Rhee rose to his feet. “Do those now. We are done here.”
When Rhee walked out of the break room, the members of his unit guarding the door stiffened to attention, their Type 56 assault rifles held at port arms. Twenty feet away, several Black Dao gunmen, the warehouse’s normal guard force, glared at Rhee and his men as they exited.
Rhee ignored them. They were useful for now, supplying knowledge, contacts, and safe houses for Rhee and his men while they built their operations in the United States. All in return for sixty percent of the profit from the Red Ice being produced on the floor above. So far, the Black Dao had made over nine and a half million dollars from the sale of only a hundred kilograms of the drug. The North Koreans’ cut of the profits were over six million, half sent home to the state, the rest being held for future use in American operations.
As in the legal drug world, the world of illegal drugs was a competition to bring the next big product to the marketplace. Crack cocaine had made billionaires of many drug lords, and newer drugs like Krokodil, 2C-P, 25I-NBOMe, and Flakka were fighting for market share among the world’s drug users.
Rhee eschewed the elevator to the right and instead walked alone toward the stairs to the left, ignoring the glares the Triad gunmen gave him. Part of him wished one of them would attack him — he hadn’t killed anyone in a while. But no one did; the Triad wolves recognized the presence of a tiger.
He heard movement coming from the cages to his right, but as with the Triad guards, he paid their occupants no mind. The people inside those cages were even less of a threat to Rhee. He could feel their hate, but he also could feel their fear even more, and he knew they were not dangerous to him or any of his men.
Rhee reached the stairs and climbed them quickly. Operation Uiloun Gyeoul — Righteous Winter — and its companion, Operation Bam Beulleideu — Night Blade — had been in the planning stages for years. Then Dr. Mori came along and took both from the planning stages to operational phases. Her work in the area of amphetamines had been noticed by State Security Department agents in Japan, and when reports surfaced of her making a breakthrough, the Marshal — Kim Jong-un himself — had ordered her “Recruitment.” State Security Department agents had seized her and then turned her over to Rhee.
Mori’s daughter, however — the target of a second kidnapping — had escaped the attempt and the Mori family had closed ranks around the girl, hiding her. Other State Security Department agents were searching for her, but until the daughter was in their custody, Mori would fight to protect her secrets.
Two guards — Rhee’s own men, since he didn’t trust the Triad — snapped to attention when he reached the top of the stairs. He nodded to them and strode down a narrow hallway to the lab’s entrance, where two more of his men stood at alert guard.
“Any problems?” Rhee asked.
“No, sir!” the senior man replied.
“Good.” Rhee picked up an industrial dust mask from a table next to the door and went inside.
The lab took up half the floor space on the second level. Consisting of three rooms, the lab’s walls were translucent plastic panels inserted into steel frames. The lab took up two-thirds of the space, and wouldn’t have looked out of place in any advanced research facility. Lab benches along the walls and in the center of the room were stocked with beakers, burners, and vials in wire-framed stands, along with electronic equipment Rhee had no knowledge of and didn’t care to, as long as the drugs were created.
A dozen people occupied the room, all wearing masks similar to Rhee’s. In opposite corners, two of his men stood guard, each man carrying a steel-core baton, a Type 64 pistol, and a Type 56 rifle bayonet. Seven of the others wore rough clothing, cheap sandals, and a thick collar around their necks. They were moving beakers and equipment, watching screens, and doing various other work lab technicians do all over the world. Unlike most lab technicians, they moved with the weariness of too little food, too little sleep, and repeated beatings. The last three were clustered around one of the central benches. All wore lab coats, two men and one woman, and from the conversation and body language, they were arguing.
Rhee made his way through the collared prisoners to the unfolding argument. “Is there a problem?”
The three turned toward him, startled by his appearance. One of the men stepped forward. Short, thin, with a receding hairline and glasses on a shallow face, his hands went up in a placating gesture. “Nothing important.” He tried to sound casual but the fear in his eyes gave him away.
Rhee sighed. “Dr. Ryuk,” he said. “You know better than to lie to me. Must I ask again?”
Dr. Ryuk Shi-woo wilted and lowered his head. “Major, I—”
The woman stepped forward. “Yes, there is a problem!” she spat in English.
Rhee eyed the woman. “And what is that, Dr. Mori?”
The chemist motioned to the prisoners. “You need to give these people more food and rest. Look at them! They’re moving like zombies!”
“They are not your concern, Doctor.”
“Not my concern? I need them to be alert and able to think straight. In their present state they are useless—worse than useless, I’d say.”
“They work. What else do you need them to do?”
“Do you know how dangerous making this…swill is? We’re dealing with highly volatile chemical compounds here. One slip, and this lab and a good part of this building will be obliterated! Not to mention—”
Rhee held up a hand. “Enough, Doctor. You will make sure the prisoners do their jobs and do them safely. If you feel there is a problem, then it is up to you to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“They need more—”
“These prisoners are not your concern. They are serving their prison sentences though work the state has designated for them. The matter is closed, Dr. Mori.”
Mori glared at him. “You bastard!” She raised her hand like she was going to slap him, then muttered something under her breath and stalked off. Both Ryuk and the other man, Dr. Chang Joon-ho, watched her move to the far side of the lab.
“Gentlemen,” Rhee said. “I wish to speak to both of you.”
“We can talk in the drug storage room.” Ryuk motioned toward an opening in the wall protected by plastic freezer strips.
Rhee nodded and the three moved to the next room, which was filled with crates stuffed with kilo bags of Red Ice. Rhee turned and faced the two chemists. “Have you any progress in analyzing the patbingsu?”
Chang shook his head. He was taller than Ryuk, but thinner. “She’s made it impossible to break the drug down into its constituent chemicals. We can confirm it’s the same formula every time, but beyond that…” He shrugged.
Rhee scowled. “How much of the drug has she made?”
“Less than a kilo. Only a very small percentage of the waste from the Red Ice production process is usable.”
“Or so she claims. I don’t care how long it takes, but I want that patbingsu formula.”
Ryuk replied in an exasperated tone. “We’re trying, but she doesn’t trust us!”
Rhee gazed at the crates. What is the status on the latest Red Ice shipment?”
“We’ve managed to manufacture close to two hundred kilos. That’s nearly eight million doses. We should have another fifty kilos ready before noon.”
“Good. Be aware that we will be moving the lab shortly to its new site. Once we’re there, we’ll increase the production rates to five hundred kilos per shipment.”