WHATEVER THE COST: A Mark Cole Thriller (27 page)

But he had managed to get clear of the basket just in time, following the running crowds away from the base of the building as the globe hit the ground with a massive impact, then bounced and rolled down the streets after them.

There had been so much panic, so much chaos, so much screaming and terror, that nobody realized that Cole had been the man to escape from the basket.
In fact, nobody even realized that anyone
had
escaped from the basket; by the time Cole was moving, everyone had already seen the globe ripped from its position at the top of building, and were heading across the streets in horror.

And now, as Cole stood amongst the crowd which was packed down the side street of Al Amiriyah, the huge gilded orb blocking the western end completely – it had finally come to rest against the two buildings on either corner – he joined them in their near-ecstatic realization that the globe hadn’t killed them, that they were still alive.

And although some of the crowd started tentatively forward, to get a closer look at the globe which had almost killed them, Cole joined the vast majority which filtered away from the damaged skyscraper, east to Olaya Street and the freedom beyond.

PART SIX

1

Jeb Richards sat down in
one of the chairs set around the huge table in Conference Room One, nodding greetings to his colleagues.

There had been yet another emergency meeting called, and he wondered what the hell was going on now. He shook his head, still suffering from the effects of his recent flight home
from Riyadh. Couldn’t they have waited until he’d slept?

Richards wondered if it had anything to do with Quraishi and his plan to attack the US. But how would anyone have found out? No, he thought as he poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the table in front of him, it couldn’t be that. He smiled. No, that was still going to surprise the hell out of everybody.

And after the dirty bomb was set off, money would no longer be a problem for his department, for the next couple of decades at least.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ General Peter Olsen
said, his face grim, ‘we have news that I think you are going to find disturbing, to say the least. Please hear me out, then we can discuss what we are going to do.’

There were general murmurings around the large confere
nce table, but they were quickly silenced by the president. ‘Please,’ Ellen Abrams said with a wave of her hand, ‘go ahead.’

‘Thank you, ma’am,’ Olsen said, before turning to the assembled group. ‘For security reasons, I won’t go into how this intelligence was developed, but suffice it to say that it is reliable.’ He took a deep breath before continuing. ‘From what we have managed to piece together so far, it appears that the Fu Yu Shan was carrying – probably without its crew’s knowledge – a crate which contained a specialized weapon. That crate was loaded on board the vessel at the port of Dalian in China, but it had arrived at Dalian airport the day before as air
freight from Pyongyang, North Korea.’ He paused for emphasis, to let the message sink in. ‘We have since managed to track the origin of the crate back to a supposed political prison camp in the northern mountains known as Camp Fourteen. However, it transpires that the camp is really a development site for the weapon, and the North Korean government has been using the prisoners as experimental guinea pigs. Men, women and children,’ he said with obvious distaste.

Richards’ eyes narrowed. He knew the weapon had come from North Korea, but he’d never been told anything about human experimentation. And why would they be experimenting with humans anyway? The obvious answer, he supposed, was to see what effects the radiation would have
on the people exposed to it. He swallowed some more water as he waited for Olsen to continue.

‘The weapon itself has now b
een identified,’ Olsen said, ‘and it is unpleasant in the extreme. It is nothing nuclear, as we first thought; rather it is a new type of bioweapon.’

Richards’ heart stopped. What the hell was Olsen talking about?

‘It functions rather like a time bomb,’ Olsen continued. ‘It can be injected into a carrier, who is completely symptom-free. This means that borders can be crossed at will, with no suspicions raised. The carrier is free to travel across the world to any location they choose. But a certain amount of time later, the biological agent implanted in their body reacts, and the symptoms begin.’

Richards’ blood was turning to ice in his veins. Where was Olsen getting this from? Could it be true? He shook his head. No; of course it couldn’t. Quraishi had been adamant about the nature of the weapon stolen from the North Koreans. It was a dirty bomb, nothing more.

Wasn’t it?

‘The basis of the weapon is reportedly an Ebola-like, flesh-eating virus,’ Olsen carried on, watching the barely contained fear on the faces of the men and women around the table. ‘At first, the skin blisters painfully, all over the body. A short time later these blisters open and the flesh literally sloughs off the victim as the air reacts to what’s inside.

‘Now,’ Olsen said with military control, ‘while obviously horrific, this in and of itself isn’t the danger of the weapon. What is far more worrying, far more damaging, is the fact that when the blisters open, spores are released into the atmosphere around the victim. Depending upon prevailing weather conditions, these spores can be transported anything up to a radius of ten square kilometers before dying. Which means that infection with this virus is a danger for anyone in the vicinity of the original host when they first exhibit the symptoms.

‘
The early lack of such symptoms is also a primary danger – as well as allowing infected carriers to travel unmolested, it also means that secondary victims will not even know that they are infected, so they will continue to go about their business until they too burst out in blisters and release their own spores, infecting a new set of people. And so on, and so on.

‘If somebody is infected willingly with this bioweapon – a biological suicide bomber, if you will – and they intentionally go to an area guaranteed to have a lot of people – Times Square on a Saturday afternoon, NFL playoffs, major league baseball games, for example – then tens of thousands of secondary carriers could be infected. And then
they
go on their way without knowing anything has happened, and infect millions more.’

Olsen cleared his throat. ‘Such a weapon could – taking into account those who might possibly have natural immunity – all but wipe out a nation’s population within days.’ He saw the look of disbelief on the faces of those around him, and nodded his head. ‘Yes.
Days.
Millions would be infected without even knowing about it. And it’s one hell of an unpleasant way to go; the virus literally eats you alive from the inside.’

Richards couldn’t help himself any longer. ‘Where the hell are you getting this information?’ he demanded. ‘I’ve heard nothing about this whatsoever, and it’s appeared in none of the briefing papers from the CIA or NSA. And now we know all about it, out of nowhere?’

Abrams fielded the question. ‘It is not from ‘nowhere’, Jeb,’ she said calmly. ‘It is from sources which we can trust.’

‘On-site intelligence?’
Clark Mason interjected. ‘Have we got a recon team inside North Korea, when you assured me only recently that we did not?’

‘We have assets who have performed a close-up inspection of the camp,’ Abrams answered, ‘and have retrieved documentary evidence of the weapon’s development and usage. It will all be corroborated at the correct time. Now let’s move on, shall we?’

Richards subconsciously wiped the sweat from his brow. Could it be true? Had his old friend lied to him?
Was
this the weapon he was going to use? He pulled the collar away from his neck, suddenly hot. Too damned hot.

‘But why would the North Koreans develop such a weapon?’ he asked.

‘That’s a good question,’ Olsen said. ‘And luckily, we’ve also managed to get details of the North Korean plan from a major within the Reconnaissance General Bureau, which is the office responsible for foreign operations. Apparently, it is part of a ‘master-plan’ developed by the RGB on the orders of President Kim, in order to reunify the country.

‘The plan has been a long time in the coming. You remember that demonstration where those people were killed in Seoul?
The one which started off the wave of Islamic terrorism in South Korea?’ Olsen saw heads nod around the table. ‘Well, it was the work of the RGB; it was their own agents who opened fire, and they’ve been fomenting Islamic trouble in the region ever since, all building towards their final move. The whole terrorist problem in South Korea was created to act as a smokescreen, so this attack could be blamed on Islamists.

‘The
weapon was to have been shipped to Pakistan, where it would have been injected into a group of preselected agents, all part of a known terrorist group. The RGB has funded the group for the past few years, and they were more than willing to lend it some of their people in return.

‘These injected Islamists would then have caught planes into South Korea and made their way to several key cities, where the weapon would then have become active, killing them and releasing the spores into the atmosphere to infect millions of others.

‘South Korea would immediately become a pariah nation, closed off to the outside world until the crisis was under control, during which time – in a gesture of singularity, of brotherhood – North Korea would have extended the olive branch of peace and moved in to ‘help’ their neighbors in their time of need.

‘When the smoke cleared, President Kim and the North Korean government would have all but supplanted the southern regime, and would move its own people across the border to run its factories and businesses, replacing the people who would have been killed.

‘Before long, the once divided nation would be whole again, with Kim in complete control.

‘Of course, world opinion would have been strongly against the North’s occupation if it was known that the weapon originated from there, which was why the crate was to be shipped to the Middle East for use by a terrorist proxy. This way, the world would actually have sympathy
with the northern regime, and believe that they were actually helping the south. By the time anyone learnt different – if anyone ever
would
learn any different – it would be too late anyway.’

‘So what’
s going on now that the weapon was intercepted?’ asked Catalina dos Santos.

‘The RGB decided to go ahead with their plan anyway,’ Olsen replied, ‘but instead of using the terrorist proxy to cover their involvement, they were prepared
to inject prisoners from Camp Fourteen and send them covertly over the border. The likelihood of an international backlash would of course be much higher, but it would have been better than absolute failure.

‘Luckily, these injections were stopped just in time, and the situation has been temporarily contained. But the weapon is s
tockpiled in quantity at Camp Fourteen, and they may well try again at some stage if we do not take immediate action.’

‘Such as?’
Mason asked. ‘Surely you’re not suggesting an attack on North Korean soil?’

‘That’s exactly what we’re suggesting,’ Abrams answered, all eyes turning to her. ‘We cannot allow that weapon to exist, and I personally back the use of B2 bombers to take out the camp.’

Richards saw the heads nodding around the table, saw his own life spinning out of control.

‘Do we have a consensus?’ Abrams asked next.

Hands went up around the table, and Richards felt his own hand rising right along with them. How could he argue against it?

Abrams nodded her head. ‘Excellent.’ She picked up the phone on the table in front of her and gave the order for the B2s to start the operation. Putting the phone down, she turned to Olsen. ‘General?’ she asked.

Olsen looked around the table, smiling. ‘Good. Thank you everyone. That’s going to take care of one of our problems at least.’

‘We’ve got more?’ asked Pat Johnson, Secretary of Defense.

Olsen nodded grimly, and Richards watched, helpless. He knew what was coming.

‘You bet your ass,’ Olsen added. ‘We’ve still got to talk about who’s got that damned crate off the Fu Yu Shan, and what the hell they’re planning on doing with it.’

2

Jake Navarone watched the two PLA captains, Liu
Yingchau and Xie Wei, as they walked through the side gate into the main prison compound; Major Ho Sang-ok walked between them, concealed pistols aimed at his spine.

Navarone had been impressed with the professionalism of the Chinese military officers so far; they had done everything asked of them, and more besides. He made a mental note to report on their performance to Commander Treyborne. On the one hand, they should receive a citation of some sort for their work on the mission; on the other, it would be prudent to make a study of their own training and operational capabilities, which the US military might
well have underestimated.

It had been decided that Liu and Xie would be the ones to breach the main compound, due not only to their appearance – they might not have looked North Korean exactly, but they were a lot closer than
any of the other men in Bravo Troop – but also because of their familiarity with the Korean language. It wasn’t perfect, but – again – it was superior to any other person that Navarone had.

Since Navarone’s radio conversation with Treyborne, the SEALs had effectively taken complete control of the secondary compound.
His explosives experts had been sent back out to wreak havoc in the eastern forest, and were still keeping the guards from the main camp occupied. Also – to Navarone’s relief – there seemed to be a reluctance for anyone to approach this side of the camp anyway. Probably due to what went on here, he supposed; nobody in their right minds would have anything to do with it. The sight of the fleshless bodies being thrown into the incinerator would, Navarone knew, haunt him for a long time to come.

Navarone’s men had secured all of the buildings within the compound, subduing people where they could, killing them silently when met with resistance.

He had then set up fire bases within the buildings overlooking the main compound, strategically placing snipers and machine gunners where they could provide covering fire and protection for the next phase of the plan.

From his observation point at the second floor window of the laboratory building, Navarone watched through his high-powered Zeiss lenses as Major Ho and the two Chinese captains – now with Korean People’s Army Ground Force uniforms taken from soldiers found in the secondary compound – were stopped at the sentry post inside the side gate.

Navarone held his breath as Major Ho spoke to the guards there, hoping beyond hope that he would keep his word and allow the safe passage of Liu and Xie into the prison camp beyond.

It was fear that drove him, Ho realized with little hint of self-recrimination. It was, after all, fear that drove everything in the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea. It was all he had known, his entire life. Fear drove the people under him, and fear was used on him by his own superiors.

It
was now several conflicting fears which would dictate his actions. His primary fear, of course, was that the two soldiers he was sandwiched between would shoot him dead if he didn’t comply with their commands.

Another, less immediate, fear was that if the American team was successful, then – even if he survived – he was as good as dead anyway. He understood that this was the last chance for the RGB – if he failed here, both he and Lieutenant General U Chun-su would likely be executed as an example to others. The price of failure in North Korea was always high.

A part of him therefore reacted against the soldiers beside him, against the Americans who had taken over the experimentation compound. If Ho could sound the alarm, perhaps he could still salvage the operation?

But he knew that
it was too late anyway. The Americans already knew of the plan – to save himself from torture, he had willingly told them everything – and they had already informed their superiors back in the United States. South Korea would be notified, and the plan would be doomed to failure as a result. World opinion would turn on North Korea even more ferociously than it already was.

He knew that bombers would be on their way to destroy this place – probably the entire damned valley – which was why the American commandos were instigating this ridiculous phase of their own operation rather than just reporting back their findings and escaping. They actually wanted to
rescue
the prisoners before their bombers arrived, which – in more favorable circumstances – Ho would have found hilarious. He simply did not understand the attitude of the Americans at all. Why rescue the enemy? It made no sense at all to Ho.

The leader of the commandos had seemed infuriated that there were women and children here in the camp, but Ho couldn’t see what difference it made. Enemies of the state were enemies of the state, were they not? Age and sex surely made not one iota of difference.

But, he reflected, the Americans were different. Their entire culture was different. And this was why they would ultimately lose the battle over the long term. They believed in compassion and mercy – when in war, there should be none.

The way Ho saw it though, he was out of options
– if he sounded the alarm, he might succeed in the prisoners being kept where they were, and the possible capture of the American commandos. But the valley – and the weapon alongside it – would still be razed from existence. The camp guards might escape, but perhaps not. And if Ho survived the bombing, he was unlikely to survive a debriefing back in Pyongyang.

And this was why he had jumped at the commando’s offer – if he led in the two Chinese officers, got them inside the camp, and then gave certain orders, he would be extracted from the valley alongside the rest of the American troops.

He understood that he would face lengthy interrogations by US intelligence, but he was too experienced to believe in the propaganda spread by his own government; far from being tortured and killed, he would be regarded as a valuable defector, and be granted permission to live life freely after he had been bled dry of information. Certainly more freely than he had ever been allowed to live in the People’s Republic.

He would miss his wife and children of course, but he would be alive.

Alive and free.

And in the end, there was no choice at all – he
merely barked his commands at the sentries, who opened the gates immediately to allow full access to the prison compound for him and the two Chinese agents who accompanied him.

Navarone breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the three men pass through the inner gates.

He hadn’t known whether the major would go through with the charade or not – a part of him was terrified that Ho would just start shouting and ruin the whole thing – but he was delighted when it looked like he would do exactly what he had promised.

Navarone knew the man had been left with few options – his plan was in tatters, the camp was going to be obliterated anyway, and at least by agreeing to follow Navarone’s demands, he was left with the possibility of survival.

He smiled as the major spoke to the two guards at the sentry post, barking orders at them; and breathed a second sigh of relief as they both turned to follow Ho
and Liu further into the compound, leaving Xie Wei to man the side gate.

Navarone checked on the rest of his men, making sure they were all ready. He had snipers ready to take out the soldiers in the four corner guard towers, as well as other elements still working their evil magic over on the eastern side of the compound.

Downstairs, he also had six men disguised – as best as they could manage – as North Korean soldiers, waiting to be let into the camp by Xie Wei.

Navarone’s plan was for Major Ho to order a prisoner roll call, to bring everyone back to the huge central square. His snipers would then take out the guard towers, his men – having worked their way inside, near to other guards – would take out as many soldiers as they could, and Ho and Liu would shepherd the prisoners out of the camp through the gate manned by Xie, while Navarone’s snipers and machine gunners provided covering fire from the secondary compound.

With a large part of the guard force distracted by the activity east of the camp, Navarone hoped it would be possible for the prisoners to escape into the forested hills surrounding the valley before the bunker buster bombs were dropped by the B2s and the whole area was reduced to ashes.

Navarone’s concentration was broken by the electronic beeping of his field radio.

He picked up the handset. ‘Rattlesnake,’ he answered with the group’s operational call sign.

‘Rattlesnake, this is Command, over,’ the urgent voice of Ike Treyborne came back. ‘Please confirm that you are out of area.’

‘Negative, Command,’ Navarone said. ‘We are evacuating the area to minimize collateral damage, over.’

‘Those weren’t your orders Rattlesnake,’ Treyborne shot back, angry. ‘You need to leave the area immediately, is that understood? Co
bra element is en route, ETA one hour. Please confirm, over.’

Navarone’s blood went cold in his veins. One hour? He’d calculated he had at least six hours left; long enough to free the prisoners and be long gone before the B2s arrived. ‘One hour?’ he asked in disbelief. ‘We thought six, Command. What happened?’

‘Cobra element was staged ahead, Rattlesnake, two pieces based at Whisky Papa, over.’

Despite the highly encrypted digital radio, Treyborne still used code words, never willing to trust technology. Navarone knew that Whisky Papa was the Western Pacific, and Treyborne was referring specifically to the US military base at Guam, which combined the Joint Region Marianas naval installation with Andersen Air Force Base.

Navarone’s pulse raced. Guam was only two thousand miles away from North Korea; just three hours of flight time.

‘Authorization for Cobra element has been given, Rattlesnake, do you copy? Element is already en route to your destination. You need to evacuate immediately, I repeat,
immediately
, do you copy? Over.’

‘Yes sir,’ Navarone answered in a shaky voice as he peered out of the window of the laboratory, saw the prisoners begin to congregate in the square.

Thousands of them.

‘I will evacuate immediately, sir,’ he said.
‘Over and out.’

He replaced the handset and breathed in deeply, exhaled slowly.

An hour would have to be enough.