Brilliant New Light (Chance Lyon military adventure series Book 3)

by Van Torrey

Rachel Hunter, reprising her former role of Director of National Intelligence, could not resist making conjecture herself, and offered, “In the DPRK, like some of the banana republics, when the cat’s away, the mouse will play. I have to believe that some of the more adventurous generals in the People’s Army are watching this for any signs of genuine weakness. As we know, the balance of power in the DPRK can change in a jiffy!”

  “Unfortunately we don’t have Gamma to count on for reliable intel at the moment. I think he may have his hands full up in the Strait of Juan de Fuca at the moment,” Rachel surmised drolly.

  *

  While Park and Miss Joon were in the diner Gamma took the opportunity to send out another text message to Chance:

  Park brought the ruse of car trouble. Stayed overnight in Nanaimo. On our way by eight-thirty. No sign of Max yet. Will try for further delay, but not likely. Park is driven! Miss Joon most valuable! Further messages unlikelly.

  “What will you do now, Miss Joon?” asked Park as they drank coffee at the diner. “We must be on our way, and you have heard nothing from your friends this morning.”

  “I don’t know, Man-soo. My phone battery is dead. I’m sure they are planning on going to Seattle for the holiday, but I don’t want to wait here. What if they do not come? I’ll be stranded here. All I have is my purse with a few dollars. I pay for everything with Apple Pay off of my iPhone...I don’t carry credit cards.”

  After a long period of silence accentuated by looks of nervousness on the part of both Miss Joon and Park, she continued. “If I could get a ride to Victoria, I could board one of the ferries and call my friend in Seattle. I could stay with her until I could reconnect with my Vancouver friends. I would consider this a great favor, Man-soo,” she said as she conjured up some theatrical tears while looking directly at Park. “I already owe you so much...I don’t know what I would have done without your friendship.”

  Park did not answer immediately. His plans had already been disrupted by something beyond his control, but in the meantime he had met a fine young woman who had, for the briefest of time, made him feel like a multidimensional person again. Dong-Son was well on the way to solving the problem with the van and with good luck they would make Victoria by late morning and catch the noon ferry to Seattle. What difference would it make to have another passenger? Even so, Park was resolved to make Miss Joon leave them in Victoria. From there it would be strictly business, with him and Dong-sun as the sole co-conspirators. The best Park could do would be to get a phone number of Miss Joon and perhaps contact her later.

  Gamma walked into the diner and sat down next to his companions. As he ordered a cup of coffee, he announced, “The van is fixed, gassed, and ready, I checked the ice chests, and we are ready to go! Let’s not waste any more time.”

  “Thank you, Dong-sun. You will be pleased to know we have a passenger for our journey to Victoria...but only that far,” Park said as he looked at Miss Joon and gave her a wink. Miss Joon returned that with a kiss on his face and cried out joyfully, “Thank you Man-soo, you have saved my life again!” Park did not see Gamma rolling his eyes in disbelief.

  CHAPTER 39

  STRAIT OF JUAN DE FUCA

  “ARRGH!”

  Pirate speak for, Yes, No, Maybe, Hello, and Goodbye.

  *

  Max Jenkins exited the FBI helicopter at the SeaAir Terminal in Nanaimo and cleared Canadian Customs using a Canadian Passport under an assumed name. Immediately he went to the terminal manager’s office, showed counterfeit credentials that identified him as RCMP officer, and asked the Terminal Manager if he could use one of the Vespa motor scooters that belonged to the terminal to “scout out some suspicious activity near the ferry terminal”. The manager was only too glad to oblige, and soon Max was moving efficiently among all the vehicles in the vicinity of the terminal looking for a white Ford cargo van with green writing on the sides advertising fish products from British Columbia.

  As he drove on the street approaching the ferry terminal, Max passed by a gas station and spotted such a van parked in the corner of the station with the hood up. Could I be this lucky so quickly? He wondered.

  Max steered the motor scooter onto a side street near the gas station so he could get a closer look at the cargo van and observe who was driving. A mechanic was working under the hood of the vehicle and in a moment removed the battery from the engine compartment and carried it back to the shop area. He then appeared with another battery, which he promptly placed in the engine compartment. The description of the van matched perfectly, but there was no sign of any occupants. Could be a coincidence, thought Max and he decided to call Chance with an update. “Got a white cargo van answering the description but no occupants. It’s being worked on at a gas station near the ferry terminal.”

  “Bingo,” replied Chance. “The last text message we received from Gamma this morning said they had faked car trouble to convince Park to stay overnight so you could catch up to them. That might be them.”

  “Okay, I’ll wait and see if they show up. The mechanic just closed the hood, so he may be finished,” replied Max.

  Soon Max’s patience was rewarded as he saw three people - two men and a woman - approach the gas station from the parking lot of a strip center adjacent to the gas station. As they came closer to the van he immediately recognized Gamma and Miss Joon. The other man appeared Asian, but Max didn’t recognize him. I’ll be damned, that’s them, he thought to himself. The other guy must be the mysterious Mr. Park, the Korean nuclear team leader. They appear to be pretty chummy...and they’re heading for the van. Bingo, indeed!

  Max continued to watch the scene across the street unfold. Park appeared to have a brief conversation with the mechanic, who pointed to the battery that he took out of the van. The conversation continued for a moment, with Park looking several times at the van and then his two companions. Park took money from his wallet and paid the mechanic. As he took the receipt, Park gave the mechanic a sloppy salute and headed back to the driver’s side of the van. Max could see him say something to Gamma and Miss Joon, but it was not clear enough to hear. In moments the cargo van and its three occupants had turned out of the gas station and started south on Highway One toward Victoria.

  Max grabbed his sat phone and immediately punched in Lyon’s number. “Chance, whatever it was the van is fixed, and the three of them are headed south on One toward Victoria. I’m headed back to the chopper and am going to have them drop me off at the Laurel Point Park right near the Black Ball ferry terminal. They have to leave from there, so I’m just going to wait there and get on the same ferry they board.”

  “Max, that’s a big relief,” replied Lyon, “did the pilot get you the new batteries? Do you have a gun?”

  “Affirmative on both Chance, we’re ready to roll. What about the chopper?”

  “When they drop you at the park, have them fly back to the Coast Guard station at Port Angeles, we might need them in reserve,” said Chance. “I don’t expect to hear anything more from Gamma, since they are all together with Park in an enclosed vehicle.”

  “How’s it going to go down on the ferry?” asked Max.

  Based on the published route of the Black Ball ferry and recent drone images of actual ferry crossings by NSA, Lyon gave Max the approximate grid coordinates of the point when the ferry would cross into U.S. waters. “We’ll plan on taking down the ferry about half a mile after it reaches those grid coordinates, just to give us a little cushion,” said Chance. “Program these into your GPS so you can anticipate the moment we take the ferry down.”

  “Got it, Chance. Who does what?”

  “We can’t count on anything but Gamma being with the vehicle. I doubt that Park would want him anywhere but in the vehicle with them this close to the objective. Miss Joon is a wild card, as I’m not even sure they will let her tag along past Victoria...I’m a little surprised that Park has let her hang around this long. I’m interested in hearing the story of how she got them to stay over.”
>
  “So, we have Gamma and Park in the van on the ferry and don’t know about Miss Joon. I’ll try to watch the passengers board the ferry, but my first priority is going to be sure the van gets loaded. I could miss her if she boards as a passenger.”

  “Don’t sweat Miss Joon at this point, Max. She’s done her job, and damned well. Now we need to concentrate on the cargo van and Gamma.”

  “Okay, got that, Chance. How are we going to strike?”

  “As soon as the ferry crosses the U.S./Canada boundary we’ll land on the forward deck of the ferry. At the same time I’ll signal the Vermont to surface, and Blackie and I will make our way to the bridge under cover as DEA operators. We’re counting on a helicopter landing and a submarine surfacing to get the skipper’s attention enough for him to go to all-stop with no questions.”

  “That ought to do it!” remarked a smiling Max Jenkins.

  “By the time the ferry approaches the GPS-driven strike point, I’m counting on you locating the van and staking out a position from which you can strike to neutralize the van. You strike from whichever side of the van Park is on, which will probably be the driver’s side. Immediately after the ferry crosses the territorial grid-coordinates you take down the van. You are authorized to show your weapon, but make sure you have your DEA windbreaker on when you do so. There may be other civilians around you, so it might be best to be wearing your balaclava in case any civilian images of the takedown wind up in the media. That will assure your anonymity in this caper. Remember, Park is probably armed, so this has to be fast. I think you can count on Gamma helping you from inside as he will be expecting someone from the team.”

  “What about Park? What do you want done with him?”

  “Between you and Gamma, keep him on ice in the vehicle and warn people away from the van if you have to. Make a big deal out of showing your badge to anyone who approaches the vehicle and warning them off. Once Park is secure, call me and let me know the package is secure.”

  “What’s the egress plan?” asked Max, growing more confident after hearing Chance’s thorough planning.

  “I’m going to stay on the bridge to keep that in control and I’m sending Blackie to the vehicle level to find you. You and Blackie handcuff and hood Park, and bring him up to the front deck where you will load him into the chopper. Peggy will fly you guys to the Coast Guard station where there will be an FBI reception committee waiting for Mr. Park. After the handoff she’ll fly you back to the ferry and the three of us will deal with the warhead. Oh, and one more thing...there will be some mechanics at the Coast Guard station from Boeing to take the back seats out of the JetRanger. This is to accommodate the warhead. We’re not sure how it is contained or what its physical size and weight is, but it’s probably very heavy.”

  “We’re going to fly the nuke back to the mainland?” asked Max skeptically.

  “The President doesn’t want the warhead to reach Port Angeles on the ferry PERIOD. There may be some politics in play here and some nuanced messages for future consumption by those in a higher pay grade than me. But after Gamma certifies that all safing systems are properly in place to prevent an accidental detonation, we are to take the warhead in its container to the Bangor Trident Base where they have the proper facilities to store and secure it. This flight will take place entirely over water. I will stay on board the ferry while you and Blackie take Park to Port Angeles.”

  “Well, I can’t say I’m looking forward to flying a rogue nuclear warhead into the U.S. on a borrowed helicopter piloted by a female. That would definitely be a first for me,” Max cracked.

  “No sexism here, Max,” joked Chance. “You’re in the new CIA, remember?”

  “I’ve had the lecture...several times,” Max responded dryly.

  “Once we depart the ferry, the Vermont will depart on the surface and make way for Kitsap and the ferry will be allowed to proceed to Port Angeles, under your control on the bridge. Blackie will stay with the van to make sure it stays secure. All this could change, depending on how easily we can move the nuke. Just be flexible.”

  “What happens when we dock, am I to be arrested as a pirate?” Max joked.

  “No, but maybe Blackie will. With that eye patch he looks the part. Actually, the FBI will be there, along with some of their guys in DEA windbreakers, to take control of the van. The spare FBI chopper that has been flying you around will be at the Coast Guard station will pick you and Blackie up and fly you to Kitsap to join us...or not. We’re flexible and, at this point, it’s better to have more assets than not enough.”

  “What about Miss Joon?” Max asked.

  “If she’s on the ferry I just want her to blend in with the crowd and get off as a normal passenger. We’ll get her a ride to Kitsap later. If she didn’t get on the ferry, she’ll get on the next one. I don’t want to blow her cover by involving her on the ferry activities. We may need her as a critical mystery witness to this whole mess.”

  “Well, Chance it sounds like you have all the bases covered. I like your plan,” said Max.

  “You know the old saying, Max; ‘Life is what happens when you’re making plans’. Stay flexible!”

  “We’ll get there, Chance, maybe with a few dings and bruises along the way, but we’ll get there,” assured Max.

  *

  Doctors Hwang and Sung, personal physicians to General Fhang Jhai, conferred with the Chief of Neurosurgery at Beijing’s People’s Family Hospital, after admitting the Korean dictator with guarded permission of Chinese Foreign Minister Yang after the ninety minute flight from Pyongyang, North Korea.

  Through an interpreter, Doctor Hwang explained the situation to his Chinese counterpart. “The General took a bad fall in his residence very early this evening and was taken to our hospital in Pyongyang. A CT scan revealed at least one subdural hematoma, but regretfully, we do not have the latest MRI scanners to diagnose the condition more thoroughly. Doctor Sung and I took it upon ourselves to direct he be brought here to get a more thorough diagnosis and a recommended treatment plan.”

  The Chinese doctor knew about the North Korean’s lack of priorities when it came to advance training of their medical professionals and their limited capabilities in the form of medical infrastructure. General Fhang was not the first high-ranking North Korean official to receive treatment in Beijing, or other countries with greater capabilities.

  The General was unconscious and preliminary tests revealed pressure was steadily building up in his skull, so treatment needed to begin immediately.

  “Doctor Hwang, as you know, these matters are generally arranged in advance between the appropriate diplomatic channels and certain protocols are agreed to relating to permissions for treatment, who speaks for the patient if he is incapacitated, and so forth. In this case, since it is somewhat of an emergency and the patient is the Head of State of another country, these matters are quite complicated. How do you suggest we proceed? Once we have the preliminaries out of the way, I will have to get diplomatic clearance from my government for going forward and then we may proceed. We will need to get a medical history on the General and arrange for someone to speak for him. I’m sure you understand. Meanwhile, I think it would be prudent for us to at least run some diagnostic tests to determine the extent of the problem.”

  “Doctor,” said Hwang, “I am embarrassed to mention this, but since we are speaking in private, may I mention something that Doctor Sung and I feel strongly about that has nothing to do with the practice of medicine?”

  “Yes, of course,” replied Doctor Hong, the Chinese Neurologist.

  “In North Korea, the medical profession is not respected as it is in China and many other countries, particularly as in America. In North Korea, medical treatment is considered to be something of a last resort for a physical weakness, and then only for the upper class of the military or bureaucrats. Doctors are viewed as necessary civil servants, and little else. If either of us treated General Fhang and he did not return to robust health shortly, we
would be publicly ridiculed, and perhaps sent to a labor camp for our failure to save our leader from something, in this case an illness, that was attacking the State, through him, of course. If we did not bring him here, his condition might worsen and he would most likely die from complications. General Fhang, and in a curious way, we ourselves, are at your mercy.”

  Doctor Hong took a moment to absorb this remark as he reflected on his professional situation, vis-a-vis his North Korean peers. Hong, living in the new People’s Republic of China, was now free to attend any international medical conference. The hospitals that had been built in Beijing and other population centers of China in the last twenty years were on an equal footing with many medical centers in the USA and other economically advanced countries. Since the last days of Chairman Mao, the political situation in China had become substantially more enlightened. This was no doubt driven by American and other Western countries’ capital investment in manufacturing medical devices in the People’s Republic of China. It had fostered a new age of health delivery to Chinese citizens. How long would it be, Hong wondered, before the DPRK abandoned its allegiance to the cult of personal dictatorship and join the rest of the world in intellectual and social enlightenment?

  *

  Fifteen minutes into the drive from Nanaimo to Victoria, Park pulled off to the side of the road and asked Gamma to resume driving. “I didn’t sleep well and I am tired,” he said. “Perhaps I’ll lie down in the back and let Miss Joon sit up front with you.”

  As the three drove further south toward their destination, Park sat on one of the ice chests in the back and began to speak as if giving a lecture to some school children. “Just before I paid the mechanic for the battery, he told me something very strange indeed.”

  “Yes, what was that?” asked Gamma.

  “Well, he told me he checked the battery that Dong-sun removed from the van this morning and it checked perfectly fine...nothing was wrong with it. He didn’t want to say anything to Dong-sun because you were adamant about getting a new battery. But since I was paying, he thought he would mention it. Since the battery was already installed I decided not to pursue it right there, but perhaps now we can discuss this apparent misunderstanding. Do you have an explanation, Dong-sun? Have we wasted a lot of precious time over a misunderstanding? I am troubled by this,” Park concluded with a trace of anger.