A/N: …Wow, zero reviews for the last chapter. Something tells me either you guys are pissed over the long wait, or that everybody forgot I changed the rating to 'R'. If it's the former, then I once again would like to apologize, and to make up for it I'll post the next two chapters within two weeks.
Close Combat
Chapter 4
From Worse to Worse
0549 Hours, 20 September 2010
Pyongyang, North Korea
The sun had yet to rise in North Korea, but that hadn't done much to stall Inihara's day from starting. He was riding the bus to work today, as his car had died on him a few days ago, and he had yet to find a mechanic that could fix it for a reasonable price. The tram was packed despite the early hour, which made for an uncomfortable ride. Inihara had given up his seat to an elderly man that was on his way to the market, and shortly after that, the bus filled up to maximum capacity.
Inihara was afforded at least some space from the other people forced to stand. His uniform was easily identifiable underneath his thick jacket. The regular civilians had never been fond of being near soldiers, especially officers. The separation they gave him was only one more constant reminder of his situation. The mere inches the others stood away represented the gaps in relation he had with them.
There was nothing like the feeling that you're completely alone to make a person depressed. Inihara had been dealing with these emotions for six years, and even now, he found them impossible to ignore. Despite the assurances before he came over, Inihara had never attempted to find a female companion. He had urges of course, he was in the end only a male, but he had long ago made the decision to not get involved. A relationship could jeopardize his cover, let alone make him question what he was doing there. Inihara may not have had much love for Japan or the United States anymore, but he understood his mission, and he would carry it through, for as long as it would take.
The bus ride would continue for another 30 minutes, taking him well clear of the city. The military base was located in the outskirts of Pyongyang, and the site where the Russian scientists were being held was not much further.
Inihara let his hand run briefly through his short black hair, once again casting his attention back to his home. He wondered briefly if his family had found the time to forgive him yet. When it was decided that he would be inserted into North Korea as an intelligence operative, his family had been given a cover story. All they had been told was that he had defected from Japan and was now a soldier in the North Korean army.
That had been 6 years ago; he doubted that their beliefs had changed since then. His mother and father had always been hardheaded, something that had made Inihara respect them. There would not be any forgiveness in their hearts for him.
That knowledge was enough to bring him to tears when he was in his apartment at night. Their faces had already faded from his memory, much in the same way Japan itself had. All that was left was the feeling of his mother's warmth when she would hold him when he was younger, and his father's voice, both rough and warm, as he would talk for hours on end about stories of his grandfather. In the harsh, cold reality that Inihara faced each day, those things were what made it possible for him to continue.
'Well isn't this a great way to start the day,' Inihara thought bitterly. He smiled to himself as the base came into view. The bus rolled to a stop and he dismounted, fixing his posture. He now stood erect, his eyes became hooded and his expression took on a look of impassiveness. For all appearances, he looked like a lifeless entity.
"Good morning Major," one of the guards greeted. Inihara nodded stiffly at him as he passed, momentarily pausing to flash his ID card at the gate. After the inboard computer analyzed the code, the gate swung open and he allowed entrance. From there it was a short walk to the base commander's office. He was lucky; the General wasn't in yet, meaning he wouldn't have to answer any of the man's inane inquiries.
He called the motor pool and asked if a jeep could be scrounged up to drive him to the off-base site where the Russians scientists were being held. That bit of knowledge wasn't known by anyone at this base though, but Inihara wasn't foolish enough to think that the soldiers here didn't speculate on the sudden activity.
The drive was uneventful, but Inihara quickly took notice that the weather was slowly turning for the worse. He was sure that if he had read the paper this morning he would have been informed of the likelihood of snow looming on the horizon.
Getting into the gray, slightly drab looking building was somewhat more time-consuming in comparison with gaining entry into the military base. A retinal scan was required, a technology imported only a few years ago from Russia, as well as fingerprint analysis. His face was matched with three separate photos on file. It took 20 minutes before he was finally given the go-ahead. Upon entering his office, Inihara was greeted with a slew of paperwork that had apparently been dumped onto his desk. He didn't need to speculate over what the papers contained. The Russian nuke specialists were now ready to start talking and it would be his job to sort and file almost everything they would be giving them.
Inihara wondered idly if his contact would be coming by today. He should have returned from his trip, and Inihara had information waiting for him, but sometimes the man would wait longer than necessary, not wanting anyone to notice a pattern in their brief, seemingly innocent meetings. The CIA would want to know about the scientists finally cracking, as well as whatever he could get from them. A part of him was glad they had finally succumbed and gave up resistance. Witnessing the brutal execution of seven of the poor men had been more than Inihara could take. To keep his cover intact he had been forced to watch as the soldiers maimed and then killed each unyielding Russian.
Shaking his head, Inihara dispelled those thoughts as quickly as they had come. The faces of those that had been murdered would stay with him forever; each horribly mutilated body would be etched in his memory until the day his last breath was drawn.
"Am I interrupting?" a voice asked from the open door to his office.
Startled, Inihara snapped his head upwards. Standing in his doorframe was Ha-Neul Sung.
"You look surprised," Sung remarked as he entered the office, shutting the door behind him. Inihara quickly pushed his earlier musings aside as he regarded the nuclear weapons inspector. Sung had lived his entire life in North Korea, and had been a member of the nuclear research team for almost two decades. With that said, it had almost been too easy for Inihara to turn him over and get him under the CIA's thumb. It was often a concern of his that Sung was in fact playing him and was simply using him as a means to track down other intelligence agents. It wouldn't be the first time this had occurred in the intelligence business, but without any way of knowing, there is little an intelligence office can do.
"I had not expected you to arrive so quickly," Kwan/Inihara confessed. He didn't bother getting up from his seat; doing so would acknowledge that Sung had come at an important time. Inihara was careful not to tip his hand, for one false move could cost him his life, as well as the lives of his contacts.
"I was ordered to return once it became clear that the Russian scientists would not be willing to hand over their knowledge," Sung explained casually as he took a seat. "I had expected for there to be a bit of a mess when I returned. You can imagine how pleased I was to discover that the matter had not only been resolved, it had been resolved quickly and efficiently."
"We had to kill many of them," Kwan/Inihara said cautiously. Sung shrugged his shoulders and smiled softly.
"What can we expect? They had information the government needed and they weren't willing to talk. I'm surprised it took so long for them to crack, I would have figured that when the first body was dragged past them they would have all snapped."
Inihara found the light tone Ha-Neul was using troubling. The man seemed to enjoy making light of death and brutality at every turn. Death may have been commonplace in this government system, but that didn't mean it should be ignored. Apathy begets apathy.
"When are you next scheduled to leave?" Kwan/Inihara asked. This was one of their standard questions from a carefully woven dialogue. It would have been quite naïve to believe that Inihara's office wouldn't be bugged. In this case, the two had developed a standard line of question and answers that would let them communicate freely without worrying about any prying ears overhearing something they shouldn't.
"I'm supposed to be heading south to attend a committee meeting in Seoul in a few days, the typical inane chatter and regressions will be uttered and I shall promptly be bored out of my skull," Sung replied.
"I am sorry to hear that," Kwan/Inihara said. 'I have a message that needs to go out.'
Sung waved his hand, dismissing the apology. "It is of no concern, I'm sure I'll be able to entertain myself somehow." 'What type of message?'
"You always do," Kwan/Inihara remarked dryly. 'Just a simple message, given orally.'
"I won't take up anymore of your time," Sung said, getting to his feet. 'Have it to me by the end of the day.'
"It was a pleasure." 'Can do."
Sung smiled and nodded once before departing. Inihara tapped a pen thoughtfully against his chin as he began to work on a message that Sung would deliver to the South Koreans.
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1734 Hours, 20 September 2010
Tokyo, Japan
"So the North Koreans are holding all the cards then?" Kimura asked as he massaged the bridge of his nose, already anticipating the migraine that seemed determined to stick around.
"Parker told us that he'll put the Director of Operations to work right away. Apparently they may be able to formulate some kind of plan that would at least stall the North Koreans from completing their nuke development," Ranma said. He glanced at Ryoga, who sat next to him, to see if he had anything to add but the man simply stared straight ahead, his mind seemingly elsewhere.
"All the stalling in the world won't do us one bit of good if we can't get conclusive evidence of these missiles, and the Russian scientists," Kimura interjected bitterly.
"Well wouldn't our contact inside North Korea be able to get us some evidence?" Ranma intoned. Kimura shook his head slowly.
"No, it was risky enough for him to get that tape out. Official documents or photographs leave too many trails. It'd only be a matter of time before the Koreans caught on."
Ranma frowned to himself. He never had liked this part of working for the government. The job involved far too much sitting and planning. Ranma very much preferred taking action, a feeling he knew was also shared by Ryoga.
It was a moment before Ranma realized Kimura was no longer sitting in front of them. He had walked over to the large window overlooking the gardens. When he spoke, his voice was soft.
"Thank you for getting back here as quickly as you did. For now, we shall have to wait for something to pop up. The American satellites will be probing the North Korean hillsides for these nuke sites, maybe we'll get lucky."
'Lucky? Since when did the well-being of the world rest on the shoulders of someone being lucky,' Ranma thought to himself as he got to his feet. He offered no parting comment as he left, followed shortly by Ryoga.
Kimura felt the breath he had been holding rush from him as he slumped against the glass slightly. His expression solemn he went back to his desk and looked at the letter Ranma and Ryoga had given him. Parker had obviously wanted neither Ranma nor Ryoga to read it. He found himself beginning to read it once again, his mind hoping that he had simply misread it the first time.
Dear Prime Minister Kimura,
As you no doubt know by now, North Korea has within its possession at least 15 missing Russian nuclear scientists. The higher-ups over in Moscow want to keep this fact silent, for it was just explained to me that those scientists were a part of a new highly covert experiment the Russian government had just started. From what we've been able to gather from reports and intercepted phone calls, the Russians have developed a prototype fuel used by ICBM nuclear tipped missiles that leave them completely undetectable from modern radar. From what our own nuclear inspection team has been able to come up with, it would seem that this new chemical is capable of burning freely, without leaving behind any traces of heat or burnt fuels.
While this may not have been very troubling if it were simply just the Russians developing it, now that many of the top scientists on the team have disappeared only to reappear in North Korea, it is safe to assume that it will not just be the Russians for very long. What's even more troubling, if one were to consider this supposed meeting between several 'high-risk' nations that took place a few weeks ago under the supervision of Jong-Il, then there is much more for us to worry about that just one other nation.
I've spoken with the President about this, and he is in agreement with a short-term plan I have developed. I realize that this is not going to be an easy operation, and it will be even harder for us to execute it, but it is something that needs to be done.
When speaking with President McCullen, I proposed that we insert a small team into North Korea, tasked with uncovering the locations of the ICBM's before they can be shipped about. There are many small problems that need hammering out, but right now the core of the mission is solid.
What I am about to ask will not be easy for you to do, but I urge you, I would not request this if I believed that there was another way. The team we insert into North Korea must be able to go undetected long enough and survive long enough, to find these missiles, and relay the information back to us. The President and I both agreed that taking a Special Forces team would be far too noticeable and too large for the mission.
Ranma and Ryoga are the only two men that have the necessary skills and competence to actually pull off this mission.
I will not waste my time telling you how important this is, and how sorry I am that I have burdened you with this responsibility.
As Director of Central Intelligence, I'll have to see them one last time before they deploy. The President informed me that he would greatly appreciate that this mission be executed as soon as possible.
Sincerely,
Phillip S. Parker
Kimura let the paper fall from his hands to land on the desk. His stomach clenched painfully and he forced himself to stop from shaking.
There was no doubt in Kimura's mind that Ranma and Ryoga would agree to go. He was also sure that they would perform to the best of their abilities, and maybe even find the ICBM's. Nevertheless, there was also no doubt that there would be no return trip for them. This mission would be their deaths.
Swallowing hard, Kimura tapped his intercom.
"Send, Saotome and Hibiki, back in here please, I have something I must discuss with them."
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A/N: Okay, slightly shorter chapter than normal. With luck, the next chapter will be up by the middle of next week and another shortly thereafter. Please review and let me know what you think about this story so far.