Chapter
57
THEY FLEW TO CHINA AND traveled to the coast by puddle jumper. From there they took a boat across Korea Bay at night and landed at the end of a small inlet that cut deeply into the North Korean coastline. The closest town was Anju. Bukchang was roughly thirty-five miles due east from their location.
There were just the three of them: Robie, Reel, and Kim Sook. They were all dressed in black, their faces also blackened. Robie and Reel were heavily armed and had state-of-the-art communication gear. They hoped to be able to use it at some point to later rendezvous with their support team.
Robie looked at Kim Sook as they tied down their high-performance rigid-hulled inflatable boat. The RIB could reach speeds of over fifty knots using relatively quiet engines.
“You ready?” Robie asked.
“Little late for that,” said Sook.
“Just checking.”
They had maps and directions loaded on electronic devices attached to their wrists like watches. Above them an American satellite was feeding them details about what lay ahead. In their earwigs a constant stream of intelligence info was being sent.
Stealth was critical here, but so was speed. They had a long distance to cover and they needed to get there and back while it was still dark. That would be impossible on foot. So they had something else—three small scooters, powered by batteries, which ran very quietly. There were also pedals that helped to recharge the batteries. With night-vision optics they could see in the dark. Robie went first, Sook took the middle, and Reel brought up the rear.
They stuck to the road as far as they dared, then went off road as they drew closer to the camp. Bukchang was in the middle of nowhere, so they would not have to navigate a city or any sort of populated area before reaching it. You didn’t build concentration camps among millions of people.
They encountered no problems on the trip in. The satellite gave them a clear line to the camp. The intelligence chatter updated them on recent developments.
Du-Ho and Eun Sun, Pak’s adopted son and daughter, were being held in a hut near the back of the camp. Unlike other prisoners, who were lumped fifty to a hut, the Paks were being held by themselves with special guards. But having only two prisoners in the hut didn’t make it easier for the rescue attempt; it made it more difficult. The other huts were not individually guarded. Apparently the North Koreans anticipated trouble securing Pak’s children.
It had been confirmed that a coded message had been passed to Du-Ho and Eun Sun. They had not been told what night it would happen, because if that information had fallen into the wrong hands it would have been disastrous. But the two would know that a rescue attempt was being made and that they would have to be ready.
When Robie, Reel, and Sook drew close to the camp they dismounted from their scooters and hid them in a patch of trees. Sook changed his clothes, wiped off his face, and hoisted an old duffel bag over his shoulder. Now he looked like a typical North Korean peasant. He took to the road while Robie and Reel paralleled his movements through the trees.
The outer perimeter patrol of Bukchang lay dead ahead.
As Sook walked along three guards approached him. They told him to stop and identify himself. He did so, telling them that he was traveling east to Hamhung to see his family and take a job there he had been promised. He gave them his paperwork, which had been expertly prepared.
While two of them searched his duffel the lead guard examined the paperwork. He finally handed it back.
“You are near Bukchang camp.” He pointed to the north. “You must head that way. There is a road that will take you around the camp and then you can head east.” He suddenly eyed Sook suspiciously. “What sort of job are you going to do in Hamhung?”
“Farming.”
“Let me see your hands.”
Sook held them up. They were roughened and callused. He had spent a week making them so.
The guard nodded. “Then go work your ox and smell your horse shit,” he said, and the other guards laughed.
They stopped laughing when three rounds from suppressed weapons entered their bodies, dropping them where they stood.
Robie and Reel emerged from the woods and dragged the bodies into the cover of the trees. Robie slipped off one of the guards’ walkie-talkies and handed it to Sook so he could listen in on local communications.
They moved on and soon reached the rear outer fence of the camp. They had been given the patrol times of the guards and waited for four of them to pass by before moving closer to the fence. They knew it was electrified and had come prepared for that. Using a laser, Reel cut through enough strands to allow a good-sized hole that each of them could slip through.
Sook went first, followed by Reel and then Robie. The hut they wanted was at the very back of the camp. As they crept forward they saw a burst of light and then realized it was a guard lighting a cigarette. Reel and Robie circled the hut, counting off the number of guards surrounding it.
Four. Like the intel had said.
Then they separated. Reel went left and Robie and Sook went right.
Reel spoke into her headset to Robie. He listened and said, “Affirmative. Three count on second hand sweep at twelve.”
He pulled two tranquilizer pistols from holsters and aimed each at a different guard. Now that they were inside the camp they didn’t want to make any unnecessary noise. Based on the satellite reports and intelligence on the ground, they both carried two dart guns, for a total of four shots, equaling the number of anticipated guards. Fortunately, that number had not changed.
On the other side of the hut Reel was doing the same. It was more difficult than it looked, aiming two guns simultaneously at two different targets, but they had no choice. Dropping less than all four guards with the first volley would allow the others to react and shoot back. The entire camp would be alerted.
They each looked at their watches until the second hand hit twelve. Then they took double aim, counted “three Mississippi” in their heads, and fired both weapons.
Four men fell.
Sook rushed forward and into the hut.
Robie and Reel were right on his six.
Du-Ho and Eun Sun were not asleep and were dressed in their work clothes. Sook explained to them who their rescuers were and what they were about to do. They asked no questions, but merely nodded and followed them out.
They were through the hole in the fence and had fled down a path toward the woods when it happened.
A siren went off.
As they looked back, lights in the camp blazed on and they heard feet rushing and motors starting.
Robie pointed up an embankment. “This way. Now.”
They ran up the embankment. Luckily, Du-Ho and Eun Sun were young and in good shape. They had no difficulty keeping up, also no doubt energized by the realization that if they were caught they would be executed.
As Robie and Reel rushed along she said, “Do you think we were set up?”
Sook answered. “I just heard on the walkie-talkie. The guards you shot on the perimeter were found.”
“Great,” said Robie. “Let’s double-time it.”
“This way,” said Sook, pointing to his left. “It’s a shortcut to where we left the scooters.”
The five fled along the dark road. Robie kept a hand on Du-Ho and guided him along using his night optics while Reel did the same with Eun Sun.
They reached the scooters and Eun Sun climbed on with Reel while Du-Ho boarded Robie’s. They hurtled down a path toward the road. Looking behind her, Reel saw headlights on the road. She spoke into her headset, telling Robie of the bogies coming.
Robie stopped his scooter and got Du-Ho to climb on with Sook.
“Good luck,” Reel told him.
“If I’m not back in two minutes after you reach the RIB, go. Don’t wait for me.”
They set off and Robie doubled back, carrying a weapon over his shoulder. He knelt down on a knoll overlooking the road, took aim, and fired.
The RPG round hit the lead truck right in the radiator. It exploded, sending debris hundreds of feet into the air. It also did something else; it effectively blocked the road.
But the firing of the RPG had revealed his position, and bullets started flying at Robie from the other trucks. He loaded in another rocket, took aim, and fired at the second truck even as a round thudded into his chest and knocked him on his ass.
The second truck blew up and Robie heard the screams of men who were probably torn apart or burning to death.
He looked down at his chest where the round had nearly gone through his armored vest. He could feel the bruise on his sternum. It felt like he’d been hit by a car.
He rose and picked up his rifle.
There were two more trucks back there, but they couldn’t get through the obstruction formed by the pair of destroyed vehicles. The troops were running past the flames and firing at his position.
Robie readied his auto rifle, set out the bipod support legs, got in a prone position, exhaled a long breath, nestled his chin against the weapon’s stock, sighted through the night scope, took aim, and fired. And he kept firing. Acquiring a target and pulling the trigger. Acquiring another target and pulling the trigger.
He could have been on a firing range calmly mowing down paper targets. Except that here men were shooting back at him. Bullets whipped all around him. But he had the high ground and he kept firing. And with each shot a man died.
As he ran out of ammo the first mortar round exploded barely fifty feet from him, shaking the earth so violently that his rifle fell over and his face was driven into the dirt.
The next round fired, he knew, would be closer.
He couldn’t stay here any longer. The only thing he could do in the face of superior fire and manpower was retreat.
He ran back to his scooter and climbed on.
With only one person on it the scooter’s speed was much improved.
He zoomed down the path, then veered left and down the embankment and onto the road. He wound the scooter up to its top speed while shots whizzed past him. He rode for about five minutes, putting as much distance between him and his pursuers as possible.
He realized he was not yet out of range of the mortar when a round struck ahead of him, lighting the night sky like a million candles. He had to cut the scooter sharply to the right and up an embankment to avoid being hit by debris.