from security troops, were the two access hallways leading to the barracks of the two infantry companies. The North Korean security commander led the South Koreans to his office along one of the corridors.
“We were afraid you would not come,” Major Hong said. “You were not spotted by any of our patrols until you entered the outer perimeter.” He smiled wryly. “I suppose that does not look very good for our security here — we knew you were coming, and still we could not detect your presence. My congratulations.”
Lieutenant An bowed in thanks. “We must contact our headquarters as soon as we have secured this facility, or else it will be attacked.”
“What must I do?” Hong asked.
“We must take the command center itself immediately,” An replied. “What is the situation, sir?”
“Full staffing in the command center, communications, and intelligence cells,” Hong replied. “Thirty-seven officers and fifty-three noncommissioned officers, all loyalists.” Lieutenant An’s face fell — that was a very large complement of Communists, and even if they weren’t all battle-hardened soldiers, it was going to be tough to take them all. “The vice-marshal in charge of the Artillery Command and the commander of the Air Forces are here as well, along with their personal security teams. They are here to monitor your Team Spirit bombing exercises.”
Hong added, “They ordered both security companies activated to double the guards, so I have my full force of two hundred and eleven men on duty. We have fifty men in the command center, ten in the communications and intelligence centers, and the rest spread out inside and around the building. They are more than enough to subdue all the loyalists. All are under my sole command.”
Hong noticed An’s second-in-command shift his feet uneasily. “Do not worry, Sergeant,” Hong said with a reassuring smile. “Not all of my men are conscripts, but most are, and the rest are not full party members — only officers and senior noncommissioned officers are accorded full party status.”
“Are you a party member, sir?” An asked.
“My parents were both party members, and so I was enrolled in the Young Patriots Corps and then awarded a commission,” Hong replied. “But my mother was killed trying to cross the frontier. She was accused of illegal travel and treason. She committed suicide in prison. My father and I were stripped of our party affiliations, and I was reduced in rank and given a noncom-bat post. I have been an outcast ever since. My father died of pneumonia eight months ago because he was not given any medical treatment. He had not had one regular meal or any heat for his apartment in over a year.
“Not one of us nonparty members, myself included, have been paid in more than six months, nor do we expect to be paid until perhaps next spring, if ever. Our families are starving. Our children have no clothes, no education, nothing. Only full party members are allowed to buy food at the base commissary — the rest must beg, steal, scavenge, or starve. Yet our government spends billions of won on weapons to destroy the very people whose unity we hope will bring us salvation.”
He looked at the South Korean commandos and added somberly, “The time for mistrust is over. We are on our knees. We must stop the Communist war machine from destroying us. We will start now. Every true Korean patriot is behind us.” He pointed to a stack of boxes in a corner of his office. “There are ponchos you can wear to cover your uniforms.”
“Not necessary, sir,” Lieutenant An said. With that, his commandos withdrew their own ponchos — which looked identical to North Korean-issued ones.
“Very well,” Hong said, smiling approvingly as he donned his own poncho. “Let us then march into history — or oblivion — together. I have everything ready. Follow my lead.”
“Tell me what your plan is,” An said.
“It would be better if I did not,” Hong said. “Your surprise will help the ruse. Trust me. Do you have ear and eye protection?” An nodded, then looped his flash-bang goggles around the back of his neck and hid them under his poncho. Hong did the same to his pair. “Good. Follow me.” With that, he shouted an order to his men in the hallway, issued an order on a handheld radio, then marched purposefully out into the corridor. Although An still felt that old chill of mistrust and fear, he could do nothing else but follow along. He and his men, and the nation behind them, were already too far down the path to look backward.
Hong stepped in front of the large steel door leading to the command center and pushed a CALL button. “Identify yourself” came the reply on the speaker.
“Major Hong.”
There was a confused moment’s silence. The person at the other end was the assistant to the senior controller, in charge of access to the command center. “State your business please, comrade Major.”
“Status inspection. Several security systems are not in order. I want to inspect them myself and then report to the senior controller personally. I am also bringing down six cases of food, electronic parts, water, and publications. You should have received the invoices for them already. Lieutenant Wu is with me.”
“Stand by, please.” A moment later, after receiving permission from the senior controller, the heavy steel door motored open. By design, the elevator was big enough for only three or four persons, and only two persons after they loaded the six crates of supplies onboard. Lieutenant An hid his MP5K and backpack under his poncho and squeezed inside the tiny elevator with Major Hong. The elevator moved at only two meters per minute on its way down the ten meters to the command center. It had been designed that way to prevent a massive, rapid enemy assault.
Five minutes later the elevator doors slid open, and Lieutenant An found himself staring at a room he never truly believed he would ever be allowed to see — the Korean People’s Army Military Command and Coordination Facility. The entire North Korean military machine was directed from this very chamber. It was exciting to be here — and also a bit of a letdown. It was much darker, gloomier, and smellier than Major Hong’s intelligence reports had said.
“Lieutenant,” Major Hong said in a sharp, officious voice just as the doors slid fully open, “take the top two boxes to the galley immediately.”
“Yes, sir,” An replied. He hoped this was some sort of ploy or diversion, because he had no idea where the galley was. An picked up the top two boxes…
… and, just as he took a step forward, he felt a tear at the bottom of the second box, and the bottom popped open, spilling bags of rice, cans of cooking oil, dried meat, tea, and other foods onto the floor of the elevator. The two-gallon cans of oil and the bags of rice split open, scattering rice everywhere, and the floor was slippery from the oil oozing from the cans.
“What is going on over there, Major?” a voice from the gloom asked.
Hong turned and bowed into the darkness. “My apologies, comrade Vice-Marshal Kim,” he replied. “My clumsy assistant has spilled some supplies in the elevator. It will take only a moment to clean it up.”
“If any of those electronic components are damaged, Major,” another voice said, “I will hold you personally responsible.”
“They do not appear to be damaged, comrade General Cho,” Hong replied.
“Relax, General,” Kim said. “We are all under enormous stress. Get it cleaned up immediately, Major. We cannot afford to have our only service access elevator down too long. And it is not the sign of a good commander to physically strike a subordinate in public, no matter how much stress one is under. Remember that next time.”
“Yes, sir, comrade Vice-Marshal,” Hong said. “Lieutenant, get out of the way.”
Lieutenant An swallowed hard as he maneuvered clear of the elevator, ready to help Hong in any way he might indicate. He realized Hong had been talking to Vice-Marshal Kim Ung-tae, the commander of the Artillery Command, himself. Vice-Marshal Kim was in charge of all of North Korea’s rockets, ballistic missiles, air defense missiles and artillery, and coastal defense missiles and artillery. He was also responsible for all of North Korea’s nuclear, chemical, and biological warheads that could be delivered by rockets or artillery. He was the third most powerful man in the North Korean armed forces and reported directly to Marshal Chang Song-u, the commander in chief of the Korean People’s Army, and to Supreme Commander and Beloved Leader President Kim Jong-il.
The other man was probably Lieutenant General Cho Myong-nok, the chief of staff of the Korean People’s Army’s Air Forces. General Cho was responsible for approximately one-fifth of North Korea’s weapons of mass destruction — the warheads carried on his bombers and strike fighters. Together, these men commanded four-fifths of North Korea’s deadliest weapons. They held one of the two keys necessary to unleash those forces; the Beloved
