Okay, two down, three more to go.
Nothing to do for Doc Yang without resolving my local shark control problem. "Stay there. Keep the door bolted. Odds are, he'll ignore you."
I hoped.
This whole situation had rapidly escalated out of control. Thinking about that third guy loose in the red zone with the Doc was like watching a friend drown out in the ocean while a wave pushes you toward shore.
Fear of failure to protect those you care about, failure to take care of your responsibilities, can be good if it helps you focus in the moment, but also bad if it distracts you from what you need to do to survive or succeed.
Were my enemies afraid for other people, or only for themselves?
Maybe they could focus more, or perhaps it makes them less reckless, less willing to take the risks required to outfight your opponent.
The lack of hesitation necessary to win.
Maybe if I was a better soldier, I wouldn't need to gamble to win. Maybe I'd be able to plan it all out ahead of time and watch things fall into place like dominoes.
Wishful thinking.
The kind of distraction that would get me killed during a fight.
Ancient military wisdom: No battle plan survives contact with the enemy.
I bet everyone feels alternately helpless and all-powerful during every battle.
The soldier who'd been spinning in circles probably felt helpless as he knelt on the lab floor.
He still wasn't getting enough oxygen to threaten me.
No need to take him out.
The other, who'd been farther from the cloud of chlorine gas, hunched intelligently behind the electric crane, only the edge of a pant leg showing.
Didn't have a decent shot at him, so I crawled backward until I could rise into a crouch out of sight behind the furnace.
Backed up, eyes laser-focused forward. Knocked over a trio of short steel bars with a clatter.
No matter.
I flanked farther to the right.
Took quick steps around tall shelving for finished specimens of twisted metal, presumably the end result of whatever process the experiment tortured molten metal with.
He leaned around the crane's body from a kneeling firing position, rifle barrel searching for me with his reddened, but apparently clear-enough eyes.
Too late.
I rested my barrel on the end of the shelf to stabilize it. No longer trusted my left arm to support a rifle.
Aimed center mass. Prepped the trigger.
Pressed twice to break the shots.
The first bullet shattered his bent left arm at the elbow where it protected his chest.
Fired from his flank, he didn't see it coming; just slumped over to scream in pain.
The second bullet clipped the bolt carrier of his home grown K2 rifle. Gouged off metal before it ricocheted into the air.
Someone will find that stuck in the ceiling one day.
My earpiece made noise, but I was too focused to listen.
Not wanting to remain in one position for too long, I lifted my rifle off the shelf.
Turned back the way I'd come.
A barely visible wire caught on my rifle's barrel as I lifted it.
The wire's swooping momentum yanked the whole rifle toward my face.
Instinctively ducked.
Spun away to face my attacker.
Left my rifle to bob in the air.
It weighed down the garrote he sought my life with.
Couldn't afford to fall behind in the observe–orient–decide–act loop.
The last remaining soldier, the one whose lungs I'd assumed were most affected, had recovered enough to sneak up behind me.
He growled.
Released the wooden dowel in his right hand.
That freed up his right arm, but his tangled garrote stubbornly refused to release my rifle. It sagged to the ground.
Dragged down his left wrist.
The tangle gave me time to re-orient.
To decide. To act. To attack.
Form my right hand into a blade. Jab it at his windpipe.
Maybe I could make whatever breathing difficulties he had even worse.
No oxygen, no muscles, no strength, no fight.
He dodged back on his heels. Tried to grab my right wrist with his unencumbered right hand.
Quick reflexes.
Two hands are better than one.
I grabbed his wrist with my other hand, thumb on top.
Stepped back to create a little space.
Locked his wrist back. Twisted it clockwise.
Took another step back.
Forced his body to follow my arm down where it met my snap kick to his head.
That had to hurt.
Apparently not enough.
He grasped the barrel of my rifle entangled in his garrote with his previously useless left hand.
Used it as a club.
Pounded the stock against the outside of my right knee.
Ouch.
Knee aching, I remembered the pile of steel bars I'd literally stumbled over before.
Backed up toward the furnace table. Sought with my heels.
Pulled him after me using his wrist.
He lurched forward.
My heel kicked a steel rod.
I plucked it up with my free hand.
He swung the K2 rifle at me.
Diverted it with the steel rod. The rebound lined up the rod's tip with the plate carrier protecting his chest.
Thrusting the steel pole upward, I shafted him through the throat.
Finally put him down for good.
"Lieutenant? That last soldier put equipment on a truck at the loading dock and drove away."
I sighed. Slumped down a little, adrenalin wearing off. "The police cordon should stop him." If they'd set it up as I requested. "Any other threats I should know about?"
"Captain Rhee Yun-seok just entered the orange zone from the primary mantrap. A dozen men with him."
So, rather than running, Rhee decided to bluff it out. I guess having those dudes to back him up made that a decent option for him.
Did he know that I knew he was working with the North Koreans?
Perhaps a little Sicilian blood?
Was he coming to kill me, or just to blame me?
Did he know the DPRK spec ops team were mostly dead or disabled, or were they supposed to be gone by now and he was about to officially discover the technology theft?
"Doctor, I'd appreciate your company as quickly as possible. Don't suppose you know anything about gunshot wounds?"
"No, Lieutenant. Not that kind of doctor. Worst I've seen is a sprained knee in a volleyball game."
"Never mind, just come and see if you can talk these guys into not shooting me. Wait for you here."
Glancing at my phone, I noted the absence of a text message from the 75th RRC announcing their imminent arrival.
No help there.
Took a deep breath. Stood in the aisle between downed enemies.
One of these guys must have a bandage. Maybe even a few ampoules of morphine.
Preferred a strong local anesthetic for gunshot wounds, but beggars can't be choosers.
Especially when the dude whose plans I'd just ruined came for a chat and brought a dozen of his closest armed subordinates.
* * *
No doubt his lesson to the boiler technicians would keep them efficient for months.
Deputy Defense Minister Meon Lon-chun sipped his fresh cup of chamomile tea. Still a little hot.
At least he'd gotten the steam radiator repaired.
His black phone, connected to the Ministry of People's Security, clamored for his attention.
He set his cup to cool on a plastic coaster on top of his desk.
Picked up the handset.
"Minister Meon."
"Sir, we have a transmission from Lieutenant Kwon."
"About damn time."
"Kwon reports he's still in Seoul, bu
t he's secured the data."
"Excellent. How soon until his team can exfiltrate back across the DMZ?"
"He reports he's been separated from the rest of his team. No word on the radio. May be evading capture."
That incompetent. He lost his team?
Knew he shouldn't have trusted a junior lieutenant with such an important responsibility.
Stro and the rest of the team were accomplished enough he thought it'd be a good experience for him. Having a loyal unit in the special forces was always a bonus.
Perhaps he could salvage something.
Maybe they could call the mission a success, having retrieved the data and done irreparable harm to their imperialist enemies at the same time.
"Relay to Kwon to get the data here via the tunnel as fast as possible. The others will have to fend for themselves."
"Understood, sir. We'll pass on your orders."
Meon dropped the handset back into its cradle. Leaned back in his executive-style chair.
Should he pass on the status to headquarters? No, they might blame him for losing the team. The data wasn't back yet, so he couldn't rely on that to shield himself.
What if his communications relay in the Ministry of People's Security also kept others informed?
Would they turn on him, jealous of his position?
Desiring to see him brought down? His lips tasted chalky.
Meon reviewed the status of his most bitter rivals. Perhaps.
He should prepare for the worst.
But how?
He sipped his chamomile tea and forced himself to relax. It came to him.
He'd send for a new special forces sniper team. One with an experienced leader.
Between the new team and Kwon, after bringing the data back, they could activate the fallback phase of his plan.
Then if he required a quick way out, he'd have incredible leverage on the Southern Imperialists to make whatever he needed occur.
He made a note to send orders to have the Soviet weapon delivered from the research facility to the base here. Would take a few days for safe transportation.
He shrugged.
If destruction happened to Seoul in the execution of his plan, so much the better.
* * *
The spec op soldier I'd shot in the elbow sure complained a lot in Korean.
I taped his ankles and knees together, then his mouth, careful to keep his nasal passages clear. A quick search turned up a basic first aid kit with a simple twist tourniquet.
Tied it around his bicep, secured about two inches above the wound to cut off blood flow to his elbow. Wrote the current time on his bandage.
He'd stay put leaning up against a metal cabinet until the ambulance I'd ordered Bishop to request arrived.
His kit held two ampoules of morphine. My left shoulder stabbed me with pain every time I moved it, so I split the vials between us with two quick jabs. Me first.
Blood seeped through my shirt and coat. My right knee ached from the fight.
I picked up one of the K2 rifles, ensured it was safe. Used it as a makeshift crutch to take the pressure off my knee.
Two taped up prisoners, two dead intruders. A baker's dozen ROK guards on the way, with Judas Rhee leading the twelve others.
Yang or Bishop better arrive soon enough to keep them off me.
Rhee's men moved quietly.
Trained to US Army standards, routinely sharing soldiers and coordinated exercises, the ROK's military was no joke.
Only heard the first two pairs just before they rounded the furnace, the electric crane, and the other equipment enclosing the open experimental area I'd set my trap in.
My uniform coat half off, shirt pulled aside, I applied a bandage to my shoulder while Rhee and his men set up around me.
In no hurry to engage them.
In fact, I was lucky. The bullet carved a three-inch rounded valley across the top of my shoulder. A deep graze, mostly caught skin.
I filled the wound from an anti-biotic tube and then taped a clean bandage over to keep it in place.
Rhee stood in the aisle, ten meters away.
His dozen guards spread out on all sides, including around the corner behind me.
Now that we'd reached a confrontation, I'm not sure he knew what to do, what with the enemy soldiers scattered around. He'd need to put on a show for his men.
I needed time, so I casually put my tan undershirt in place.
Shrugged my uniform coat back on my left side.
Fumbled with the zipper.
"What are you doing in my lab with these unknown soldiers, Lieutenant Harper?"
Did he intend to bluff? "Don't let the uniforms fool you. These are North Korean special operators. Sent to infiltrate the lab."
"Nonsense. I was there when Major Williams relieved you this afternoon. I assume these are a few of your buddies? Maybe local contacts you made with your MI platoon? Out to vandalize the lab in a sad attempt to prove your point? My men will take you all into custody."
"I doubt that. We're at an impasse."
"You moron." He pointed at my crutch. "You can barely stand. Any of my men could take you in this condition."
Maybe my confusion bluff technique would worker better on Rhee than it had on Yang.
"Assumptions are the second most well-known blunder in history." I tried to ignore the fact that I was technically currently engaged in a land war in Asia. "Right now, members of the Seoul Metro Police Agency are cordoning off the area. The 75th RRC and the military police are on their way. They'll be here momentarily to take you into custody. You can't escape, Captain. It's time to make a deal. Start explaining to your men why you've been working for the North Koreans."
"You will show respect, Lieutenant! I don't need escape. If you try to evade my men, you'll be shot and it will be so sad. However, I thank you for the warning."
I started playing to his men, hoping to make him a little paranoid. "You think I came here alone? Doctor Yang Hyo-jin is well aware of your activities. That little scene earlier at Camp Kim? Just a trick to convince you not to warn your buddies. You're done, Captain. Just haven't heard the bars clang shut, yet."
Most of his men looked at him with puzzled expressions. Standing next to Rhee, his platoon's Sergeant First Class (SFC) looked thoughtful, as if the pieces of a puzzle snapped together in his mind.
"The Lieutenant is correct." Doctor Yang said, stepping into the aisle behind Rhee and his men, "I watched as Captain Rhee spoke with these invaders from the North."
"This is a setup! You and Doctor Yang conspired to frame me. You are the ones working with the North Koreans. We barely arrived here in time to stop your escape with critical technology."
"What motive would we have? I've only been in Korea for a month and the Doctor is a national hero already."
"More motive than I have. I've lived my entire life in South Korea. All of my family were born here. We are so patriotic, I was beaten as a child, made to show my respect to the Korean President, even when he had no respect for his people. But you and the Doctor? A hero who no longer receives the recognition she feels she deserves? You Americans in your arrogance have decided to use this as an excuse to take over the research facilities run by South Korea. Doctor Yang will become the puppet head of the lab under your control."
He was fantastic at this inventing-motives-for-his-opponents game. My phone vibrated quietly with a text message. That reminded me.
Too bad Rhee was worse than even I was at spy games.
Doctor Yang Hyo-jin wasn't finished, "It won't work, Captain. The prisoners will tell everything about you and this technology theft."
I seriously doubted a People's Army Spec Op soldier would ever say anything not calculated to convert the listener to worship of Supreme Leader, but it was a nice thought.
Schnier's platoon from the 75th RRC finally arrived, plus Bishop, Lee, Michelle and Major Williams.
Seeing Michelle, I wondered how she'd gotten roped in. Hope they didn
't blame her for lending me the CIA's RFID reader.
The Rangers wore full tactical gear. Obviously, they'd stopped at the armory on the way over.
Schnier's platoon took up positions next to Rhee's men, casually guarding them while leaving to plausible deniability the idea they merely stood there to provide support.
Wouldn't want to embarrass the locals.
I turned to face Major Williams. Dropped my makeshift crutch. Gave a morphine-sloppy salute, "Sir, Lieutenant Harper reports. Rangers lead the way!" I frowned. "I've made a bit of a mess."
Rhee lost no time, "He certainly has. Major, your relieved Lieutenant not only led these men in here, but destroyed half the warehouse, including many valuable and scarce materials, vital to our efforts."
So he had been watching events in his office on the available security cameras. Probably hoping they'd take care of me for him.
"Sir, these prisoners and KIA are the North Korean infiltrators I told First Sergeant Bishop about. Rhee let them into the facility, where they killed one of his guards before attempting to sabotage the lab. Doctor Yang saw it all on video."
Captain Rhee likely deleted the security footage before bringing his men in here, so no need to get into exactly how the brown zone racks of materials got destroyed.
Major Williams wore his uniform, but looked like he'd been busy with one of his local counterparts drinking him under the table. "Lieutenant, the MPs on their way will take charge of the scene and begin a formal investigation."
Well, that didn't commit him to anything but following the bureaucracy.
Time for me to shoot the curl. "Sergeant, please secure this prisoner."
I gestured from Rhee's SFC to the mostly uninjured and taped up North Korean. The first prisoner I'd taken.
His SFC looked at Rhee, who nodded, so he came and reinforced the tape with zip ties.
Rhee seemed to share my opinion of the likelihood of the prisoner speaking for our benefit. He'd made no move to eliminate or release the prisoner, either of which would've proved to everyone he wasn't telling the truth.
"Sergeant, please reach into the prisoner's fatigue pocket and retrieve the mobile phone you'll find there. When you have it, dial the most recent number to call it."
He dialed.
The look of horror dawning on Rhee's face made the ringing from his pocket almost anti-climactic. At a brief word from Major Williams, Schnier had his men take Rhee into custody to await the MPs.
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