Rankin studied the satellite photo as the AH-6 Little Bird helicopter veered toward the North Korean shore. According to the GPS coordinates, the site where they had to plant the first cache “dump” was exactly three miles dead ahead, a few hundred yards off the coastal highway heading north.
While the highway was deserted at night—and indeed for much of the day—an unmanned Global Hawk reconnaissance drone was flying overhead just to make sure. The feed from the unmanned aerial vehicle was being monitored by Colonel Van Buren in Command Transport Three, a specially equipped C-17 flying a hundred and fifty miles to the south.
“Bird One, you’re go for Cache One,” said Van Buren.
“Bird One acknowledges,” said the pilot.
Their job, though dangerous, was relatively straightforward. Bird One would land in a field near the highway, where Rankin and the two soldiers with him would hide two large packs with emergency rations, weapons, a special radio, and a pair of lightweight, collapsible bicycles. The gear would be used by Thera in an emergency or by team members sent to rescue her. There were three spots along the coast, stretching from this one, about thirty miles south of the waste plant Thera was inspecting, to a spot on dry land in the marshes five miles north of the muddy mouth of the Ch’ŏngch’ŏn or Chongchon River.
Rankin didn’t see much point in leaving the gear. It wasn’t a mistake, exactly, just a waste of time. A forward rescue force would be parked on an atoll about twenty miles offshore. This was about seventy miles from the plant where Thera would be inspecting. If anything went wrong, they’d scramble in, grab her, and get out. The caches were just CIA fussiness, “just-in case” BS that the Langley planners liked to dream up to pretend they had all the bases covered.
That was typical CIA, though. They went crazy planning certain elements of a mission, then ignored others.
Like the possibility that South Korea might have nuclear material, for example.
“Here we go,” said the helicopter’s pilot, dipping the aircraft downward.
The helicopter arced over the roadway, the pilot making sure everything was clear before settling down in the field nearby.
Rankin and the two men in the rear of the chopper hopped out as the Little Bird settled down. While the other soldiers hauled the gear to the brush, Rankin located the large rock near the road that was to serve as a signpost. When he found it, he took out a can of white, luminescent paint and put a big blot on the stone. Then he ran to a set of rocks near where the others were burying the gear and sprayed them.
By the time he finished, the others were already hopping into the Little Bird. Rankin kicked some of the dirt where his paint had gone awry, hiding it, then hustled back to the helicopter.