No. Better to wrong what might be an innocent man than to risk the loss of a government. He turned to Kim. “Pass the word to the security forces. Arrest General Hahn.”
They were right on time, moving at a steady twenty kilometers per hour down the multilane highway. The frost-covered fields and rugged hills of the countryside were beginning to give way to tall, block-long apartment buildings, sprawling factories, and huge, flat-roofed warehouses. It was still dark and Chang could see stars sparkling in the icy black night sky. But the crescent moon was sinking lower on the horizon, and the sun would rise in less than three hours. If he had been a poet, he would have been moved by what he saw.
Instead, he thumbed a switch on the microphone. “All units. All units. This is Tango One Five. Five kilometers to Point Alpha.”
He switched off and handed the mike back down to his radioman in the troop compartment. Point Alpha was the code name he’d chosen for the intersection at which his column of PCs, trucks, and tanks would split, with each unit moving separately to its assigned objective. He would personally lead the battalion heading for the Blue House to arrest the President.
He felt a hand on his leg and looked down. His aide stood below, hunched over and swaying as the PC rumbled down the highway.
“We’re almost up to the final checkpoint, sir. Any change in instructions?”
Chang shook his head. “No. I’ll handle this one personally. But tell Captain Sung that I want his best platoon ready to move in if there’s any trouble. I don’t want our fat friends in the ministry alerted to the danger just yet.”
The man nodded and dropped down into the crowded troop compartment. Chang settled back to enjoy the ride. Everything was going according to plan.
The last checkpoint on the MSR loomed out of the darkness, a row of reflector-topped barricades stretched across the road. He could see a few black-bereted figures moving behind the barricades, their assault rifles slung across their shoulders. The lights were on in the guardhouse built beside the highway. Chang’s PC slowed to a halt a few yards in front of the roadblock, and he clambered down off the vehicle. He stretched, checked to make sure he had his papers, and started walking toward the guardhouse.
Suddenly he found himself speared by a dazzlingly bright light that threw his shadow back along the road for yards. His eyes closed involuntarily in the glare, and he raised a hand to try to block it out. Some bastard had turned a searchlight on him.
“General Chang.” The megaphone robbed the speaker’s voice of any individuality. “This is Colonel Lee of the First Special Forces Group. You are under arrest for plotting against the security of the state.”
Damn. They had been betrayed. It was the only explanation. Who was it? Was it that DSC bastard Hahn? Chang stood still for a moment, stunned.
“You will come forward with your hands raised above your head. And you will order your troops to dismount from their vehicles without their weapons. Any man carrying a weapon will be shot without further warning.”
Chang heard boots slamming down on the pavement ahead and equipment rattling, and through half-open eyes he saw the barricades lined with fully equipped Black Berets. Most of their weapons were pointing at him.
His lips tightened. Quite an honor. The government considered him so dangerous that it made him the personal target of more than a hundred riflemen and machine gunners. A thought crept into his head through the shock. Perhaps they were right to fear him. After all, these men were also soldiers. They could not be happy with the chaos they saw around them. Why should they be his enemies and his undoing?
He straightened up and slowly brought his hands down toward his sides. He turned his head away from the searchlight’s glare, seeking out the line of troops ahead of him.
“Soldiers of Korea!” Chang’s voice carried easily through the night air. “Fellow soldiers.”
He paused, searching for the right words. “Do not let yourselves be turned into unthinking pawns for these corrupt politicians! Don’t help these ink-stained bureaucrats use you as a shield while they destroy our country!”
He took a step closer to the barricades. No one fired. He wished he could see their faces, could see the effect his words were having.
“Join us!” Chang waved an arm back toward the silent column of vehicles massed behind him. He saw movement out of the corner of an eye. There were government troops in position along the sides of the highway as well. It had been a thoroughly planned ambush.
“Join us to oust these fat ones who sit idle while you are beaten by communist mobs. Join us to restore order in the streets and prosperity to our nation.” He was within a few yards of the barricades now. It was working. He could see rifles beginning to waver, and he could hear muttering from the men ahead of him.
Chang took another step forward and started to smile. He was going to do it. He was going to bring these men over to his side. All it would take were a few more carefully chosen words. He opened his mouth to speak.
Two hundred yards away, Colonel Lee brought his night-vision glasses down slowly. He’d set up his CP on a flat-roofed warehouse to get a better view of the action. That had been a mistake. Now he was too far away to counteract the man’s oratory. The Special Forces officer shook his head. Chang was good. He’d hit just the right note, and Lee could see his men wavering, starting to turn toward rebellion.
Now there was only one way left to stop that. He looked at the sergeant lying prone on the roof next to him. “Do it.”
The sergeant nodded and lifted the sniper rifle to his shoulder. He squinted through the scope for a moment and squeezed the trigger.
The bullet caught Chang in the throat, tore through, and exploded out the back of his neck.
There was no pain, but Chang found himself falling backward onto the pavement. He couldn’t feel his arms or legs, and when he opened his mouth to cry out, he couldn’t get any air into his lungs.
Oh. Chang knew he’d been shot, knew he was dying. Time seemed to slow; he could see the stars overhead spiraling down to earth. Sons of bitches. They’d never given him a chance. It was over.
Chang was dead before the gunner aboard his APC came out of shock long enough to trigger his.50-caliber machine gun. But he avenged his general twenty times over as the burst caught men at the barricade and threw them back in a spray of blood and shattered bone.
A Special Forces heavy weapons team on the left flank saw the carnage and slammed a Dragon missile into the APC’s side. It exploded, ripping through the PC’s thin aluminum armor and hurling it over onto the pavement upside down and on fire.
Then the other Black Berets opened up, flaying the trapped column with antitank missiles, grenades, and machine guns. It was a slaughter. Chang’s men were in a tightly packed march formation with their vehicles spaced just far enough apart for safety during the drive south. It was a formation that guaranteed disaster under fire.
Drivers who tried to wheel out of the column to escape the crossfires laid down by the Black Berets either collided with the vehicles in front or back or were shot dead. Canvas-sided trucks were shredded by machine-gun fire that butchered the soldiers trapped inside. Men who’d dropped onto the pavement were cut down before they could lift their rifles. High-pitched screams from the wounded echoed above the gunfire. A tank, trying to escape, ground its way over a loaded truck, crushing it into a crumpled mass of blood-soaked steel. Seconds later, a Dragon missile caught the tank and blew its turret off, sending flames roaring into the night sky. Trucks and APCs exploded, throwing flaming gasoline high into the air. Smoke from burning vehicles billowed above the highway, blotting out the setting moon.