“Sir, he used a specific word — Juche,” she continued, “It’s a North Korean term for their religion of communist philosophy. This guy was a North Korean spy. And our Mr. Kim is his boss. And his boss is some general.”
“Damn!” Stark ran his fingers stiffly across his furrowed forehead, trying to squeeze the stress out. “Albanian terrorists, North Korean spies — this thing is getting bigger by the minute. Looks like we have no choice but to bring Homeland Security into this thing. ”
“How’s Kim?” she asked.
“He’s coming around, but he ain’t talking about anything. We’re going to have to put a suicide watch on him as well until we get this thing figured out.” Stark pulled his hand away from his forehead as if remembering something. “Those supposed land mines, by the way, weren’t explosives at all. They were some kind of electronic gadget. The CSI guys are trying to figure it out, but they are some kind of complicated computer device that no one there could readily identify. They got some ex-Navy weapons expert who works at TVEC to look at the things.”
The two got up to leave.
“Sir.” Lonnie waited for Commander Wyatt to make eye contact with her. “I think Marcus may be in this thing too.”
“Your ex-boyfriend is a terrorist?”
“No, sir, he’s on our side — that much I know. But when I was at his cabin earlier this evening, a bunch of rough-looking men pulled up and started loading weapons and gear onto several snowmobiles, the tactical, quiet kind used by Special Ops. At first, he said they were buddies of his and he was helping them on a training mission, but the feeling in the air was different. They were headed onto the back range of Eielson somewhere, and would have left about an hour before I got to town.”
“Did he tell you anything about what they were doing?”
“No, sir, but when I pressed him on it, he said t it may be related to the two Albanian guys.”
“I’m going to get the Feds.”
Chapter 19
Marcus led Wasner’s SEAL team on the trail until they came to the point at which he had stopped earlier that morning. The men dismounted their snowmobiles and spread out in a defensive perimeter. They crouched in the snow for fifteen minutes, weapons at shoulder-height, acclimating to the silence around them as they scanned the forest through their night vision glasses.
Wasner’s team carried an assortment of firearms, including Heckler & Koch MP5 10mm submachine guns and COLT M-4 Carbines, both with silencers attached. Two of the SEALs carried high-powered sniper rifles, one a suppressed Heckler & Koch PSG-1 strictly for use against animate targets, and the other, a suppressed Barret Model 82A1 .50 caliber. The fifty-caliber rifle uses an armor-piercing projectile the size of a man’s index finger and has an effective range of 1800 meters. It is technically (and according to international military treaties) only to be used against motorized vehicles or for breaching fortifications. It was not designed for use against flesh-and-bone creatures, like humans. This law was seldom observed on the battlefield.
All weapons were wrapped in white tape along most of their length, revealing only small patches of the black metal of the sights and receivers.
Once satisfied that no one had seen them, Marcus rose from the snow without a sound. The others followed his cue. He spoke softly into the radio headset.
“There was a sniper position up ahead earlier this morning. Be aware that he may still be there or may have moved to a better location. We should see his heat signature through the night vision, but just in case, be ready.”
The men quietly moved forward. Small, oblong snowshoes kept them high on the surface of the dry, powdery snow. Marcus took point. The others fanned out in two lines of seven men each, with three yards between each man and five yards between each line.
Snow glistened in the shimmering pale glow of the moon. The light reflected against the trees and sent randomly skewed shadows in all directions. They crept through the trees in silence until Marcus gave the signal to stop. He motioned to Wasner, in the first line of SEALS. The chief moved up beside him.
“Over there.” Marcus pointed to the left, about thirty yards in front of them.
“That mound is where the sniper was this morning. He seems to have moved, though. There’s no heat signature around it. The work site is about fifty yards past it.”
Wasner spoke into his radio mike. “Scan the area for heat — we’re almost on them.”
The team crouched in the snow. They peered through the night vision glasses, meticulously scanning in all directions. Satisfied that there was no one within sight, they rose and moved forward. They came within thirty yards of the site when the muffled sound of distant voices drifted through the forest.
A whisper came over the headsets. “Heat signature fifty yards to the left. Single person.”
Marcus looked over and saw the man in the distance. The dim yellow glow of his body stood erect, facing away from the camp. A bright white line, hot and steamy looking, arced directly out of his midsection. The snow in front of him glowed a fading yellow.
The man finished, zipped his snowsuit, and turned back to the camp. The SEAL team remained still as stones and watched him return. A voice called out from somewhere behind them, making their collective hearts jump their chests.
A figure moved up quickly behind them. He was carrying a Kalashnikov sniper rifle and walking through the snow toward the work site.
The man who had just finished urinating turned in the direction of the sniper. He raised his hand and started walking toward his comrade, straight in the direction of the SEAL team.
They dared not even exhale. The man moved into the midst of their group. Not wearing night vision, he had not seen the SEALS as they hunkered down low into the snow. The SEAL’s white smocks and the random twists of brush and tree branches that jutted up from the frozen surface concealed them almost completely.
The men met in the middle of the two lines of SEALS. They stopped and began a conversation in Korean.
“Comrade, why didn’t you answer the radio?”
“My batteries must have frozen. I didn’t hear anything. “
“It is time to come in. The captain has found what we came for, and we are going to leave early. He already sent Team 1 back to the pickup area with one case, and he is packing up the second now.”
“Good, I am ready to leave. I can’t feel my feet anymore. I hope those four don’t use up all the hot water before we get back to Mr. Kim’s house. It is too cold here, worse than the mountains at home.”
“Maybe, but here, at least they have rabbits and other animals to eat, not like home where the mountains are nothing but rocks. I still taste that rabbit stew.”
“It would have been better if we had some kimchi to put with it.”
“Yes, but then the Americans would certainly have found you, when your hot, spicy kimchi farts drifted into the city.”
The sniper laughed and replied, “Yes, but that would have at least kept me warm, with all that heat inside my snowsuit. Besides, it would have been a good chemical weapon, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, even better than this stuff we are taking from the Americans. Maybe we didn’t need to come here at all. We could have just told the Glorious Leader to bottle your farts and drop them on the Americans. It would burn their eyes out, then we could make them all work in factories for us until we are rich!”
The two men laughed and started back to camp together. As they walked the sniper glanced around with a pensive look.“I think a herd of animals must have come through here. The snow has been disturbed all around us.”