of grief and sadness. She recovered long enough to wad up the handmade sign and threw it into the passenger cab out of abject frustration. “I am cold, wet, hungry, and so alone. You are the only ones on board who even speak my language...I am begging for your help,” she added dramatically.
Even the hard-nosed Park was moved by the plight of this young woman and his countenance slowly changed from defiance to one of sympathy and grudging acceptance of providing comfort for her. “Very well, at le
ast get in out of the rain. You may stay until we reach Nanaimo. Perhaps there you reconnect with your friends.”
Miss Joon eagerly accepted Park’s cool invitation and took her place in the back sitting on one of the ice chests. As Gamma was getting resettled in his passenger seat Miss Joon could not help thinking, Well if this thing goes off with me sitting here, I’ll die a swift and pain-free death.
Miss Joon quickly turned on the charm and soon was regaling the two men with a convincing tale of going with friends from Vancouver to Seattle for the American holiday and becoming separated from them. The separation, combined with having no identification and no money, along with a significant language barrier was very frightening indeed. She continued to tell them both how grateful she was for their gracious assistance.
Park’s natural skepticism soon gave way to the idea that this vulnerable young woman was no possible threat to them or the mission. He soon was entranced by her natural beauty and the feminine aura she exuded. As their animated conversation grew more casual, Miss Joon would occasionally punctuate something she was saying with a light touch on the shoulder of both the men, giving their conversation the slightest sense of intimacy.
Gamma, of course, knew it was an elaborate ruse but marveled at Miss Joon’s acting skills. Perhaps if she tired of life as a covert agent, she had a future in the movies after all...if she lived long enough.
As each moment went by Park became more aware of how long it had been since he had even been in the presence of an attractive woman, let alone carry on a conversation with one. It became evident to Park that Miss Joon was no down-on-her-luck refugee from Korea who had drifted into the vacuous diversity of Vancouver, living off her wits. Miss Joon had concocted a story of coming from a good family in South Korea who had sent her abroad after college to live in North America for a year with a generous stipend. The temporary circumstances she had described to Park and Gamma seemed plausible enough, and Park began to see this as a matter of fortuitous luck that she had come into their company.
“Dong-sun, perhaps you will go to the passenger deck and bring all of us back some coffee and a snack. There is no reason we should be uncomfortable. There is a blanket in the back, Miss Joon. Dong-sun will get it for you and wrap it around your shoulders to get warm. When he returns we can get to know each other better,” remarked Park with a sense of new-found gallantry.
When Gamma went back to the passenger deck he went back to the table where he and Miss Joon had last spoken. Seeing nothing on the table he cautiously ran his hand under the table until he felt a piece of paper taped to the underside. Slowly he peeled it back and stuffed it in his pants before entering the men’s room. He entered one of the stalls and unfolded the paper to look at the contents.
If you find this I have probably infiltrated the van. Important we stay Nanaimo tonight so Max can catch up tomorrow morning. We can’t break contact. Vital that Max boards same ferry with you and Park to Port Angeles. Why don’t we just take him down when we get to Nanaimo and cruise quietly to Port Angeles? Too easy??
Gamma smiled at the logical simplicity of Miss Joon’s question. Why not, indeed?! The first and most obvious answer was that Chance had emphasized that it was important to try to take Park alive at the critical endpoint of the operation when the ferry carrying the van and the warhead passed into U.S. waters. Chance had made vague references to the fact that simply securing the warhead intact was not the endgame in Operation Hard Candy. There was to be a follow-on operation that would seek to ensure that nothing of this nature ever happened, and Park was to be a critical witness for prosecuting this ideal. With him dead, it would be easy for those skeptical third parties, such as the People’s Republic of China, or the DPRK themselves, to claim this was simply a trumped up scheme by the American CIA to discredit General Fhang and seek undeserved retribution against him. Secondly, making a change of strategy this late in the operation, without consensus or carefully discussing the plan from the multiple perspectives of all the experienced operators involved was fraught with unacceptable risk. No, barring an emergency, the operation would go forward as planned.
*
Peggy settled the JetRanger onto the tarmac of the William Fairchild International Airport and let it idle while Chance Lyon and Blackie Olyphant made their way to the terminal. In the quiet of an unoccupied office Chance used his encrypted phone to contact Craig Murphy. “What can you and NSA tell us at the moment?”
“We’re getting a spotty GPS signal from Gamma that puts them halfway to Nanaimo. We’ve had contact with Max that he’s still at Horseshoe Bay waiting for the morning ferry. Our FBI guy is on his way to Victoria with the extra phone batteries and will be in plain view when Max gets there. You’re up to date, Chance.”
“Do me a favor and get clearance for us to go to the Port Angeles Coast Guard Air Station so we can roost there waiting for the ferry. That will get us closer to the action. We’ll also need to fuel there. Also get us a weather report for the Strait of Juan de Fuca for the next twenty-four hours. I’ve got to keep Peggy up to speed.”
Blackie Olyphant returned to the office with some hot coffee and whatever fast food he could scrounge. “This will probably have to do for a while, Chance. Looks just a cut above MREs,” he said with a look of skepticism.
“Let’s go back to the chopper and wait clearance to the Coast Guard Station while we inhale these delicacies, Blackie. Peggy will have to suffer with us. I promise to buy you all a real meal when this is over.”
*
Rachel Hunter and her National Security Staff met in the White House Situation Room one more time before departing for Seattle. They had been getting regular updates from Raymond Rollins and Clayton Wheatley on the progress of Hard Candy. The President decided it was time to do a little forward thinking in anticipation of securing the Korean warhead in the next two days. She opened the meeting.
“Gentlemen...Director Mitchell..., let’s assume for the moment that Operation Hard Candy is going to succeed. It’s time for us to think about what happens now? Securing the warhead removes any immediate threat, but we face several challenges going forward. First thing is we need to keep a security clamp on this. I’m hoping that the media buys our cover story of this being a major drug bust. They frequently cover legitimate drug busts but it quickly becomes yesterday’s news. I’m hoping this will fade quickly, if it is covered at all. Secondly, and in the longer term, how are we going to be sure this never happens again with the potential disastrous circumstances that could result? Once the operation is successful, and we have the nuclear warhead secured at the Bangor Trident Base, we are going to invite the Foreign Minister from the PRC to actually see this device and to speak with the ringleader of this mission to see and hear firsthand about its inception and how close it came to fruition. We need him to go back to Beijing and brief the Premier about this so he has background when we make our move against General Fhang for retaliation...and there will be retaliation.”
*
“Chance, you have clearance to move your operational headquarters to the Port Angeles Coast Guard Station,” said Craig Murphy, “any closer and you’ll get wet. Be sure to wear your DEA gear.”
After arriving at the Coast Guard facility, Chance arranged for the three of them to get quarters where they could get some much needed rest after they had fueled the JetRanger. He met privately with the Commander of the station to give him a briefing that included the start of the strategic ruse to couch their operation in the guise of a drug bust. “Captain,” Chance began, “we are the point DEA people on an operation to confiscate illegal drugs that an Asian gang is undertaking to bring a large amount of uncut heroin into the U.S. and distribute it out of the Seattle area. It’s coming by ferry from Vancouver, via Victoria. We’ll be using your base as our point of departure. The U.S. Navy is also involved, but that’s all I can say. This whole operation is classified Top Secret and the fact that the DEA and FBI were here or used your base is not to be discussed with the medi
a or any other law enforcement jurisdiction.” Chance knew quite well that the presence of an unmarked helicopter and three people wearing DEA windbreakers would be noticed by many people on the base and the word would get out. This was exactly what they wanted.
“Just let me know what you and your colleagues need. All I know is I received a call from the Commandant of the Coast Guard himself telling me I was to give you whatever you need. I can assure you that got my undivided attention,” the Base Commander said, smiling broadly. Chance went to the base BOQ, showered, and tried to get some sleep, while Peggy and Blackie took turns manning the sat phone in case of an update. He dozed fitfully as he had done while waiting for one of his many Navy SEAL missions to lift off. Chance was on edge, but confident, as he rehearsed every aspect of the plan over and over in his head. The success of Hard Candy depended on the skill and guile of his four companions spread over a large area of real estate...and, yes, a smattering of luck, which he knew by hard experience, was a fickle thing.
*
It was Miss Joon’s turn in the box. She had to conjure up a scheme to keep the van containing Gamma and Park in Nanaimo until the next morning so Max would have an opportunity to catch up and move in tandem with them as they raced to Victoria and the final leg of their journey. We have come too far to fail now, she thought. Now it’s up to me.