Gilad tossed another grenade around a corner, then did a sneak and peek after it exploded. Seeing no one, he jumped over the bodies of two mangled guards and signaled his men to follow.
He could hear more rockets firing from the Black Hawk and prayed Yahweh would bless their efforts to knock out all camp communications to the outside world. If the DPRK caught wind of what they were up to, they were finished. The prison camp would be swarming with the enemy before they could find Bennett and retreat.
A barrage of machine-gun fire came from somewhere down the darkened hall. Gilad checked his watch and cursed. He’d given himself and his men a mere twenty minutes on site, two of which were for carrying Bennett back to the Black Hawk and loading him in, assuming he was in no condition to walk. For this cell block, he’d allotted six minutes. He’d already used up four and they were encountering heavy resistance.
Using hand signals, he ordered his men to don their night vision equipment, then gave the signal. Gilad and his second-in-command now raced into the corridor, firing at anything and everything that moved. When the shooting stopped, he gave the signal and two more of his men raced down to meet them, while the remaining two held the door.
Gilad looked left, then right. Seeing no more guards, he sent his deputy one way while he went the other, each with a man at his side. Gunfire erupted behind him. He heard a scream. Someone cried out in Hebrew. He had a man down.
He checked his watch again. They were supposed to be on to the next building in forty-three seconds. They weren’t going to make it. An intense firefight was now under way in the courtyard. Gilad could hear the Black Hawk circling again, its M240H cannons shredding everyone in its path. But they had to get their man out, and there was still no sign of the man they’d come to save.
The president was livid.
“What do you mean a Black Hawk just entered North Korean airspace?” he yelled at General Stephens. “How in the world is that possible?”
Stephens admitted he didn’t know. According to a U.S. Air Force recon plane, an unidentified UH-60 Black Hawk was spotted 160 kilometers east of Pyongyang, flying a special ops profile, fast and low over the Sea of Japan.
“Was it one of ours?” James fumed.
“We don’t think so, sir.”
“Think or know — there’s a difference, you know.”
“We’re checking, sir,” Stephens tried to assure him. “But no one authorized this.”
James was furious, storming around the office and trying to imagine the damage if the North Koreans had the same information he’d just gotten. “How soon until the first cruise missiles hit?”
“Six minutes, maybe eight, tops,” Stephens said.
“First impact?”
“Presidential palace, defense ministry, and the DPRK missile command.”
“After that?”
“You’ve got the target package, Mr. President,” the general reminded him. “In the next ten minutes, six thousand cruise missiles are going to turn North Korea into a sea of fire.”
“Where’s this chopper headed?”
“We don’t know, sir.”
“Where do you think it’s headed?”
“Last sighting put it near South Hamgyong, Mr. President.”
“What’s there?”
“Nothing to speak of, sir,” Stephens said. “A lot of military bases. Missile silos. A prison camp or two.”
The phone rang. Stephens answered it on the first ring, listened carefully, then slammed the phone down.
“What is it?” the president asked.
“That was Vice President Trainor, sir.”
“What’s he got?”
“He just got off the phone with Avi Zadok in Jerusalem.”
“So?”
“The Israelis have intel that puts Jon Bennett in the Yodok prison camp in South Hamgyong,” Stephens said, recounting what Trainor had told him. “They’ve got a special ops team going in to get him out. Prime Minister Doron wanted to give you a heads-up.”
All color drained from the president’s face. “You’re telling me Jon Bennett is at Yodok?” he asked Stephens.
“It appears so, Mr. President.”
James looked at the digital war map on the wall of Stephens’s office. He could see the missile tracks converging on six thousand DPRK targets, including South Hamgyong.
“God help me,” the president said. “What have I done?”
Bennett was stunned to see another living human being.
He was even more stunned to hear one talking with an Israeli accent, and he began to lose his balance.
“Mr. Bennett, my name is Captain Arik Gilad. My men and I are here to rescue you. Can you walk?”
Bennett couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. He grabbed the man’s shoulder for support and nodded.
Gilad’s men set up a secure perimeter while Gilad helped Bennett onto a foldout stretcher. Once he was secure, Gilad picked up the back end while one of his colleagues grabbed the front. Two more men provided cover, and they began shooting their way back through the prison.
Breaking radio silence for the first time, Gilad ordered the Black Hawk to land on the roof of cell block D-6. He ordered Red Knight Two to race ahead and secure the landing zone. Then Red Knight One carried Bennett through a hail of bullets up several flights of stairs, heaved him into the back of the chopper, and locked his stretcher to the floor.
Bennett turned and saw another commando being loaded onto the helicopter as well. His colleagues were working feverishly to keep him alive. Blood was spraying everywhere. The Black Hawk began to rise. Bennett could hear more gunfire below. He could hear rounds slamming into the chopper’s sides. Someone stuck an IV in his arm and tried to put an oxygen mask over his face. But Bennett furiously shook his head. He had something to say first, though he wasn’t even sure if he could.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” he said at last, his eyes blurring. “God bless you guys.”
The Israeli medic working on him said something in return. Over the roar of the rotors, he couldn’t hear a word. But he could read the sincerity in the young Israeli’s eyes, and despite all the chaos and bloodshed around him, Bennett suddenly felt safe for the first time in days. He breathed a sigh of relief and turned to look out the window. And that’s when he saw it, streaking across the horizon, leaving behind a contrail a hundred miles long. Then he saw a flash of blinding white light, and then he saw Jesus.
72
“Ten seconds, Mr. President.”
The floor manager gestured to the camera he’d be looking into while an aide touched up his makeup and another combed his hair. In all the last-second hubbub, General Stephens slipped James a note that read, simply, “Impact.”
“Five seconds.”
James nodded, folded the note, and slipped it into his suit coat pocket.
“Four… Three…” The floor manager stopped the verbal countdown and continued with hand gestures. Two… one…
James cleared his throat and began. “Good evening, my fellow Americans, and to those joining this broadcast around the globe. My name is Lee Alexander James. For the past several years, I served the MacPherson administration as the secretary of Homeland Security. For the last few days, I have served as the vice president, at the request of my dear friend, Bill Oaks. But tonight I am speaking to you as the president of the United States. In a moment, I will explain the terrifying series of events that has led us to this place, and me to this chair. I will explain what our federal government is doing to care for all those suffering in our midst at this hour. But first I must tell you that the United States is at war.”