“He’s a good soldier, sir. Very tough, even for a Korean. Saw combat as a captain during the Vietnam War.”
McLaren nodded. He’d seen the Koreans fighting in Vietnam at first hand. They had been good. Very good.
“What about his politics, Doug?”
“Real hard-line, General. Just the kind of guy they’d pick to shoot up some demonstrators.”
Friggin’ great. “Okay, patch me in to Park’s line. I’ll come on after you’ve got him on the phone. I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit around waiting for him to roll out of bed.”
McLaren headed for his office. He didn’t want the whole world to hear the kind of language he was going to use while speaking to a four-star South Korean general.
It took three minutes to get Park on the phone.
“Good morning, General McLaren. I assume there’s an important reason for this call.” Park sounded both tired and irate.
“There certainly is, General.” McLaren clenched his teeth, trying to control his own anger. “I’m calling to see just what the hell you and your government are trying to pull.”
Park was puzzled. “What? What are you talking about, General McLaren?”
“I’m talking about the mechanized infantry regiment you’ve got on the road to Seoul right now, General Park. The regiment that’s moving without my authorization. That’s what I’m talking about.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone for several seconds. Then Park spoke again. “General McLaren, please believe me. I do not know anything about this movement.”
Damn. It sounded as if he were telling the truth, and it explained what he was doing at his home instead of his headquarters. “Could these troops have been given their orders by somebody else in your government?”
Park was firm. “No one else has the authority to move troops away from the DMZ. And I would have cleared such a move with you first, General.”
“Then just what the hell are General Chang and his men up to, General Park?”
“Chang?” Park said slowly. “General Chang? I know this man. They call him the Iron Man. He is one of those officers we have been concerned about. If he is moving toward Seoul, it is without the government’s knowledge or consent.”
Suddenly it was clear to McLaren. “Oh, Christ. He’s launching a coup.”
“Yes. I think you are right.” McLaren could hear shuffling noises as Park got dressed. “If you will excuse me, General McLaren, I must look to the safety of my country. I must alert the President and my Special Forces commanders. I’ll call you back when that is done.”
Park hung up, leaving McLaren holding a dead phone. He put it down and headed out the door back to the Ops Room at a run. “Doug! Tell the J-3 I want all American commands on full alert, pronto!”
Hansen looked up from a road map of the area around Seoul. “What about the ROK troops, General? Do we alert them, too?”
“No, just our own men. At least for right now.” There wasn’t any way of telling how many other units were involved in this coup attempt. And McLaren didn’t want to let Chang and his fellow conspirators know the cat was out of the bag.
He looked at the wall clock. Park had maybe an hour and a half to organize a reception for Chang’s regiment before it reached Seoul. He hoped that would be long enough.
As the black staff car slowed for a stoplight, General Hahn pulled his pistol out of his shoulder holster, checked the magazine, and slid it back into place. He glanced at his deputy, Major Yi. “You have the papers?”
Yi tapped the briefcase lying between them on the seat. “They’re all here, sir. The arrest orders, authorizations, everything.”
Hahn nodded. He twisted in his seat to look out the back window as the car accelerated away from the light. The truck loaded with his DSC troopers was still right behind them, rolling along Seoul’s empty streets. They were just minutes away from the main Special Forces barracks for the Capital Corps.
Once there, he and his men would arrest all the Special Forces senior officers for allegedly plotting against the government. And with the barrack switchboards manned by “loyal” DSC soldiers, the government’s frantic calls for help wouldn’t be heard until it was too late.
Hahn smiled. Chang’s plan had a brilliant simplicity to it. While Hahn’s DSC troopers eliminated pro- government officers for supposedly plotting a coup, the real rebels would be pouring into Seoul unmolested. Under the cover of a phony coup attempt, Chang would launch a real one.
But as they rounded the last corner, Hahn’s smile faded. The Special Forces Barracks was ablaze with lights. Trucks loaded with armed Black Berets were pulling out through the main gate and turning north toward the city outskirts. They were too late. Someone or something had alerted the government.
Hahn briefly considered aborting his mission, but he knew he was already in too deep to extricate himself. Better to carry on in the hope that he and his men could still grab enough of the Special Forces officers to cripple their command and control before Chang’s troops reached the city.
Two sentries in full combat dress waved the staff car to a halt at the gate. One covered the driver with his M16 while the other, a sergeant, walked back to Hahn’s rolled-down window and saluted.
“Papers, sir.” The sentry had to shout to raise his voice above the roar as another heavily laden truck careened out through the gate.
Hahn fished in his tunic and came up with his identity card. The sergeant took it and studied it under a flashlight. He handed the ID back and then leaned half in through the window to sweep his light around the car’s interior. Yi flinched as the beam caught him right in the eyes. Hahn sat impassively, his eyes closed against the glare.
The sergeant stepped back and saluted. “Very good, sir. You may proceed.”
Hahn tried to look disinterested. “What the hell’s going on, Sergeant? Some kind of exercise?”
“Don’t know, sir. Orders. Maybe there’s another riot building.” The man nervously fingered his slung assault rifle and looked back at the truck now stopped right behind Hahn’s staff car.
Hahn followed his gaze. “You can clear them, Sergeant. They’re with me.”
The Special Forces trooper licked his lips. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir. Only our own people are allowed into the compound tonight. Your men will have to wait here until someone changes my orders.”
“Sergeant, I’m a general in the Defense Security Command and I’m changing your orders. Right now.”
“With respect, sir, that’s not good enough. Not tonight. You’ll have to speak with someone up at the HQ.” The sergeant jerked a thumb at a building across the barracks courtyard.
Hahn stared at him for a moment. Was it worth trying to bull ahead through the gate? He glanced quickly at the other sentry. The man hadn’t moved an inch during the whole exchange, and he still had his rifle pointed straight at Hahn’s driver. No go. And every minute he wasted out here was another minute that let more of these Special Forces fish slip through his nets.
He nodded. “All right, Sergeant. I’ll get you your precious authorization.”
Hahn turned back to Major Yi. “Stay here with the men until I send for you.”
Yi bobbed his head in understanding and got out of the car. The sentries stepped back, clearing the way, and as they did, Hahn leaned forward and tapped the driver’s seat. “Let’s go.”
The car slid ahead into a large, floodlit courtyard jammed with parked trucks and running soldiers. Hahn could see men hoisting heavy equipment onto the trucks, including Dragon missile launchers. That clinched it. The Black Berets knew about Chang’s assault column. Nobody carted along antitank missiles to crush a student riot.
His driver parked in front of the headquarters building and got out to hold the door open for him. Hahn climbed out, settled his uniform cap squarely on his head, and marched up the steps into the Special Forces HQ.
He walked straight into an organized pandemonium of ringing telephones and rushing clerks. Many were out of uniform, and their rumpled clothing made it clear that they’d been rousted out of their bunks not long before. Hahn felt a little more sure of himself. Whatever had alerted the government had done so only at the last minute. That meant they probably didn’t have a source inside the conspiracy itself. There might still be a way to pull this thing off.
Hahn grabbed the nearest clerk. “You! Where’s the duty officer?”
