Chapter Fifteen

 

 

Military outpost fifteen miles north of Hoeryong

North Hamgyong Province, North Korea

April 30, 7:15 a.m.

 

Justin listened to Rex’s report while pondering their options. But truly, there was only one. The one he had wished they were given orders for in the first place in this operation.

“You’re positive, a hundred percent certain Park and Schultz are not among the dead?” he asked Rex.

“Affirmative,” Rex replied. His voice carried a slight hint of frustration. “I’m staring at the bodies. There are no blonds here. And unless they dressed the agents in army uniforms and gave them side weapons, I’m absolutely certain Park did not burn to death in the explosion.”

Justin glanced at Carrie, who fired a quick burst. They were crouched behind the rubble of the shacks and so far had been able to hold back the soldiers. But they were running low on ammo and soldiers seemed to come out in waves. Justin was worried one of the enemy RPG rounds would eventually hit the mark, or the soldiers would flank them from the sides and cut off their escape route.

He thought for another moment, nodded, then said, “Change of plans. We’re going to attack the outpost and free Park and Schultz.”

“That’s craz . . . that’s suicide, sir,” Rex shouted in a firm, bold tone.

Justin ignored Rex’s comment. “I repeat my order to attack. Blow up the bridge, then drive back with the truck. You and Eve will engage the enemy from the south. Carrie and I will advance from the northwest. Is it clear?”

A long moment of silence shattered by soldiers’ gunfire and bullets slamming against the shacks’ cinderblocks.

“Rex, do you read me?” Justin said.

“Yes, sir, but that’s not our mission. We came here to—”

“I know why we’re here, Rex. You’re disobeying a direct order, and if you—”

Before he could finish his sentence, a sharp beep came from his rucksack. His emergency phone. That must be McClain with something extremely urgent.

“Stand by,” he said to Rex and turned off his mike.

He rummaged inside his rucksack and found the satellite phone. The screen showed five missed calls and his boss’s ID. “It’s McClain,” he told Carrie.

She nodded. “I’ll take care of them.”

He slid back another foot or so away from Carrie, removed his earpiece, and plugged his left ear. Then he pressed his sat phone to his other ear. “This is Justin, sir,” he shouted over Carrie’s gun blasts.

“Justin, I was afraid I wouldn’t reach you in time.” McClain spoke fast with a tone of urgency.

“What’s going on?”

“We’ve received new, reliable intel. Our agents, Schultz and Park, haven’t betrayed our country. They’re not traitors.”

Justin smiled. “Exactly what I needed to hear, sir.”

Two bullets thumped against one of the cinderblocks and lifted concrete slivers that clanged against Justin’s helmet.

“We were misled earlier, but I hope there’s still time to make things right.” McClain’s voice turned firm. “Bring home our boys, Justin.”

“Absolutely, sir.”

“Godspeed.”

Justin nodded, then said, “Yes, sir.”

He ended the call and looked at Carrie. She loaded a fresh magazine in her assault rifle, then said, “Good news?”

“The best. Park and Schultz are clean. New orders to rescue them.”

“Let’s do it.”

Justin tossed his sat phone back in the rucksack and put his earpiece back in place. He turned on the mike and said, “Rex, Eve, just got new orders from McClain. Park and Schultz are not traitors, I repeat, they’re not traitors. We’re to engage the enemy and rescue the agents.”

A short pause, then Rex’s voice came into Justin’s earpiece. “Read you loud and clear. Heading to the camp in the mil truck as soon as Eve returns.”

“It will be about two minutes, Rex. Getting ready for the blast. Fire in the hole,” Eve said.

Bullets smashed against the top of the rubble. Carrie fired two rounds at a soldier who emerged from behind a mound to their left. She buried one bullet in the soldier’s chest and one in his head. Then she turned her attention to another soldier holding an RPG launcher who materialized from a barracks’ corner.

Justin fired toward the man as he launched his warhead. Justin dove for cover behind the rubble as the RPG arrowed toward them. It screamed a few feet to their right, and it punched the door of the last shack in the row. The explosion threw a wave of debris around them. A thick cloud of smoke covered their position.

“I can’t see anything,” Carrie said, firing blindly toward the place where she last saw the man with the RPG.

“We’ve got to move back. And fast,” Justin said.

He fired a couple of rounds and waited until Carrie crawled backwards using the smoke as cover. Bullets dinged around him but he ignored them. He looked right, then left, and noticed the heavy machine gun at the top of the watchtower Carrie had attacked earlier that morning.

“Carrie, cover me. I’ll get us the watchtower gun.”

“Got it,” Carrie replied.

Justin crawled through the scrubland and left the smoke plume behind.

Carrie fired her rifle in a long barrage.

He advanced rapidly but kept his head near the ground. Two or three bullets missed his head by mere inches. He pressed forward even faster. The staircase to the watchtower was now just twenty yards away.

Carrie kept up her suppressive fire.

Justin covered another few feet, then a hail of bullets stopped him in his tracks. Someone was firing at him with a large caliber gun. One of the rounds lifted a huge chunk of clay as it hit four feet away. Another one zinged by his head.

Justin made himself one with the ground but there was nowhere to hide. The shooter had a bad aim, or perhaps Carrie’s volley was having an effect on him. The rounds kept striking off their mark and further and further away.

Justin moved forward an inch, then another, and resumed his crawl. He sprang forward as he came to the bottom of the staircase. A bullet struck the metal handrail but missed his hand. Justin climbed upward as fast as he could as more slugs clanged against the stringer and the handrails. He jumped over the last step and rolled on the watchtower’s platform.

Carrie’s barrage had splintered most of the wood and had drilled numerous holes in the metal baluster around the watchtower’s perimeter. But a few sections were intact and they offered sufficient protection from enemy fire.

Justin pushed one of the dead soldiers to the side and sat behind the Russian-made DshKM heavy machine gun. Bullets pinged against the watchtower’s frame. Justin rotated the weapon on its standard mount, looked through the sight, and fired it.

The armor-smashing 12.7 x 108 mm bullets began to pour from the mouth of the belt-fed Dushka, Russian for “sweetie” or “baby,” as they affectionately called the brutal beast of a weapon. Justin focused the firepower to his left, where a group of soldiers were scattered around the yard. They were hidden behind small mounds but the watchtower gave Justin an excellent vantage point.

The powerful bullets tore throughout the enemy’s positions. They responded with weak AK gunfire that soon turned silent. Two soldiers began to run for better cover, but the fierce barrage caught up to them. Bullets ripped through their bodies.

Justin turned the Dushka’s heavy barrel toward the first barracks. The machine gun rounds found their targets and struck down four soldiers near one of the corners. Other bullets blew holes the size of basketballs through the walls.

Soldiers fell back and Justin swung his machine gun toward the other barracks. A soldier with an RPG launcher was aiming it toward the watchtower. Justin fired a long barrage. The bullets drilled through the soldier’s body before he could fire his launcher.

Justin released the dual trigger and looked at the battleground in front of him. Dust rose up from three different locations. No return fire, at least not right away. He glanced at the ammunition belt connected to the machine gun from the left. Another fifty rounds or so.

“Looks clear,” he said after tapping his mike.

“Advancing to the smaller barracks,” Carrie said.

Justin fired a short burst of suppressive fire as Carrie ran through the yard.

She reached the barracks without encountering any resistance and checked the bodies of soldiers scattered around it. Then she turned around a corner. “Checking the perimeter, then entering the building.” Her whisper came into Justin’s earpiece.

“Roger that,” Justin said.

He kept his machine gun trained on the barracks. The silence after a long skirmish was unnerving and he was expecting gun bursts from all sides.

A couple of isolated shots came from the distance. Justin glanced up toward the south. A military truck had just driven through the main gate. Then a long barrage exploded from somewhere across the other side of the yard.

“Rex, you’re at the gate in a large mil truck?” Justin said.

“Yes. Got some incoming fire—”

The loud cracks of shattering glass erupted from Justin’s earpiece. Then came quick two-round bursts.

“We got it, sir,” Eve replied between gunshots. “And the bridge is blown to smithereens.”

“All right, we’ll move southward. Meet you at the prison building.”

“Roger that,” Rex said.

“Roger,” Eve said.

Justin took another sweeping glance at the yard from behind the sight of his machine gun. Everything was quiet.

“Barracks is clear,” Carrie said.

“Wait for me. We’ll advance toward the prison.”

“Roger,” Carrie said.

Justin looked at the dreadful Dushka with admiration. He wished he could carry it with him but the gun weighted almost seventy-five pounds. Plus, it would not be very useful while they were on the move.

He took the AK assault rifle from one of the dead soldiers and stripped both bodies of their ammunition. He made out with four magazines and ran down the staircase.

Justin sprinted toward Carrie. Gunshots echoed from far away. He ducked instinctively, then realized no bullets rang or thumped near him. A few moments later, he joined Carrie behind the barracks.

“You okay?” he asked.

Carrie nodded. “Yes. And you?”

“I’m good. Let’s go. Cover me.”

Justin dashed toward the prison, hoping Park and Schultz were still alive.