by Van Torrey
“As leader of this mission, I must err on the side of caution. I am unfamiliar with the technical details of the arming of this warhead. For example, I do not know how long the process takes, nor what the chances of error may be. I don’t want to get to the detonation site and then have to waste precious time in the arming process. Therefore, I have decided to begin the process while we are en route. This minor change should be of little concern to you, Dong-sun.”
Gamma knew, of course, that the briefcase he carried was full of dummy electronics and was totally incapable of genuinely arming a nuclear warhead. It could physically connect to the arming mechanism interface on the warhead and the keyboard in the case could accept inputs from a technician. LEDs would light up and blink on irregular intervals, beeping tones could be heard as inputs were made, digital timers could be set and begin a visual countdown, but this was all a charade to impress an uneducated observer that the person manipulating the components in the briefcase was actually doing something that would have a presumed result. There was no possible way this warhead was going to be armed by the phony mechanism being carried around by Gamma. If Park would have known this, he would have lost his mind right then and there.
Knowing his team members would be striking well before the ferry made landfall at Port Angeles, Gamma was willing to patronize Park in this bizarre request, but became angry at feeling that he was, once again, being manipulated by a madman. If he quickly acquiesced to this latest request, what new fantasy would he be expected to fulfill for Park as he grew closer to the precipice of total madness? Wondered Gamma.
“I believe we should wait until we are at least on firm ground at Port Angeles,” countered Gamma, in an attempt to develop some dialogue with Park.
This remark apparently angered Park and he raised his voice and forcefully reiterated his demand that Gamma begin the arming protocol immediately. He pulled the pistol from its shoulder holster underneath his jacket and pointed it at Gamma’s head while addressing him in a menacing tone, “Dong-sun, I am tired of you continuing to question my leadership and defy me at every turn. Every time you place a barrier in the way of my decisions about moving forward with the mission, the more my suspicions of your motives and loyalty are validated. I have had enough. You will begin the process immediately or I will take desperate measures.”
“And what will those be,” replied Gamma, as he began to think this latest situation forward to counter Park, while not placing Operation Hard Candy in jeopardy.
“I can kill you right here, place the van in storage in Victoria, and work my way back to Pyongyang. It will take some time, but my chances are good. I will tell my superiors at the Reconnaissance Bureau of your disloyalty and how you caused the mission to fail. Then two things will happen. Your family will be found and sent to forced labor camps where they will all die a slow and agonizing death. Also, the operation will be restarted from scratch and we will eventually be successful. All we will have to do is send two men to Victoria and pick up the operation from here. Continuing to defy me, resulting in death for you, will serve no useful purpose.”
Gamma knew Park’s logic, if not his ultimate plan, was probably reasonably sound, and arguing further would be futile. Also, there was now danger, since Park had shown a willingness to abort the mission, for him to overreact and simply terminate Gamma in an angry fit of frustration. In such an eventuality, Operation Hard Candy would probably ultimately succeed but he would die in the process. So Gamma made a decision to patronize Park one last time and let events placed in motion by Chance Lyon and the other members of the team run their course. Park really was a rat in a trap and, unless he jumped overboard, could not escape and the warhead would never be delivered.
“Alright, I will begin the arming process,” said Gamma evenly. “It usually takes approximately thirty minutes or so when done manually. The final thing to do, after all the preliminaries have been accomplished is to set the timers for detonation. What values do you want me to enter for that?”
“You will enter four-hours, thirty minutes and then start the countdown. That will allow us nearly an hour or more to clear the area in downtown Seattle after we park the van. That is cutting it close, but leaves the minimum amount of time for the van and its contents to be discovered and potentially disarmed. If we start the countdown now, even if there were a worst case scenario and the warhead was discovered at Port Angeles - an unlikely scenario, based on my prior experience - there would not be enough time for a meaningful evacuation to take place. The mission of detonation of a nuclear device within the United States would be accomplished and America will be exposed as a paper tiger once again,” Park continued in a rambling monotone.
All of this madness makes no difference and Park can rage on with these fantasies forever to no avail, reasoned Gamma. I may as well start tinkering with this suitcase and placate him before he does something really rash by killing me and perhaps others in the process.
“Before you begin, we must take one other precaution,” muttered Park as he quickly pulled out a set of handcuffs and adroitly placed one on Gamma’s left hand and hooked the other cuff onto the end of a chain that was securing one of the commercial ice chests in the bed of the van.
“What was that?!” demanded an enraged Gamma. “What’s the meaning of this?”
“Simply to ensure that you don’t decide to leave my charming company before you have done your job. What rudimentary amount of training I did receive prior to setting out on the mission gave me the understanding that once you have armed the warhead, the process is irreversible without reentering the access code on the arming and fusing device. Since by then I will have control of the briefcase, your job has been done. You, like Mr. Choi and the others, will be expendable, Dong-sun. As you can see, I have thought of everything,” he concluded with a grim laugh.
Gamma knew that even if this briefcase was not capable of much of anything, Park’s understanding of the logic of the arming process was technically correct. What mattered now, in terms of executing Operation Hard Candy, was that subduing Park without a gunfight might be more problematic due to Gamma not being able to assist whichever member of the team would be sent to take down the van. If Park was killed or seriously wounded in the process, the key witness to the planning and execution of the North Korean terrorist act would be lost and, in the process, making a retaliatory blow against General Fhang would become far more difficult for President Hunter to rationalize to the leadership of the People’s Republic of China. Park must be taken alive and his testimony recorded for Hard Candy to be an unqualified success.
*
As soon as Max gave Lyon the word that the ferry had cleared the park and was entering the Strait of Juan de Fuca, Chance ordered Peggy to make the JetRanger ready for takeoff. He also sent a signal to the Operations Officer at the Bangor Trident base to have Captain Montgomery bring the Vermont to periscope depth and watch for the Black Ball ferry. NSA also confirmed to Craig Murphy they were getting a strong GPS signal from Gamma’s briefcase coming from the Strait. In addition, the CIA had finally authorized an Argus intelligence drone mission that would send continuous real time aerial surveillance of the take-down of the ferry directly to the CIA Operations Center in Langley, Virginia. All the wheels of Operation Hard Candy were turning toward a dramatic conclusion.
*
It was roughly eleven miles from exiting Victoria into the open strait to the nautical boundary of Canada and the United States in the middle of the Strait of Juan de Fuca. With the ferry moving at approximately twelve miles per hour, this milestone would be reached in a little less than one hour. Gamma felt he had to cram a lot of prevaricating into the one hour in order to keep Park’s rampant and increasingly paranoid suspicions from boiling over into violent action that would threaten the mission in general or his physical health specifically. He decided to use a little reverse psychology in order to try to take the edge off of Park’s hostility.
“I can’t say that I blame you for
being on edge at this stage of the mission, Man-soo. These past months cannot have been easy for you. Now that we are so close to the end, I can understand that you can’t be too careful. Having only one free hand is going to make the arming procedure very slow...I just want you to understand that.”
“How so and how much time do you need?” Park asked cautiously.
“Perhaps something more than one hour. Typing-in the code with one hand is very tedious and prone to error. If I make an error, the computer will warn me with a sound that what I inputted is not a valid entry. I will have to go back and re-enter the code. I need silence to concentrate as much of this is from memory.”
“We have plenty of time,” said Park. “This is why I wanted to start early.”
“I have a question,” asked Gamma, trying to buy more time. “Are you going to kill me, as you did Mr. Choi and the others?”
Park knew that an affirmative answer would take away any motivation for Gamma to complete the task, and he hedged his answer.
“I will make a deal with you, Dong-sun. If you complete the arming and set the timer before we reach Port Angeles, I will let you go when we arrive there. I will take the briefcase with me and give you enough money to get back to Vancouver where you can blend in with the Asian population there. At least you will be alive...unlike the thousands in Seattle who will perish when the warhead goes off.”
“...And if I refuse?”
“My masters in the Reconnaissance Bureau told me before I left that the technician would have an electronic device similar to what you are carrying to arm the warhead for detonation. They told me that when the warhead is successfully armed and the timer set for detonation, that a certain alpha-numeric code will flash on the screen. Only I know the content of the correct code. If I do not see that exact code come up on the display after you tell me that you have armed the warhead and set the timer for detonation, I will know that you have failed, either deliberately or by carelessness, to do your job. If you either refuse or do not complete your job, I will kill you. Therefore, either you complete your task and have a shot at living as a free man in Vancouver, or die at my hand. Take your choice. Choose now, as we are wasting time.”
Once again, Gamma knew that Park’s logic was probably correct as the planners at the Reconnaissance Bureau could have easily built this into the electronics firmware of the warhead as a final safety against possible sabotage. What this boiled down to was that he wasn’t going to be released prior to Chance’s team taking down the ship and the van. Whoever was going to take down the van was going to have to do it without his help. But Gamma had one more shot at contacting Chance before the op went down, and the mechanism was right at his fingertips.
“You win, Man-soo. I’ll take my chances in Vancouver. I speak English and have a technical background. I’ll survive there. I will begin the arming process now.”
Gamma began to type a text message into the phone built-in to the briefcase and hoped he still had a cellular signal.
Being held at gunpoint and in restraints by Park. No chance of being able to help your team taking down the van. Park is psychotic and paranoid to the extreme. Usse caution! Kim.
“Yep, it’s authentic,” confirmed Blackie.
“I’ll get a signal to Max that he’s basically on his own to take down Park. Now he’s got two problems, taking Park alive and keeping Gamma so. He’s about to earn his pay today. Hope he’s flexible enough to change the plan I gave him.”
Rather than call Max and bring undue attention to his location, Chance texted him on his sat phone.
Gamma is restrained in the van. Expect NO help from him. Urgent that both Park and Gamma be taken alive. Blackie has sedative to subdue Park upon takedown. Lyon.
Max Jenkins went into the Men’s Room and used a stall to put on his DEA windbreaker and put on a sweatshirt over it. When it came time to strike he would jettison the sweatshirt, put on his balaclava and DEA neck-badge, and make his way swiftly to the van. If only he had the slightest bit of help. This was going to be tight. His GPS indicated they were seven miles from the Canadian-United States boundary.
As Max exited the Men’s Room, he saw Miss Joon standing by the rail watching Victoria recede in the distance. As he approached her, all his years of operational experience in the covert service of the CIA coalesced to make a plan jell instantly in his mind.
“Did you complete the recce?” Max asked.
“Yes, I did it twice. We should be able to get from the bridge to the vehicle deck in less than one minute...if Blackie can keep up with me,” she said with a sly grin.
“Okay, we have a change in plan. Gamma’s not going to be able to help us from inside...he’s restrained.”
“US?” asked Miss Joon. “I thought I was out of the picture after delivering Blackie.”
“Rev up your dramatic skills, young lady. This is going to be the performance of your young life.” As Max outlined his plan, a slight smile crossed her face and she warmed to the thought of the task ahead.
*
When Chance Lyon gave Peggy the thumbs up, she lifted the JetRanger to a hover and headed it into the wind, slowly turning towards the point in the Strait of Juan de Fuca where the Black Ball ferry would cross into United States’ territorial waters. Chance looked at Blackie and patted his DEA jacket over the spot where his shoulder holster held his Sig-P226. Blackie, looking every bit as menacing as the legendary pirate, Blackbeard, patted his pistol and nodded in return. Peggy could practically smell the testosterone filling the cabin of the helicopter.
*
Commander Montgomery was at his station on the bridge of the USS Vermont and issued an order to his Chief of the Boat. “Chief, bring the boat to all stop and come to periscope depth.”
“Aye, sir. All stop and coming to periscope depth.”
In a less than one minute Montgomery got a response from the Chief of the Boat: “Sir, engines all stop. We are at periscope depth, zero bubble.”
“Up scope,” ordered Montgomery. “Sonar, report.”
“Conn, Sonar, we have the Black Ball ferry making turns for twelve knots, range fifteen thousand meters, bearing three hundred fifty degrees.”
“Chief, prepare for emergency blow. We’re about to get this ferry captain’s undivided attention.”
“Aye sir, blowing tanks on your order,” replied the Master Chief.
*
Max Jenkins looked anxiously at his GPS, which indicated the ferry was three miles from the nautical boundary. Leaving nothing to chance he mentally checked and doubled checked every element of his plan to take down the cargo van. If Miss Joon did her job to expectation, he would have the element of surprise in his favor that would guarantee his success. But she was a rookie, and he remembered with some anxiety back when he had been.
The Black Ball ferry was nearly at the midpoint of its run from Victoria to Port Angeles and most of the passengers who had boarded in vehicles had left them and gone to the railing or the observation deck to enjoy the picturesque ride in the bright sunshine and agreeable temperatures of the Strait on this early July day. Little did any of them know of the drama unfolding on the vehicle deck and how much of their collective security weighed in the balance.
The USS Vermont was positioned at the precise point Commander Montgomery had calculated from the sonar readings and his view from the periscope that would influence the ferry captain to give the order for an emergency stop when Vermont surfaced. A final three-hundred-sixty degree sweep of the periscope, augmented by continuous assessments from his sonar operator assured him there were no other surface threats to him surfacing the huge submarine. It wasn’t normal procedure to make an emergency blow in the Strait of Juan de Fuca, but this mission had been described to him by his commander as every bit as important as anything he had commanded in the past in waters far from the continental United States, and he and his crew were going to make a production out of it.
The JetRanger piloted by Peggy carrying Chance Lyon and B
lackie Olyphant was just a speck in the southern sky as the Black Ball ferry crossed the imaginary boundary separating Canada from the United States, and when the grid coordinates of the boundary showed up on her navigational GPS she put the helicopter into a glide path that would bring them down to nearly sea level at the position selected by Chance to intercept the ferry. They were less than two minutes to target when Lyon said over the intercom, “We’re go for intercept. Tallyho!” Chance Lyon spoke to Peggy through the intercom, “Pop smoke for the sub, Peggy. We’re about to land.”
*
Nils Bjorklund, a native son of the Canadian Maritime Provinces, had been a skipper for Black Ball ferries for fifteen years. During that time he had operated in the Strait of Juan de Fuca in all types of weather and many challenging circumstances. He and his crew had even delivered a baby years ago, who had received a free pass for life from the ferry owners in celebration of the event. Today, in calm waters and summer temperatures, it seemed almost like a busman’s holiday to the seasoned captain as he made light conversation with his crew on the bridge of the ferry while scanning the waters of the strait with his Bushnell water-and-fog proof binoculars. With the ferry’s mechanical systems sensors all in the green and the radar showing no surface contacts for five miles in any direction, it looked like a milk run into Port Angeles. Then suddenly...
“GOOD GOD!” was all Bjorklund could say as the surface of the water less than one-half mile dead ahead of the ferry exploded in a fury of white foam, vapor, a massive displacement of water, and the sudden presence of the raging bow of the USS Vermont breaking the ocean surface in what submariners call an “emergency blow”. This was something he had seen only in film clips, but it was happening now in real time, right in front of his ferry.
“ALL STOP...I repeat, ALL STOP!” shouted Bjorklund as the bizarre scene continued to unfold in front of his ferry. “We have a submarine on the surface half a mile from our course. All engines stop,” he ordered.