It stung Rhee’s eyes, and he could taste gun smoke and the acrid tang of flash-bang grenades. Ji’s men had gone in with a triple load of flash-bangs, and tactics for clearing a confined area devoid of friendlies encouraged their use.
He could have traced Ji’s progress by the trail he’d left. Scorch marks, bullet scars, and KPA corpses punctuated the tunnels, and they passed several doors and passages leading in other directions, labeled but still mysterious and still a little threatening. Master Sergeant Oh had returned to his own team, and Rhee missed having someone watching his back.
It took almost ten minutes to reach Ji, who was in a very wide, industrial-looking tunnel with tracks running along the center of the floor. Ji saluted when Rhee appeared. “All parts of the facility secured. Nine wounded, two seriously.”
Nearly thirty percent wounded, Rhee thought. A hard fight. Rhee returned the salute, and responded, “But no WMDs?”
Captain Ji motioned to a sergeant. “Here’s my specialist.”
The sergeant came to attention. “Sergeant Sin Soo-ro, Colonel.” He pointed behind him to a large door in the tunnel side. It was open, with rails from the main tunnel curving inside. “Our first count is thirteen missiles.” He pointed to the opposite side of the tunnel and another open door. “The warheads are stored there, and we count nine. Their markings and configuration are consistent with conventional high explosives. No sign of chemical warheads or nuclear devices.”
Rhee took the time to look into both storage areas. The missile magazine was a vast space, especially considering it had been painfully hollowed out at enormous cost. It could hold twice as many missiles as they’d found. Steel supports networked the walls and ceiling. A crane system overhead allowed the missiles to be moved. Even without their warheads, and without fuel, they still weighed several tons and were fourteen meters long.
The empty missiles could be placed on platforms and then moved on rails. They would be taken to the other space and joined to a warhead, then moved again to a launcher and fueled. To Rhee’s immense relief, none of the missiles had been mated to a warhead, much less moved to a launcher.
But he could hear the disappointment in Captain Ji’s report, and felt it himself. Outside again, he gave a more complete report to General Kwon. “We’re still collecting documents, and intelligence can tell us if they ever were here, but I can confirm there are none here now.”
“This was the last potential nuclear site in your zone of operations, Colonel. So far, Gangrim has found none. I don’t know whether to be relieved or worried. Do you have any recommendations?”
“I’m going with the ‘worried’ option, General. They could all be in a single location, under tight control,” Rhee suggested. “We just haven’t found it yet. There are still more facilities north of Pyongyang, but it is assumed there will be considerably more resistance.”
“That’s possible, but it’s also equally possible that weapons have been dispersed, so they can’t be captured all at once.” The general paused, and added, “We won’t gain insight hashing over old arguments. At this point, intelligence becomes even more important. We have to become detectives as well as soldiers.”
“Understood, sir.”
“One other thing I can tell you about, now that Sangwon is secure. I’ve chosen a commander for the Bongmu garrison, Colonel Ham Seung-min. You won’t know him. He’s been recalled from retirement. He’s in excellent health, and has command experience.”
Rhee was both delighted and a little dismayed. He’d essentially been commanding two bases, with two very different missions. The operation at Bongmu was still going on, of course. It would take weeks for the investigators and forensic scientists to remove the bodies and attempt to identify them.
Lieutenant Gung and his team, except for the badly wounded Corporal Park, had asked to stay and help provide security for the site.
Rhee had agreed. They were out of the fight anyway, and the colonel understood why they wanted to remain. But they weren’t going to do the job by themselves. A company of reserve infantry had arrived yesterday evening, and another was due to arrive soon.
Rhee had insisted that Gung remain in command, especially of reserve troops still shaking the rust off. But that situation was uncomfortable, especially in rank-conscious Korean society. Then they’d received new orders about the refugees: Don’t ship them south anymore. Feed them and keep them there. A mission of that size was beyond even Gung’s capabilities.
But Rhee couldn’t suppress his misgivings. The general had made it a point to tell Rhee that Colonel Ham was in “excellent health.” He asked, “Exactly how old is the colonel?”
“Sixty-seven,” General Kwon answered.” “He’s not the only officer being recalled, either. If we want to take our country back, we will need everyone’s help. And his last assignment was in the supply corps. The colonel will arrive at Bongmu by noon, along with another company of infantry.”
“And a lot of rations,” Rhee added. “Last night, they already had civilians gathering nearby. More will come.”
“It’s easier to ship the food up there than bring them south, feed them, and eventually send them back north. If you can spare enough time to be relieved, that will be his problem, not yours.”
Cho Ho-jin found Kary back at her “office” in the headquarters tent. Although there were always people working, it was quieter after the dinner hour, and it gave her time to think and plan for the next day.
Kary’s office consisted of a table with two folding chairs. A cardboard box under the table held a few items she worked with and several hard-copy printouts she still had to read more carefully. Her badge of authority, a cell phone with Kevin Little’s number already loaded, lay on the corner of the desk. As sparse as her workspace was, it was prime real estate. Colonel Little’s office was just a few feet away.
She sat with two pads of paper on her lap. One had a list of tasks that needed to be done right away, and the second listed things that had to be done before the first list could be dealt with. She was tired, overstimulated, and wrung out. It was a different kind of tired than her recent all-night drive south with Cho.
But she also felt happy, and relaxed in a way she hadn’t felt since the coup in the North had begun. Barring stray missiles or rogue dinosaurs, she was physically safe, the people she was taking care of were safe, and she could work to make things better.
And her latest phone call with her father had gone very well. It was her third or fourth, and while she was telling him about the camp and her work, he was telling her about her cousin’s wedding plans. It was several months off, and she might be able to attend.
She knew other people talked to their families like that all the time, but her anger at her father, turned sideways, had kept her away from the family member closest to her. Kary could be stubborn. She understood that part of her personality. She had Cho to thank for breaking the logjam.
The words on the paper swam, and she shook her head to clear it. At some point, she’d have to go back to the tent she shared with three other women and sleep, but her mind whirled with thoughts that needed to be captured before they flew away. Then she could rest.
Cho came into the tent. She waved and offered him the other chair. Sitting, he reported, “Cheon Ji-hyo just came out of surgery. I spoke with the doctors, and they said there was very little work left for them to do.” His smile broadened. “Gam Sook-ja and the children said to thank Fowler-seonsangnim for saving their mother’s life again.”