Dangerous Alliance Read online

  “Aye.” Craig grinned at the man’s audacity and got him another pint.

  Trevor cleared the remainder of the deck and grabbed his radio. “Team, this is Black, report.”

  “Black this is Red. I guard five hostages. Rest of team on quarter deck.”

  “Confirmed. Haggis tending to one hostage. Proceeding to stern end of the upper deck. Rendezvous with hostages.”

  “Black this is Green. Ag, man, as soon as we clear the upper deck, we’ll join you.”

  “Roger. Black out.”

  ***

  Trevor and Nate took the port side, Fergus and Gerhard proceeded along the starboard. As they searched, a clinking sound came from the direction of the bow.

  “What’s that?” Nate stopped to listen.

  Fergus laughed. “A fruit machine.”

  “What?”

  “I tink you Yanks would call it a slot machine.”

  They hurried forward, the sound growing louder with each step. An alarm triggered and bells rang, the clinking became a rush.

  “Casino,” Trevor mouthed to Nate.

  Nate grabbed Trevor’s arm and pointed to starboard. The other pair gave a thumbs-up. The four men rushed the casino, weapons leading the way.

  “Down, down, down,” Trevor shouted. Three thugs crowded around a slot machine, one with his hand poised to pull the lever, froze in position. One glanced at his TCR on a nearby table. Gerhard moved forward, his TGR2 aimed at the terrorist’s stomach.

  Hands in the air, they sank to their knees as the team swarmed over them. A terrorist, his arm hidden behind one of the others, raised his pistol and fired.

  “Ow! Bastard winged me.” Fergus grabbed his ear, blood seeping through his hand.

  Nate spun, his TGR2 sighted on the shooter and nailed him in the chest. The man collapsed. The team secured the remaining terrorists and continued their search for the final hostage.

  They located their goal in the cruise director’s office on the upper deck ten minutes later. Once the team removed his gag and bindings, the distinguished-looking gentleman in a Savile Row suit, trimmed black beard, and manicured hands stood. He gazed at the team.

  “I say, about time you arrived.” Sir Alexander Jackson, the British National Security Advisor, glanced at his watch. “Only an hour and forty-seven minutes to find me. Not bad on a ship the size of the QE2.

  “CC, what’s your assessment? It was entertaining to watch on the monitors.”

  “Aye, Sir Alex. The team did a good job for their first training scenario. Some of the terrorists overplayed their parts when they were hit with non-working stun guns, but their actions helped add realism. Same with the hostages, too—great acting.

  “When Bedlam Alpha held their first training mission, we used Tipmman Tactical Compact Rifles and TiPX pistols. More realistic using the TGR2s for the team giving the terrorists TCR rifles and TiPX pistols for returning fire.”

  After each man stripped off his Kevlar vest, extra protective padding, and helmet, Sir Alex shook their hands. “The exercise is concluded. Release the Navy volunteers who played our terrorists and hostages. I hope you didn’t pound them too hard. I’ll meet you at Whitehall in a week.”

  Chapter Two

  Zhongnanhai, Imperial City

  Beijing

  Soo Khan Chin paced back and forth in the Zhongnanhai imperial palace waiting room. He glanced at his watch a second time.

  Outrageous. I arrived an hour ago, and I’m still waiting. This is no way to treat the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea’s ambassador to China. Soo raked his hands through his gray hair and tugged on his jacket to straighten out any wrinkles. He glanced at the massive tapestries covering the walls, depicting happy Chinese workers and frowned.

  “His Excellency offers you some refreshment while you wait.” A Chinese servant appeared, holding a tray with tea and several plates of dim sum. He bowed to the ambassador.

  Soo sat on an orange, overstuffed chair next to a hand-carved rosewood table. The attendant placed the items in front of him and poured the tea.

  “Xiè xie nǐ (thank you).”

  The man backed away from Soo, gave a final bow before he turned and left the hall.

  He added sugar and stirred. Did they add something to the tea or food?

  Soo dropped the spoon and pushed the tea and dim sum across the table. Despite the delectable aromas wafting from the dishes, causing his empty stomach to rumble, he resisted the urge to partake.

  The ambassador stood and resumed pacing. His thoughts swirled as he searched for a way out of his current dilemma, which began two days ago.

  ***

  Summoned from Beijing, he stood in front of the DPRK’s Supreme Leader, Wook Sung. Dressed in black, Wook presented a foreboding figure to all who met with him.

  “Soo, we are facing the most serious problem since my family assumed leadership of our glorious country. My people now possess more freedom and rights than any nation in the world. I give them the right to work, play, learn, and provide free medical care. In return, they may petition me whenever an issue arises.”

  “Yes, Supreme Leader.”

  “Today’s demonstration went too far. The Army arrested those responsible for organizing the uprising, and they will receive a fair trial.” Wook slammed a plump hand on his desk, causing Soo to jump. “Afterward, they will visit Camp Fourteen.

  “I realize there is a food shortage. Our factories no longer produce because there is no oil to keep them running. Our military strength teeters toward disaster. This is not my fault. The problem lies with our sworn enemy—America and their puppets in Seoul. We are peaceful, but America wishes for our death.”

  He paced, his hands clasped behind his back. "Their sanctions have caused our people to go hungry." He whirled about and stabbed the air with his finger. "They are the reason our factories are idle because the lack of oil stops them from producing goods.”

  Wook sat, grasping the arms of his chair until his knuckles turned white. “America wishes for our death, and the ruin of a peaceful people. They believe us isolated, but they are wrong. We still have friends."

  “Yes, Supreme Leader.”

  “Return to Beijing. Request an immediate audience with that fat goat, Huang Fen.” Wook stared at Soo through beady eyes. “Get us oil.”

  “Yes, Supreme Leader.”

  “And Soo, just because we grew up together, doesn’t mean I will accept failure.” Wook sank back into his chair, steepling his fingers. “What will become of your family if something happens to you?”

  ***

  Soo shook his head to erase the memory of the meeting. He required clear thinking when he met with Premier Huang. He must not falter—his life and those of his family were at stake.

  Glancing at his gold watch, a gift from the supreme leader many years ago, Soo noted another thirty minutes had passed with no indication when his audience with the premier would occur. Tired of pacing, he resumed his seat.

  Two tall, white doors with engraved red dragons opened without a sound. The same servant who brought him the refreshments tilted his head and swept the air in front of him with his right hand, indicating Soo should follow.

  Seated on an oversized, but unadorned chair, the Premier of the People’s Republic of China, Huang Fen, bid the ambassador forward.

  Soo stepped to a faint line painted on the marble floor and bowed. He held the pose long enough not to appear disrespectful and stood taller than his five-foot-six-inch frame might suggest.

  “What does your glorious leader want this time, Soo? Last month he wanted rice. The month before he pleaded for wheat.” Huang rubbed his hairless double chin with fingers so thick, the rings he wore were dwarfed by the size of them.

  On previous occasions, after the initial greeting, Soo had been offered a chair. None were in view for this session. Even an official painting of Chairman Mao Tse-tung seemed to scowl at him.

  “Your Excellency, it is my great hon—”

  “Enou
gh.” Huang waved a hand to cut off Soo’s diplomatic speak. “What. Does. He. Want?”

  Horrified at the breach of etiquette, Soo took a step back. “Y-your Excellency, Supreme Leader Wook requests assistance from the People’s Republic of China—”

  “Stop the formal chatter, Soo. What do you require?”

  “Oil, Excellency. My country is suffering because of the United Nations’ sanctions. Our industries are crippled. There isn’t enough food. The military cannot function.” Soo took a deep breath and relaxed before releasing his frustration. “Excellency, without your help I fear the imperialist Americans and their lackeys in Seoul will attack at any moment.”

  “My sources tell me the Americans will not attack Pyongyang or anywhere else in the North.” A grim, half-smile quivered upon Huang’s lips. “Wook should nurture his allies, not distress them, as he did to me. He embarrassed me in front of the Security Council again.” He shook his head, his face void of expression. “I won’t let anyone treat me in this manner.”

  “Your Excellency, I implore you to support us in our time of need.” Soo wrung his hands.

  Huang stared out a window. He seemed more interested in the cumulonimbus clouds sweeping the deep blue sky. After a few moments, he turned back to Soo.

  “I cannot help you. China requires every last drop of oil we purchase on the foreign market. Our expansionist plans require the mobilization of the People’s Liberation Army at a moment’s notice.”

  “But ….” Soo hung his head in desperation.

  “I’m sorry. You are a good man, Soo, but that knowledge alters nothing.” Huang heaved a deep sigh. “Did your despot threaten you or your family? Bring them here. In recognition of your many years of honorable service between our countries, I offer you and your family sanctuary.”

  “Thank you, Excellency. But your generous offer might be too late. I believe he is holding my wife and sons at Camp Fourteen, our most feared political prison.” Tears dripped from Soo’s eyes as despair set in.

  “My offer stands. If you find your family, bring them here.”

  ***

  The DPRK-chartered flight departed from Beijing amid a subdued atmosphere. The sole passenger, Soo sat in a first-class seat, staring at the photograph of the supreme leader on the bulkhead. His shoulders trembled and he dropped his face in his hands but couldn't hold back his tears.

  Ninety minutes later, tires squealed as the plane touched down at Pyongyang’s Sunan International Airport. The solitary attendant bid him good day as he trudged down the stairs to a waiting vehicle.

  Unlike standard protocol, when Soo approached the limousine, he found the driver had not gotten out to open the door and see him settled. Frowning, Soo jerked the door open himself, and collapsed onto the leather seat. The driver started the limo into motion before Soo had closed the door.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  Silence.

  “I asked, where are you taking me?”

  “To our Supreme Leader.”

  “But where?”

  “Ryongsong Residence.”

  Soo swallowed hard. He knew what happened when someone was sent to Ryongsong. He’d seen it many times.

  They disappeared.

  The driver continued through the empty streets. Both men remained silent. Soo wrestled with his emotions, despair overriding any glimmer of hope he might come out of this meeting alive. He paid little attention to the journey, his stomach churning at what might happen at the residence. Will I be taken prisoner? Accused of treason? He wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers. He shivered.

  When the vehicle stopped at a side entrance to the residence, two guards met Soo and ushered him inside. Without a word, they escorted him to an opulent antechamber filled with priceless statues, paintings, and tapestries. Silk carpets adorned the marble floor.

  As Soo sat on a straight-back chair awaiting his audience, his escorts stood on either side. A simple clock resting on a glass table ticked the seconds away. The fragrant scent of orchids teased the air from the arrangements dotted around the room.

  A door opened. The sentinels led Soo into the passage toward his uncertain destiny.

  Wook Sung, dressed again in black, sat on a red leather sofa, a low coffee table in front, holding a single glass. Ranged on either side of him, six generals stood stone-faced, with their trademark notepads and pens, ready to capture the Supreme Leader’s words.

  Soo and his escort stopped several paces from Wook. The guards saluted, while Soo bowed.

  “What news do you bring me, Soo?”

  “Supreme Leader, the Chinese premier sends his regards to you. He … he said no … oil.” Soo spat out the last word, certain this would lead to his demise.

  Wook slammed his fist on the table. The glass toppled, spilling its contents over the polished surface. A servant standing near the door rushed forward to clean the table. Wook waved him away.

  “I gave you fair warning before you traveled to Beijing. One simple task. Traitors fail. You failed.”

  “B-but, Supreme Leader, I did my b-best.”

  “Heroes do their best, Soo. What did you achieve? Nothing." Wook wiped a hand along the side of his head, pushing an errant hair back into place. “I’m a kind-hearted man.” He placed his hands in front of him, appearing to gaze at his nails. “I love your family. You have a beautiful wife and she’s given you wonderful children. You’ll be given one more chance because of our long friendship. I’ll provide the details in a day or so.”

  “Thank you, Supreme Leader. I won’t—”

  “I know you won’t let me down. To ensure your success, your wife, Jung Gi, will be transported to the Chongori correctional facility. Tonight. She will service the guards until you return victorious or they tire of her.”

  “No, Supreme Leader. I beg you. Please, don’t send her to the camp.”

  “I didn’t send her to a re-education facility. Your ineptitude is responsible. Succeed, and she might be returned to you. Fail, and she will die.”

  Crestfallen, Soo stared at the floor. “What about my boys? What will become of them?” Evil bastard.

  “They will stay with me. Fail me again, and I’ll erase your entire family from history.”

  Chapter Three

  Ministry of Foreign Affairs

  Pyongyang, North Korea

  Soo Khan Chin stormed past his secretary into his office at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, slamming the door behind him. He marched to his desk and swept his arm across the surface, knocking everything to the floor.

  He flung himself into the chair and cradled his head in his hands. His body wracked with sobs, he contemplated the future.

  Bleak.

  Soo unlocked the bottom right drawer, removed a wooden box, and opened the lid. He stared at the hardware as he leaned back in his chair. Placing the cold, black barrel against his temple, Soo thought of taking the easy way out. Then the faces of his wife and children swam into his thoughts. He jerked the Chinese Norinco away.

  No! This is the coward’s way. I’ll show Wook.

  Soo placed the pistol back in the drawer and pushed the intercom button.

  “Yes, Ambassador?”

  “Nari, please come in.”

  “At once.” A moment later, Nari, gray-haired and stooped, entered Soo’s office.

  “Oh! What happened?” Bug-eyed, she bent down to pick up the papers and photo frames strewn across the floor.

  “I slipped when I entered and fell against the desk. Once you finish, I have instructions.”

  ***

  Ambassador Soo requested an immediate audience with Supreme Leader Wook.

  Two days later, Soo entered Wook’s chambers, surrounded by armed guards. Two generals stood in the background, notebooks and pens in hand.

  “Well, Soo, did you bring me results?”

  “Not yet, Supreme Leader. I-I brought a plan—one which should gain us the oil you require.”

  “I’m listening. But don’t try my patience.”


  “No, Supreme Leader.” Soo trembled and dipped his head. “Since China won’t help us during this crisis, I propose seeking help from other allies who possess oil or influence.”

  “Hmm.” Wook rubbed his right index finger across his lips. “Which countries?”

  “I did some investigation: Russia and Iran first. Angola and Equatorial Guinea next. Venezuela last, because of the distance to travel. They all produce oil. Russia, Iran, and Venezuela also maintain international influence.” No need to let him know Nari did the research.

  Wook paced the room, hands clasped behind his back. Soo waited for his leader to decide, the only sound the click-clack of Wook’s shoes on the marble floor.

  The pacing stopped. Wook turned to the ambassador, a glint in his eye. “Make it happen.”

  “Yes, Supreme Leader.” Soo bowed his head, assuming he had been dismissed.

  “And, Soo … don’t fail. Remember the penalty—your family’s lives are at stake.”

  “Yes, Supreme Leader.” He rushed out of the room, fighting back his anger. Bastard.

  ***

  Back in his office, Soo summoned Nari. “Our Supreme Leader gave me permission to travel. Set up appointments beginning in two weeks with the foreign ministers of Angola, Equatorial Guinea, and Venezuela. I’ll take care of Russia and Iran myself—they’re more important, so I’ll meet with them first. Contact our embassies and advise them of my impending arrival.”

  “Yes, Ambassador. Anything else?”

  “No—wait. Yes, thank you, Nari. Without your help, my family would be doomed. Now, there might still be a chance to rescue them.”

  Nari glanced at Soo, bewilderment etched on her face with the unusual offer of thanks. She contained her emotions before speaking. “Thank you, Ambassador.”

  Soo dismissed Nari and placed a call to the Russian Ministry. “Hello, this is Ambassador Soo Khan Chin, from the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.”

  “Yes, sir. How might I help you today, Ambassador?”

  “Please connect me with Foreign Minister Andropov.”