In the North Korean prison compound, below in the tunnels, Granny and Walter Coburn finally broke through the floorboard at the bottom of the armory. Granny removed two of the wooden floorboards and handed them down to Coburn. The hole they had dug was wide enough for one person to climb up. Granny left Coburn on the wood platform they had built and pulled himself into the armory. He reached down and Coburn handed him the black LED Hanging Hurricane Lamp. He set it down on the floor of the corrugated hut and hit the Dimmer Switch to low, so that it barely illuminated the small hut. Then he waited for a sign that one of the North Korean guards had unlocked the iron hut. He heard nothing. It would be a chance occurrence that one of them would decide to check on the armory at that moment which was virtually the middle of the night. Nor would they see the wan light that the Hurricane Lamp generated unless they opened the door. But Granny gave it another five minutes.
There was no sound outside the hut.
Granny got up and moved to the steel shelving and he found what he was looking for: explosives, nitroglycerin and powdered shells of clay and stabilizers. He knelt down and had Coburn hand him up a crowbar they had been working with. He pulled a crate from the bottom of the steel shelves and broke it open. Inside, dynamite sticks had been placed in sealed plastic bags. On the next shelf were boxes of C4 explosives. He lifted the top off the box. The C4 explosives were composed of explosives, plastic binder, plasticizer to make them more malleable and odorizing taggant chemicals. They were stored in the form of modelling clay. Granny found sixteen of the malleable clay in the box. They were insensitive to most shocks. They could not be denotated by a gunshot or by dropping them onto a hard surface.
Granny dragged the crate of C4 explosives over to the hole they had made in the floor. He signaled Coburn. One by one, Granny passed the C4 explosives down to the contractor until the crate was empty. Granny shoved the empty crate underneath the shelving and dragged the box of sealed bags of dynamite sticks with wire and fuses and detonators over to the hole in the wooden flooring. He passed that down to Coburn. Carefully. One sealed bag at a time. When he had passed the last bag down, he slid the empty box onto the steel shelves.
He heard sound of footsteps outside.
Keys jangling.
Two North Korean guards talking,
Granny grabbed the black LED Hurricane Lamp and handed it back down to Coburn. Granny forced himself down through the jagged opening.
The door the armory was unlocked.
Granny fitted the wooden floorboard back in place. Coburn steadied him on the makeshift scaffolding. Neither of them moved or breathed. Up in the armory they heard the sound of the guards moving through to the shelving. Granny could see them in his mind’s eye. They would give the small, corrugated hut a cursory glance to make sure that nothing was out of place. After a few seconds they moved back to the armory door. The heavy keys jangled in the lock, the door was closed and the padlock outside was locked.
Granny figured it would take him and Coburn an hour to get the explosives into the tunnel at the ladder. They would have to be very careful hauling them up into the prison camp.
They did not have much time.
Hayden Vallance landed the Bombardier Global 6000 Vista 9H-VJJ jet at the Iljin Airfield in Seoul, South Korea. The mercenary had flown McCall there at night, taxiing to a break in the fence where a Hyundai Genesis V8 sedan was waiting for him.
“The airfield will be deserted at this time of the night,” Hayden said. “Iljin Airfield has a pilot training course located here, certified by South Korea’s Ministry of Land Transport and Maritime Affairs. They also operate two CE-56 and two CE-525 aircraft here and a CTN-11 simulator. I took the course once. Pretty impressive.”
McCall was carrying a lightweight backpack with him. As usual, Hayden Vallance had not asked McCall why he needed to go to South Korea, but he was pretty sure McCall’s final destination was somewhere in North Korea. How he would get there, Vallance did not know or particularity care. He lowered the steps on the Global 6000 Vista Jet. Control would have provided everything McCall would need, but, maybe from force of habit, Vallance said: “You’ve got a first-aid kit, a timetable of the trains in South Korea, not that you’ll need them, a radio, a trauma kit with a small amount of pain drugs, including Toradol and a small amount of morphine with a IV drip and anti-nausea meditation. Which will not do you much good if you are picked up by a NK patrol and thrown into of their prisons. You have a Canadian passport and a Bulgarian Makarov 9-by-18 MAK semi pistol and a pair of EES Profile NVG Foliage Green binoculars, three-times magnification. Everything the well-prepared tourist would need. You know how you’re going to get into North Korea?”
“I have a meeting in Seoul with two mercenaries who will get me there.”
“Have you met them before?”
“First time.”
“You’re taking a chance they have been compromised,” Vallance said, “but you already know that. The intel I got from Kostmayer was that Granny was dead. He was taken out into the woods around the prison camp and left there with a bullet in his brain.”
“Kostmayer went through an ordeal to escape,” McCall said. “His recollection may be suspect.”
“He wants Granny to be alive. But that may be wishful thinking on his part.”
“I have to go there to be sure.”
“If you find him, tell from me not to get caught this time.”
McCall smiled. “I’ll be sure to pass that massage on to him.”
“What was your Control thinking sending you on a suicide mission like this?”
“I didn’t give him much choice.”
“I figured.” Vallance held out his hand. “Good luck, McCall.”
McCall nodded. He climbed down the Global Vista jet stairs and jogged to the break in the chain-link fence. He found the keys where Control had said he would find them, under the right-wheel of the Hyundai, and slid inside. When he turned his head the Vista jet was already taxing down the runway and was up in the air.
Hayden Vallance was not one for long goodbyes.
McCall fired up the Hyundai and drove it through the trees down the airport road.
When he got to Seoul he ditched the Hyundai and took a subway train to Hapjeong where he took the first right from the exit down a side road, walked down it about two meters, turned northwest and walked down the street for another 90 meters until he came to the Get & Show Lego Café. It featured a huge Giant Lego Man in a red shirt on the storefront. McCall pushed into the café where young people were sitting at tables strewn with pieces of various Lego sets. A counter served up teas and cakes. Lego sets were displayed on plastic shelves that ran the whole length of the café. There was a huge Lego street on one counter with stores and restaurants rising three stories topped off with a clock tower. McCall walked up some stairs to a second balcony in the café where more young people were drinking tea and devouring various cupcakes. South Korean waitresses moved down the tables with more pieces of the Lego puzzles to be handed out to the players. The café had a festive atmosphere that McCall would have found charming in other circumstances.
He found Kyu-Chul and Yo-Han seated at one of the tables overlooking the street. Kyu-Chul was a dour, laconic South Korean man about thirty-five, six foot, with sallow features and heavy-lidded brown eyes. He was eating a Patbing pastry with milky shaved ice topped with red beans and fruit and was drinking honey Pomegranate tea in a plain mug. His companion, Yo-Han, looked like a Korean version of Howie Doody with myriad freckles on his face and green eyes. He was about thirty with an engaging personality and a kind of manic effervescent that was infectious. He was sipping an Ethiopia Kochare coffee and eating a carrot-layer cake with nutmeg and cinnamon topped by cream cheese. Beside him on the table was a partially completed Star Wars Millennium Falcon with intricate exterior detailing, upper and lower quad laser canons, landing legs, four mini cockpit figures with a detachable canopy and a highly detailed main hold and gunnery station. It was manned by Han Solo, Rey, Finn and BB-B, and included Han’s blaster pistol and Chewbacca’s stud-firing bow caster. Kyu-Chal gestured to McCall to join them.
When he did, Yo-Han glanced up with a grin and said: “Mr. McCall, right? The description fits. That’s Kyu-Chal sitting beside you. He is not much on small talk, but he will have your back. I am Yo-Han, but everyone calls me ‘Harry’. I am finishing off a Star Wars First Order Heavy Assault Walker to be used against Poe, Rey and the Resistance allies. I was just dropping in head-mounted spring-loaded-shooters. I can drop in mines from the back. Should finish it in about an hour. Then I get a free Sabayon Caramel Roll. Just delicious.”
He went back to his Heavy Assault Walker Lego that was slowly taking shape. McCall looked around the tables on the second-floor balcony. “Can we talk here?”
“The decibel level in here would drown out a Black Sabbath concert,” Harry said, wryly. “Three dudes talking about Star Wars and making Lego’s? No one will be giving a rat’s ass about our conversation.”
Both of the mercenaries glanced up from time to time, however, to make sure no one was overhearing them. McCall opened his backpack and removed two SanDisk Cruzer Glide USB flash-drives wrapped in plastic. He handed the first one to Kyu-Chal.
“One-hundred-thousand dollars will be transferred to your personal account at the Shinhan Financial Group bank here in Seoul.” He handed the other flash-drive Yo-Han. “One-hundred-thousand dollars will be transferred to your personal account at the Woori Bank here in Seoul.”
Kyu-Chal pocketed his flash drive. Harry barely glanced at his flash drive before stuffing it in his jeans pocket and making some minor adjustments to the Star Wars Heavy Assault Walker Lego he was constructing. Kyu-Chal looked at McCall.
“What did you bring for us?”
McCall unfolded one of the maps from his backpack. Harry grudgingly made room for it among the debris of his Lego game and spread it out on the table. Kyu-Chal looked the map of North Korea closely.
“Where did you get this?”
“An old Korean grocer friend of mine in New York City gave it to me,” McCall said. “The prison facility is an old one. The North Korean prisoners were moved there when their location had been compromised and overrun.”
“We heard about that,” Harry said, his Lego pieces momentarily forgotten. “Some kind of a clandestine unsanctioned raid. I heard that a hundred prisoners were ferried across the Chinese border on four Chinese AVIC AC391 helicopters. Awesome!”
“The survivors won’t last long,” Kyu-Chal said. “I know the Commandant of this prison camp. He has moved the prisoners, including some journalists, into a new prison camp.”
“Well, not exactly new,” Yo-Han said, his infectious grin flashing. “Falling apart is more like it.”
“The prison camp in an old one,” Kyu-Chal conceded, “buried in the forest. The Commandant’s name is Myang-Sook-Jang.”
“You forgot the best part,” Harry said, fitting together more Lego puzzle pieces.
Kyu-Chal said: “Myang-Sook-Jang is a sociopath and a serial rapist.”
Harry was still grinning. “I love that part.” He looked up. “You never told me how your paths had crossed?” Kyu-Chal just looked at him. Harry grinned. “Kyu-Chal doesn’t say much. Still waters run deep. But he would like to slit that motherfucker’s throat if he got into that prison camp.” He shrugged. “Just a guess.”
Kyu-Chal looked back at McCall. The North Korean maps were still spread on the table. The mercenary tapped one of them. “You believe that the new prison camp is located here just outside Yonganp’on?”
“That’s where my Korean grocer friend said it was located,” McCall said. “You can see the Yalu River marked here snaking through the forest. The prison camp is right outside it.”
“How reliable is this map?” Yo-Han asked, dubiously. “The jungle might have swallowed it whole.”
“My friend thinks it’s still there,” McCall said. “But it could be abandoned at any moment.”
“How many North Korean prisoners are in the camp now?” Kyu-Chal asked.
“Maybe fifty, but that number is suspect. It may be more.”
“How many Westerners are in the camp?”
‘I’d say from the intel I have received maybe a half-a-dozen,” McCall said.
“Including this covert agent you call Granny?” the mercenary asked.
“That’s right.”
“Bitchin’ name!” Harry said. “What’s his real name?”
“Need to know,” McCall said.
“He may not still be alive.” Kyu-Chal objected. “If he led the clandestine raid on the NK prison facility, and once the prisoners were moved to a new camp, Myang-Sook-Jang would have taken your colleague into the woods and executed him.”
McCall took out his cell phone, tapped the buttons on it and turned it around so the two mercenaries could see the screen.
Odds against me. Still in NK. Come and get me and others. Granny.
“That means nothing,” Kyu-Chal said. “Commandant Jang could have used the cell phone to lure you into a trap.”
“He doesn’t even know that I exist.”
“But your spy organization might have sent someone to rescue him.”
“They wouldn’t do that,” Harry objected. “Too dangerous. A covert spy would have to take his chances. The American Government would leave him there to rot in the jungle.”
“But I wouldn’t,” McCall said.
A silence followed that.
Kyu-Chal said: “Tell me about the other Western prisoners that are being incarcerated in this camp?”
McCall took some photographs out of his backpack and spread them out on the table, making a space in the Lego clutter. “This is drone footage we managed to obtain in Washington D.C. There is no way to verify that these prisoners are still at the prison camp with Granny. Liz Montgomery is a photojournalist working mostly for the New York Times. Walter Coburn is a South African contractor. Fredrik Jorgensen is an industrialist and Daniel Blake worked for Associated Press before he was captured on North Korean soil.” McCall slid another picture in front of the mercenaries. “This a picture of Liz Montgomery’s sister, Deva, a real estate broker working on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan in New York City. She had been visiting her sister in Seoul. She came on a joyride with Liz Montgomery who had been taking covert photographs for the New York Times. Their plane got shot down. My intel says both sisters are together now in this North Korean prison camp, but I can’t be sure of that.”
Yo-Han suddenly looked grim. “Both sisters are American, beautiful and vulnerable. How long will it be before Myang-Sook-Jang rapes them both?”
“We can’t do anything about what has happened to them in the prison camp,” McCall said, somewhat curtly. “We need to rescue them before they’re killed.”
“Are you sure these are odds you can equalize?” Harry asked. McCall looked at him. Harry shrugged. “Read your ad online. Bitchin’ concept. But we are we are not in the mean streets of New York here. This is South Korea and your altruistic ideals could get you killed.”
Kyu-Chal said: “Shut up, Harry. Mr. McCall came here on a mission. We’re a part of it unless you want to back out.”
Yo-Han looked chastised. “I would never do that, bro. You have a history with the Commandant of this prison camp. But I am with you. Always.” He looked back at McCall. “The money you’re paying us buys a lot of loyalty and a lot of respect. I can see you are a man of honor.”
Kyu-Chal turned the North Korean map around. “And the prison facility is not far from Pongang across the Chinese border?”
“That’s the intel I got from my grocer friend in New York.”
“Which could be highly biased,” Harry pointed out.
Kyu-Chal looked up at him. “Once we had those flash drives in our hands, we were committed. Are you in, or not?”
“How badly does Commandant Jang want to cut your balls off and roll them into the jungle?”
“We left on bad terms,” Kyu-Chal admitted, irony in his voice.
Harry shrugged. “Then I’m in.” He looked at McCall. “When do you want to fly out?”
“Tonight. You’ll need to steal a helicopter.”
Kyu-Chal folded up the North Korean map and put it into his backpack. “That won’t be a problem.”
Harry flashed what McCall thought of now as his signature grin. “Perfect.”