They used it to hide and protect the howitzers threatening nearby Seoul with destruction in the event of a war.
He pointed out the window at the river. "That river carved a path through"—he shifted in his seat and pointed farther left—"that mountain over there. The mountain contains Jiha base. We buried your precious data inside."
At least he was telling the truth about the location of the base.
"I'll need a map and details on how it's guarded."
He emitted a brisk laugh. "I don't concern myself with petty details. That's what I have subordinates for."
Best news I heard all day. I grinned. "Perfect. Instruct the driver to call the one in charge of guarding the data on the car's military radio."
His shoulders sunk. "Very well."
He nodded to the driver, who was watching us in his rear-view mirror. "Call Kwon."
The chauffeur spoke an objection. "We're almost out of petrol, Minister."
Didn't need them able to drive very far, anyway.
"Good." I checked the area for nosy neighbors. "Park in front of that boarded up auto mechanic's shop and turn off the engine, then make the call."
The chauffeur turned on the speaker-phone connected to their military radio network. He requested Kwon, the lieutenant in charge of their defenses.
Used the barrel of my carbine to coax Meon through asking for a report on how safe the data would be within Jiha Base.
He really dug into all the details and then expressed his pleasure at Kwon's preparation.
Wasn't sure if that was out of character and likely to arouse suspicion, or not.
I wanted to destroy Meon for sending soldiers to the lab, but U.S. Army Rangers don't shoot prisoners.
Didn't need their whole Army looking for me in five minutes, either.
So I smashed their radio and confiscated all their weapons and electronics.
When I flipped Meon over and ground his face in the muddy seat to apply tactical restraints to his arms and legs, he got out about half a word of protest before the seat made him unintelligible.
The chauffeur went easier.
Maybe I could preserve the element of surprise at Jiha Base.
"Stay here. Don't follow me. Looks like you've switched the windows with something tougher than stock, but you can try breaking out in an hour. Before then, I may hear you and come back."
Propped my ruck up against the side of the limo. Reached in the driver's side and popped the hood and the trunk.
Locked all the doors before closing them in.
Under the hood, I used my multi-tool to snip through the battery cables. No power, just in case they tried to use something inside the car.
Sliced the hoses for the centralized vacuum door lock system. They expired with a hiss.
Now the car wouldn't unlock, even with a key, even from the inside handles.
Wouldn't keep them in for long, but they wouldn't be leaving quietly.
Anti-theft features like a car's centrally controlled locking system can become vulnerabilities.
With that damage done, I tucked their spare electronics into my ruck.
Considering Kwon's description to Meon of their security measures, I walked around to the trunk and released the spare tire.
That tire would be crucial to my idea for infiltrating the base.
Appropriated the tire iron as well. Could use that to pry off the boards from one of the auto mechanic shop windows.
Time to force my way inside and start scrounging.
Needed heavy tools to crack Jiha Base.
Chapter Thirty: Recruiting Help
Men like to think they're in command of all they survey.
Michelle spotted Schnier hanging out on the couch next to Bishop's desk in the RRC HQ, so she went to them.
Glided down onto the red leather sofa next to Schnier.
Gave him her most alluring smile. "We never did finish our date."
Bishop put his head down and pretended to do paperwork on his laptop.
Schnier grinned back at her. "Howdy, Ma'am. We never did, you're right. Did you have something in mind?"
"Thinking a sunset cruise, maybe overlook the DMZ, have some barbecue out on the water?"
"Shore, that could be arranged. Just have to find us a nice comfy boat. May know some folks at the docks. Find us just the right level of coziness."
She ran a finger across the unit scroll on his broad shoulder. "I have it all arranged. Was thinking you could invite your platoon out on the USS Michigan with me. A submarine is always tight quarters."
Bishop guffed. "Uh… sorry, lieutenant. Must have a horny toad caught in my throat."
Schnier glared at Bishop, who looked away and coughed twice into his fist.
He'd better not interfere in her plans.
"Appreciate the invite, Ma'am, but sounds like a mite too much company, if you know what I mean. Why the whole platoon?"
"Well, the deal I made with D.C. was I could only have the sub if I brought along a spec ops platoon to man it. You fellas are man enough for it, aren't you?"
"We've used the Michigan before for covert insertions, if that's what you mean, Ma'am."
She smiled and put her hands on her knees, as if ready to leave. "Then it's all settled. Once I have the exact itinerary from the sub's captain, I'll send it to you. We'll have lots of fun!"
"Settle down there fer a minute. Not fixin' tah run off on a covert sub. Your agency have an actual mission yer recruiting us fer? Mind filling me in on that part?"
His Texas accent got thicker when he was under stress. What a delightful characteristic, to know she'd finally gotten to him.
"Oh, the mission. Yeah"—She leaned forward to invade his personal space by a few inches—"can you keep a secret?"
He leaned back a bit, but kept his voice equally low. "'Course."
Now that she had him on the hook, time to expose her cards, "Did you know Sam's across the border? We might need to pick him up. Maybe even under fire, if things go badly. You're not afraid of a little gunfire, are you?"
Schnier jerked back at her mention of Sam. "What's that dad-blasted techie got himself into now that he needs rescuing?"
"Not for sure he'll need us, but he's after the data they stole from the lab. Vital we recover the data before the DPRK can copy and use it."
"Why should I pay him no never mind? If he wanted help, should've asked for it before he headed north."
"Did I ever tell you how I met Sam?"
"Naw. Do I care?"
She crossed her legs. "At the end of my first day of school in 7th grade, the little brothers of the Logan Barrio Locos lined up along the path to the bus pickups. Made a barrier of arms for each of the girls. Slapped us all over. Showed everyone who ruled the neighborhood. Teachers knew better than to interfere."
"So?"
"Sam didn't. Know better, I mean. Or at least, he ignored whatever danger-sense he had. Jumped right in. Tripped the closest Loco. Took them by surprise. Scattered them just long enough.
"We ran to the bus. Us girls, I mean. Sam got buried by their swinging fists and feet. Ended up in the hospital.
"When he got out, the brother of the guy he tripped shot Sam right outside his house. Hit his arm. More time in the hospital.
"Then they sent him to a new foster home in another neighborhood. Some Korean family looking to give back. The next time I saw him was in high school."
"So he's always been a whole 'nuther crazy, volunteering for beatings."
"Volunteering to help us. Only one there who tried to protect us."
Her story had the advantage of truth behind it.
She needed Schnier's help. "Those bullies in 7th grade weren't all bad. Even though Sam lost the fight, he won something better. A friend.
"The point is, he's counting on me to arrange backup to meet him. I don't get the sub without bringing your platoon, so you're all I've got. Please? Will mean everything to me."
Bishop cleared his throat. "You m
ight see it as an opportunity to see how the other half lives, lieutenant. What it's like to be a support person, rather than just a shooter, for once."
"I guess. I mean, how hard can it be? Hanging out on a covert sub waiting to see if we need to pull Harper's toes out of the fire."
Bishop nodded. "Yes, sir. Used to play sports when I was younger. Coached my daughter's team one year. May find it tougher than you think, sir.
"I couldn't handle more than one season. Easier to play than sit on the sidelines and watch and hope."
Schnier grumbled. "We'll see. Either way, not gonna cross into North Korea without official orders."
Michelle uncrossed her legs and then stood up. "Great! Then it's a date. I'll send you the details."
Volunteers were the best, but if Sam needed them to cross the border, as long as they stayed covert, she'd do whatever it took to convince Schnier.
Long odds never stopped Sam from jumping into a fight.
* * *
Meon's chauffeur thudded his head against the dashboard.
Meon shifted on his side to watch him over the seat divider. "Can you break the ties which bind you?"
"I believe so, minister."
His chauffeur wriggled around and positioned his bent legs beneath him on the seat.
Back bent, arms behind, he raised his bound arms and wrists up a few feet.
Slammed his wrists down on his butt, simultaneously twisting them to maximize the pressure on his restraints.
Despite the man's obvious incompetence in leading the imperialist soldier to Meon, he was an experienced bodyguard. Meon would wait and watch him escape.
He raised and slammed his arms backward again.
This time, his wrist restraints broke.
That allowed him to pull apart his arms and crack the ties holding his upper arms.
An insufficiently paranoid political officer didn't last long enough to rise to Meon's present rank.
What if his chauffeur concluded Meon would send him to the camps for his failure to prevent the kidnapping?
With Meon tied up, his chauffeur might slice his throat and claim the imperialist killed him.
"I don't blame you for what happened. Obviously, he ambushed you, just as he ambushed me. Neither of us is to blame. If there is blame to go around, I will direct it at the border guards for allowing an intruder across the DMZ."
His chauffeur grunted once as he flipped himself over.
With his hands available to help, he split the restraints on his legs. "I'll climb over the seat. He may be out there, watching."
"Good idea. In fact, I'm not sure I'll report this incident at all. At least, not until I can order an investigation into how he got here. Help me with these bonds."
His chauffeur clambered over the seat into the rear of the limo. "Don't want to get the leather even muddier."
He knew who would clean it up. "Never mind that. Just free me."
Meon rolled back over and presented his bound arms.
His restraints parted with a crack as his chauffeur pulled them apart. He also made quick work of those on his legs.
Meon rubbed his wrists. "Good. Do you see the imperialist coward out there?"
The American soldier probably fled as quickly as possible. If he wasn't a coward, he would've killed them both.
They peered out the windows for a few seconds. Made a visual sweep of the area.
His chauffeur finished his first. "No, sir."
Meon tried a door.
Locked.
Flicked the door lock mechanism and tried again.
Nothing. "Can you kick out a window?"
"Of course." His chauffeur lay on his back.
With a powerful thrust, he smashed the passenger side window out.
Its safety glass bent, then folded down and outward. "Easier to replace than a windshield."
Trust a chauffeur to worry more about the car than the situation as a whole.
"Let's go. Need to find someone with a radio to contact Jiha base."
Meon didn't enjoy walking long distances outdoors anymore. "You should probably run down the road ahead of me. Find us a new vehicle. I'll just slow you down."
They climbed out of the car window, his chauffeur supporting Meon as he slipped through behind him.
"Run."
His chauffeur ran as ordered. Vanished down the road, feet churning.
Meon sat on the limo's trunk until his chauffeur returned with a sergeant driving a K131 4x4 utility vehicle.
The off-road vehicle's whip antenna looked promising, tied down to its green canvas roof.
"Connect me with central communications at the main base."
The sergeant saluted and then fiddled with the radio. "I have them for you, sir."
Meon took the round dangling microphone attached to the dashboard.
"Minister Meon here. Get me Lieutenant Kwon at Jiha Base."
"Yes, minister. Right away. We've been attempting to reach you with a message from Colonel Jong-rin. This morning, security discovered the tracks of an infiltrator leading to a hole cut in the wall of the main base."
Too late to do him any good. "Message acknowledged."
"I have Lieutenant Kwon for you, sir."
"Kwon?"
"General?"
"No time to lose. I've received reliable intelligence an attempt will be made on your position soon. Need to prepare a proper welcome. Set a trap. After, we will create the ultimate insurance in the South. Something the Imperialists can't ignore."
"Yes, sir."
"Get Pahk's demolition experts over to the radio with you. I want no misunderstanding of my orders. This will be delicate work."
"Right away, sir."
One arrogant imperialist soldier thought he could knock out an entire platoon of special forces soldiers?
Between Pahk's men, Kwon, and his recently named Goshawk Device, Meon was confident things would turn out fine for him, despite this recent embarrassment.
He'd even send a reply to his contact across the border.
No, better to wait on that until Kwon was closer to being in position.
Wouldn't want to spoil the surprise.
The coward who tied them up would die at Jiha Base.
Meon would hold all the cards. He'd force the Imperialists to do exactly what he required of them.
Chapter Thirty-One: All Wet
Best to just get it over with.
I dove into the icy river under the highway bridge. My testicles contracted.
A neoprene combat face mask and gloves protected my face and hands from the cold swishing around them. Dual-layer waterproof jacket slowed down water entry.
Designed to lock in heat to protect from infrared detection, my jacket also did a decent job keeping my tan t-shirt warm from body heat.
Was used to cold surf, but needed more layers under my pants.
Hadn't planned to swim a mountain stream before I crossed the border, but on the bright side, the remaining mud rapidly washed away.
Wouldn't die of hypothermia right away, but I'd better watch for the symptoms.
I dragged the spare tire I'd taken from Meon's Mercedes off the gravelly bank and into the river.
Climbed on top of the tire. Pressed it down with my body weight.
Too light.
Balanced on top. Picked up the toolbox I'd hauled from the mechanic's garage.
This time I sunk deeper, but remained too buoyant.
Temporarily replaced the toolbox on the bank. Strapped my full pack on my back.
Lay on my side and pulled the toolbox back onto the tire, curled into my stomach.
Unless I wanted to pull boulders from the mud, this would be my final try.
Had to work. Didn't see any other way to infiltrate Jiha base.
Enough weight to sink.
Before I needed to breathe water, I dropped two wrenches over the side, which made the toolbox just light enough I could float precariously with my head barely above the river wat
er.
My tools, backpack, and I drifted downstream on the spare tire.
Passed industrial containers haphazardly scattered along the top of the banks.
Floated under a rusty iron footbridge, then beneath a pair of twenty-foot long concrete bridges the width of one vehicle.
Must either not get much traffic, or else take turns crossing.
No cars on the roads I passed.
The Jiha river floated me out of the Kaesong Industrial area.
My teeth chattered.
Toes and fingers were fine, the Army provides good boots and gloves, but my inner core gradually froze from the waist inward.
Up ahead, the river swept below the side of a cliff, entering through curved carved rock at the base.
No more air there.
I inhaled for five seconds.
Exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled.
Three more times. Built up the oxygen stored in my blood.
As I floated along, closer and closer to the entrance, I fumbled at the tire's valve.
Couldn't add weight now, but could reduce the just over 60 psi I'd filled it with to a lower pressure.
Too slow.
The tire bounced off the rock.
My pack cushioned some of the direct blow, but I scrambled to keep the toolbox on the tire.
Sucked in air.
Held my breath.
Opened a short screwdriver on my multi-tool.
Pushed over the valve core with it for a few seconds to relieve the pressure.
Just enough to balance with me and everything the tire carried under water.
Released air bubbled up past my face mask.
A lot depended on how fast the current ran underground. How far the underground portion extended.
Didn't have good numbers on either of those variables.
The little light from above vanished; total blackout as I passed under the cliff's edge.
Gripped the tire valve. Couldn't lose that while underwater.
Not and live.
Counted the seconds.
Freedivers going after pearls can stay calm and under water for ten or twenty minutes. An average person, maybe two or three.
First minute went fine. During the second minute, I strained against the carbon dioxide building up in my system.
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