by Van Torrey
Miss Joon went to the lady’s room and returned in a few minutes asking Gamma softly if she could use his jacket. “I’m cold, Dong-sun, may I borrow your jacket?” As he took it off and handed it to her she palmed a piece of paper into his hand while making eye contact and giving him a short wink. Gamma took that as a signal for action and made his way back to the men’s room to see the contents.
Remove coil wire from distributor cap in van. Take battery out make it look like you are trying to make an effort to fix the van in case Park wakes up and wants to expedite our departure. The ferry from Horseshoe will leave in a while and we need to buy some time. I will keep Park comfortable here. When he wakes up I will get him to go eat at the diner. Every minute counts!
*
Chance Lyon was in a quandary. How, exactly, to move the pieces he commanded around this geographically diverse chess board? These next few hours would make or break Operation Hard Candy and he had to make the right decisions that had so many implications. Chance’s head began to throb, no doubt the result of the stress magnified by the side effects of multiple neurosurgeries he had undergone after having been wounded in Afghanistan that seemed like a long time ago. After blowing back a handful of Acetaminophen, he willed himself from thinking about the pain and thought, this is not much different than the combat operations when I worked in the Teams, he reminded himself. I’m trained to do this and I believe in my abilities. Fortunately I’ve got good people and all the tools I need. Just got to think it through and execute...Damn this headache!
Now, with first light upon them, with sketchy knowledge of the movement plans of Gamma and Miss Joon, and with Max stranded at Horseshoe Bay, Chance felt they had to be pro-active. Navy SEAL training had taught him that inaction could be fatal and taking the wrong action could be equally so, but Max was doing no one any good cooling his heels at Horseshoe Bay and he was vital to the intercept.
Chance called Craig Murphy on the Iridium. “Craig, as soon as your guy clears customs at in Victoria, have him and the pilot fly to Horseshoe Bay and pick up Max Jenkins. Once he is picked up, fly back to Nanaimo and see if they can find Gamma and the van. We haven’t had any GPS signal from him for hours and have only a vague idea where they are. The helicopter will give us some flexibility as this op goes forward. I’ll call him and tell him to park out of the way and place something on the roof of the car that will I.D. him from the air. This has got to be a dust-off. Keep me in the loop.”
As previously directed, Max turned on his sat phone at precisely six A.M. and waited for a call from Lyon. At three minutes after six the phone beeped and Max answered. “Pretty damned cold up here last night and the pub was filled with college kids warming up for the weekend. If I would have been thirty years younger I might have had a shot at using the back seat for something other than sleeping,” he said.
“The curse of old age,” replied Chance. “When this is over, I’m sure you’ll get back to Georgetown and get your groove back with the Horticultural Club ladies.” In the next couple of minutes Chance gave Max an update and told him of his plans to be picked up by the FBI Chopper in the next forty minutes. “There are no markings, but it’s a white and blue JetRanger. Park out of the way and put something unique on the roof so they can I.D. you. Make sure you leave the car with nothing traceable in it. It’s registered to a phony company anyway.”
“What’s the plan after that?” asked Max.
“They’re going to fly you back to Nanaimo where you can try to find the cargo van. If they are still there, have the FBI fly you back to Victoria and you can wait for them there and get on the same ferry with the cargo van. If you haven’t located them in an hour, fly to Victoria anyway and we’ll try to get a GPS lock on Gamma. I’m going to try to get an Argus mission to augment the missing GPS. One way or another, we’ll find them. And Max,...remember we need to take Park alive and keep Gamma safe.”
*
Chance punched Craig up on the sat phone. “Craig, talk to your boss and see if he will green-light an Argus mission. We have to do everything we can to track down the van. All we know is that it’s somewhere between Nanaimo and Victoria. We can’t let that vehicle get on a ferry to Victoria without us knowing about it. The boss does not want to take a chance of that nuclear warhead getting on U.S. soil for one minute. We need to think I.D. and containment.”
Ten minutes later Chance received a call back from Craig Murphy. “Chance, Wheatley talked to the President and can’t authorize the Argus mission unless it’s the last resort. It’s bad enough having the FBI helicopter flying around up there even if it is unmarked. At least those guys have passports, phony though they may be. If somebody in their customs starts connecting the dots and detains the chopper or the pilot, that could set off alarms all over the place. Wheatley says they can’t take a chance on the Argus getting spotted on radar up there too. Wheatley’s guidance is to manage this as well as possible without the Argus. You’ll just have to be creative and flexible.”
By the way, the President and her entourage are flying Air Force One into Seattle this morning to join in the Fourth of July festivities. It’s all over the news. Looks like she’s preparing for a big finish from you guys. Just thought you’d like to know. No pressure!”
*
Max Jenkins found a roll of duct tape in a box of small tools in the trunk of the car and went to work. He drove the car to the far end of the parking lot at the ferry terminal and climbed up on its roof. They should be able to I.D. this, he thought, as he went to work pulling and tearing off pieces of tape and pasting them on the roof of the old, white Chevy Impala. In ten minutes he stood on the trunk of the car and looked as his handiwork. Even from his close vantage point he could make out a huge MAX in duct taped letter on the roof. Not good for the paint job, but they should be able to find me, he thought.
With only twenty-five percent of his sat phone battery charge remaining, Max took the luxury of calling Chance and letting him know all was in readiness. Max shot a quick set of his grid coordinates off his iPhone to Chance to help the chopper pilot punch them into his autopilot, and told him about the markings on top of the car. “There’s no one in the parking lot right now, Chance, they should be able to do a quick splash and dash. I’ll be looking for them.”
In twenty minutes Max heard the tell-tale whopp-whopp-whopp cadence of approaching helicopter blades and strained to look out over the Strait of Georgia, separating the Canadian mainland from Vancouver Island. Soon he could see the rising sun reflect off the helicopter making it look like a bright star in the western sky. He checked his small carry-on bag one final time and waited to board his ride into the thick of the action for one more time in his eventful life. Unlike many men his age, Max Jenkins was definitely not getting too old for the rough and tumble!
*
Miss Joon took Gamma’s jacket and gently snuggled up close to the sleeping Park, covering them as much as possible with it. When he stirred, she whispered close to his ear, “Man-soo, I’m very cold and asked Dong-sun for his jacket. I came over here hoping you would help warm me up,” she cooed gently.
“So, where is Dong-son?” Park said groggily. Park was torn between his sense of duty and the opportunity to hold an attractive young woman close in a rare sense of intimacy.
“He is anxious to continue your journey to Victoria,” she lied, “and has gone out to try to work on getting the cargo van started. He seems very agitated about getting there as early as possible. He told me that he was going back to the gas station to ask the attendant to see if the mechanic could come in early so he can replace the battery and get on the way.”
Miss Joon could see that her remarks seemed to relax Park from his sense of urgency about continuing the journey south. “Well, if he is working on the van, there is probably little I can do to move us forward any faster,” he yawned. “I am not very mechanical, and Dong-sun is a technical person, so I will leave this to him.” In a moment of unusual weakness Park made the remark to Miss Joo
n “At this point, the matter we are working on together is largely in Dong-sun’s control and I am merely the driver.”
“What is that?” asked Miss Joon. “I thought you were bringing salmon into Seattle to sell at the farmer’s market. I got the impression that you were partners,” she concluded.
“Well, yes, that is true,” answered Park, coming to his senses. “But he is the businessman, and I am merely the person with the connections with the fishing people in Vancouver. But we need to fix the van in a hurry so the fish do not spoil on their way to the Pike Place Market in Seattle. This is high market time, and we expect to make a large profit.”
*
Gamma was worried about not having his briefcase with him but felt it was worth the risk to leave it with Miss Joon while he continued to sabotage the cargo van. Unfortunately Gamma was not aware that the construction of the building, including cinder block and steel had inhibited the GPS signal from the briefcase, resulting in Chance not knowing his exact whereabouts for many hours. At this stage of the cat-and-mouse game there were several competing priorities, but keeping Park’s potential suspicions about Gamma’s infiltration of the KNT at bay, and not arousing any suspicion on his part during the journey to Seattle had to trump everything else. Miss Joon was steadily proving herself as a valued member of the team. Gamma trusted her with the briefcase...for now.
Park may have been momentarily infatuated with Miss Joon, but he was no fool. Years of hardship and stern discipline in the People’s Army had steeled his will to obey his masters from non-commissioned officers on up to colonels and generals. In the People’s Army of the DPRK, failure to obey or successfully carry out an order from higher authority could be a one way ticket to a forced labor camp or even a quick death. Although Park had been distracted for the better part of a day, he had not forgotten his mission and his responsibility.
“Today is a new day, Miss Joon, and we must all move on with our fortunes, however good or bad,” Park remarked as he arose gathering himself from a night of fitful sleep on the hard wooden bench in the drafty ferry terminal. “Dong-sun and I need to make Seattle by early afternoon with our goods, and you must be anxious to reunite with your friends.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” answered Miss Joon, her face and voice revealing feigned disappointment. Miss Joon was on-stage once again and she knew that, in spite of buying precious time by using her wits and acting skills to delay Park overnight, she must do whatever she could to allow Max to catch up. “Do you think we could get breakfast first? I am hungry and you must be as well. Some coffee will do us all good.”
“Yes, but we must be brief, and I’ll need to check on Dong-sun before we walk to the diner. We really must be going.”
As Miss Joon and Park walked to the nearby gas station they could see Gamma working on the cargo van with the hood up and walking back and forth between the van and the gas station attendant. Just as they approached the van, Park shouted out to Gamma, “Have you tried to start it this morning Don-Sun? Perhaps it got better during the night. We must move swiftly or our cargo may spoil.”
Miss Joon’s heart sank as Park requested the keys from Gamma. What if the van starts, or Park inspects the battery himself and finds the sabotage? He would quickly see that someone sabotaged the van and that would put Gamma’s and my life in danger, she thought.
Gamma, the seasoned soldier who had navigated many treacherous situations in his military career, did not hesitate to offer the keys to Park. By showing resistance, I might only add to his suspicions, he reasoned.
Park strode to the van and slung himself into the driver’s seat, fully expecting the van to roar to life as it always had. He turned the key on the ignition and was immediately met with a sharp response as if the motor would spring to life immediately. A smile of satisfaction crossed his face in validation of his thoughts of being always in control. There will be no more delays, he thought optimistically.
At the same time both Miss Joon and Gamma took in their breaths sharply. Perhaps the trick with the insulated battery cable failed and the van will start. I have yet to disable the coil from the distributor, thought Gamma.
In a moment Park’s elation turned to disappointment as the starter slowed, grunted, and then stopped altogether. Repeated attempts to restart the van only generated rapid clicking sounds and then nothing at all. Park gritted his teeth and angrily turned the ignition switch, but there was no response. He dismounted from the van and slammed the door in disgust. “Well, as you say Dong-sun, the battery is dead.”
“Yes, I’m afraid so. That is the reason I didn’t want to get a jump. It would have failed us again, perhaps at a worse time,” Gamma replied, taking care to hide the elation from his voice. “You and Miss Joon get coffee, and I will try to expedite the repair.”
None of the three noticed a blue and white JetRanger helicopter approach from over the Strait of Georgia and descend on the SeaAir Terminal one-half mile away.
*
“Chance, this is Max. I’m back in business. We just landed at SeaAir in Nanaimo and I have fresh batteries in the phone. Any word on Gamma and the crew?” was Max’s message to Chance as soon as they touched down. “The FBI crew wants to know what they should do. Pilot says he has half a load of fuel and is getting antsy about flying around up here with no flight plan.”
“Tell them to stay with you until you can recce the area around the ferry terminal to see if you can find the cargo van.”
Just as Chance was checking off with Max, he got a text message from Craig Murphy:
GPS signal from Gamma re-acquired! Places him in Nanaimo, about half a mile from ferry. Not moving but signal is strong. Will advise further movement.
Chance immediately informed Peggy and Blackie that the operation was back on schedule and stable now that he had communication with Max and a location on Gamma. “All our assets are in place and now all we have to do is wait for Park to make his move onto Victoria and the ferry terminal,” Chance said to his colleagues. “We’re getting close!”
*
President Rachel Hunter looked at the red light flash on her encrypted telephone on her desk on Air Force One and sensed it was important. Routine information was frequently delivered in person by one of her intelligence staff during the morning intelligence briefing, but breaking intel was often delivered in-the-moment by either Marilyn Mitchell or Raymond Rollins depending on level of importance. Today it was Raymond Rollins.
“Ms. President, I just got off the telephone with Jeremiah Bledsoe in Beijing. He claims there is reliable intel that General Fhang Jhai arrived in Beijing three hours ago and has entered a clinic there for some undisclosed illness or medical condition.”
“How reliable is this, Ray?” she said. Before he could answer, she continued, “Wait one, Ray,...I need to get Philip Johnson in here...we’re all on Air Force One about an hour out of Seattle. Can we get Marilyn Mitchell patched in on this call? Thank you.”
After her Chief of Staff came in and Director Mitchell was patched in, Raymond Rollins brought them up to speed and then continued on the President’s speaker-phone:
“Jeremiah is ninety percent on this. The plane is the DPRK’s equivalent of Air Force One and nobody flies on it except Fhang. The only other people accompanying him are a woman, two body guards, and two other unidentified men dressed in civilian clothes...we’re thinking perhaps doctors. This is definitely not a diplomatic visit as they arrived in the middle of the night and there’s no activity at the DPRK Embassy due to the severed diplomatic relations situation. There’s been nothing in the news about any upcoming PRC-DPRK meeting, so it’s either very hot diplomatically speaking or General Fhang is sick beyond what they can do for him in Pyongyang. That’s what we have at the moment.”
“Is there any possible connection between Operation Hard Candy and this?” asked Rachel Hunter, rhetorically.
Marilyn Mitchell’s agile mind was racing, trying to think about any possible connection, but she was drawing a blank, as
was Philip Johnson. Rachel Hunter continued as if trying to answer her own question, “Oh my, is this out of left field...not getting a connection at all.”
“There’s nothing on the news wires yet,” continued Rollins. “I think we should keep a lid on this unless it becomes a news item. If we get asked I think we should comment that we aren’t aware of anything such as this. We might catch some flak from the usual sources about us not having good intel about the DPRK, but let’s just play dumb. Sometimes it’s just better to make the other guy think you don’t know.”
“Without any further comment, I’ll agree with you, Ray,” said the President. Cable Ambassador Bledsoe to keep working his sources and, of course, we’ll be watching for anything that leaks out. Keep us in the loop. Philip will be with me the whole time up here over the Fourth. This could be big.”
Rachel Hunter clicked off leaving her alone with Philip Johnson. “Any ideas here, Philip, crazy or otherwise? This could be a fortuitous windfall, a mere coincidence, or something else...depending on one’s point of view,” she said.
“Well, the obvious is that he needs treatment for something they’re not good at in the DPRK...which, considering how backward they are, could be something an intern could treat in a normal ER visit here. Funny they should choose the PRC over - maybe - Switzerland, or Sweden. But that would be a long flight and perhaps they didn’t have time for a long flight. That could be a factor in how serious this might be.”