The hermit kingdom, p.7
The Hermit Kingdom, page 7
"I think that's great, Shane," she said. "I think you should find her. Closure is great. So is talking it out, you see?"
"I'll take closure over talking any day."
He tried to keep his face passive but failed. There were tears in his eyes.
Her grip on his wrist tightened. "Shane, I owe you an apology for a lot of reasons. You know that, and you know I've tried. I'm going to keep trying, too. Until you get to the point where you can actually hear it. I hope that's okay."
Tears fell freely from his eyes now, and he felt every eye in the place looking at him. They weren’t, of course, but he felt it anyway. He dropped his head again, not wanting anyone to see him this way.
"But it doesn't have to be today,” she said. “Let's talk about North Korea."
19
EVANS
Evans and his men trudged over the barren landscape, keeping their eyes on their perimeter as they moved. While all of them were well-trained and could move stealthily, they were also in a hurry. They also weren’t small men, and their heavy boots crunched every other step or so. But Evans didn't feel like they needed be completely silent. They hadn't seen another living soul since leaving the airport in China. After landing, the plane’s rear cargo door had been opened, and Evans waited for the bustling of airport and postal personnel to stop. He opened the lid and crawled out, waiting another minute to ensure they were alone. Finally, he and the other two men exited the back of the aircraft, which had been parked and abandoned inside a hangar.
They found an unoccupied airport security vehicle nearby, drove it to the single dirt road at the eastern edge of the airport, and then continued onward on foot.
Shane figured it was a bit less than a day’s hike to their destination, and they had mapped out a route that would take them around any towns and villages.
Jonathan Evans felt a pang of nostalgia. He had been in North Korea before, but most of the time he had spent here was in the demilitarized zone in the south of the country, with a few stints into isolated regions around its eastern coast. Much of that time had been spent feigning subordination to the nation. While it was generally true that the rest of the world — the more reasonable portions of the world — did not support North Korea and its totalitarian regime, there had been pockets of pleasantness sprinkled throughout its 46-year history.
Every ten years or so tensions between North and South Korea would thaw just a bit, and emissaries from each nation would agree to meet for a certain amount of time to discuss trade, economic sanctions, and future plans. While most of these meetings were as useful to true humanitarian efforts as the English throne was to British governance, it at least allowed representatives from both nations into the other country without too much fear of losing their head in the process.
Evans had come across the border on two occasions, both times serving as a guard for South Korean ambassadors. He had mostly traveled with a convoy in a jeep, observing and scrutinizing everyone he saw or heard, careful to ensure no one got the slip on him or his men.
These were simple weekend missions, solely meant for show, but both times he couldn't help but notice that North Korea was, in many ways, just like South Korea.
And that's why the nostalgia had kicked in.
As they walked their line, heading toward the eastern ridge bordering their target location, Evans was struck once again by the realization he had before during his travels around the world.
As much as film and television wanted to make it seem otherwise, every place was similar in a lot of ways to every other place.
Sure, the Amazon rainforest differed from the Congo, and both places were unlike the Indo-Burma rainforest in many ways. And yet they were also the same. The same sorts of animals – predators, prey, insect, fish. The same sorts of plant life. The trees in each had different names, but there was continuity amongst them.
The bayous and swamps from his childhood looked a certain way, but they weren’t too terribly different from the bayous and swamps in other places around the world. He enjoyed the feeling. It gave him a sense of ‘place’ had helped him feel at home no matter where he found himself in the world.
The villages and the people inhabiting them looked different, but at their core they were truly the same: each of them strived for survival, to exist in their culture free from oppression, free from starvation. They worked, they played, they lived.
The hills here reminded him of the rolling Appalachians back home, or even the foothills of the Afghan Hindu Kush Mountains. Sure, the names of the creatures and species were different, but they were all similar, each of them slotted into a particular role and group of Earthly life. These lush, verdant hills stretched as far as the eye could see, broken only by glowing yellow lights from towns and homes far in the distance.
It would take a few extra seconds for him to tell where on earth he was, if he didn't already know. Just because the government of this place hated outsiders and was fearful of letting its own people interact with the outside world didn't mean that its people were much different from the people in any other village in any other place on the planet.
He felt the soft crunch of stray leaves and bent grass under his boots as they marched in a line toward the ridge. The village they had dropped in on was behind them, and no one had been the wiser. They had not met with any interest at all, certainly not retaliation.
That was good – as long as they could stay under the radar, the longer they would be safe. He chewed on a quarter-sized piece of jerky as they walked, a luxury he had stowed deep within his pack. They were making good time – he was with good men – but he couldn't help but assume the worst.
Shane Riley had not come with them. Either the man was arrogant to the point of being insane, or he had other plans.
And while their way was not the only way non-citizens and military personnel could gain access into North Korea, it was the best way he knew.
Evans wasn't sure if their benefactor would turn down the million dollar payment if Riley did not fall in line and join Evans’ group, but it was too late now — they were on the clock. Either Shane Riley was uninterested in helping out or he was in fact working a solo mission. Perhaps the old Korean had coerced him with talk of his wife, and didn’t really care how she was returned to him.
Evans didn't fault Riley for his preferences, either. He had known men like him before – men who were not interested in working with others, for whatever reason. While Riley played the role of dispassionate, hardened soldier well, Evans had been able to read him easily.
The man was obviously hurt, still grieving from the loss of his wife. That much was clear from the background Chung-Hee Park had shared publicly. But he had seen something else – a fear, maybe – in the man's eyes. Shane Riley was not just mourning the loss of a loved one; he felt as though her death was his own fault.
The man told them he had two rules: he did not retrieve people, and he always worked alone.
He had told all of them point-blank what his hangups were, and their benefactor had pushed ahead notwithstanding.
Evans could excuse Riley for his cold demeanor; that attitude was not uncharacteristic of the types of people that filled the ranks of mercenary forces worldwide. Shane, in that case, was no different from Evans or his men – they worked for a payday, and they didn't want to get involved in other people's business.
But he was still curious as to Riley's ultimate goal. Would he try to enter the country, try to find the man's daughter himself? If so, their paths might still collide.
As they marched toward the ridge, Evans began putting together a plan for just such an occasion.
20
SHANE
"So, can you get me in?"
Shane had ordered a tea, if only to have something to hold onto so his hands would stop shaking. He hated tea, and Michaela knew it. But when he'd ordered it, all she had offered was the same smile she always gave him.
Like she knew him better than he knew himself.
"Yes," she said. "I can."
"Same way as before?"
She sighed, and he knew before answering what the answer would be. Of course it was the same system – what else would it be?
Over a decade ago, the South and North Korean relations had thawed just enough to put together a rail system that ran from Seoul, South Korea, around Pyongyang, North Korea, then farther north all the way to a university south of Kanggye, Chagang. Originally meant for military and cargo transport between the two nations, and intending to serve as an easy way to get dignitaries into and out of each nation whenever the heads of state wanted to discuss matters, it had been also used at times for transferring citizens from one location to another. Border crossings were not common, but for some university researchers, scientists, and civilians with the proper credentials, crossing into North Korea was possible.
And Michaela had just such credentials.
“And you can get me on the train?" Shane asked.
She nodded, frowning. "Shouldn't be a problem, but it will be getting you off the train on the other side that poses more of an issue. Not to mention getting back out. That always proves to be the biggest challenge.”
“Are things still pretty tense?”
She shrugged. "Who's to say? I have heard that the People’s Army personnel in charge of guarding the depots are feeling more angsty lately, not having a major war to fight. They're jealous that the train is a sanctioned activity, and they can't extract money from it."
Shane nodded. "Sucks to be a pawn. I guess the best routes for extortion are coming in from China these days."
"That and the rest of the DMZ," she said. "We hear all the time that soldiers – both American and Korean – are making a pretty good income on the side sneaking people back and forth. And political tensions don't seem to have any bearing on it – when Kim Jong-Un is feeling threatened, he locks himself in one of his mansions, turns all eyes inward to keep himself protected, and pretty much ignores the rest of his country. When tensions are not stretched so thin, the soldiers themselves feel it, and they're a little less worried about getting caught smuggling."
Shane knew the gist of it. Everything, the world over, had gotten more expensive. Everything, it seemed, had gotten more difficult. Any way to make a buck. He didn't blame any of the perpetrators, either. Smuggling humans out of oppressive places was an age-old vocation. The very fact that it had to be done under cover of darkness — or risk certain death — proved why people tried to get out.
Smuggling people into places like that, on the other hand, was a bit more rare. Who actually wanted to go into a country like North Korea on purpose?
But because of the sheer number of people trying to get out of the country, there was a much higher chance of getting in without being noticed.
Getting out would be the problem, but that was a problem for the future.
21
JIN-TAK
Jin-Tak Yeon moved completely silently. Not even the bugs beneath his feet knew they were about to get squashed as each foot landed.
For years, he had trained with North Korea's elite forces. Not the regular People’s Army or Navy — not any of the forces known to the outside world. He was part of the most elite of all – the Supreme Guard, a group of some unknown number of operatives – not even he knew the true size of the force – who operated individually and in small strike teams, similar to the Special Activities Division commandos working for the American CIA.
Only, his job was not intelligence gathering. Nor was it counterterrorism, or counterintelligence at all. The Supreme Guard had one job, and one job alone: to take out, swiftly and silently, the individual enemies of the North Korean government. Often these targets were enemies to the government itself, or to business interests of the government.
Sure, North Korea considered almost everyone else ‘the enemy,’ but Yeon's focus was on high-risk, high-reward targets. And while assassinations were part of the job, they were not his only task. There was an entire division of operatives that exclusively performed that sort of wet-work, operations to take out visiting foreign dignitaries – or even foreign nationals on their own soil.
Yeon's job was somewhere in between: if his government knew of a coup, an attempt to bring outsiders into the country who had military training and would otherwise be hard to pin down, he was dispatched. Now, he worked directly for a government research facility, providing something they called ‘advanced defense and reconnaissance’ for the station.
He had been hand-picked for this mission due to his past, and he approved. It was mostly an easy job, with few opportunities to risk his life — a life he preferred to keep as long as possible.
As he walked between the trees, a mere shadow against darker shadows, he kept his mission parameters in full focus in his mind.
Identify enemy combatants. Take them out silently. Cause confusion and chaos only as a last resort.
The mission was as simple as it ever was. Find the enemy, kill the enemy.
But his handler — the government official in charge at the research station — had still reminded Yeon about the necessary delicate nature of the job. The North Korean government frowned upon brutal military killings around civilians – the best way to keep civilians in line was to show strength, but to likewise not cause undue fear in the populace. Whatever he did, he needed to be careful to keep it away from the prying eyes of the local farmers and villagers.
He agreed with this assessment, as he knew many of the villagers in the area. Innocent people would jump to the wrong conclusions; they scared easily.
And he suspected the real reason he was to remain covert: this job, like so many others, could make someone high above him look dirty. The kind of job that could topple political careers, get the wrong people in the wrong kind of trouble, and generally did not look good for the country.
It didn't matter who it was, or what exactly was at stake – they had hired Yeon for a reason. He had accepted it without question. The pay was good, but this particular security detail interested him for a wholly separate reason.
A personal reason.
The message had been brief. The outsiders trying to infiltrate this facility want to stop the research we are conducting. If they stop this research, there is no chance we will find the cure.
There is no chance to finish our work before he dies.
Yeon remembered the tension in his jaw, stretching all the way to his throat and down into his stomach, as he had first read those words. That his handler and boss knew far more about his personal life than he would have liked was not the concern.
His concern was that his boss implied there was a cure. That there was a way to save his father's life.
He had known of the research facility prior to taking the job. He had grown up in the region, and as a boy, the Nazi-built station had been the subject of much speculation. There had long been reports of disappearances, of entire villages simply ceasing to exist. The region was fraught with legend and myth regarding the reasons why, as well. Everything from giant man-eating creatures to evil studies taking place inside. He had heard the stories since he was a child, knew that while most of them were fantastical, there was something eerie about the region.
After all, he had grown up just south of the place.
Most people from his village ignored the legends, but were still hesitant around it. They refused to farm the valleys immediately surrounding the base, and gave it a wide berth when traveling northward. It was ironic that his job had brought him back to this place, but now he could truly appreciate what they were doing here. His father was there, dying a slow and painful death.
Their work was going to save his life. His work was to prevent anyone from interfering.
A noise stopped him.
He crouched for a moment, trying to get even smaller still than his already slight stature provided. He waited, watching the darkness. He did not use night vision, since it interfered with his ability to feel completely at home in the woods.
Satisfied that he had only startled a bird, he continued forward. He could smell the Americans now, their scent trailing behind them like a disgusting plague. He would find them, one by one. He would root them out, stalk them.
And then he would kill them.
22
MICHAELA
Michaela had given Shane the breakdown of the rules before boarding the train. His only goal as they sat on the hard, un-upholstered seat inside the train was to blend in. There was no question he stood out in the train car. Every single person they had seen so far was Korean. Even Dr. Everly, born in San Francisco, had two Korean parents. She looked like she belonged here, and in a sense, she did.
The Doctor of Anthropological Sciences had submitted the last-minute proposal to her South Korean employer for a four-day visit to their sister lab in North Korea. The laboratory was one of the few bastions of rational thought that could be found in the isolated nation. While the North Korean government usually kept very close tabs on every visitor – professional researcher or tourist alike – that crossed its border, enough precedent had been set between the two universities that a bit of leeway was given to bringing along assistance and professional support.
Still, Michaela Everly had used many favors to get Shane Riley on board, especially considering he was an unknown name to both institutions — and because she no longer worked for the university. She couldn't exactly tell her new boss that she was bringing a trained assassin and professional mercenary into North Korea – the very look of the guy would earn him enough scrutiny. But she had worked up a good enough cover story that both sides of the train allowed it.
Thankfully, Shane had been prepared. He’d pulled out a fake passport, Australian-issued government ID, and other paperwork for a man who looked exactly like him but had a different name. He had smugly handed all the credentials to her, explaining that his work required ‘special circumstances.’
