Red Phoenix Burning (13 page)

Kary headed back toward her office, at one end of the clinic. She would have to keep them all busy, somehow, because she knew that most of them would be like Moon—confused and afraid. And keeping them busy would help keep her busy, too, because she was also afraid. She thought about the chaos she’d witnessed in the past week and shuddered. She hated anything to do with politics, but knew instinctively that North Korea had been rebuilt to Kim’s design, with him as the keystone. How many would be crushed when it tumbled down?

The mission compound was surrounded by a low fence, more marker than a barrier, and she saw someone waiting by their front gate. It was normally left open, but since the coup attempt they’d been closing and locking it. It was a futile gesture, but they did it anyway.

Now Sergeant Choi Sung-min was waving to her, and she quickened her pace a little. Sergeant Choi was the neighborhood supervisor for the Ministry of Public Security. The ministry was responsible for traffic and catching criminals, but was also charged with searching for hints of disloyalty. They were ubiquitous and did their best to be omniscient. No occurrence was too small for their interest. Since the coup attempt, Choi had replaced his customary slate-gray patrol uniform with drab green fatigues, and carried a rifle slung over his shoulder.

In spite of the masters he served, Kary still thought of him as the local policeman. He’d caught petty criminals stealing from their gardens, and if the price of his service was a bag of vegetables or a bottle of pills, that was necessary but acceptable. He wasn’t greedy, and since they’d treated his children on more than one occasion, the sergeant had come to see their usefulness.

As she unlocked the gate and opened it for him, he said, “You should leave Korea.” She started to smile, because that was his customary greeting. When she’d first come to Sinan years ago, it had been a sincere, almost hostile sentiment. Even after Choi’s children had recovered from whooping cough, he had persisted, almost a pro forma exhortation. She finally realized that he probably had to file weekly reports on his progress in “convincing the foreigner to leave.” As long as he went through the motions, he could answer yes, and his superiors would be satisfied. And it was clear he didn’t want the mission to close, not as long as she met him with a small parcel of food or medicine.

This time, instead of a near-joke, she could see he was deadly serious. After he stepped inside and she closed and locked the gate, they began walking toward one side of the compound. “Kary Fowler-
yang
, you have to leave. Mayor Song ordered me to arrest you and your entire staff yesterday, but I managed to dissuade him.”

She was too shocked to reply immediately, and the sergeant explained, “Song-
dongji
received an urgent order from the party that special efforts were to be made to find and apprehend the foreign influences that were corrupting the country. There would be penalties for those who were lax.”

Kary didn’t try to protest her innocence. The word had no meaning here. “How did you talk him out of it?” By now they’d reached one end of the main clinic building. A canopy and a few old chairs offered rest and shade from the August sun.

Choi sat gratefully, unslinging his rifle and laying it across his knees. “I reminded him of the generous subsidy that your organization makes to the community. If your mission closed, those subsidies would stop. I also promised to redouble my surveillance of your subversive activities.”

She almost laughed, but caught herself in time. The sergeant had been joking, of course, but open laughter could be a dangerous thing. “I’m very grateful, of course.”

His face hardened. “But that was yesterday. The situation has now changed. There is no way to tell if your organization,”—Choi refused to say ‘Christian Friends’—”will be able to continue to provide support, for you, or him.”

She heard the implied question, and replied, “We’ve had no contact with home, or most of the other missions, since the fifteenth of August.” She was referring to the first attempt on Kim’s life, but officialdom had quickly prohibited the use of words like “coup” or “assassination,” as if they could define them out of existence. If the heinous deed needed to be referred to at all, it was by the date.

“We did receive a note from our clinic near Kaechon,” she said hopefully. “They’ve had some problems, but are coping and waiting for the crisis to pass.”

“Is that your plan?” Choi asked skeptically. His tone was kind, but it still sounded like a criticism. “Wait for it to go away?”

“What else can we do?” Kary protested. “People are still sick, and now we’re even treating trauma patients, like that robbery victim you brought us the other day.”

“I had to. The hospital will only treat soldiers and party officials now.” Choi made a face. “Bandits, of all things, robbing people in the fields as they work. It was the first time I’ve ever fired my weapon, other than the target range. One burst in the air, and they scattered like crows.”

“I’m glad you stopped them, but I’m glad you didn’t shoot them, either,” she added. “Maybe they’ll rethink their behavior.”

Choi shook his head. “Fowler-
yang
, they weren’t the first ones I’ve seen, and I hear reports of more all the time. And you can’t depend on the protection of the party or the army anymore.” He lowered his voice. “I watched the broadcast in the mayor’s office, along with many others.” Choi spoke even more softly, barely a whisper. “Song-
dongji
panicked, and others as well. He ordered our captain to mobilize the reserves, and form a militia for defense of the community. He had received word of army units mutinying. The Supreme Leader’s death will only make it worse.”

Reaching into a pocket of his fatigue pants, Choi showed Kary a small automatic pistol. “One of the bandits dropped this. It’s a Makarov, just like my service pistol. Nine shots.” He pulled the magazine out of the grip and locked the slide back, clearing the weapon. “Here.” He offered it to her.

“No, I can’t take it. I wouldn’t know how to use it. My Christian faith . . .”

“The people you’re responsible for don’t share your faith, and I hope you’re not planning to convert the bandits. Proselytizing without state permission is a serious offense.” He smiled.

“Most of them will turn and run if you show any teeth.” He paused for a moment, but could see she wasn’t convinced. “Think of it as a noisemaker.”

Reluctantly, she took the pistol and the magazine. Of course, he’d broken any number of laws in giving it to her, but that didn’t matter much now.

And actually, she’d lied to Choi. Her father, Blake Fowler, had several guns in their home, and had encouraged his children, including young Kary, to learn how to use them. That didn’t mean she liked them, and definitely didn’t want to shoot anyone. There was too much killing in North Korea already.

Choi showed her how to use the safety and load and unload the pistol. He sighed with relief. “This eases my mind somewhat. And don’t be afraid to put a few shots in the air. I or one of my men will come.”

21 August 2015

Southwest of Chongju, North Korea

Rhee and his team were on schedule, but just barely. They’d reached a good spot for their hide, where they could overlook the third and last regiment of the 425th Mechanized Corps. They’d successfully snooped one regiment near the abandoned antiaircraft battery, then snuck in closer to Chongju town to have a look at the corps’ headquarters, checked the second regiment’s cantonment at the same time, and arrived at their last planned lookout before dawn that morning.

Over the past three nights and two days, they’d seen a land in chaos. The antiaircraft battery had been an early warning, as had the civilians moving at night.

From their perch overlooking the first regiment’s base, they’d studied the unit and its activities. The 425th, one of the best-armed units in the DPRK army, was at war. Groups of armored vehicles headed in different directions, while trucks carried soldiers to man defensive positions visible in the distance. These were not simple roadblocks, but entrenchments that included machine guns and heavy weapons. The team could see mortar positions supporting the main defensive line. Who were they fighting?

Throughout the day, they’d taken turns, with one pair observing and recording the regiment’s activities, while the other two kept watch and rested. Even in the field, Rhee had taken the opportunity to school the new men on their technique. He reminded Guk, “On the next mission, you’ll be in the lead, with new men to train.”

There was no sign of patrols or aerial surveillance, but the regiment was at full alert. Late in the day, a large column of armored fighting vehicles left in the direction of Chongju, but its purpose was unknown. It had not returned by the time they left.

The commandos hadn’t seen much activity in the farms or businesses during that first day, and only light traffic on the road, except for military vehicles. Rhee knew anyone using them for travel could expect to be stopped and questioned more than a few times, with uncertain results.

During the second night, they’d spotted and avoided more civilians, once the point man confirmed that’s what they were, but it all cost time. The team heard gunfire once, so far away it was hard to hear distinct shots. It had lasted some little while, though. Either a prolonged skirmish or short battle.

During the second day, at their new hide, they’d surveyed the 425th’s headquarters and another of its regiments, located nearby. This regiment was sending out patrols, as well as manning defensive positions. Groups of DPRK soldiers passed as close as five meters to them as the scouts lay camouflaged and completely silent. The patrols never spotted them. Rhee blessed their luck, not only for remaining undetected, but for the confidence it gave his team.

Rhee’s report via SATCOM had included not only the strength and composition of the units, but that his team had witnessed several executions by firing squad inside the headquarters compound. The rifle volleys could be heard at a distance.

The third night, their second move, was a repeat of the first. The team didn’t hear any more fighting that night, and reached their third and last planned hideout in good order. After making sure they were well concealed, Rhee had allowed them a little sleep. He was pleased with the team’s performance. Lieutenant Guk and Corporal Ma had been nervous, almost hyperalert at first, but had quickly settled down. They demonstrated good field skills and followed Rhee’s orders intelligently.

But even success presented challenges. After three nights and two days of creeping and watching, fatigue had begun to creep in. Soldiers were trained to recognize the signs, and also how to cope, but the field was never the same as training.

Even as they dug in and concealed themselves, it was clear that this regiment’s base was different from the other two. Signs of a fight surrounded it, including shell craters and wrecked vehicles. The emplacements surrounding the cantonment, as well as the structures inside, were damaged, and some showed signs of fire. This regiment had been attacked.

There were no bodies visible, and the wrecks were burnt out. Rhee concluded that the fight had happened several days ago, likely before his team had arrived in the North.

The wrecked vehicles all appeared to have North Korean markings. A quick excursion to one of the outlying wrecks in morning twilight had confirmed them as belonging to the 425th. This one regiment was in revolt against the rest of its corps. So far, it appeared to be holding out.

Shortly after noon, Rhee recognized the sound of an artillery shell, but the new men were only half a beat behind the veterans in hugging the ground. The
whoosh
of the incoming shell was a fraction of a second long, ending in a distant, dull boom from the direction of the regiment’s cantonment.

Other rounds followed, in clusters of four. Raising their heads, the team saw explosions inside the regiment’s base. Rhee asked, “What size do you think, Lieutenant?”

“One two-twos, probably,” Guk answered quickly.

“I agree. Do some map work and see if you can figure out where they’re firing from.” As he spoke, Rhee was watching the base. It was a random barrage, which was good, because it meant no artillery observer, tucked away in the hills with binoculars. There was no telling what else someone like that might see.

For about fifteen minutes, the base was hammered by medium artillery. Most landed inside the base, which occupied several square kilometers. It wasn’t a hard target to hit. To Rhee, it showed incompetence in either not using an observer, or in using more than a few rounds for what was harassing fire. As a rule, after the first few salvos, everyone’s either in a hole or dead.

Ma, the radio operator, reached over and tapped Rhee’s shoulder as he watched the artillery barrage. “It’s headquarters, sir. It’s a recall.” When Rhee didn’t respond immediately, Ma said, “They’re ordering us out.”

Rhee shook his head. That didn’t make sense. “You must have heard them wrong.” He reached for the handset and Ma handed it to him. Automatically, the two switched places, with Ma on lookout while Rhee used the radio.

“We need you to get out now, Colonel.” He recognized General Kwon’s voice.

“Sir, there’s a civil war going on between units of the 425th.”

“That’s not important anymore, Colonel.”

Shocked, Rhee tried to form a question that didn’t sound like insubordination. The general quickly explained what had happened an hour ago, and what was happening now. “The army is moving north. We are already across the border in several places, and you have a brigade to run. The sub will be waiting for you, beginning at sundown.” He broke the connection before Rhee could even confirm.

Rhee meant to put the handset away, but paused, motionless, his mind filled with the general’s news. Kim dead. The armed forces of the Republic of Korea crossing the border. Could it be true...unification?

Everyone in the South had hoped for this day. He’d seen the army’s plans for exactly this scenario—an invasion if the northern regime imploded. It was like D-Day and Christmas at once. He should feel happy, or excited, but decided there was just too much to do.