OUTCAST Ops: Red Ice

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

George Glimsdale slept soundly, and that is what killed him.

He had spent sixteen hours doing what he could to help the FBI in the Mayor’s assassination attempt, as well as aiding Director Casey and his team of special operators. He wasn’t overjoyed at having these spooks in his city, but he also realized this was a fight with a different set of rules, with an enemy that ultimately wasn’t driven by profit, but ideology. An enemy that would kill people simply because they were Americans.

Despite being the head of the DEA’s San Francisco office, the city was an expensive place to live, and Glimsdale did his best to stay well within his means. His house was modest sized and located in an upper-middle class neighborhood, where he and his family had lived for the last five years. He had arrived home a little after midnight, eaten the dinner his wife had left him, looked in on the two youngest kids, then gone to sleep next to his wife, too tired to do anything more than murmur good night to her as he slipped into sleep.

The first realization something was wrong came when a gloved hand covered his mouth and pinched his nose shut, waking him up. As his eyes flickered open, he saw someone leaning over him. A sudden weight on his legs prevented him from kicking out. With a sudden jerk, he struggled, but then he saw and felt the cold hard muzzle of a pistol pressed against his forehead and heard the cocking of a different pistol. He stopped struggling.

“Very good,” a voice whispered. Glimsdale couldn’t see much of the man’s face because it was still dark, but he estimated the individual to be taller than six feet and solidly built. The man turned his head and said something in a language that sounded a lot like what Danny Choi used when talking to his family. A cold certainty gripped Glimsdale. The enemy had come to his home.

“Good evening, Agent in Charge Glimsdale,” the accented voice said. “Or should I say, ‘Good morning’?” He released the fingers pinching Glimsdale’s nose shut, allowing him to breathe. “We have a few things to discuss.”

Glimsdale tried opening his mouth, but the strong hand over it was wedged under his chin, holding the jaw firmly in place. The intruder — still nothing more than a dark shadow in the dim light — kept the pistol still while rotating Glimsdale’s head to the left, to see his wife of twenty-two years, Maria, staring back at him in wide-eyed panic, another intruder’s hand over her mouth and a pistol pointed at the side of her head. He glanced down and saw two more intruders pressing down on his and Maria’s legs. Seeing no chance to escape, Glimsdale relaxed completely, admitting defeat for the moment.

“Good.” The intruder turned Glimsdale’s head back to face him. “You will answer my questions completely and truthfully. The lives of you and your family depend on it.”

“Well?” Muhn asked when Chief Master Sergeant Hyoung In-sook walked into the Glimsdale’s kitchen forty-five minutes later.

“I think he told us the truth.” Hyoung walked over to a dishtowel and wiped the bloody knife he was carrying on it. “He resisted when I cut him, but weakened when I started cutting his wife and son. He surrendered completely when I started cutting his daughter’s throat.”

“Did he tell us everything?”

“As much as he knows.” Hyoung sheathed the now-clean knife and pulled off his black ski mask. “He confirmed the American mercenaries’ identities, and that they are working directly for Casey. They are apparently rogues from several U.S. agencies, including the FBI, CIA and NSA.”

“That does not surprise me. Did he give you a location?”

“He said that Casey is staying at the Trans-Continental Marsh Hotel. Twentieth floor, Presidential suite. The mercenaries are also staying there, eighteenth floor.”

“Good, I—”

The phone in Muhn’s pocket trilled. The scar-faced captain took the phone out and answered it. “Yes?”

“Are you done?” Rhee’s voice was demanding, hard.

“Yes, sir. We have information.”

“Good, because we have a problem.”

“Sir?”

“The American special team has been busy. Kim called me with the news that Hong has lost a brothel, a gambling hall, and half a dozen men in the last three hours.”

“You think it’s this group of mercenaries?”

“I know it’s them. They left the same message for Hong at both locations — they want him to give me up.”

“But how—”

“They know who I am — they used my name when they left the messages.”

“My team and I will go right now and kill them.”

“No. It is likely the mercenaries are not done yet, so striking at their base now will yield nothing. You will continue with Phase two of Night Blade. Seonwoo will take care of the mercenaries, using your actions as a cover and a distraction. In addition, he will be going after the mercenaries’ paymaster, Casey, to capture or kill him. It is time for the Americans to be reminded that no one is safe anywhere.”

“Yes sir. We are leaving now.”

“Do not let me down.” The connection went dead and Muhn pocketed the phone while addressing Hyoung. “Tell the men we are done here.”

Hyoung nodded. “What about the agent and his family? He and his daughter are still alive.”

“Kill them. Make it look like the Colombians did it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Seonwoo Hun-Jai frowned as the truck he was riding in slowed to make a turn into Pace Farming Supply’s parking lot. There was a pickup truck parked in front of their target, and Seonwoo didn’t know if people were inside it or not. He raised his handheld radio to his lips. “Yoon, when we stop, we need to make a security sweep. We may have someone in the truck.”

“Yes, sir.”

The business consisted of a main store and four closely grouped warehouses next to it. The steel buildings were painted a grass green with white trim, featuring the company name on the sides. Inventory included garbage cans, bags of dirt, paving stones and other landscaping and farming supplies lying around in neat stacks.

Two of Myung’s unit had visited the business, picked up a few bags of fertilizer and marked the location of the ammonia nitrate. It was now up to Seonwoo and his team to grab as much as they could, as quickly as they could. Seonwoo’s driver, Rang, had been one of those recon operators.

Seonwoo pulled out his Baek Du San and threaded a suppressor onto the muzzle. With Interstate 80 only fifty meters from the parking lot in back, the last thing they needed was for anyone passing to hear gunshots. Like his men, he was dressed in all black and wore gloves and a ski mask, currently pulled up so that his face was exposed.

“Rang, stop here. Once we’re out, head for the warehouse.”

“Yes, sir.”

As soon as the truck stopped, Seonwoo pulled his ski mask down over his face, climbed out of the truck’s cab and dropped to the ground. From the rear of the truck, Yoon and the other two members of the team appeared, each carrying their own silenced Baek Du San pistols, also wearing ski masks. The truck rolled past the building and headed for the warehouse.

“Ready sir,” Sergeant Yoon said softly. Under the ski mask, he was moon-faced, with a shaven head and wide brown eyes that had fooled more than a few people into thinking he was naive. Many never lived long enough to realize it was a mistake.

“You and Dae check the warehouses. Ryeon and I will check the truck and the store. Be alert for alarms and cameras. Leave no witnesses.” The pairs split up and moved off in different directions.

Seonwoo lead the way, Ryeon behind and six steps to his captain’s left. They reached the building’s shorter side and flattened themselves against the wall as a car passed on the main street only twenty meters away. The pair was concealed in darkness and in shadow, but Seonwoo watched the car until it drove out of sight. He counted to ten, sidestepped to the corner and leaned around to take a look at the pickup parked in front of the store. He could see two figures inside, neither moving.

He pulled back and signaled to Ryeon with his free hand. The corporal nodded and the two threw themselves around the corner and charged the truck. Seonwoo took the driver’s side, Ryeon the passenger’s. There was still no movement from the vehicle’s occupants. With a nod from the captain, the pair grabbed the door handles with their free hands, their pistols pointing into the pickup’s cab. They yanked the unlocked doors opened.

The strong aroma of alcohol hit Seonwoo like a slap. The driver — overweight, thinning hair and red face — was asleep. Seonwoo fired twice, the two 9mm rounds striking the drunk driver in the head and spraying blood over the back window. On the other side, Ryeon killed the sleeping passenger in similar fashion. They closed the doors and continued along the storefront, checking the front door but finding it locked.

They turned and headed for the warehouses. Seonwoo brought his radio to his mouth. “Yoon, we found two drunks and eliminated them. Any problems?”

“None. We found no one.”

“Get to the nearest warehouse. We are behind schedule.”

By the time he reached the warehouse, Dae had already picked the lock and opened the doors.

“Get the truck inside.” Seonwoo said.

Rang backed the truck far enough into the warehouse so that the doors could be closed. Seonwoo ignored the earthy smell of the fertilizer stacks and watched his men work. As Rang guided the truck deeper into the warehouse, Yoon was showing Dae where the ammonia nitrate was, in a chicken wire and wood enclosure twenty meters from the door. They made short work of the padlock and opened the doors.

Seonwoo considered the dozen pallets inside the enclosure. “Rang, get the forklift. Yoon, stand by to secure the cargo. Ryeon, locate the fuel oil. Move!”

In less than five minutes the first pallet of ammonia nitrate was on the truck. Ryeon returned with several cans of fuel oil and joined his captain and sergeant in shoving the next three ammonia nitrate pallets into the truck.

In twenty-five minutes, the truck was crammed full of ammonium nitrate. Seonwoo pulled out a knife and motioned to the remaining bags “Open them and spread it around. Ryeon, spread the fuel oil around, including that wood. Yoon, find the sprinkler system and disable it.”

It took them a few more minutes to carry out these steps, at the end of which Seonwoo surveyed the handiwork. Satisfied, he nodded. “Let’s go.”

Rang eased the truck out of the warehouse and stopped. Seonwoo climbed out of the vehicle and walked back to the warehouse, a road flare in one hand. As he reached the now-nearly closed doors, he lit the flare. He stepped up to the opening and threw it inside. He watched it fly end over end until it landed in a patch of fuel oil, instantly setting it alight. He turned and walked away as Dae closed the doors and locked them again. The truck left the business without anyone noticing them.

Seonwoo waited until they had merged onto Interstate 80 before he used his phone.

“Yes?”

“Job’s completed, a couple of minor problems taken care of.”

“Good. After you deliver your cargo, I have a new task for your team for tomorrow. I will explain when you arrive.”

“Yes, sir.”

The line went dead and Seonwoo settled back to watch the road ahead.