Darke Mission

by Scott Caladon

  “What’s he doing on my sub, in my quarters?” O’Neill asked, feeling really agitated but just about managing to keep it under control.

  “He must have been on the sub, when we took it,” ventured Billy Smith, trying to be helpful but surely stating the bleedin’ obvious.

  “We haven’t a clue what he’s saying, commander,” added Whitton. “He’s been mumbling away in Korean, doesn’t appear to speak any English. The only word we can make out is ‘Kim’.”

  “That’ll narrow it down to a few billion,” interjected Smith, not really upping the quality of his contributions to the problem solving. Mark O’Neill was thinking. It would be a bit much just to shoot the Korean, he thought, but they could not take him back to Haeju, albeit that they weren’t that far away, they couldn’t surface and they did not have enough food for themselves for the journey to Scotland, let alone to feed a random Kim on board. O’Neill had not reached a conclusion when Garrison Whitton piped up again.

  “The problem may be worse, Sir. The stowaway’s sweating away, keeps pointing to his head as if it’s sore. I quickly took his temperature once Billy had subdued him. It’s 102˚F. It could be something straightforward but it might not be. I’ve only limited medical equipment with me but I can do some investigation.”

  “Do it Gary, and let me know as soon as you have an idea. In the meantime, isolate the Kim and get Ding to start disinfecting the living quarters. Billy, if he’s got the pox you might have it too, so don’t go wandering anywhere around the sub. Stay here,” said O’Neill.

  “Yes, Sir,” responded Billy Smith, pushing the KPN man a little harder into the sub’s panels, clearly not happy that he may have been exposed to some Korean lurgy.

  “Billy,” said O’Neill.

  “Sir?” Smith responded.

  “Lower the fellow down to his full, short, height. I don’t suppose he deliberately got himself sick.”

  “Yes, Sir,” replied Smith, letting Kim go. Mark O’Neill returned swiftly to the conn to consult with his number two, Evan Harris. Whitton was on his laptop, searching for possible contenders for Kim’s sickness, Ding was disinfecting the living quarters, made slightly more complex because Kim had now vomited on the floor and on Billy Smith’s boots.

  “Evan,” began O’Neill. “We’ve got an issue. The gist of it is that we have a KPN stowaway on board, who can’t speak a word of English, and who has a fever of some sort. Gary is investigating. While he’s doing that, you need to check if there’s anywhere we can safely surface without detection. We may need to get him off the sub.” Evan Harris took it in. No time for questions, he went back to his map, but shifted his focus a lot closer to their current position than Scotland. O’Neill had instructed Tony Fairclough and David McCoy to slow the borey’s speed. He didn’t go into a detailed explanation, after all it may be a storm in a teacup, but he also didn’t want the submarine to be going at full pelt if they had to change their target destination. Gary Whitton returned to the conn to find O’Neill. The commander saw him coming.

  “Gary, any news?”

  “My preliminary research suggests it might be measles, Sir. He’s got a rash, headache, joint pain, I think, and his temperature is still rising,” said Whitton.

  “That’s not the end of the world, then, is it?”

  “No, Sir, if it’s measles, he’ll be laid low for a few days, then probably recover,” agreed Whitton.

  “I was thinking more about the infection risk to the rest of us, Gary,” pointed out O’Neill.

  “I’ll check with the men as to who has and who has not had measles, Sir, and report back,” said Whitton as he was departing the conn. O’Neill turned his attention to Harris and his map.

  “The problem may not be as big as we thought Evan, but did you come up with anything?” asked O’Neill.

  “Our current position is not that far from Jejudo Island, Mark. It’s a volcanic island off the south coast of South Korea. It’s not active from the lava-chucking perspective but it does have a relatively new naval base and it’s in friendly waters,” replied Harris. Mark O’Neill nodded, that was a good find he thought even if, in all probability, they wouldn’t need it now. That thought hadn’t fully crystallised in Mark O’Neill’s mind, when Gary Whitton came running back onto the conn.

  “Sir,” he said.

  “It’s not measles. The Kim’s blood pressure is really low and he’s bleeding from his nose. I plugged all of the symptoms into my medical app, Sir,” said Whitton.

  “What is it, then?” snapped O’Neill, clearly anxious to be in the know.

  “I can’t be certain, commander, but it may be Dengue Fever, and the stowaway may have gone into Dengue shock syndrome already.”

  “Is he going to die, is the crew at risk?” asked O’Neill.

  “Without proper medical treatment he will probably die in a few days. Statistically, there is a low probability of the crew catching the fever, but…”

  “But what?” interjected O’Neill, with no patience to listen to a long, drawn out medical theory.

  “The Kim’s been in the goat locker for a while, he’s drunk our water, he’s thrown up over our floor and Billy Smith’s boots, his body fluids are, not to put too fine a point on it, leaking everywhere,” elaborated Witton. “The incubation period for this kind of fever has a modal time of three to six days, Sir. If any of the crew have been infected they will likely be very sick and rendered helpless well before we reach our destination.”

  “Well that’s just fine and fucking dandy!” said O’Neill with feeling. “Sorry Gary, not your fault, sometimes it’s tough being the messenger,” he quickly added, placing his hand on the medic’s shoulder.

  “Sir?” said Whitton.

  “Yes, Gary,” responded O’Neill.

  “I suggest I check all the crew’s temperatures regularly, at least twice a day. Along with a headache that will be the first symptom. Me, you, Billy Smith and Ding are the most likely to be at risk because we’ve been closest to the stowaway. We shouldn’t risk the water, Sir. I know that just adds to the problem, but even on the low probability that it can be transmitted that way, it is a contamination risk.”

  “Thanks, Gary,” said O’Neill. “Check the crew’s temperatures. You may as well tell them why while you’re at it. They’ll know about the sick gook soon enough in any case.”

  “Yes, Sir,” replied Whitton. The young medic then left. His role on this mission had suddenly been catapulted up the essential list. Mark O’Neill sat down next to Evan Harris. He didn’t want to chat straightaway, he was thinking. Bonnie Scotland wasn’t looking as close as it seemed an hour or so ago. Sick stowaway, can’t drink the water, not enough food, and maybe not enough crew. This was a bag of laughs – not.

  “Mark, what’s the plan?” asked Evan Harris.

  “The plan, Evan, is in its formative stages, as those war game wankers at the DoD would say when they haven’t a clue. I haven’t a clue just now. Let’s take a look at that volcanic island of yours.”

  Jejudo Island is de facto one of South Korea’s nine provinces, being coterminous with Jejudo province. It lies in the Korean Strait. It is volcanic but dormant, with a population of over half a million. Of most interest to Mark O’Neill, however, was that in 2007 the South Korean government designated Gongjeong, a village on the southern coast of the island to be the site of a new naval base. This base was intended to house twenty warships including submarines. The locals were not that happy about it and there were several protests including sit-ins and attempts to disrupt construction. The protests continued on the ground and in the law courts for several years as the issue became a cause celebre for many of the island’s residents and its supporters. The naval facility, however, was now sufficiently completed that a Russian Borei class nuclear submarine could dock there, if required.

  Jejudo Island was approximately 480km from the docks at Haeju. O’Neill and Harris reckoned that they could easily get there in ten hours, that wouldn’t be a problem.
What would, however, is that they would be required to inform the South Korean authorities that they would need access to the base. Let’s not get premature on that thought O’Neill, we’ll wait for a further update from young Whitton. The update was not long in coming but it was not what O’Neill wanted to hear.

  “The stowaway is getting worse,” advised Whitton. “His temperature is now 104˚F and he’s helpless. If he doesn’t get hospitalised in twelve to twenty-four hours then he’s toast. Ding has the beginnings of a sore head,” he added.

  “How about you, Gary?”

  “I’m fine, Sir, so far. My temperature’s steady at the 98.6˚F norm, as is yours.”

  “Thanks Gary. Lieutenant Harris and I have a few things to figure out. Keep the sick as comfortable as you can, and let me know if anyone else is feeling rough.” The medic went back to his patients.

  “Evan, we’re going to have to surface and dock at Jejudo. I don’t see any other option. I don’t care about the stowaway, he rolled the dice and took his chance, but if Ding and Billy are sick then this submarine is not manageable, we’ll never complete our mission. Joe Franks has clearly got a busted leg and the incubation time for this Dengue Fever seems variable. More of the team could get ill in the next few days. Not only do we need to get the sickos off the boat we need at least two warm healthy bodies to replace them. We also need medicine, water and food. We’ve no choice but to surface,” concluded O’Neill.

  “It’s a tall order,” judged Evan Harris. “We’re allies with the South Koreans and we defend them to the max, so we’ll likely get the official OK to dock at Jejudo, but what about the North Koreans spotting us and who can we get to replace Ding and Billy?”

  “The North Koreans won’t spot us unless they’ve got a satellite hovering over Jejudo. Their attack planes would not be allowed to get that far into South Korean air space before being shot down. Our sonars indicate that there are no surface or submersible sea vessels following us, not least of which because the stealth work on this beauty seems highly effective. There will probably be a few happy snappers at the Jejudo naval base. We can’t help that but there are no markings on this sub and there may well be other subs already berthed. Unless some submariner spotting anorak happens to know a lot about naval vessels, their size, shape etc., we may get away with it. If we can organise it properly we might be visible for under thirty minutes,” concluded O’Neill. Evan Harris was in agreement. There did not appear to be a better option. O’Neill would urgently contact John Adams at the CIA to ask him to get the authority from the South Koreans to dock.

  “What about the healthy warm bodies to replace the sick even warmer bodies?” asked Harris. There were no navy SEALs teams in the area and any regular US marines or troops were stationed at or near the DMZ. Both Harris and O’Neill knew this.

  “We might just need to be a bit clever on that one,” replied O’Neill.

  * * *

  As JJ was entering PAU Travel in Gangnam, Carolyn Reynolds and Dannielle Eagles were exiting the undercover CIA offices.

  “Hi Dad, bye Dad!” exclaimed Carolyn, very pleased to see JJ but clearly in something of a hurry.

  “No, no, no, no bye Dad, Cally, what’s going on?” asked JJ, equally pleased to see his daughter, if not her hasty exit.

  “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you!” laughed Carolyn, with no real intention of patricide on her mind.

  “You’re one cheeky princess,” responded JJ. “Take care on whatever you’re up to. You too Dannielle,”

  “Thanks Mr Darke,” said Dannielle as Carolyn gave her father a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  “Later, gator,” called Carolyn as she and Dannielle piled into one of the PAU Travel cars.

  “Sure,” replied JJ. JJ continued on into the PAU offices. He spied Jim Bradbury.

  “Hey Jim,” JJ called out. “Where are those two off to?”

  “They tell me nothing around here JJ, I’m just the boss. All I know is that I got a call from John Adams. He’s the CIA’s Associate Director for Military Support and reports directly to the Director himself, Fred Goss. Adams knew that your daughter and Eagles were here and by his tone he also knew what they were up to. He said that they were required to join a top priority operation and that I should help them get their gear together and off to Gimpo airport.”

  “Their gear, what all their computers and stuff?” enquired JJ having a squint through the open door of the communications room, which still seemed packed with electronic equipment.

  “It seems not,” replied Jim. “Carolyn and Dannielle took their laptops and tablets with them but the trunk of that car is packed to the hilt with food, dozens of bottles of water and medical supplies. If they’re off on a jaunt, it must be a dangerous, thirsty one.”

  JJ mulled over his friend’s information. Carolyn was not of the mindset to pop off on a quick vacation while on a job. She’d also be inclined to seek out good restaurants with fine food, not take a load of packaged stuff with her, and she didn’t drink that much water. JJ had no idea what his daughter was up to, but it sure wasn’t a holiday.

  The PAU Travel car taking Carolyn and Dannielle to the helicopter pad at Gimpo airport was a Mercedes S-class, big car with a big trunk. The helicopter on the pad, awaiting its passengers, was an Mi-172 South Korean police commandoes transport chopper. It was of Russian construction and could carry up to thirty people, compared with only fifteen or so in a Blackhawk. Today, its occupants were not police commandoes, just two NGA officers, one paramedic and a whole lot of stuff. The airport was around 15km to the west of central Seoul. It had not taken the Mercedes long to get there and the flight time to Jejudo Island would be under two hours. It was a much brighter day than yesterday. While Carolyn and Dannielle checked their weapons and their surveillance equipment, the paramedic and the Mercedes driver loaded the food, drink and other supplies on board. The take-off was smooth and the journey seemed short.

  “My god, Dannielle, there it is, the Borei,” said Carolyn as she pointed her finger at the starboard window of the Mi-172, now nearing its destination. “It’s squeezed in between what looks like a couple of Chang Bogo class subs,” she continued, as their ride prepared to land at the naval base’s helipad.

  “They look a bit titchy by comparison,” said Dannielle, perhaps feeling that size mattered when it came to submarines.

  “They do,” agreed Carolyn but hoping that the Borei class Russian sub did not stand out too much and attract unwanted attention. As the helicopter landed and its blades came to a halt, Carolyn and Dannielle could see Commander Mark O’Neill and another SEAL waiting for them. There also seemed to be a small, local ambulance beside the SEALs.

  “Officers Reynolds and Eagles, good to see you both again,” said O’Neill. The Commander wanted off the island ASAP. “I can fill you in with all the details when we’re on board. For the moment we need to get all your gear off the chopper and onto the sub and those three sick people onto your helicopter.” As the ambulance crew took out a stretcher with the stowaway Kim on it, attached to life-saving liquids, the NGA women also noticed that two navy SEALs were being helped into the Mi-172 as well.

  “What’s up with them?” asked Dannielle.

  “The local is a KPN stowaway. We don’t know if he deliberately stowed away or whether he was doing a check or something when we took the sub. He can’t speak English but he’s in a bad way and might not make it,” replied O’Neill. “The other two are Billy Smith and Yang Dingbang from my team. They are showing some early symptoms of what’s ailing the Korean, so we need them off the sub and into a hospital.”

  “What have they got?” asked Dannielle, thinking more of her own well-being than concern over the SEALs. Luckily, such self-centredness doesn’t really show in a verbal question.

  “Our medic is not 100% certain, but he thinks it’s Dengue Fever. It can be contracted from mosquitoes. It’s not easily transferred to other humans from the initial victim but it can be. It can be dead
ly in extreme cases. We couldn’t take the chance with Billy and Ding. They could become helpless and may even spread the virus to the rest of the team. We probably wouldn’t know for another two to four days. Then it would be too late to do anything. You ladies may be wondering why I requested you?” ventured O’Neill.

  “We may,” responded Carolyn before O’Neill could continue. “Don’t think for one second, Commander, that I’ve forgotten your ‘no girls on tour’ comment to our boss, Henry Michieta.” O’Neill had indeed forgotten and now that he had been reminded it was clearly in his interests not to defend his quip.

  “Ah… forgotten about that, sorry. Clearly this is one tour where girls are allowed,” he added meekly, recalling how feisty Reynolds was.

  “Apology accepted,” said Carolyn, grinning internally.

  “We’re not SEALs or submariners, Commander,” said Dannielle. “How can we replace your two men?”

  “We’re operating the Borei with a skeleton crew. One of the guys, Joe Franks, broke his leg at Haeju. He’s partly mobile now so that’s OK. We couldn’t manage the submarine for the rest of the mission with only seven SEALs. Billy Smith’s main skill is as a sniper, and Ding’s is radar. There are no other SEAL teams anywhere close and it would have taken too long and involved too much bureaucracy to get a couple of suitable marines transferred from the DMZ. You are both CIA trained, so you can shoot and since your main skill is surveillance for the NGA, I guessed you’d know something about radar,” O’Neill explained.

  “You guessed right, Commander,” replied Carolyn. “Especially Dannielle, she’s a dab hand with radar.”

  With supplies, crew and guests safely on board, Tommy Fairclough and David McCoy started up the submarine. In about ten minutes they would be far enough into the Korean Strait to submerge into deep water. Mark O’Neill and Evan Harris were on the conn and the Commander had asked his skeleton crew to gather round.

  “Gentlemen, these are Officers Carolyn Reynolds and Dannielle Eagles of the NGA. These ladies were the ones who originally spotted this submarine berthed at the Haeju docks. They’re CIA-trained so they can look after themselves. As of now they are members of this team and will take full part in ensuring that our mission is completed. Billy and Ding are on a helicopter headed for a hospital in Seoul. I will give you updates on their condition as soon as I have any. A section of the living quarters will be partitioned so that Reynolds and Eagles can have some privacy. I expect you all to respect that and behave, at all times, in a manner befitting a US Navy SEAL. Any questions?”