by Van Torrey
Gamma’s survival instincts kicked in once again. He knew from experience that any hesitation of coming forward with an answer would signal weakness and evasion on his part. Better to be on the offense...as my defense, he thought.
“That is very strange,” Gamma answered. “You yourself tried to start the van with Miss Joon and myself standing right there. We all witnessed the same thing. If there would have been another problem causing the van not to start, simply replacing the battery would not have solved the problem. And why didn’t the mechanic bring this to my attention? I was the one working on the vehicle. I question why he would not have discussed this with me. Yes, this is strange indeed.”
Suspicious as Park was about the battery problem he decided that Gamma’s immediate and logical response to his questions were to the point and did not reflect any defensiveness on Gamma’s part that he could detect, but still...
As Gamma had done so many times in the past when he found himself in a tight spot, he exercised a gambler’s instincts to put his opponent in the position of having to make a difficult choice of two unpleasant options. He went on the offensive in order to turn the tables on Park. Up until this time, the three had been speaking totally in Korean, as it was understood that Miss Joon knew very little English. In order to make Park think that what he was about to say could not be understood by Miss Joon, he spoke to Park in English. “Man-soo, I am reluctant to air our laundry in front of Miss Joon, but it is doubtful that she can understand this. Ever since day one when you met me at the airport, I have been the target of your suspicion. I have endured your secrecy about the mission of which I am a vital part; I have been humiliated by you insisting that I be blindfolded as we drive to our destination; you have treated me like an errand boy when we arrived on Vancouver Island so you could dine with Miss Joon alone. Now I can’t help but think you are suggesting somehow I sabotaged the vehicle to delay our arrival in Victoria. I am insulted by this!” Gamma said forcefully.
“I am sorry to hear you say this Dong-sun, but as the leader of this mission I must be vigilant about anything that might place the success of the mission in peril. Any delays are unacceptable,” Park said evenly. “I am merely trying to understand what has happened to cause this delay. Any perceived insult is immature on your part.”
Gamma then played his ace in this game of not so subtle accusation. “Speaking of things that are unacceptable, I find your innuendos about my loyalty to the mission quite unacceptable and an insult to my manhood. I told you back at the site where you killed Mr. Choi not to take me for granted, and now you have. Once again I remind you that without me and my expertise, this mission will fail and what we are carrying around is little more than a hunk of radioactive scrap metal. You can exterminate me like Mr. Choi, and you will be stuck like a rat in a trap, with no place to go. If this mission fails, and you try to hide, the Reconnaissance Bureau will hunt you down and kill you. Perhaps we should turn around and go back to the gas station and get to the bottom of this with the mechanic.” With that, Gamma began to slow the vehicle down as if to turn back to Nanaimo.
Gamma slowed the vehicle more and pulled to the side of the road, preparing to turn around. “We’re going back.”
Park’s mind raced with the implications of Dong-sun’s spirited response to his not so subtle allegations of sabotage and disloyalty. What would a further discussion with a simple mechanic about a dead battery buy them at this point but another delay that would put them even further behind schedule? Park could sense he had pushed Dong-sun close to the edge. What he had said was unquestionably true. He was totally dependent on Kim Dong-sun for the end game of the mission. He suddenly realized something else that he had never considered about Dong-sun. He had never disclosed much about who had dispatched him to Vancouver to be the technician that had been promised in the future. Perhaps Dong-sun was better positioned within the Bureau, particularly since the elevation of General Fhang, and would report Park as a meddler not focused on teamwork to those in power. If that happened, perhaps Park would not be seen as a hero at all but, rather, vilified and convicted as having placed the mission in jeopardy. Unnecessarily provoking Dong-sun further at this point could be dangerous, he concluded.
Gamma remembered reading about the Russian-American Cuban missile crisis in 1962 when the U.S. Secretary of State, Dean Rusk, was reported to have said, “We were eyeball-to-eyeball, and I think the other guy just blinked.” Will Park blink? He wondered.
Park tapped Gamma on the shoulder and stated, once again in English, “That won’t be necessary Dong-sun. It was a minor point and has not placed the success of the mission in question. We should proceed to Victoria quickly.” Park feared his decision to push on was not enough to placate the agitated Dong-sun. In the spirit of conciliation, decided to try to defuse the awkward situation by making a sexist remark in English about Miss Joon that he hoped would be a male bonding moment. She won’t understand anyway, he thought carelessly.
“It’s too bad we are constrained by the priorities of the mission, because I would like to have more of an opportunity to play around with this little bitch. She’s the perfect woman for me. She has a great body and is so naive and stupid that I bet I could bed her down if we had another day or so. Then I’d cast her adrift just like some five-thousand won whore from the suburbs of Pyongyang. I might even let you have seconds,” he said with a hearty laugh.
If it hadn’t been for the training Miss Joon had received in covert agent tradecraft at the CIA farm in Virginia, such a vulgar remark might have provoked a visceral response from her that would have blown her cover and reaffirmed Park’s suspicions about his fellow travelers. As much as she seethed inside about Park’s crude insults to her femininity, she showed no reaction whatsoever as she watched the road ahead, pretending not to pay any attention to what the men were talking about in English.
“Why are we stopping, Dong-sun?” she asked innocently in Korean. “Did you forget something back in Nanaimo?”
“No, no, Miss Joon. Man-soo and I were just talking over a little matter of no great importance, and I just got distracted.”
Miss Joon’s non-reaction to the blatantly sexist remarks of the oafish Park erased any lingering doubts Gamma may have had about Miss Joon’s professionalism. He was confident she could carry her weight and more during the remainder of the operation. Although Gamma could not express it, Miss Joon’s physical attributes and exceptional intelligence had not gone unnoticed by him, and he wondered if they would ever have the opportunity to be social. She was an exceptional woman and worthy of admiration.
*
The NSA was now getting a clear GPS signal from Gamma’s briefcase and giving regular updates to Chance and his crew at the Port Angeles Coast Guard Station. Max Jenkins had landed at Laurel Point Park and was making his way on foot to the Black Ball ferry terminal in Victoria. All that was required now was for Park and his nuclear warhead to make it to the ferry and get on board. The rest would be up to Chance Lyon and his crew. But the day was far from being won.
*
Captain Montgomery had the USS Vermont at a depth of one-hundred feet in the middle of the Strait of Juan de Fuca approximately one mile into U.S. territorial waters on a direct line between Victoria and Port Angeles. Montgomery was a seasoned submariner and had the job he had dreamed about ever since graduating from the U.S. Naval Academy nearly twenty years earlier. The Vermont was one of the newest Virginia-class nuclear attack submarines in the U.S. inventory. He had taken her out on six patrols as her skipper, all of which had resulted in decorations for the boat, his crew and he himself. The Vermont had guarded the Carrier Strike Group of the USS Abraham Lincoln as it prowled the upper reaches of the of the Arabian Sea during the Afghanistan conflict, had laid in wait in the North Sea for the Russian Federation’s newest Yasen-class submarines exiting their Baltic Sea ports for the Atlantic, and had ferried Navy SEALs on classified missions into some of the most remote and dangerous littoral locations on the horn o
f Africa. But this might be the strangest mission he and his crew had been assigned. As he sat in his Captain’s chair on the bridge, he took down the command microphone and spoke into it.
“Now hear this, this is the Captain speaking. We have been assigned a special mission that is not taking us very far from home, and we will not be engaging an enemy...at least not in the conventional sense. We will be supporting federal law enforcement agents as they prepare to intercept a major shipment of illegal drugs into the country from Canada. This shipment will be coming on a ship moving between Victoria, British Columbia, and Port Angeles, Washington. Our job is to surface at a predetermined time and location to act as a blocking vessel to the suspect merchant craft transiting the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Our surfacing will be time and place coordinated with air assets of the DEA and FBI as they stop the boat in mid-channel and secure the illegal drugs. There is no anticipation that the Vermont will use any of our ordnance in the conduct of this mission. As soon as the federal law enforcement agents have control of the ferry and secure the illegal contraband, the Vermont will break off and proceed on the surface back to our base at the Bangor Trident facility. That is all.”
Captain Montgomery’s Executive Officer and Chief of the Boat both confronted Montgomery privately later and asked the same questions. “Isn’t it a little unusual to use a one-point-six billion dollar nuclear attack submarine to help in a drug bust? What more can you tell us about this?”
Montgomery, frequently a man of few words, answered both questions with one sentence, “Yes, and nothing.”
*
Park reached the outskirts of Victoria at eleven A.M., just in time to grab some fast food prior to queueing up to make the noon ferry to Port Angeles. Park’s rationale, explained to Gamma in English, so as not to make Miss Joon aware of their conspiracy, was that once on the ferry he didn’t want either of them to leave the van. “Also, this is where we part company with Miss Joon,” he said.
“I agree with that,” replied Gamma, knowing full well that jettisoning Miss Joon at this point was merely an exercise by Park. She would simply board the ferry as a passenger, blending into the group of passengers and waiting to reconnect with Max Jenkins so they could continue the mission. “Since you have been the person who has primarily befriended the young girl, it should be you to make her aware that this is the end of the line for her. I think she would think it strange coming from me.”
“Yes, just so,” remarked Park. “I do wish I would have had the opportunity to use that pussy of hers as a recreation site. I wonder if she is a virgin. I’d like to do her in the reverse cowboy position, as they say in America. What a silly little twat she is.”
Once again Miss Joon made no outward show of understanding the callous remarks of the North Korean terrorist, as her blood ran cold at the thought of having a sexual encounter with the pig. She remembered the old Sicilian Mafia quote, “Revenge is a dish best served cold”, and vowed to return Park’s insults in spades at the very first appropriate opportunity.
As they entered the ferry terminal parking lot, Park pulled the van to a stop and turned to Miss Joon, this time speaking in Korean, “Miss Joon, it has been our pleasure traveling with you and we wish you all the best in your journey. I hope that you will be reunited with your friends and can enjoy the holiday here in Seattle.”
“Does this mean that I will not be able to accompany you and Dong-sun to Port Angeles?” she said with a downcast look. “I am truly helpless without you,” continuing her charade to the end.
“Yes, Miss Joon, regretfully our time together has passed, and we must continue our journey alone. Best of luck to you.”
As Miss Joon exited the van she turned and said, “Thank you for assistance, Man-soo. I have this funny feeling that we will meet again.” Miss Joon turned and walked away from the van with Park contemplating her cryptic remark, and Gamma wondering if she had said too much.
*
Max Jenkins swept the ferry terminal parking lot with his binoculars from his vantage point at the top of the parking garage near the terminal. Many cars were coming and going as the Black Ball ferry arrived and disgorged passengers and vehicles, while others queued up waiting for loading. After fifteen minutes of diligence he finally made the van among a sea of other white cars, SUVs and passenger vans. He called Chance Lyon to report his success. “I have the van, Chance, and it looks like they are in a good enough position to make the noon departure. No sign yet of either of the Koreans or Miss Joon. As soon as they drive on, I’m boarding.”
“Your gear?” asked Chance casually.
“DEA jacket, Balaclava, sat phone with fresh batteries, Sig-226, and GPS,” replied Max. “I feel like I’m a young operator again.”
“You are, except for the young part.” replied Chance with a laugh.
“God help you if you’re still doing this shit when you’re my age,” shot back Jenkins.
“Give me a call when the ferry rounds the point at Laurel Point Park and heads out into the strait,” said Chance. “We’ll be airborne then and I’ll get a signal to the Vermont that everything is moving. It’s crunch time, Max.”
*
Park nervously drove the cargo van onto the Black Ball ferry’s vehicle bay and parked it according to the hand signals he received from the ferry’s vehicle traffic manager. As he turned off the engine he heaved a silent sigh of relief. After a near five-month wait starting with a perilous sea journey from North Korea, where every day was a new danger from North Pacific storms, a long period of interminable waiting for the promised technician in the decrepit warehouse in Vancouver, the stress and guilt of killing off those who had accompanied him, some of whom he had developed a grudging friendship with, the initial missed connection with the nuclear technician sent by the Reconnaissance Bureau, and finally, the strangely interrupted journey to Victoria and boarding the ferry which was to be the final delivery mechanism into the United States for the warhead, Park felt a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The end of his long and dangerous mission was finally in sight. All that was left would be to pass through American customs, drive the cargo van to anywhere within central Seattle and have Gamma arm the warhead, set the timer for detonation, and leave the city as quickly as possible. Once he was thirty miles away, any personal danger from the nuclear blast would be minimal. He would ditch the van in Oregon, rent a car from a mom-and-pop rental agency and head to Arizona, where he would cross the border using his high quality counterfeit Canadian passport and steadily make his way to Havana. From there, returning to North Korea would be simple. He would be welcomed as a hero. His only remaining problem, what to do with the feisty Kim Dong-sun. Just as Gamma had silently vowed, two days before, Park also felt there was no room for the two of them at the end of this mission. In Park’s eye, as soon as Dong-sun had done his job, he, like Mr. Choi and the others before him, was expendable. Park decided that he would have a long time to concoct a believable story about Dong-sun’s death during the final phase of the operation during his long journey home. The die was cast, and both men knew it.
*
Max Jenkins and Miss Joon soon found one another among the passengers as the ferry departed the terminal and moved steadily around the head of Point Laurel Park and into the strait. As Max was calling Chance to report the departure, Miss Joon came up next to him and into his field of vision. She didn’t speak but received a slight nod of recognition as he spoke with Chance. “Miss Joon is on the ferry and we have contact,” reported Max.
Miss Joon walked away from Max and made her way to the rail of the ferry pretending to watch the receding shoreline and was soon joined near the rail by Max who didn’t look at her, but spoke softly. “You look no worse for wear. How’s Gamma?”
“All okay. Park is a real bastard...I think he’s a psychopath and is armed. He’s killed several of his men and continues to be suspicious of Gamma. I think his life is in danger. If it were me, I’d move sooner rather than later. I know, it’s not u
p to me,” she said in resignation.
“Here’s what you can do to prepare for the strike,” Max said to Miss Joon. Max then laid out the plan Chance had given him on the phone an hour earlier. After getting a nod of approval from Miss Joon he broke contact with her and walked away. Max’s priority now was monitoring his GPS and finding the ideal place within the vehicle deck to position himself for the strike on Park. Now it was a waiting game.
*
Park was now entirely focused on the next phase of the operation, which was clearing customs. He had made two practice runs in the cargo van with live cargo of iced down salmon in multiple ice chests on this same ferry. The customs inspection had been cursory at best and once they had simply been waved through when they were questioned about the purpose of their trip, showing the U.S. Customs officials their passports and commercial fishing documentation. There was no reason to believe that today would be any different. But Dong-sun was on his mind. Something about the man had just not been right from the start, and it bothered Park that he couldn’t pin it down. No conversation had passed between the men since they had parked and the tension between them was palatable. Park decided it was now or never, and decided to make his move.
“Dong-sun, I must inform you of a change of plans,” remarked Park evenly as they sat in the cabin of the cargo van. “I have decided to have you begin the arming and fusing of the warhead on the way to Port Angeles rather than waiting for us to get to the American mainland.”
“And why is that?” Replied Gamma, attempting to conceal his agitation at this new provocation by the increasingly psychologically unstable Park. What madness has descended upon him to inspire this new change of plans? he wondered.