began returning to his face, and he straightened up in his seat. “I am to be awarded a pension and a full retirement?”
“With full military honors,” Kong said, “as befitting a commander so loyal and dedicated to the fatherland.” He motioned to the code book, with the decoded launch execution and weapon pre-arming codes in it. “This is the last order you will be given, Colonel. Your last official act. Do as I say, and the Glorious Leader himself will pin the Star of Honor on your chest. He has even authorized a passport and travel if you wish: Hong Kong, Ho Chi Minh City, Tripoli, even Havana.” Kong glanced up at the countdown clock — shit, less than ten seconds to go! “Ready, Colonel? Your last act before your retirement. Turn the key to the right when I tell you. I will say ‘Ready, ready,
Suddenly, a tremendous series of explosions shook the command car, followed by the sound of a jet fighter screaming overhead. The string of bombs sounded as if a giant were running toward them, and then one of the giant’s boots kicked the command car. A five-hundred-pound bomb exploded just a few feet outside it, sending both men flying into the bulkhead from the impact. Cho screamed.
Kong picked himself off the deck and looked over just as Cho shouted, “Damn you all for condemning me to Gobscurity forever!”—and turned the launch key.
Kong’s hand shot out to his own key switch. It would not be simultaneous but… He turned the key. It worked! The missile launched! The roar of the Nodong-1 was a hundred times louder than the bomb that had just exploded outside. Kong checked the system readouts and was pleased — they showed a fully pre-armed warhead and a fully aligned heading and navigation system. The missile was alive and tracking perfectly. He had done it! He immediately hit the PRELOAD command switch, which automatically moved the transporter-erector-launcher assembly to its preload condition and also commanded the second Nodong missile to raise up to load position, then he hurried outside.
The Nodong missile was long gone by the time Kong made it outside the command car — all he could see was a trail of white, acid. It arced across the sky toward the southeast, so he knew it was on course. Then he checked the progress of the reload and knew he would be launching no more missiles. The nearby bomb explosions had damaged the car containing the reload missile; white and orange smoke — the missile’s fuel and oxidizer — was beginning to billow out. By the time the reload missile itself was visible, its corrosive fuel had all but leaked out. It would set itself on fire, perhaps even explode, in minutes. Unit Twenty was effectively dead. Nothing else to do but find another missile — or escape into friendly hands.
“We did it!” he heard behind him. Colonel Cho leaped off the steps of the command car and ran over to Kong. “We launched her! You and me, Captain! Our job is finished. We obeyed our orders and did as we were told, and now it’s time for our reward.”
“Yes, sir,” Kong said. “Time for your reward.” He pulled out his pistol and put two bullets into Colonel Cho’s chest, then one more into his brain after he hit the ground.
Special Agent Law’s mini-Uzi was in her hand in an instant, but before she could reach the Vice President or level her weapon, several South Korean special forces soldiers burst into the observation room. All of them carried M-16 rifles at port arms — at the ready, but not leveled or aimed at anyone. General Park was right behind them, standing in the middle of the doorway. He now had a sidearm strapped to his waist, but the weapon was not drawn. Law raised her weapon…
“Wait, Corrie,” Vice President Whiting shouted. “Don’t shoot!”
Everyone froze. Corrie Law could have easily mowed down every South Korean in the room — with the soldiers’ weapons visible, the threat was clear and present, but there was no way they could defend themselves in time. They could see the cold, dead look in Law’s eyes: no fear, no hesitation, no mercy. Her gun muzzle did not waver. If the Vice President gave the order, they knew she would open fire and put a three-round burst into each one of them before they had the chance to get into a firing stance.
“Put your weapons down on the floor
“What’s going on there, Ellen?” CIA Director Plank asked on the cell phone.
“Don’t, Corrie…”
“I said, put your weapons down!” Law repeated. She raised the Uzi so she could use the sights; the muzzle tracked every movement of her eyes as they caught the slightest motion of the soldiers. Law maneuvered herself between the soldiers and the Vice President, then positioned her back behind a console so no one could get a clear shot at her. Summoning the only bits of Korean she knew, she shouted, “
“What’s going on here, General?” the Vice President asked. She held the cell phone behind her back, pointed outward against the chance Plank might pick up the conversation. “Why do you have soldiers in here? Are we your prisoners?”
“No, Madam Vice President,” General Park replied. “You are our guests, and a witness.”
“Witness? Witness to what?”
“Close your telephone connection with Director Plank and I will tell you,” said a new voice. And Kwon Ki- chae, the president of South Korea, entered the room. He ordered the soldiers to lower their weapons and leave; General Park remained.
Vice President Whiting raised the still-active phone to her lips. “I’ll call you back, Bob.”
“What in hell’s going on there, Ellen?”
“President Kwon and General Park want to have an urgent parley with me, in private. I’ll call you back.” “Urgent parley” was a code phrase for “The situation here is tense; have help standing by.” She pushed a button on the phone, closed it, and slipped it into an inside jacket pocket.
General Park issued some instructions by radio in Korean and then turned to Whiting. “All wireless communications from this facility will be jammed now, Madam Vice President,” he said. “It is for our protection.” It was obvious he knew that the Vice President had activated a function on the phone that kept the line open and transmitted a locator signal.
“Jamming our locator signal could be considered a hostile action, General,” Whiting said evenly.
“Discussing activities inside our country’s most secret command and control facility with the Central Intelligence Agency could also be considered a hostile act,” General Park said. “As you Americans might say, that makes us even stephen.”
“Please be seated,” President Kwon said, motioning to a chair. He gave Park an order, and the Air Force general immediately unbuckled his holster and handed the weapon over to Special Agent Law. “I promise, we mean you no harm.”
Law immediately went over to the door and tried it, keeping both Kwon and Park covered with her mini-Uzi; it was locked. “So we
“You will be free to leave in a very short time,” President Kwon said. “But first I invite you to watch history in the making, unfolding right before your eyes.”
“What are you talking about?”
“May I?” Kwon asked, motioning to the large windows overlooking the command center to indicate to Law where he was going to move. He went over to the windows with Whiting. General Park took a seat behind the communications console. “The culmination of years of planning, a year of intense preparation, months of espionage and infiltration work, and hundreds of billions of won. The expense almost bankrupted us, especially with the financial downturn throughout Asia in recent years. We lost many fine men and women to the Communists, on both sides of the DMZ. We are about to witness the fruits of their sacrifice.”
“Mr. President, what’s going on?” Whiting asked. “What are you planning to do?”
General Park said something in Korean, and Kwon nodded with a broad smile and what sounded to her like a muttered prayer. “Our first units are approaching the coastline,” Kwon told Whiting. “The Eleventh Patrol Squadron out of Inchon has the honor of leading the attack. Their call sign is ‘Namu.’ The counterjammer aircraft will be inbound sixty seconds later. Their call sign is ‘Pokpo.’”
