Had any of the Korean population known who he really was, they probably would have killed him themselves. He and his fellow disciples of the General believed the Korean immigrants in America were traitors. They had left behind the ancient people and rich history of Chosun, Korea’s traditional name, for the sake of money. Their lives were defined not by self-reliance and tranquility, but by unadulterated greed. They were the enemy.
Every South Korean man was required to serve in the Army after his eighteenth birthday. Therefore, barring overwhelming medical reasons, all the Korean men who immigrated to the US as adults had been soldiers. Some had even fought directly against the People’s Army in cross-border raids.
One Fairbanks man in his late forties had been an officer in the Republic Of Korea (ROK) Marines for eight years before moving to Alaska to take over his cousin’s shoe repair business. An elder in his church, he often preached long into the night about the need to evangelize North Korea with the Christian gospel. He ranted about the need to overthrow Kim Il Sung and his reportedly psychotic son Kim Yong Un and unite the two Koreas under God. The former Marine even claimed to love the people of North Korea.
One night, Shin had shared a copious amount of soju, a strong, vodka-like Korean rice wine, with him. Under the influence of the soju, Shin elicited stories of the elder’s years as a ROK Marine. He boasted of a night in the early nineties, when his squad of commandos slipped onto what he claimed was a North Korean spy ship disguised as a fishing vessel. They killed all the men aboard, then hung their bodies from the radio mast and set the boat on a course back to its own coast.
In the next breath, the man wept and claimed that he should have saved those men instead, and that they may even have been friends had it not been for the damned communist leader of their country. The elder apparently could not make up his mind. Should the North Koreans be killed or be saved?
Shin despised the Americanized Korean traitors. He kept a list of those he would make sure were killed with the most humiliation when the revolution began here.
Although Shin despised America, its weak form of government, and its fat, lazy people, it did have one redeeming quality. Shin had developed an affinity for Italian food. He loved chicken parmesan, creamed fettuccini and poached fish, and of course, fresh hot loaves of garlic bread dipped in olive oil. Italian food was the only redeeming thing in the US. Other than that, they and their way of life could all die.
“We have waited long enough, and there is no sign of them,” Shin said. “I’m in command now.”
The other men, showered and changed into clean clothes, gathered on the couches in the spacious living room.
“Wait until seven o’clock tonight to be in position. By that time, Sergeant Sun and I should be in position at the Eklutna water facility in Anchorage. Nikola,” Shin faced the Albanian who was sitting on a couch to his left, “what comes next?”
Nikola looked up. “I will coordinate with our men in Anchorage and Valdez to turn off the power at precisely seven o’clock.”
Shin turned back to his fellow North Korean commandos on the opposite couch. “And you, Pang?”
“We will be in position at the water utility here in Fairbanks immediately after the power goes out,” replied Sergeant Pang. “Once it has been out for ten minutes, we will pour ten vials of the chemical into the water supply. You will do the same in Eklutna.”
“Make sure you are wearing the rubber gloves and face masks,” Sun added. “Do not get any on you, or you will not survive to escape.”
Everyone nodded in understanding.
“As soon as the vials are emptied, get out of the water utilities and start your escape plans.” Adem continued. “We give it fifteen more minutes for the virus to replicate in the water, then at 7:25, allow the power to come back on. That will cycle the pumps and disturb the water sufficiently to spread the virus throughout the system rapidly.”
Nikola spoke. “We leave the power on until four days later. The chemical agent will have destroyed the filters and the bacteria will have spread into the population en masse. At that time, we turn off the power completely and leave it off as they suffer and spread the disease.”
“That is correct,” Shin replied. “As soon as the power returns, we Koreans will proceed with our escape plans. We report back to the General in forty-eight hours. After the four-day period, the Albanian teams will follow your escape routes and disappear.”
Shin narrowed his dark eyes to sinister slits as his gaze moved over each man’s face. “You must not get caught, under any circumstances. If you think you cannot succeed or that you will be captured, your life must end here. Let none of what we are doing escape your lips, even after the operation is over. Is that clear?”
The men nodded their agreement and immediately set about their tasks. Shin and Sergeant went to the Ford Explorer in the garage. They placed two folding-stock AK-74s within reach under a blanket on the back seat. A padded fiberglass case, containing a dozen vials encased in protective plastic boxes that held three vials each, was placed on the floor behind the passenger seat, where it was covered with a dark blanket that made it nearly invisible on a cursory search of the vehicle. Each man carried a 9-millimeter semi-automatic pistol in their waistband, and extra ammunition magazines in their pockets.
They got into the vehicle and backed out of the garage. Once on the road, they made their way out of the city and onto the Parks Highway.
Depending on weather and road conditions, the drive to Anchorage should take six to eight hours. Shin expected to be there by nine AM at the latest, which would give them plenty of time for a bit of rest. And a good meal at the cozy little Italian restaurant with the amazing mountain views out the large picture windows that faced the entrance to the road that led to the Eklutna water plant.
Chapter 33
Wyatt’s cruiser led the caravan to the public safety building. They pulled into the mostly empty public parking area at twenty minutes before one A.M. A large tractor-trailer painted in the black, brown, and green camouflage pattern of the US Army stretched across a row of vehicle spaces.
Two soldiers bundled in thick, green military issue hooded parkas, insulated pants, and large white bunny boots stood at the end of the trailer, smoking cigarettes. Beside them, a metal staircase led up to a door in the side of the trailer. The bluish-white mist of smoky steam hung in the air around their heads as breath and cigarette smoke billowed from their mouths and nostrils.
One of the soldiers reached up through the metal tube railing on the staircase and knocked on the door with a gloved hand. A shaft of bright light shone from inside the trailer as the door opened. A figure stepped out, wearing a full-body green rubber biohazard suit, the large hood folded back off its head as it descended the stairs like a clumsy 1960’s B-movie astronaut.
The hooded figure approached Lonnie’s cruiser and raised a hand toward her. She rolled down her window. A blast of extremely cold air instantly filled the interior of the cruiser. The frigid air elicited a grunt, and an uncontrollable shiver ran through her body. “Man,” she said, “It’s gotten a lot colder since we left Salt Jacket.”