Red Ice (3 page)

CHAPTER THREE
 

Rhee scowled as the smoke obscured his view of the DEA agents. Someone had rescued them, someone with skill and knowledge.

One of his soldiers addressed him. “Sir, the men on the office building and the Chavez Street security team are not answering radio calls.”

“Because they are dead, or close it.” Rhee turned toward William Hong, the Mountain Lord, leader of the Black Dao Triad. While Hong was taller and heavier than the North Korean, Rhee had no doubt he could kill the Triad leader and his bodyguards without too much trouble. “We had better leave.”

“What about your men?”

Rhee snorted. “Those men were nothing more than dregs of the local underworld. Petty criminals and street hoods looking for an easy payday and a chance to avenge themselves on the police and society in general. Disposable and deniable assets.”

Hong’s expression reminded the major of a man who had bitten into something sour. “You assume that the Americans will roll over after losing a few of their agents.”

“We do not have time to debate this. I have shown you my skills tonight. But now, we must leave. Unless you want to explain to the Americans why you are standing here with a dozen dead DEA agents and police officers.”

Hong scowled, but barked out orders in Chinese and his men scattered. Rhee nodded and walked toward the cargo truck. The appearance of an unknown group was foremost on his mind. He needed to find out if they were a threat to his operation.

#

The rally point was a dirt lot west of Interstate 280 and by the time the vans arrived, there were several SFPD cars, a pair of ambulances and a late-model sedan with U.S. government plates waiting for them. Pelton was placed onto a gurney and carried to a waiting ambulance, the paramedics already calling out the patient’s vital stats. The rest of the DEA survivors and their rescuers climbed out of the vans. Overhead, a pair of CHP helicopters was heading towards the pier.

Vessler looked for the unknown team leader, stopping when she spied a familiar face. “Nay?”

Naomi Washington turned at the sound of her nickname, her expression a mix of surprise and pleasure. “Vess? That you?”

They walked over to each other and embraced. “Damn girl,” Vessler said after they broke the hug. “Last I heard you’d been blackballed by the ATF. I never expected to find you—”

“Saving your ass?” Naomi finished with a grin. She became somber again. “Sorry we couldn’t get there earlier. Our plane got held up. You okay?”

Vessler scowled. “No, I’m not. I lost most of my team, including the SFPD backup. Heads are going to roll.” She looked Naomi up and down. “What are you doing? I could arrest you for half a dozen violations just looking at you!”

“Vess, will you chill out? I’m on the side of the angels.”

“But—”

“Agent Vessler?”

Vessler turned to look at a man walking up in a suit. Her first impression of him was
Washington Bureaucrat
, followed by the impression that he looked familiar. “And you are?”

“John Casey,” he said, sticking out a hand.

Vessler took the hand, placing the name with the face. John Casey was the former FBI director, now a special assistant to President Carmichael. Scuttlebutt inside the DEA had him handling clandestine operations, but exactly what that entailed, no one knew. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping to talk to you before your raid. I wanted my team to ride along.”

Vessler scowled. “This is your team from D.C.?”

“Well, they’re a team of independent contractors who do work for Uncle Sam.” Casey turned, looking for someone. “Tanner! Could you come over here?”

The man Vessler had pegged as the team leader walked over. In the headlights, she noticed his eyes were different colors. Casey motioned toward him. “Agent, this is Tanner Wilson, team leader for OUTCAST. Tanner this is DEA Special Agent Sarah Vessler.”

They shook hands, and Vessler could feel the strength in his arm and hand. “Sorry we were late,” he offered.

“Better late than never. We were getting slaughtered.” She looked at Casey. “Why did you want this team of yours along with for the ride, anyway? They don’t look like they arrest too many people.”

“Exactly because of what happened tonight.”

Vessler put her hands on her hips. “Look, I don’t care if you have the president’s ear or his – any other part of his body. I don’t need a group of rogue cowboys trampling all over my case!”

“Your case looks pretty well burnt,” Tanner said. “And if we had been any later, you and the rest of your agents would have been dead.”

Vessler bristled, but before she could reply, Casey stepped between them. “Enough. There’s too much emotion happening right now. I suggest that we all get some sleep and reconvene at the DEA office at nine A.M.”

“Fine!” Vessler hissed. She spun on a heel and walked off.

Tanner looked at Naomi. “Friend of yours?”

Naomi nodded. “We worked a few DEA-ATF cases together back in the day. More than once, we were the only girls in the boys club. We bonded over that.”

“I suggest you talk to her in the morning,” Casey said. “Better she’s with us than against us.”

CHAPTER FOUR
 

Near Candlestick Point State Park

4:15am

The warehouse’s break room had become Major Rhee Kyu-chul’s planning and conference center since his arrival in San Francisco. He sat at the head of the rectangular folding table and gave his subordinates a lingering glance.

There were three of them here, the fourth currently working on getting the new lab ready to go. He had worked with each man dozens of times, and they had developed the trust of comrades who had faced death together. “Assessment of Night Blade, Phase One?”

“It went well,” Captain Seonwoo Hun-Jai replied. In addition to being a sniper, Seonwoo was Rhee’s second-in-command. Of medium build, he was slightly taller than Rhee, with an angular face and sleepy eyes. To most people he looked like an accountant or a middle manager. Like the rest of Rhee’s men, however, he was anything but weak.

“Except for the intruders,” Captain Muhn Sae-Hyuk growled. Compared to the rest of Rhee’s unit, Muhn was a giant. A couple of inches over six feet, muscular with a shaved head and a long puckered scar running from below his left ear across his nose to end near the right corner of his mouth.

Rhee nodded. “Except for them.” He looked at the man at the other end of the table. “Sergeant, what is the status of our ‘Shock troops’?”

Rhee’s senior non-commissioned officer scowled. Chief Master Sergeant Hyoung In-sook, was a squat Korean who was slightly shorter than Rhee but broader in shoulder. He snorted by way of preamble to his reply. “About what you would expect, sir. Most were spooked when their comrades were killed.”

“How many of them can we depend upon?”

“None,” Hyoung said flatly. “Without the
patbingsu
, they are nothing but an unproductive waste of space. With the
patbingsu
, they are marginally useful as bullet-stoppers.”

“How many are left?”

“Twelve.”

Rhee glanced around the table. “We must increase our recruitment.”

“With all due respect sir,” Hyoung said, “we would be better off using fellow peasants from home. They can be trained. These Chinese-Americans?” He made a rude noise. “They are not worth the effort.”

“We must make the effort,” Rhee said. “With them acting as our shock troops, we can increase our strength, keep the American government chasing shadows, while keeping our men for the important missions. When we expand, we must recruit all sorts of unproductives.”

“Even
beullaeg
wonsung-i
?”

“Especially them. With the unrest lately in the black community, there will be disaffected youths who will jump at a chance to strike at their oppressors.” Rhee smiled. “If we get enough of the
beullaeg
wonsung-i
to fight for us, we can ignite a race war that will tear this country apart.”

Muhn appeared unconvinced. “I do not like using them. Most are monkeys, too stupid to be useful.”

“Those are the best kind, Captain. Stupid and disposable. For now, we’ll concentrate on recruiting more of the local Chinese-Americans. I want to consolidate our hold on this area before we commence with expansion.”

“What about Hong and his criminal gang?” Seonwoo asked. “How much longer must we rely on them?”

“As long as possible. Right now, they are a screen he can hide behind while we gather our strength. Once we are firmly established, then we can discuss their removal.”

“And the intruders from the pier?” Seonwoo asked. “They acted more like military than police.”

“A military special unit, in all probability. I will tap our local intelligence network and see if they can supply some illuminating data.” Rhee looked around the table again. “As it so happens, one of the U.S. president’s henchmen is in the city right now. The former head of their national police force.”

Seonwoo shook his head slowly. “That does not sound like a coincidence.”

“Maybe not, but we must continue our mission. I want to step the pressure up on the Americans.”

“In what way?”

“Hun, I want you to dispatch Sergeant Jee, three of our men and four of Sergeant Hyoung’s recruits to the wasteland north of pier 80. He is to observe the investigation and when he gets the chance, he will kill a couple of the investigators. If they chase you, use the recruits to ambush your pursuers. The more carnage we create, the better.”

Rhee looked at Muhn. “I want you to take two men, find the informer we used to set up the DEA, and kill him. He should still be in that hotel where we found him. I also want you to leave something for the Americans to find when they search the room. Again, the more bloodshed there is, the better for our cause.”

Rhee rose to his feet. “Do those now. We are done here.”

#

When Rhee walked out of the break room, the members of his unit guarding the door stiffened to attention, their Type 56 assault rifles held at port arms. Twenty feet away, several Black Dao gunmen, the warehouse’s normal guard force, glared at Rhee and his men as they exited.

Rhee ignored them. They were useful for now, supplying knowledge, contacts, and safe houses for Rhee and his men while they built their operations in the United States. All in return for sixty percent of the profit from the Red Ice being produced on the floor above. So far, the Black Dao had made over nine and a half million dollars from the sale of only a hundred kilograms of the drug. The North Koreans’ cut of the profits were over six million, half sent home to the state, the rest being held for future use in American operations.

As in the legal drug world, the world of illegal drugs was a competition to bring the next big product to the marketplace. Crack cocaine had made billionaires of many drug lords, and newer drugs like Krokodil, 2C-P, 25I-NBOMe, and Flakka were fighting for market share among the world’s drug users.

Rhee eschewed the elevator to the right and instead walked alone toward the stairs to the left, ignoring the glares the Triad gunmen gave him. Part of him wished one of them would attack him — he hadn’t killed anyone in a while. But no one did; the Triad wolves recognized the presence of a tiger.

He heard movement coming from the cages to his right, but as with the Triad guards, he paid their occupants no mind. The people inside those cages were even less of a threat to Rhee. He could feel their hate, but he also could feel their fear even more, and he knew they were not dangerous to him or any of his men.

Rhee reached the stairs and climbed them quickly. Operation
Uiloun Gyeoul
— Righteous Winter — and its companion, Operation
Bam Beulleideu
— Night Blade — had been in the planning stages for years. Then Dr. Mori came along and took both from the planning stages to operational phases. Her work in the area of amphetamines had been noticed by State Security Department agents in Japan, and when reports surfaced of her making a breakthrough, the Marshal — Kim Jong-un himself — had ordered her “Recruitment.” State Security Department agents had seized her and then turned her over to Rhee.

Mori’s daughter, however—the target of a second kidnapping—had escaped the attempt and the Mori family had closed ranks around the girl, hiding her. Other State Security Department agents were searching for her, but until the daughter was in their custody, Mori would fight to protect her secrets.

Two guards – Rhee’s own men, since he didn’t trust the Triad — snapped to attention when he reached the top of the stairs. He nodded to them and strode down a narrow hallway to the lab’s entrance, where two more of his men stood at alert guard.

“Any problems?” Rhee asked.

“No, sir!” the senior man replied.

“Good.” Rhee picked up an industrial dust mask from a table next to the door and went inside.

The lab took up half the floor space on the second level. Consisting of three rooms, the lab’s walls were translucent plastic panels inserted into steel frames. The lab took up two-thirds of the space, and wouldn’t have looked out of place in any advanced research facility. Lab benches along the walls and in the center of the room were stocked with beakers, burners, and vials in wire-framed stands, along with electronic equipment Rhee had no knowledge of and didn’t care to, as long as the drugs were created.

A dozen people occupied the room, all wearing masks similar to Rhee’s. In opposite corners, two of his men stood guard, each man carrying a steel-core baton, a Type 64 pistol, and a Type 56 rifle bayonet. Seven of the others wore rough clothing, cheap sandals, and a thick collar around their necks. They were moving beakers and equipment, watching screens, and doing various other work lab technicians do all over the world. Unlike most lab technicians, they moved with the weariness of too little food, too little sleep, and repeated beatings. The last three were clustered around one of the central benches. All wore lab coats, two men and one woman, and from the conversation and body language, they were arguing.

Rhee made his way through the collared prisoners to the unfolding argument. “Is there a problem?”

The three turned toward him, startled by his appearance. One of the men stepped forward. Short, thin, with a receding hairline and glasses on a shallow face, his hands went up in a placating gesture. “Nothing important.” He tried to sound casual but the fear in his eyes gave him away.

Rhee sighed. “Dr. Ryuk,” he said. “You know better than to lie to me. Must I ask again?”

Dr. Ryuk Shi-woo wilted and lowered his head. “Major, I—”

The woman stepped forward. “Yes, there is a problem!” she spat in English.

Rhee eyed the woman. “And what is that, Dr. Mori?”

The chemist motioned to the prisoners. “You need to give these people more food and rest. Look at them! They’re moving like zombies!”

“They are not your concern, Doctor.”

“Not my concern? I need them to be alert and able to think straight. In their present state they are useless—
worse
than useless, I’d say.”

“They work. What else do you need them to do?”

“Do you know how dangerous making this…swill is? We’re dealing with highly volatile chemical compounds here. One slip, and this lab and a good part of this building will be obliterated! Not to mention—”

Rhee held up a hand. “Enough, Doctor. You will make sure the prisoners do their jobs and do them safely. If you feel there is a problem, then it is up to you to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“They need more—”

“These prisoners are not your concern. They are serving their prison sentences though work the state has designated for them. The matter is closed, Dr. Mori.”

Mori glared at him. “You bastard!” She raised her hand like she was going to slap him, then muttered something under her breath and stalked off. Both Ryuk and the other man, Dr. Chang Joon-ho, watched her move to the far side of the lab.

“Gentlemen,” Rhee said. “I wish to speak to both of you.”

“We can talk in the drug storage room.” Ryuk motioned toward an opening in the wall protected by plastic freezer strips.

Rhee nodded and the three moved to the next room, which was filled with crates stuffed with kilo bags of Red Ice. Rhee turned and faced the two chemists. “Have you any progress in analyzing the
patbingsu
?”

Chang shook his head. He was taller than Ryuk, but thinner. “She’s made it impossible to break the drug down into its constituent chemicals. We can confirm it’s the same formula every time, but beyond that…” He shrugged.

Rhee scowled. “How much of the drug has she made?”

“Less than a kilo. Only a very small percentage of the waste from the Red Ice production process is usable.”

“Or so she claims. I don’t care how long it takes, but I want that
patbingsu
formula.”

Ryuk replied in an exasperated tone. “We’re trying, but she doesn’t trust us!”

Rhee gazed at the crates. What is the status on the latest Red Ice shipment?”

“We’ve managed to manufacture close to two hundred kilos. That’s nearly eight million doses. We should have another fifty kilos ready before noon.”

“Good. Be aware that we will be moving the lab shortly to its new site. Once we’re there, we’ll increase the production rates to five hundred kilos per shipment.”

“Can the new lab handle that?”

“Of course. Captain Myoung informs me the new lab is twice the size of this one, and your technicians will be better trained and motivated than the ones here.”

“Good. Dr. Mori is right about these prisoners. They are useless.”

Rhee gave both doctors a hard look. “Leave them to me. Worry about making the drugs.”

Both Ryuk and Chang bowed. “Of course, Major.”

Rhee looked around at the shipment area. Red Ice had two advantages over the other competing drugs. First, it was created and manufactured in a real lab, not someone’s kitchen. Second, it was being backed by the might of an entire country and soldiers like Rhee, men trained to use violence and not afraid of doing their job.

He looked at the chemists. “Find out that formula. I don’t care what you have to do, but get it!” He lowered his voice. “Or I will.”

Both men paled. They knew the major was not one to make an idle threat. “W-we understand sir,” Ryuk stammered.

“Good.” Rhee turned and walked back into the lab. His eyes found Mori, but unlike the other two, she returned his stare with a hateful glare.

He didn’t care. The real prize he was after was the
patbingsu
formula. The drug, an offshoot of Red Ice, was showing promise as a battle drug. It made soldiers stronger, more alert, and dulled pain. In addition, it gave the warriors an urge to kill that only grew stronger the longer the drug was in their systems. When it came to ground fighting, an army using
patbingsu
would be almost impossible to defeat.

Rhee strode out of the lab. The only problem was that Dr. Candice Mori was the only one who knew the formula, and she was holding it as her only bargaining chip. She was also one of the leading authorities on methamphetamine, and it was she who created Red Ice to test an anti-addiction drug she was working on.