Techno Ranger

by Thomas Sewell

  Something small, yet unique.

  In the wide-open orange zone to the right, the scientists ran their metallurgical experiments.

  Cordoned temporary spaces off not using walls, but by forming virtual hallways from bright yellow lines painted on the concrete floor.

  If you stayed outside those lines, you weren't going to hurt, or be hurt by, the bubbling and popping experiments.

  Tables with commercial kitchen-sized pans of molten metal, giant rolling presses, plus the occasional industrial-sized beaker setup dotted the area.

  Plenty of ways for someone to get hurt.

  The orange zone likely held plenty of distinctive items, but they were probably either too dangerous, too large, or too secret to go wandering out with.

  They used the second warehouse-sized zone on the left for storage.

  The brown zone's floor to ceiling pallet racks contained old experiments, unused equipment, boarded up crates, cardboard boxes, glass bottles with acidic liquids, and sealed plastic buckets of raw materials.

  Brown zone was a possibility, if I could find an object distinctive enough, yet non-secret. Perhaps one of the electric forklifts had the lab's logo on it.

  Be a pain to drive through downtown Seoul, though.

  Behind the orange zone, a smaller blue zone branched off a hallway with connections to individual offices and conference rooms for the scientists, keeping the secret information partitioned from the purely administrative office workers.

  Blue zone was promising.

  I bet a scientist's office held a personal item that they'd miss, but wasn't secret in and of itself. A one of a kind object, like a plaque or a diploma hanging on a wall.

  At the other end of the blue zone hallway, toward the back of the building and bordering the brown zone with the loading dock, there were smaller rooms containing the data center, the backup security office and the rear mantrap.

  That was the red zone.

  Unless he was dealing with the soldiers on the loading dock I'd seen in the alley earlier, the lab area's lone guard would sit in that office watching the security cameras.

  To keep him from catching me, I'd need to avoid the red zone until it was time to leave.

  Voices sounded from the warehouse aisles in the brown zone.

  Time to get moving.

  I snuck down one of the outside yellow-striped hallways in the orange zone, careful not to disturb the dangerous experimental areas.

  Ducked when necessary to stay out of sight.

  Even in the open hallway, well away from the marked off areas, could feel the heat of molten metal in a few of the experiments.

  Wasn't looking to interrupt their sizzle. Just wanted to get over to the blue zone.

  Raid the offices.

  Unlike the cubicled administrative staff, the scientists worked in offices with actual doors and walls.

  Apparently they occasionally needed to concentrate, rather than just be seen at work.

  As I walked down the blue-marked hallway, I cracked open each door. Inspected one office after another.

  Looked for my distinctive proof.

  Maybe a unique, yet portable sculpture an engineer created out of a failed experiment.

  I should be so lucky.

  In the distance, heard those same voices from the warehouse area move into the orange zone.

  Needed to hurry, before they either caught up to me or pushed me into the red zone.

  First four offices were a bust. These scientists showed no personality at all.

  The fifth office I peered into wasn't empty.

  Inside, a tall, slender Korean woman's mouth gaped open. Fumbled with the green dry-erase marker in her hand. Stared right at me in the doorway.

  Long arms and skinny legs poked out of a fluffy office skirt and blouse. Wore her white lab coat loosely over it all like a soldier displaying her rank.

  In the hopes she didn't get a good look at me through the sliver of open door, I tried my best Korean Engrish accent, "So sorry. Wrong room."

  Gently closed the door and backed away from it.

  She pushed the door open right in front of me.

  No luck.

  Apparently, more observant than most.

  Why couldn't I have run into an absent-minded type?

  "Who are you?" She pointed her thin green marker at me. "You're not part of the lab team."

  Wow! Closer up, I could tell this Korean woman was almost as tall as I was, approaching six foot. Her chest jutted forward accusingly as she jabbed the marker at me.

  Time for a bit of social engineering subtlety.

  I pressed my finger vertically into my lips. Spoke softly, "Surprise security inspection, Ma'am."

  "I'm the lab director. They'd have notified me if there was an inspection planned."

  It'd worked, a little. She'd softened her own tones back to normal in response to my almost whisper.

  "Then it wouldn't be a surprise. Look, as a manager, I'm sure you know there's a law limiting the work hours of government employees, but I like you. You seem like a sensible woman. Don't want to get you into trouble for being here this late at the end of the work week, so if you'll return to your office, I'll just pretend I didn't see you and get on with my inspection duties."

  "Really? I'm not stupid. Anyway, I have a critical duties exception to work extra time." Her voice rose again.

  She peered closer at the nametape on my chest, "Lieutenant Harper, eh? Show me your security pass. This entire area is classified top secret. Foreigners, even soldiers, don't work here without an escort or a pass, and I sign off on enough paperwork every month to know I haven't seen your face on a recent application."

  Maybe I should have gone with a janitor disguise today, rather than wearing my uniform, complete with my name for all to see. This scientist was entirely too observant.

  Knew when I was too beat down by the waves to recover. "I really am a military intelligence security analyst with the U.S. Army. I'd appreciate it if you'd just look the other way, but if you insist, we can walk down to the security room in the red zone and the guard there will be able to verify my identity with Captain Rhee Yun-seok or the administration at Camp Kim."

  "Is this another of Rhee's power games? Let's go, then."

  I nodded in acquiescence.

  She was the first Korean woman I'd seen to even come close to my height. Most barely managed five feet.

  And she appeared to have no love for Rhee, even better. Despite getting worked by her suspicions, I felt amped.

  After all, I made it into the lab. She'd be my proof.

  She marched me down the blue zone hallway, a naughty boy to the principal's office.

  Been there before.

  "If you don't mind my asking, Ma'am, what's your name?"

  "Doctor Yang Hyo-jin. I run the carbon fiber program."

  Tried to start over. "Nice to meet you, Doctor. I'm Lieutenant Sam Harper."

  "I know what you're thinking. Why is she so tall? It's what everyone wants to ask me, so get it over with."

  "Actually, I was wondering how a woman as young as you came to be in charge of a major research program at a lab like this. Already know why you're tall."

  "Really? Why?"

  "Mostly genetics plus sufficient nutrition, Doc." I paused, but she didn't laugh. "Actually, been reviewing the files on everyone who works here for a month. Didn't recognize your face, but recognize your name. Don't mean that I memorized everyone's name and background, but your past on the South Korean National Volleyball team stuck in my mind. The London Olympic Games, wasn't it?"

  "Yes. And to answer your other question, I played for years for Hyundai Engineering's professional team. In the process went to school for material sciences and eventually ended up here."

  The office hallway turned left.

  Could see the red zone ahead. "Having a national hero on the staff here probably didn't hurt."

  "Oh, I don't know anyone around here cares that much."


  I grinned. "Well, you certainly stand out."

  We reached the end of the blue zone hallway, where the data center door marked the beginning of the red zone. I faintly smelled a horrible sickly sweet scent. Not one I liked. I hoped security had found a dead dog or cat or something.

  "Doctor, I think you should stay here."

  "What? Certainly not. I'm taking you to security. It's right over there."

  I ignored her. Stepped lightly past the mantrap. Edged over to the backup security room.

  The door was just a little open, but the smell reeked.

  She held her nose. Followed behind me.

  I pulled open the door just enough to look inside. Instantly focused.

  The guard lay sideways on the floor, pushed up against his chair, face pale blue, eyes bulging.

  No RFID badge. No sidearm. Cause of death obvious, extreme strangulation.

  "Get me plastic bags."

  "What?"

  "Plastic bags. You must use plastic trash bags around here. A janitor's closet, something nearby. Packing tape, too, if you can find it. Just get them, but don't go far. The guard's dead. You don't want to see this."

  Of course, she pushed past me and peered through the doorway herself.

  Tendons stood out on her neck, pulsing rapidly. She began shaking, so she jammed her hands into her armpits, hugging her own chest. Not asking more questions, she turned to go and find bags and tape.

  At least she hadn't accused me of killing him.

  Guess she figured I wouldn't have calmly walked over here with her if I had.

  I instinctively faced away from the body. Held a deep breath.

  Wasn't going to think about the source of the smell.

  Whoever killed the guard might still be in the lab.

  My pulse pumped harder.

  Needed to take off on this new wave before I got raked over by it.

  Turned back into the office.

  Stepped over the body of the guard.

  Transmitted Rhee's RFID code. Unlocked the functions of the security console.

  The red zone cameras weren't working for some reason, but scanning the camera feeds covering the other three lab zones, I found dangerous visitors within seconds.

  Six men in black and green digital camouflage uniforms worked the area in three teams of two.

  One pair guarded the primary mantrap I'd used, shoulder weapons aimed toward the door.

  A second pair moved through the orange zone, leapfrogging each other around the yellow-painted lines using standard room clearing techniques.

  The third pair worked together, loading a heavy-looking steel box covered in international warning symbols on a forklift.

  They all carried K2 assault rifles, a locally produced cross between an M16A1 and an AR-15.

  Almost.

  These K2's had shiny black plastic where the real item from Daewoo Precision Industries used dull gunmetal. They were also missing the standard ROK Army rail with PVS-11K red dot sight.

  Despite the uniforms, these soldiers weren't South Korean.

  No, they were North Korean Special Forces.

  My personal red team exercise had transformed itself into a deadly infiltration, with everyone's lives now in danger.

  My first instinct was to set off an alarm and call the cavalry.

  But who was the cavalry?

  Couldn't wait to explain to Major Williams about how I'd broken into the ROK's top secret metallurgy lab and just happened to find North Korean commandos in it, proving my point about how easy the place could be infiltrated. I'm sure he'd be in the mood to listen carefully. After all, he'd never jump to conclusions or take the side of the locals.

  What a Charlie Foxtrot of a situation.

  Could wait and observe. Gather more info on what they did. Gain a little breathing space.

  However, inaction was unlikely to improve the situation.

  Was already on the crest of this wave, whether or not I wanted to ride it.

  Had a feeling if I waited long enough, the pair of soldiers clearing the orange zone would move on to the blue zone and then back here to the red zone to complete their sweep of the lab areas.

  Once they arrived here, they'd spit me and my new scientist friend into the washing machine.

  If I'd planned this heist, at that point they'd help the pair working the warehouse contents in brown zone move out via the mantrap at the rear of the building.

  Presumably that's how they'd entered in the first place.

  That truck parked in the alley near the loading dock!

  Likely their escape route.

  Once the others cleared the area, the pair guarding the front door would rapidly exfiltrate and they'd all drive away.

  Great.

  My only explanation of how and why I was even here was an unauthorized security penetration test.

  If we were all caught in here, or worse, if these guys got away, there's no way Rhee would believe I wasn't in on it somehow.

  Hell, I wouldn't believe me under these circumstances.

  Getting relieved was now the least of my worries. At this rate, I might need that secret Agency flight out of the country.

  My only hope was to call Rhee and throw myself on his mercy.

  At least if I set off the alarms and reported the bad guys, with a national hero of a witness to that fact, I could probably avoid time in the brig. As long as they caught the North Koreans, we could save face and minimize the damage all around.

  Maybe just a court-martial for insubordination and a dishonorable discharge.

  Lofty goals, I know.

  Chapter Fifteen: Irish Car Bombs

  Schnier was sort of Irishly cute, in a brash and annoying way. Maybe Michelle could squeeze his muscles and coo approvingly.

  After watching Sam walk away at the subway station, she hadn't felt like just going home again.

  The way he'd ignored her gesture at the end, she figured he must still be upset about his loss to Schnier, not to mention whatever was going on with his lab report.

  Besides, after her call with the big boss in DC, she had work to do. Needed to find out if Schnier's platoon would be making any trips soon which might screw up anything related to their new high-level source across the DMZ.

  So she'd called Schnier and casually invited him to meet her for drinks at Route 66 American Bar, a hole in the wall identified by garish red and blue lettering on a luminous white sign only two blocks from the edge of Yongsan Garrison.

  The whole area catered to U.S. GIs, cheap Korean goods competing with familiar restaurants like Subway, Outback, KFC, all mixed together and ready to part soldiers from their pay.

  That's not to say the locals didn't still outnumber those from the States, but unlike most of the city, you could count on seeing at least a few familiar faces.

  The bar was upstairs, above a money exchange, set back from the street in a little pedestrian cul-de-sac.

  Could sit on the patio and watch the nightlife, but she shivered at the idea.

  Instead, she climbed up the exterior staircase. Pushed her way through the main entrance. The crowded scene inside created all the warmth she needed.

  Michelle looked around for any rowdy Rangers.

  Most groups inside gathered around beat up wooden tables oriented toward the bar, periodically sending messengers to the long-haired gods of the tap to provide liquid sustenance.

  A pair of hand-written chalkboard signs tilted out above the bar advertised "66 BOMB SHOTS" and "Long Teas".

  Rows of empty wine glasses and a brass bell attached beneath an antique metal "Route US 66" highway sign hung from the top of the bar.

  Michelle giggled as she read the drink specials, "Tic Tac Agua, Irish Car Bomb, Hand Grenade, Drone Strike".

  A drink for everyone.

  The manager must've served enough soldiers to gain more than a passing familiarity with Army military gallows humor.

  For the right money, apparently you can fake a foreign culture. />
  Army culture confused Michelle less than Korean society, at least.

  Two rows of mixed patrons, half of them American, the other half Korean, pushed up against the bar.

  No Schnier over there.

  "Fake Love" by the Bangtan Boys pounded from the opposite corner, but Schnier wouldn't be by the K-pop karaoke machine, at least not this early in the night.

  She dodged through the crowd to gain a different perspective.

  Spotted his buzzed red hair above the crowd.

  He scribbled his name on a wall covered from the waist up with black chalkboard paint. The chalkboard area surrounded a pair of dartboards filled with writing in ever-expanding circles from the targets, so much so that a few people had just written their own messages in a different color chalk over the previous layer, creating a drunken archaeological dig.

  A cheap plastic red skull and crossed daggers hung beneath one target, oddly out of place. The same spot under the second dartboard was empty, lonely, and missing out.

  Schnier finished his illegible name with a flourish. Dropped the thick chunk of chalk into a scraped-up wooden box provided for that purpose.

  He stood bowlegged in jeans tucked into cowboy boots. Wore his best Hawaiian shirt open over a black tank-top.

  An enormous silver and gold belt buckle declared him a bareback bronc champion.

  He'd obviously taken care with his appearance after receiving her call.

  Good, he'd been anxious to meet her. Worried to not look his best. This would be easier than she'd thought.

  Michelle smiled and danced over to him.

  He grinned at her arrival, his complexion already ruddy between scattered freckles.

  She ran a hand across his herculean biceps appreciatively.

  Leaned in close.

  He'd assume that was so she didn't need to shout. "Wasn't sure you'd be able to make it on short notice. Your platoon has been busy recently."

  Schnier nodded a greeting, almost a Korean style bow. "A Ranger's work ain't nevah done, Ma'am. If-in the men run out of thangs ta do, we can always come up with new stuff for 'em. Not that there ain't always some fun around here, with the DPRK just across the DMZ."

  She wanted him in the habit of confiding little details about his work to her. That way it wouldn't seem strange if she had a specific piece of information she needed to know.