Darke Mission (25 page)

* * *

JJ had hired an E-class titanium hued Mercedes AMG at Seoul airport. He was driving, Ethel was in the front passenger seat and Victor, all hooked up with his laptop and smartphones lolling about in the back. They had just passed Gangnam Station and were on the lookout for PAU Travel, the CIA's cover for their embedded office in the South Korean capital. The FAW-style trucks and tankers had been parked up a few minutes away in a vast multi-storey car park that was full of trucks, buses and other large vehicles. The Mercedes Sprinter van was parked there too. The car park, really it was a truck park, had twenty-four hour security so JJ felt comfortable. Being out of sight in plain sight was often the best way.

JJ parked on the street just outside of PAU Travel. Before he could even ring the bell, the door opened and there was Jim Bradbury.

“Saw you coming, JJ, you must be slipping in your old age,” said the man from Arizona, giving JJ a full strength man-hug.

JJ was happy to see Jim. “You don't sound very Korean for a KLO, Jim.”

“I can turn on the Korean when I want, as you know,” retorted Bradbury.

JJ introduced Ethel and Victor. Jim didn't ask them or JJ anything about his companions, their backgrounds or their skillset. They were here with JJ, his old pal, and that was good enough.

“Come on in and sit down and let's grab a decent coffee,” Bradbury said as he motioned his three guests into a meeting room just beyond the front desk of the apparent travel agency. “Let me get a couple of the guys,” said Bradbury, clearly referring to the two helpful Koreans that he had mentioned before.

Ethel and JJ were enjoying their decent coffees, Victor stuck to water, he was still footering about on his tablet. Jim Bradbury returned with two Koreans, both apparently in their early thirties, though it was difficult to tell with an untrained eye. One was about 5ft 10in, slim and athletic looking, the other about three inches shorter, more stocky and with muscles bulging through his upper shirt sleeves. Both had dark brown hair, cut short.

“This is Kim Min-Jun,” said Jim Bradbury, pointing to the muscly shorter one, “and this is Kim Chun-So,” he added introducing the taller one. “We call them Lily and the Iceman.”

JJ wanted to know why those nicknames but he would find that out later. For the moment, he was just interested in what these two Korean CIA officers could do. Both Kims had trained at ‘The Point' in North Carolina and had gone to university in the same state. They had become the best of friends and had requested their current assignments in South Korea. They had been briefed by Jim Bradbury that an ex-MI5 Officer and his team had been ordered to carry out a delicate ex-fill operation in the North and that the CIA was to assist. Beyond that they knew little. This first meeting was unlikely to enlighten them any further.

As JJ and Jim Bradbury stepped out of the meeting room, the two Kims, Ethel and Victor got to know each other a little. The discussion was primarily small talk, background, training etc. It was relatively straightforward for Ethel, she explained CO19 and her role in it and said that she'd been selected for the mission primarily for her shooting prowess and that she had known JJ for a long time. Broadly speaking that was true. Victor piped up and said that he was ‘the knowledge' as far as any type of electronic communication and surveillance was concerned. This was broadly true as well. However, had his moral code been guided by the Roman Catholic catechism whereby actual sin is ‘every sin which we ourselves commit, by thought, word, deed or omission' then he'd have been branded a liar on the last count. No mention of safecracking or Belmarsh was on the table today.

As the four teammates continued their chat, Jim and JJ were standing outside, leaning against the water cooler. JJ was particularly happy to get rehydrated. He didn't drink as much water as he should have on the plane, either on the grounds of general well-being or more importantly given his particular health concern. It wasn't for a good reason either, simply because when he was down and comfy in the plane's seat, he never felt like getting up to pee every five minutes, or queue to pee, or get knocked out by the stench of pee in the plane's loos after a multi-hour flight. Some guys' aims are a disgrace.

“JJ, it's really really great to see you and you know I'll give you every assistance that I can. After that time in Bosnia when you saved my skin, I've always owed you, even if you didn't feel owed,” said Jim.

“I know you will, and it's no sweat, you'd have done the same for me,” replied JJ.

“I like to think I would have, but, in the heat of the moment, under heavy fire, you never know,” Bradbury said, realistically. “Look, JJ, I know there's more going on than an ex-fill operation. However important the ex-fill is, British Intelligence would have sent a regular MI6 team, not a retired MI5 Officer. Ethel might pass for an intelligence officer, but the kid, Victor, he seems more like a student on dope than an agent. I don't expect you to tell me everything, and I'll help you no matter what, but things around here have become a bit unusually active and I'm dedicating two of my men to your team. I need some kind of heads up.”

JJ contemplated Jim Bradbury's comments. He knew he was right. The man from Arizona was no dimwit and JJ was on his patch. Lying to him would be wrong and unprofessional. He was going to need to give Jim more information but not full information, just yet.

“Fine, Jim. Let's get some privacy and I'll fill you in.”

“Thanks, JJ. Much appreciated.”

As JJ left the support of the water cooler, preparing to have a one on one with his friend, Jim Bradbury put his hand on JJ's shoulder.

“Before we go into all that, JJ, there's someone in our secure communications room I think you'll want to meet.”

“How's your mum, Cally?”

JJ and his daughter were having dinner at Omoya, a Japanese Izakaya, not far from Gangnam station. JJ remembered that as a child Carolyn loved roast chicken and she still did, her second favourite dinner meal after Châteaubriand. The katsu sauce at Omoya was outstanding, robust and tangy. Carolyn was tucking in heartily.

“She's fine, met an American guy who works at
The
Wall Street Journal
in New York, so they chat about news stories all day long.”

Father and daughter dinners can be very rewarding or they can be awkward. This was a little awkward to begin with tonight, not really through the fault of either Darke.

“Jim Bradbury tells me you're going by your mother's maiden name?” JJ mentioned but he didn't want to push the issue too much.

Though it was Carolyn's mum who left him when he was in his early twenties and the baby only five years old, JJ hadn't been an overly attentive father. He was a student when he met Rebecca Reynolds. He was at Glasgow and she was an exchange student from the University of California at Berkeley. They met at a boisterous disco in the Adam Smith building at Glasgow University, had a torrid love affair and, whazam, nine months later out popped Carolyn. The three of them lived together in a student flat just off the Byers Road in Glasgow, then moved to London after they both had graduated and JJ had been recruited by MI5.

Rebecca struggled to settle in London. All her family were from San Francisco and she missed them. JJ worked long hours and, on occasion, would disappear for weeks on either a training course or, on a dangerous field mission. Rebecca, who had suspended her promising career as a news reporter to care for Carolyn, did not feel that JJ's paternal support for their daughter was up to scratch. So, with JJ's extremely reluctant blessing, Rebecca and Carolyn went back to the United States.

JJ missed his daughter with an agonising ache that had no words to describe it. Deep down he knew he chose work over family life, however important he had felt that work to be. He helped support Carolyn and Rebecca financially until the latter told him she was more than self-sufficient many years later. He kept in long-distance touch with his daughter and knew that she had joined the CIA. As the years went by however, the calls were a little more sporadic and the topics of discussion narrower and narrower.

“Once I'd joined the CIA, I thought it best to use mum's name. Darke is a memorable surname and you were still known to several of the CIA veterans,” Carolyn explained, saying veterans with cheeky intent.

JJ looked at Carolyn and, for the first time in a long time, he had tears in his eyes. His beautiful baby daughter was all grown up and had developed into a gorgeous young lady. He had more or less missed all of her teenage years and early career, the kind of times that having a good father around can be very useful.

He felt as emotionally rough as he could remember feeling, and for the first time in weeks the mission was not at the forefront of his mind. He knew he had to get back on focus so he looked lovingly at Carolyn for only a few seconds longer.

“So, Cally, what are you doing here in Seoul, at PAU Travel?” he asked.

Carolyn knew her dad would not expect her to spill her guts. Though she had successfully suppressed it for years, she remembered playing with him as a child. He was fun, loving and caring. She hadn't really understood back then why her mum had taken her to America. It seemed to boil down to a conclusion that several uncles, aunts and grandparents added up to more support than one, often absent, dad. Carolyn wasn't sure that was the right conclusion. But it was what it was, and she too needed to get back on point.

“I'm on a job for the agency,” she replied very matter of fact. “What are
you
doing here?”

“I'm on a job too,” JJ replied with equal stoicism.

“You're not MI5 anymore, are you?”

“No, I'm not, but I've been hauled out of retirement for one last job and that job is here.”

Carolyn knew that jobs for the British security services were not likely to be wholly fulfilling here in Seoul. “Are you going across the border?” she asked a little more penetratingly.

JJ knew his daughter was no dummy, so there was no point in lying. In any case, the PAU Travel office would be all abuzz with the recent activity of visiting personnel. Two NGA women locked up in the secure communications room and now an ex-MI5 officer and his entourage decide to visit. Something was afoot.

“I am, Cally,” JJ replied a little somberly. “In the next day or so. I can't say I'm really looking forward to it but it needs to be done. How about you?”

“No. My job here, with Dannielle, is a listening, translating, observation and reporting assignment, no wetworks or black ops,” she replied, sounding a little disappointed.

JJ was still getting used to his daughter being all grown up, having a career, let alone having a blind notion what wetworks and black ops were!
God, this was hard
he thought. “Is Jim looking after you and Dannielle?”

“Yes, he's great, very pleasant. He doesn't bother us, just makes sure we have the equipment we need and any local knowledge to help us. You two know each other don't you?”

“We do, we were on an op together many years ago. We didn't start out on the op together, Jim being CIA and me MI5, but force of circumstance threw us together. Luckily for us, it also threw us back out again in one piece!” He didn't feel like bringing up the fact that he had saved Jim Bradbury's life.

The atmospherics between father and daughter continued to improve as the evening progressed. They started chatting about their colleagues at PAU Travel. Carolyn told her dad that, like many more regular professions, the people were fixated by nicknames.

“Yes, I gathered that,” said JJ.

“Jim introduced me to two of the locals who have effectively been seconded to me for a while, Lily and the Iceman.”

“Have you worked out those names yet?” asked his daughter.

“Well, I think I've got the Iceman. I'm assuming that Kim Chun-So was hired before Kim Min-Jun?” ventured JJ.

“Correct,” said Carolyn.

“And so he may have been called Kim 1, which looks like Kimi,” continued JJ. Carolyn was smiling. At least her dad still seemed to have a brain.

“Kimi would have been associated with Kimi Raikkonen, F1 driver and former world champion,” elaborated JJ. “They're all motor racing mad down here, and Kimi Raikkonen's nickname is the Iceman,” concluded JJ.

“Spot on,” said Carolyn. “What about Lily?”

“I haven't a clue, Cally, enlighten me.”

“It's not as good as the Iceman, but as Kim Min-Jun is noticeably shorter than the Iceman, and was assigned to PAU Travel a few months later, apparently, he was clearly Kim 2 and nicknamed after Lil' Kim the American rapper.”

“How about Jim Bradbury, anybody brave enough to give him a nickname?”

“Road Runner,” replied Carolyn. “Partly because he's from Arizona and partly because he goes for a run along the streets of Gangnam every single morning before coming to the office.”

“And you and Dannielle?”

“They call Dannielle, Olga, after the actress in the
Hitman
movies. She was Russian as is Dannielle's family.”

“And you?”

“Well, I didn't have a nickname until you waltzed into the communications room. Now they all call me Princess,” said Carolyn with a very sweet smile that might have been a grimace.

JJ recalled that he had nearly always called Carolyn, Princess, when she was little. He didn't mind that the Korean outpost of the CIA called her that too.

The rest of the meal went well. A renewed bond between father and daughter had emerged. This was the last stressless evening that either of them would have for quite some time and they both seemed to be enjoying it very much. After JJ kissed and hugged his daughter goodnight, dropping her off at her apartment in Gangnam, Carolyn turned and waved.

“By the way Dad, your nickname is Braveheart.”

That was one to live up to, thought JJ.

* * *

The following morning, in the front meeting room at PAU Travel, JJ, Ethel and the Kims were engrossed in a map of the Korean Demilitarised Zone. If ever there was a misnomer, the DMZ was it. The DMZ is a piece of land that acts as a buffer zone between North and South Korea. It is 250km long, 4km wide, and runs across the 38˚ parallel. It is the most heavily fortified border crossing on planet earth.

JJ explained that on this mission the border needed to be crossed four times. The first time was to get to Pyongyang to stakeout and survey the central bank and the visible security, then return. The third time was to get the disguised trucks across the border and then return. The probability of doing that illegally four times without capture was unhealthily low. The anticipated fourth crossing was, in all likelihood, the one where they would most need the option of a fast, illegal incursion across the border, from North to South. The four in the meeting room thought it best therefore to try to cross legally, or apparently legally, the first three times.

Lily spoke up first. “The best legal crossing from South to North is at Panmunjom,” he said, pointing to the village which was the site that the Korean War ended. “The Kaesŏng rail and road crossing was re-opened in 2009. The railway line is used primarily to transport South Korean workers and materials to the Kaesŏng Industrial Group up in the North. It would be relatively easy for the Iceman and me to get the necessary papers, disguise ourselves as workers and get across. We can arrange for a car to be left for us, just on the outskirts of the region. The drive to Pyongyang would be just over an hour from there. If we left tomorrow morning, we could be back by tomorrow night.”

JJ was considering this. Ideally, he wanted to check out the central bank himself. But a foreign visage would attract much more attention and have their papers checked much more thoroughly by the North Korean border guards. He also had to consider that he, Ethel and Victor would all need to cross with the Volvo/FAW trucks and the Sprinter van the following day and their story at that crossing would need to be very convincing.

“OK,” said JJ eventually. “What about the next day when we all need to get across?”

“Straightforward enough for the Iceman and me,” began Lily. “As we are supposed to be workers, they'd expect to see our faces every working day. For you guys it's more problematic. The road at Panmunjom, or Highway One, as we call it has very strict border controls. There is a bridge there that needs to be crossed and the North Koreans sometimes make you cross on foot, then pick up your vehicles at the other side. You will be body searched and your papers will need to be accompanied by some official letter or order authorising you to enter the DPRK. The vehicles will be inspected too, so we can't have anything dodgy poking out of them, like weapons or explosives.”

JJ and Ethel looked at each other and nodded. There was no perfect way to cross the border from North to South Korea and vice versa. There were huge risks at every checkpoint, but time was pressing and they had to get on with it.

“Fine,” said JJ. “Lily, you and the Iceman get going with acquiring or even making the right papers, initially for you both. I'll have a think about our cover story. If you're ready by tomorrow morning then get across the border and stakeout the central bank. If you're up for it, we'll have another briefing tomorrow night, if not then the following morning first thing.”

With that Lily and the Iceman got up and left the meeting room. JJ told Ethel that he'd need to get a hold of Jim Bradbury to keep him in the loop. While he was doing that, she should get a hold of Victor, find out how he's getting on with his research on the vault. They'd meet up again in about one hour.

* * *

“For fuck's sake, JJ,” said Jim Bradbury. “That's a suicide mission. Four border crossings between North and South in a matter of days, break into their central bank, steal Kim Jong-un's gold haul. Jesus Christ, why don't you save yourself the bother and just shoot yourself in the head!” The KLO clearly wasn't that enamoured with the plan.

“I don't have much choice Jim,” said JJ who had now given his friend the guts of the operation. “My government thinks it's a legitimate mission,” JJ continued, having left out the blackmail and insider trading elements. “They're desperate. The North Koreans refuse point blank to pay their debts and my country is nearly bankrupt,” added JJ trying to put the gloss of legitimacy on his task.

“Why you and not an MI6 black ops squad?” asked Jim.

“Well, in addition to the issue of deniability, it would look a bit odd if the Bank of England suddenly had several thousand additional gold bullion bars one night with official assay stamps on them. As well as steal them, I'm supposed to disguise them, then organise their sale on the physical gold market, then give the monies to my government.”

“And you have the skill to do all that?” enquired the Road Runner.

“I'm supposed to have, Jim,” replied JJ. “I run a large hedge fund portfolio in London and I and my team there know how to buy and sell gold. We do it nearly every week,” he said wistfully, thinking how nice and safe it would be back in London.

“It's still mega-fucking hair-brained,” said Bradbury. “I know I said I'd help, and I will, but this mission is nuts. On the other hand…” Jim Bradbury said with a grin and after a short pause. “It may be the most action we've had around here for quite some time and I, for one, am getting bored out of my pants reading intercepted emails and the like. Bring it on, what can I do?”

Needless to say JJ was absolutely delighted that he could fully rely on his old friend. Jim Bradbury had skills, not least of which was, he knew how to drive heavy trucks. Apparently, in his student days in Arizona, the only summer job he could get to pay him enough to get through the expensive university system in America, was driving semi-trucks for a friend of his dad's road haulage company, based just outside Phoenix. After that particularly helpful revelation, JJ and Jim decided that they would not try to recruit an external HGV driver. Jim would drive one of the Volvo/FAW trucks, the Iceman the other. The Iceman did not have an HGV license, nor had he ever driven a truck so large, but Jim Bradbury knew he was the wheelman on several of PAU Travel's surveillance operations and that involved reasonably large vans, packed with equipment. He was sure he would be fine.