Authors: Craig Reed Jr
Red Ice (22 page)
The safehouse was located in the city’s Mission District, less than two miles from the pier where the DEA team had been ambushed several days ago. The street was narrow, barely wide enough for two cars to pass each other and only if they did so slowly. Garages and houses lined the street, none of the structures taller than two stories.
The safehouse itself was in the middle of the block, a blue-gray painted rectangular building with white trim, garages at both ends. Above one end, a second story had been added, leaving the building looking unbalanced. There was nothing remarkable about the structure, nor the occasional residents. As far as the neighbors were aware, the house was owned by a high-tech company who used it to house employees from out of town working temporarily at the company’s San Francisco location.
In reality, the place was a U.S. government safe house, one of several in the city. This one was CIA’s, used to debrief defectors coming out of China, and ironically, North Korea. As such, while the outside was unremarkable, the inside was very different.
As soon as the van carrying Tanner and the others from the hotel turned onto the street, Tanner called Dante and let them know they were coming. Once they reached the house, the large garage door at one end opened. Liam eased the van into the garage.
Tanner went over to a door with an attached keypad and tapped in a series of numbers. The door’s lock disengaged. He pushed the steel door open, revealing a staircase leading up to the second floor.
Liam groaned. “I’ll stay down here.”
“Come on, chicken,” Danielle said as she walked past him.
The stairs led up to an open living room and kitchenette combination. Dante was in the corner kitchenette, pouring coffee into cups sitting on the counter. “Welcome.”
“Where’s Stephen?” Tanner asked
Dante motioned toward a closed door. “Watching Hong.”
“Any problems?”
“No. How bad is it?”
As Tanner filled Date in on the latest developments, Danielle carried their new equipment over to a small dining table and began unboxing it. Naomi flopped onto a couch while Liam went over to the counter and picked up a couple of coffee cups and handed them out.
While Liam sat in a recliner, Stephen opened a door and stepped into the room, wearing a balaclava over his head. He pulled it off and rubbed his face. “Hong’s awake, pissed off, and not saying a word.”
Tanner picked up a coffee cup. “He’s going to start talking in a few minutes.”
#
Liam and Tanner entered the bedroom wearing balaclavas. Hong sat in a chair, handcuffed and bound. He glared at the pair as they entered. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”
“We know exactly what we’re doing, Kuan-Tai.” Tanner opted to use Hong’s Chinese name to underscore the fact that he knew exactly what he was doing. He folded his arms. “I’ll make this simple. We know about Rhee, we know about the Red Ice, we know about Dr. Mori, and we know about the Black Dao’s involvement. We’re the ones who have been trashing your Triad businesses over the last twenty-four hours. You’re not our prime target, but we don’t give a damn if you end up in jail or dead. We want Rhee.”
“I have no idea who or what you are talking about.”
Tanner noticed a television in the corner of the room. “Two, turn on the TV. Our guest can see for himself what his friend Rhee has been up to.”
Liam turned on the flat-screen. The first images the screen showed were of thick black smoke rising from the Golden Gate Bridge.
“You see?” Tanner pointed at the TV. “Rhee and his men have been busy killing innocent people. He’s been committing terrorist attacks all over the city.”
“Congratulation,” Liam added. “You’re now a terrorist”
“I didn’t know!”
“Didn’t know?” Tanner’s voice had an air of incredulity about it. “That’s not going to fly, Kuan—Tai. We have pictures of you and Rhee together. There are nearly two dozen Asian bodies in the city morgue. They might be Rhee’s men, or they could easily be your men.”
“But—”
“What about the men who tried to assassinate the mayor?” Liam asked. “It won’t take much to convince a jury that they’re Black Dao members. Thanks to Rhee, you and your Triad are up to your necks in this disaster, whether you want to be or not.”
“I never gave those orders!”
“It doesn’t matter if you did or not.” Tanner leaned down until he and Hong were face to face. “Rhee just gift-wrapped your gang for the feds, leaving you to take the fall while he and his goons go on their merry way, pocketing millions from the Red Ice while you rot in a cell.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Really? How do you think we found out about the drug lab? Rhee set you up, Kuan—Tai. He’s playing you like a violin.”
“His country is still at war with the U.S.,” Liam said. “The Red Ice is his way of funding his mission. He killed over four hundred people today. How many will he kill when he has millions of dollars to spend?”
Tanner put his hand on Hong’s shoulder. “Maybe he’ll murder your wife and children. He’s already tortured and killed the agent in charge of the DEA office in San Francisco and most of his family.”
Hong went pale. “He did what?”
“Yeah. The agent, his wife and two of his children, the youngest ten years old. That’s who your partner is. The only glimmer you have of not living the rest of your miserable life in a Supermax is to tell me where that Red Ice lab is, and where Rhee is. Otherwise, get use to spending the rest of your life warehoused in a
very
small box and never seeing the sun again. Your choice.”
Hong’s expression didn’t change much, but Tanner could see the machinations going on behind the man’s eyes. “Give me a minute to think about it.”
“I’ll give you two.”
It took less than one minute for Hong to start talking.
It was after dark when Rhee reached the lab.
Rhee’s car was one of three in the convoy, all late model sedans, all rented from different rental companies. They rolled to a stop near the ranch house and the ten men in Muhn’s unit, the ones who had created the chaos in San Francisco, got out. They swept the area for trouble, most carrying an assortment of submachine guns close to their bodies.
Myoung met Rhee on the porch. “The Americans are in a uproar.”
Rhee walked inside, followed by Myoung and Muhn. “As to be expected. Have you heard from Seonwoo, any of his men, or Kim?”
Myoung shook his head. “No, sir.”
Rhee scowled. “Something’s gone wrong. They should have reported in by now.”
“There were reports of an incident at the hotel, but the Americans have been tight-lipped about it,” Myoung said.
“They would keep it quiet until they were sure.”
“If they were captured, they wouldn’t tell the enemy anything.”
“The Americans will stop at nothing to get the information. What is the latest on the incidents in the city?”
“Hundreds dead, hundreds more injured. The BART and the Golden Gate Bridge are still closed, and the airport is shut down, with all flights diverted to other airports.”
“Good. What about the bombs?”
Myoung smiled. “We have over four and a half metric tons of ammonia nitrate. Each truck will carry over a metric ton of primed explosives, about the same size as the Oklahoma City bomb.”
“I want those bombs ready to go the day after tomorrow.”
“Have the targets been chosen?”
“Yes. Los Angeles, Phoenix and Las Vegas. I want the bombs to explode simultaneously in all three places.”
“That will be tricky. We need to calculate the distances so we can set the detonators’ timers.”
“Muhn!”
The large scar-faced man came to attention. “ Sir?”
“I want your people to get some rest now, because I want them on the road before dawn. I need your teams in Chicago, Kansas City, and New Orleans before the end of the week. I want them in place and ready to recruit more shock troops a week from today. If Seonwoo and his men return, I’ll send them onto the next set of cities.”
“And if he doesn’t return? Sir, as much as it pains me to say it, I believe that Seonwoo and his unit are dead.”
Rhee scowled in thought. “I agree. Myoung, place the base on alert. Tell P’il that I want all prisoners except for the ones working in the lab in their cells until further notice. I want all the men carrying weapons at all times they’re on the property. How are our supplies?”
“We have enough for a week.”
“Good. What about the Red Ice shipment?”
“It made it to Los Angeles with no problems. Our agent reports that half the shipment is already on the street, with the rest due there by this weekend. Initial reports indicate the drug is beginning to find a market. Dr. Ryuk reports they are aiming for about five hundred kilos of Red Ice a day.”
“Good. With everyone’s attention focused on San Francisco at the moment, it should make the distribution in Los Angles easier.”
#
Kwan hated hospitals.
The multiple disasters of the past ten hours had consumed his time and energy, and Rhee’s call didn’t help his stress levels. He had to get away from the bustle of the emergency command center, the continual demands for press access. He needed time somewhere, even if it was only for a few minutes. The best he could come up with was to visit Mayor Pagliei.
Kwan’s own security chief, Don Lenway, had objected to moving anywhere unnecessarily, but Kwan had insisted it was necessary to show his support for the mayor in the city’s time of need. In response, Lenway had tripled the security escort normally assigned to protect the mayor, and heavily armed them. With the curfew in effect, they made the trip in much less time than it would have normally taken.
Despite the deserted streets, Kwan could feel the tension in the air. Hundreds of first responders, soldiers, marines and federal agents were swarming over the disaster sites, still searching for survivors amid the wreckage. The convoy moved at a much swifter speed than the law allowed, escorted by several SFPD cars. Part of Kwan felt guilty about the size of his escort, but Lenway had been unyielding in his insistence about that detail.
And now he was here, alone in Pagliei’s hospital room, with four heavily armed guards outside the door, and more patrolling the floor. The doctors had told him that Pagliei was in a coma and unaware of the outside world. One looked at the frail body in the hospital bed was enough for Kwan. Instead, he spent most of his time staring out the window, fingering the case Rhee had left in his pocket. It would take ten, twenty seconds at most to inject the drug into the one of the IV bags, then stand back and watch the helpless woman die. It would get Rhee off his back and protect his family here and back in North Korea…
… Until the next time.
Committing murder would damn him forever, a stick Rhee and whoever followed him would hold over his head for the rest of his life. They wanted an agent of influence in the highest levels of the U.S. government, and they wanted to make sure their hold over him was absolute.
He glanced at his watch. It was close to 10pm now. He still had twenty-eight hours left. Maybe Rhee would die before then. Maybe the feds would find Rhee and arrest him. Maybe Pagliei would even die without him having to do anything.
Or more likely, he was just delaying the inevitable.
He turned and walked toward the door. He might still have to kill her, but not tonight. For now, the city needed him more than Rhee or his masters back in North Korea. He still had time for a miracle.
The staging area was at a farm ten miles from the lab.
Tanner and the team climbed out of their vans and took a moment to survey the site. Several portable floodlights had been set up, most of the light shielded from the road by the farm’s buildings. In the light, half a dozen Bradly Infantry Fighting Vehicles (IFVs), and twice the number of Cougar Mine-Resistant Ambush Protected (MRAP) vehicles were lined up near the barn. A dozen other vehicles, ranging from vans to Chevy Suburbans, were also parked in neat rows. Around them, soldiers in full combat load were mixing with heavily armed federal and state agents — DEA, FBI, ATF, U.S. Marshals, California Highway Patrol, and even a couple of special agents from the EPA’s Criminal Investigation Division. On the far side of the barn, in an empty field, a couple of UH-60 Blackhawk helicopters sat, rotors still.
“Some party,” Liam said.
“Casey knows how to throw them,” Tanner replied with a nod.
“Tanner! Nay!”
They turned to see Sarah Vessler walk toward them. She was dressed in full combat gear— armored vest, knee and elbow pads; her helmet was tucked under one arm. Her LAR-15 hung over her shoulder from a sling, and the team could see a cluster of flash-bang grenades hanging from her harness.
“Vess!” Naomi said, going to her friend. “What about Danny?”
“He’s in the hospital. Three broken ribs, bruised sternum, and a shoulder with a bullet still lodged in it. The vest took the worst of it. When I left him, he was surrounded by the entire stateside Choi clan, twenty people talking to him all at once. But he’s pissed he can’t be here.”
Tanner shrugged. “He’s where he needs to be.”
Vessler motioned to the large weathered structure a hundred feet away. “The command post is in the barn.”
They walked across the road to the post. The team was dressed much as Vessler was — black BDUs, Dragonskin armor, balaclavas pulled up so they looked like caps, MP5 slung over their shoulders, with load harnesses and gun belts with SOCOM pistols in tie-down holsters. The two soldiers on posted guard duty gave the group a careful look-over as they walked into the barn.
Casey, looking out of place in a three piece suit among a sea of armed and uniformed people was standing at a table with a group of military officers. DuPree was nearby Casey, hand still bandaged. Behind her, two visibly armed Secret Service agents stood guard.
Casey looked up. “You’re here!” He motioned to the officer next to him, a bulldog of a man — short, stocky, with a graying hair cut close to his scalp and an oak leaf on his collar. “Lieutenant Colonel Mulkerin, commanding officer in charge of the military assets. Colonel, Tanner Wilson and his team.”
Mulkerin lifted his head and stared at the team from under brushy gray eyebrows. “I hope you can prove your information,” he said in a gravelly voice. “Bad enough the military’s involved in a civilian matter. I’m sure as hell not going to be happy if these turn out to be some potheads tending to their happy garden.”
“Far from it, Colonel,” Tanner said. He looked at Casey. “You didn’t tell him?”
Casey smiled innocently. “I thought I’d let you have the fun.”
Tanner spoke for ten minutes, telling Mulkerin everything about Rhee, his men, the Red Ice production facilities and the stolen ammonia nitrate. Mulkerin’s expression darkened as Tanner told him about the terrorist attacks in San Francisco that morning. “Son of a bitch,” he snarled. Then he looked at Casey. “The president’s sold on this?”
“He is.”
The colonel looked at Vessler. “Do you know what you’re going up against?”
Vessler nodded. “I certainly do. One of Rhee’s men put my partner in the hospital.”
Mulkerin looked at Casey. “Sir, my soldiers should be leading this. No offense to Agent Vessler and her people, but this isn’t a bunch of half-drugged losers who barely know which end of a gun the bullets come out of. These are highly trained, disciplined fanatics who won’t surrender and won’t be taken alive. They’re enemy soldiers, and I shudder to think what type of firepower they have.”
Casey shook his head. “I need your people to surround the ranch. We can’t let any of them get away, exactly for the reasons you mentioned. We’re going to be borrowing your armor though, and your helicopters.”
The military officer frowned, then looked up at Tanner. “What’s your role?”
“We’re going to extract Dr. Mori. According to our information, the drug lab is underground. I want my team to slip in and get her out while the enemy is distracted by Agent Vessler and her assault.”
Mulkerin stared down at the high-definition photos placed on top of a topographic map in front of him. Finally, he looked up at Tanner and slid the pictures over to him.
“Here’s Rancho Negro Estrella. Twenty-five hundred acres right here.” He stabbed a thick finger on the map. We’ve identified four buildings on the property: A covered horse corral near the road here, a barn behind the corral here, a ranch house across the dirt road from the barn, here. It’s flat, open land with absolutely no cover, and that includes the corral, barn and ranch house.”
“You mentioned a fourth building,” Liam prompted.
“I was just getting to that. The back third of the property is rolling hills, scrub brush, a few trees and rocks. There’s another building in the hill behind the ranch house here.” Mulkerin moved his finger a couple of inches away from the other structures he had pointed out. “That building dominates the approach from the road and anyone sitting up there can see for miles in every direction.” He looked at Tanner. “Does your intel tell you where the underground lab is?”
“It mentions that there’s a mine shaft somewhere in these hills, here.” Tanner put his hand palm down on the map where the colonel had his finger.
“That does make some sense. There’s a couple of dozen mines scattered around the area — we’re only ten miles from Sutter’s Creek. But those shafts are dangerous — most are one good sneeze from caving in.”
“We were told that the mineshaft has been rebuilt, fortified with fresh timbers and the shaft cleared out, in case they have to use it as an escape route.”
“Busy little shits,” Mulkerin said.
Tanner nodded. “The information indicates Rhee imported his own workforce from his country’s prison camps. That’s another reason why we’re going in separate from the main attack.”
The colonel stared at him in disbelief, then eyeballed Casey. “On the level?”
“I wouldn’t be wasting your time if I thought this was a wild goose chase, Colonel Mulkerin.”
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” He looked up at Tanner. “How are we going to do this?”