After a brutal, close-quarters melee that left bodies and burning trucks strewn across the highway, both sides had sought cover among the apartment buildings, shops, warehouses, and small factories on Pyongyang’s outskirts. A wide avenue, Tongil Street, intersected the highway at the checkpoint, offering any defending force a ready-made kill zone.
Now Tae could hear sporadic gunfire. They were sniping at each other while scouts from the 33rd’s lead regiment, the 162nd, probed for loyalist strongpoints. His men were not well-trained for urban combat, and they were making slow progress. But they were still moving. The closest bridge across the Taedong River was just a few hundred meters beyond Tongil Street. Take that bridge, he thought, and we’ll have a clear road to the inner city.
Meanwhile, Tae was trying to contact Vice Marshal Koh Chong-su, chief of the General Staff, and the first among equals in their coup against the Kim family and the other factions. Tae’s troops were fighting their way into position, and he was supposed to have received further instructions by now. The problem was that Koh wasn’t answering. Not by radio. Not by cell phone. Not even by dispatch rider.
And the clock was ticking.
Aware of the nervous glances being exchanged by the staff officers clustered around map tables and radios, Tae tried to buy time to think by pretending to study the most recent situation reports.
Time, he thought bitterly. A few of his fellow conspirators had advocated waiting for confirmation of Kim Jong-un’s death before acting, but Tae and the others knew that time was too precious. It was all about control. Three generations of North Koreans had been raised to look to the party and the armed forces, and they, in turn, looked upward to their own leaders, rising higher and higher through the hierarchy until all eyes rested on Kim Jong-un. For a few brief hours, if they were lucky, there would be no one to give orders — no one to stop them.
But as soon as it was confirmed that Kim Jong-un was dead, others would vie to take his place. So it was essential that Tae and his fellow plotters were organized and in charge before their rivals from the other factions sorted themselves out.
The plan had worked so well at the beginning, he remembered. Perhaps that should have worried him. Every separate piece had run smoothly, like a well-oiled killing machine — starting right from last night’s nerve-wracking helicopter flight to the 33rd Division’s headquarters just outside Kaseong…
The Soviet-made Mi-8 helicopter shuddered and rattled as it banked, heading for the lighted landing pad starkly visible against the darkened countryside.
“We are two minutes out, Comrade General,” the pilot told Tae.
Tae nodded tightly, teeth clenched against the vibration. He glanced at his aide, Captain Ryeon, who sat belted in beside him.
Ryeon leaned closer. “Twenty minutes, sir.”
Tae checked his watch. By now, the waiters in the banquet hall would have finished serving dinner. The older soldiers and party bosses would be knocking back round after round of soju, a cheap grain liquor. Kim Jong-un and the younger members of the elite favored expensive, imported single malt Scotch and looked down on the “peasants” who swilled rather than sipped. Well, he thought coldly, it was a divide that soon would not matter.
He turned his head, peering back into the darkened cabin. Twelve soldiers in crisp, camouflaged uniforms looked back at him with expressionless faces. They were special operations troops, a handpicked squad from one of the Reconnaissance Bureau brigades. Each man carried a Type 68 assault rifle, the North’s version of the Soviet-made AKM.
When the helicopter landed, Tae was the first one out.
Just beyond the slowing rotors, he saw a cluster of officers waiting. One of them hesitantly moved forward to greet him. Tae recognized the man from his briefing photos. Major General Yang was the deputy commander of the 33rd Infantry Division. He had a reputation for blind obedience, not initiative. And he was a born staff officer, not a combat soldier. He was perfect for Tae’s purposes.
They exchanged salutes.
“I regret that Lieutenant General Seon is not here,” Yang said nervously, eyeing the special forces troops lining up on the tarmac. “He is out on an overnight inspection of the Third Battalion of the 162nd Regiment.”
“I see,” Tae said flatly. Inwardly, he rejoiced. Seon, the 33rd Division’s commander, made a habit of spending as much time as possible visiting and inspecting the battalions under his command. It was a habit they had counted on.
Seon was one of the good ones. The IV Corps, stationed near the DMZ, was a breakthrough formation, and the 33rd had the highest readiness scores in the corps, in fact, in the entire western sector. His political credentials were impeccable, of course, but he was also intelligent and energetic. That would make him a dangerous enemy. And that, in turn, required direct action.
Tae checked his watch. Ten minutes left. He looked up at Yang, narrowing his eyes. “Are Major Paeng and Captain Han with you?”
Yang was visibly surprised. Paeng and Han were junior staff officers in the division headquarters, ordinarily well below the notice of a senior commander from the KPA’s General Staff. He looked back over his shoulder at the others waiting just out of earshot. “Yes, Comrade General,” he said quickly.
Of course they are, Tae thought. Paeng and Han were covert agents planted inside the division by the General Political Department and the Military Security Command respectively. Equipped with separate channels of communication to their superiors, they were tasked with ferreting out treason and subversion. Any unusual activity, like this unexplained visit, could be expected to draw them like moths to an open flame.
“Excellent,” Tae said. He lowered his voice. “A critical situation is developing, Yang. We have received credible reports of a plot against the Supreme Leader.”
Yang’s mouth fell open for a moment. Sweating, he visibly struggled to master his expression. “But—”
Tae cut him off. “Your commander is one of the conspirators.”
The other man’s knees started to buckle. He looked horrified.
“We know, however, that you are loyal,” Tae continued, planting the hook.
Yang couldn’t nod his head fast enough. “Yes, Comrade General!”
Tae fought down his disgust. He could practically smell the other man’s fear. Then he shrugged. Yang might be a cowardly worm, but he was a worm they needed. For now.
“Good,” he snapped. “Then you will continue to serve as deputy commander of this division. If this plot is not crushed in time, the state will need your steady hand and loyal service in the days ahead.”
Yang moistened his lips. “And Lieutenant General Seon?”
Tae nodded toward the hard-faced special forces soldiers waiting beside his helicopter. “Seon and the other traitors in this command will be eliminated. At once.”
The other man swallowed hard and then forced himself to stand up straight. “I understand. This is no time for weakness or hesitation.”
Tae allowed the hint of a smile to cross his face. “Your eagerness does you credit, Yang.”
“Sir!” A shout came from behind him.
Tae whirled toward his helicopter. Captain Ryeon came hurrying toward him. “What is it?”
“Pyongyang Defense Command reports a major explosion in the city!” Ryeon said, sounding horrified.
“Where?”
“I do not know, Comrade General,” his aide lied. “All of our secure communications channels went down immediately after that first report.”