A/N: First of all, I'd like to say that I'm really sorry I kept you waiting so long for an update, especially after your enthusiastic reception of the first chapter, but real life does have an annoying tendency of getting in the way. I hope this makes it up in a way.
Chapter 2 – Three Kings and a Queen
"Hey, LT, how much further?"
"According to the GPS, it's just behind that hill over there," Chuck replied, double checking their position. "Cheer up fellas! We get to go to Camp Downtown for some R&R once we're done." Camp Downtown was a nickname for a large area outside of Pyongyang assigned as a billeting and rest area to the US Military.
"I hope they have internet," Airman Hawkins said. "I'd like to talk to my girlfriend back home. We're getting married when I return home."
"They do," Chuck said. "Apparently the Buy More chain got the contract to provide the connections."
"Is that a good thing, LT?"
"I worked summers at the Burbank Buy More when I was in high school and college. Yeah, they're quite efficient."
"Good to know."
"Look over there," Sergeant Johnson said, pointing to a bend in the road.
"Park it over here, Grand," Chuck instructed the driver. "Skip, you're with me. Hawkins…"
"Yeah, I know, LT. Stay on the Ma Deuce and keep an eye out."
"You got it." As Chuck and Skip put on their helmets, checked their weapons and got out of the vehicle, Hawkins leaned back on the open-topped turret of the M1116 and did a quick sweep of the area with a portable thermal imaging scope. Out of habit, he also checked to see if the 200-round belt fed properly from its can to the Browning heavy machine gun's receiver.
"All clear, LT," he called.
"Thanks!" Chuck and Skip made their way to the burnt and twisted remnants of a DPRK military convoy hit by the USAF a couple of days before.
"Shee-it," Skip exclaimed. "They did quite a number on this convoy. What does the brief say?"
"This was the work of Hogs out of Osan." He stopped and pointed to the wreck of a twin 30 mm self-propelled antiaircraft gun. "Care to bet that this one hosed Munson's Hog?" One of the A-10s that attacked the convoy had returned with serious damage from antiaircraft fire.
"It's the only triple-A around. Munson's wingman got him."
"It looks like Swiss cheese." The lightly armored SPAAG had been almost cut in half by a burst from a Hog's Avenger cannon. "Watch your step and don't touch anything. The Hogs use DU ammo and the stuff is toxic."
"All heavy metals are toxic, sir."
"Just be careful, OK? The ROKs already hosed the area down when they buried the dead NORKs, but we have to err on the side of caution. I for one want to be able to have kids someday."
"Gotcha. So, these tanks; Pegasus, or Storm Tigers?" Skip used the English translations of the Korean designations.
"They have six roadwheels each, so they're Storm Tigers," Chuck said, consulting a recognition handbook. "I count seven of them, the M-1992, a couple of what look like personnel carriers on recycled PT-85 chassis, nine VTT-323 personnel carriers and one of the new 6x6 APC's the NORKs had."
"Command vehicle?"
"Most likely," Chuck agreed.
"Add those supply trucks and we're done. Then we're off to Pyongyang."
"I concur. There is nothing else to be gained here. Just make sure you take plenty of pictures. The Hog drivers will want them, you know."
-o-
The debris of war had already been mostly cleared from the streets of Pyongyang. Only pockmarked, burned and destroyed buildings were any indication of the fierce street fighting that had taken place before the South Korean Capital Mechanized Infantry Division, aka the Tiger Division, wrested control of the city from its defenders.
"Where are you going, LT?" Skip asked Chuck.
"I'm just gonna take a stroll around town."
"Take care, sir."
"Hey, the ROKs declared the city secure and there are patrols and checkpoints everywhere. I'll be perfectly safe."
"OK. And FYI, the stores and vendors here…" Skip began.
"Accept both US dollars and South Korean currency, I know. And I got both. What are you going to do here, Skip?"
"I was thinking about checking out the satellite internet connections, make a video call home, that kind of stuff."
"Right. Have fun."
"You too."
During his exploration of Pyongyang, Chuck wasn't stopped once by South Korean patrols. Not being Asian and sticking out like a sore thumb helped for once. Not content to just read the information booklet containing instructions for interacting with the locals, he was planning on using his still limited knowledge of Korean customs as well as following the advice of a friendly South Korean liaison officer he'd met in Camp Downtown.
He was walking along the southern bank of the Taedong River, pausing to watch as a Navy salvage crew reclaimed the USS Pueblo. He browsed through the merchandise in some small shops and got various small souvenirs for himself and everyone else back home. He snapped pictures of that memorial to the former regime's delusions of grandeur, the triangular shaped, and still unfinished, Ryugyong Hotel, then visited the tombs of ancient Korean kings, filling the memory card of his digital camera to capacity.
The restaurants that before the war catered to tourists were still open and now frequented by military personnel, mostly US and UN, and of course South Koreans. Chuck, who'd decided to try the cuisine, was most impressed by the local people. Despite having been indoctrinated for their entire lives with state propaganda, they were very polite and even friendly. He guessed it was because the defeat of the supposedly invincible communist state was a life changing experience for them, as most things they had been told repeatedly had and were being proven to be anything from erroneous to outright lies. So, they were just trying to adjust to a new reality. The efforts of the new civil-military administration to provide for the city's population also helped, a lot.
Not far away from where Chuck was lunching, two people, a man and a woman, exited a late model armored Mercedes G-Wagon.
The woman spoke first. "Do you need me to come with you?"
"Nah," the man replied, "I'll just be a few minutes and come back with the files."
"I'll be waiting," she said, leaned on the fender, planted a boot-clad foot on the running board and popped a stick of chewing gum in her mouth.
Meanwhile, Chuck had paid the check and was leaving the restaurant when he heard someone calling his name.
"Chuck? Chuck Bartowski?"
He turned and saw a short bearded man, wearing khaki cargo pants and a green polo shirt running towards him.
"Morgan?"
"What are you doing here, dude?"
"What I am doing here? Buddy, you knew the Air Force had called me up. What are you doing here?"
"Corporate asked for people to work on providing internet services to the troops. It meant doing actual work and hard work at that, but the extra pay was too good to pass up, so I decided not to use my mad work avoidance skills, just this one time. I work at Camp Downtown now."
The two men bumped fists and hugged, like the old friends they were.
"How long have you been in Korea?"
"A week and a half. I was one of the first to work on setting up the base."
"I see. Obviously, my tour has been extended. But, according to my CO, I should be rotating home in a couple of weeks at the most."
"Will they give you a campaign medal to wear on your dress uniform?"
"Maybe, but I don't wear it often."
"Man, we have a bit of catching up to do. Let's take a walk."
"Sure. On the subject of catching up, you'll never guess who I met back at Osan."
"Go on, tell me."
"Jill."
"Jill? As in Jill Roberts, Bryce's girl?"
"The same. She was there on a government contract, for a lecture or something. We talked about old times, promised to meet again stateside and go out, all of us."
"That's great! I can't wait to see the old gang back together!"
They walked for a while, talking about a variety of subjects, from Korean cuisine to tourist landmarks in the city. Not two blocks away from them, something that would change their lives for ever was going on. A Korean man was walking nonchalantly down a street, pausing momentarily only when he saw the unmarked Mercedes outside a former government office building. Deciding it would be best not to draw attention to himself, he continued walking, increasing his pace slightly. It was all in vain, though. The woman standing by the SUV noticed him and frowned under her ballistic sunglasses. The man looked familiar.
"Bryce," she whispered into her mike.
"I'm busy up here. Make it quick."
"I think I saw one of the Jokers down here." A list of persons of interest had been issued to US military and intelligence personnel in the form of a deck of cards, like it had been done in Iraq and Afghanistan.
"Call it in."
"The nearest backup unit is too far away. We'll lose him, unless I tail him."
"Damn it! Just be careful. Get someone, one of our MP patrols, to help you."
"OK." She checked to verify that the car was locked and then hid the keys behind the bumper winch. Her partner would know where to find them. Satisfied everything was in order, she set off after her mark.
Luck wasn't with the young female agent that day. As the Korean man walked, he saw her following him in the reflection on a shop window and knew he'd been made. He also knew that he couldn't afford to be caught, or his mission would be blown all to Hell. He had the advantage in knowing the city well. And it wasn't very far from a designated safe house. All he had to do was lose the woman following him, make sure no one else was tailing him and get to the safe house. So when pedestrian traffic got thicker at one point, he ducked into a side street and quickened his pace.
"Fuck," the woman swore under her breath. "Bryce, I've been made. He's trying to lose the tail. I'll move in and get him." No response; she'd moved out of range of their tactical radios. "Shit-shit-shit," she cursed her bad luck and broke into a run. She spotted her mark turning into another street and ran harder. She was burdened with her weapons and body armor, but she didn't care. She had a job to do.
-o-
"Are you sure you know where we are, buddy?"
"Chuck, no worries, I've been in this neighborhood before. Besides, I have a map from the local tourist office." Morgan brandished a neatly folded tourist map of Pyongyang printed before the war.
"Show me where we are exactly," Chuck teased.
"Oh, ye of little faith," Morgan laughed. "We're right here."
"I admit it, you're right." Then Chuck saw, out of the corner of his eye, a man rounding a bend on the run. "Look out!"
Morgan instinctively turned sideways hearing his friend's warning, shielding his face and family jewels with his hands. The running man saw him too late to stop or go around him. They collided. Morgan flew backwards into Chuck, who caught him and prevented him from falling, while the Korean bounced off Morgan and into a wall.
After making sure that his best friend was all right, Chuck turned to help the man who was down on the pavement.
"Sir, are you all right?"
"STOP HIM! DON'T LET HIM GET AWAY!"
Chuck turned to see who said that and was greeted by the sight of a woman in full combat gear running towards them. Instinctively, his hand reached to his holster and unsnapped the retaining strap over the grip of his M9. Another man, a Marine Major, also ran to investigate. The prisoner swore in Korean.
"What's the matter?"
"He's one of the Jokers from the deck," the woman replied. The Major instantly grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck. "He made you, didn't he, CIA?"
"How do you know she's CIA, sir?"
"Just look at her, Lieutenant. She looks like she stepped out of a 511 Tactical, Blackhawk, Arktis and Bates catalog; or the centerfold of Soldier of Fortune magazine. Take your pick."
Chuck took a good look at the girl. While he was wearing an Air Force issue BDU and the Major was wearing a MARPAT BDU and standard issue combat gear, she was in a 511 Tactical shirt and pants, Bates boots, Arktis load bearing vest over her body armor, Blackhawk Hellstorm gloves and hip holster for her Smith & Wesson 5906 sidearm, her main weapon being a pimped-up G36K rifle, an Afghan style scarf and a baseball cap. Her golden blond hair was in a ponytail and her sapphire eyes, revealed when she took off her ESS glasses, were the most beautiful he'd ever seen. Actually, all of her was the epitome of Beauty, with a capital B, even under all the gear and weapons.
"At least we got him," she said. "I'll call for a team to take him into custody."
"GUN!" Chuck yelled suddenly. The Korean had pulled a Type 68 pistol. He started drawing his Beretta, but the next moment the NORK was going down, a throwing knife sticking out of his jugular, blood spurting from the wound.
"She's fast, I'll give her that," the Marine Major said. "But you forgot one thing, CIA."
"What?"
"Dead men tell no tales."
"Um, excuse me," Morgan said, shocked at what he'd witnessed. "I wouldn't say that."
"What do you mean?"
"He dropped this." Morgan picked up a flash drive from the ground and held it up.
She snatched it from his hand. "Thank you."
The commotion had attracted a South Korean Military Police patrol. The Major explained the situation to them and had them call an ambulance to take the dead body away.
"I have a computer in my vehicle," the CIA agent said. "I can take a look at the contents of the flash drive there."
"Can you read Korean?" Morgan asked.
"Uh, no."
"There is a café with free wi-fi that before the war catered to tourists, not far from here. It's open again."
"Lead the way, Mr. ..."
"Grimes, Morgan Grimes."
"Perhaps we should get formally introduced. Chuck Bartowski, USAF."
"John Casey, Marine Corps."
"Sarah Walker, CIA." They all shook hands. "Mr. Grimes…"
"Please, it's Morgan."
"OK, Morgan, how do you propose to read the contents of the flash drive?"
"It's very simple: we'll run them through an online translator."
"It could work."
First they went back to Sarah's Mercedes SUV. She called her partner to bring him up to speed and told him where he could find her once he was done with his assigned task. She then drove them the short distance to the café, following Morgan's directions and parked outside.
"I have a good strong signal," Chuck announced after achieving a connection using Sarah's Agency-issue laptop.
"Plug it in."
"Hold on." He accessed the contents of the flash drive and ran the text of the first document through Google Translate.
"Interesting," Sarah said. "This guy was a high-level courier for those honchos of the former regime that are still on the run."
"Looks like they were planning to meet up and flee the country."
"The translation is not the best, obviously, but I concur. Try the next document."
"Why are you letting us see all this?" Casey asked.
"You guys helped a lot in acquiring the intel. It's the least I can do," Sarah shrugged.
"Take a look at this."
"What is it, Chuck?"
"A list of names and a rendezvous point. You can nab them all in one fell swoop."
"Their security arrangements at the pickup site are rather limited. Makes sense, actually. They don't want to call attention to themselves."
"One document left," Morgan said cheerfully.
"Do the honors," Sarah smiled.
The three men and the woman in the vehicle started reading as soon as the translation appeared. Suddenly, they all paled. They managed to tear their eyes from the computer screen with great effort, and looked at each other, slack-jawed in shock.
"It can't be," Chuck was the first to break the silence.
"I'm pretty sure it is not a mistake," Casey said.
"Yeah, but… so much… how did they gather that kind of fortune?"
"The North Korean leadership was neck-deep in many illegal ventures. But it doesn't matter," Sarah said.
"Yeah, but just look at it: tons of precious metals in bars, jewelry and coin, diamonds, other gemstones, stocks, bearer bonds, cash… all there for the taking."
"With just a fraction of that money, my daughter would never have to worry about her college tuition or take student loans," Casey said. "And no more worrying about mortgage payments on our house."
"My parents could renovate their hotel from the roof garden to the garage," Sarah added.
"My Dad and I could buy factory space to expand our business into hardware manufacturing," Chuck muttered. "I'd also pay off my sister's student loans."
"There are so many things we could all do with that kind of money," Morgan finished.
"Let's do it," Sarah said. "Let's go get the money."
"Hold on, CIA. It's not that easy. We'll need more than just us."
"We can put a team together. Are you guys in?"
"I'm in," Chuck said.
"Me too." Morgan would follow Chuck anywhere.
"Count me in," Casey nodded.
"The money should be evenly split among all those who will participate in the operation. This way we'll avoid any conflict," Chuck suggested.
"There's more than enough to go around," Sarah agreed.
"First order of business: no one and I mean no one is to see the last document."
"Morgan's right. We need to keep it under wraps."
"What do you suggest, Chuck?"
"The funds are hidden in a different location. We blow the whistle on the fugitives, but we mount a separate operation to go after the money."
"Logistics might be a bit of a problem."
"Not really, Ms. Walker."
"Just call me Sarah, Chuck."
"OK, Sarah. Take a look at all the sums. I suggest we only go for what we can carry: the cash and bearer bonds."
"Transporting the gold, gems and other stuff is going to be a pain," Casey pointed out.
"We can leave those behind."
"Better not get too greedy," Morgan said.
"I agree. Chuck, what is it that you're holding?"
"What? Oh, it's just the guy's knapsack. I picked it up at the scene. I thought you might want to take a look at it, Sarah."
"Hand it over, then." She took it and rummaged through the contents. Clothing, some snacks, a bundle of South Korean and American currency, which she set aside on the center console, and something heavy and metallic. "Now, why would this guy be carrying a length of pipe?"
"To bash heads in with it?"
"As a weight to sink the bag in the river if in danger?"
"A waterproof storage container, perhaps? Is it sealed?"
"No, it looks solid."
"Can I take a look?"
"Sure."
Sarah handed the pipe over to Chuck. He took a penknife from a pocket and scratched at the metal. Flakes of paint came off, revealing what lay beneath.
"It's gold!" The other three automatically leaned closer.
"Listen up, people," Casey said. "We have the gold and the cash he had with him, which means we can easily cover preparation expenses for our little operation."
"He's right," Chuck said.
"The more stuff we can get unofficially, the easier it will be to keep our secret."
"Exactly. Walker, you can use your CIA credentials to get us a reassignment. Be sure to ask for us specifically."
"My thoughts exactly. I'll have to bring my partner in on this, too. Any objections?"
"No. In fact, I was thinking of bringing in one of my men as well," Chuck said. "The others are already on their way back to Osan, since our job was done here."
"Casey?"
"I was recently transferred to my unit. I don't know anyone well enough to bring on board."
"And I'll come by myself, but I know a couple of people we can get supplies from with a minimum of hassle," Morgan said.
"OK. By the way, Morgan, what was that move you did when the Joker crashed into you?"
"Oh, that," Chuck laughed. "We call it 'The Morgan'. He invented it back in high school, the first time he tried to play football."
"Hey! I was the smallest guy in the field!"
"Did it work?"
"My face and man parts are still intact, aren't they?"
"I guess it works, then."
"Before we adjourn for the time being, we need to erase all references to the stash. We can't have others going after it. Otherwise it could turn ugly. Once we've taken what we want, the Koreans can have the rest."
"Agreed." Chuck quickly saved the translated documents in a separate drive, which he handed to Sarah. "Hang on to it for us, will you?"
"Sure, no problem," she replied.
"I suggest we reconvene tonight somewhere in Camp Downtown," Casey said.
"Can we bring others along?"
"Yes you can, but only those you already mentioned and you implicitly trust. That leaves the small matter of where and when."
"I was thinking about the hot dog place. One opened today in the recreational area of the base."
"We can also have dinner there," Sarah said. "What is its name?"
"They transported the mobile Wienerlicious stand from the Yongsan Garrison."
"I used to be a Wiener Girl in high school," Sarah mused.
"Really? You wore the red skirt with the white polka dots, the girdle…"
"The entire uniform actually, right down to the hot dog necklace," she laughed. Chuck noted that she had a most beautiful laugh. "But I smelled like sausage at the end of the day, so I took a job at an Orange Orange when the opportunity presented itself."
"Enough reminiscing," Casey admonished. "See you all at nineteen hundred hours sharp at the Wienerlicious." He looked at Morgan. "That's seven in the evening, for those who don't habla."
They all shook hands and dispersed, now only having to kill time until their scheduled meeting.
