The Citadel

CHAPTER 11

Airspace, Antarctica

Sergeant Chong was wearing a headset that allowed him to communicate with Captain Hyun in the cockpit. Chong stood next to the rear passenger door, his hands on the opening handle. A rope was wrapped about his waist, securing him to the inside of the plane. The plane itself, buffeted by winds, was bobbing and weaving. Up front the pilots were flying blind, eyes glued to the transponder needle and praying a mountainside didn't suddenly appear out of the swirling clouds.

"One minute out, sir!" he yelled to Major Min.

Min turned and looked over his shoulder at the men. "Remove the coverings on your canopy releases," he ordered. The jumpers popped the metal covering on each shoulder. These metal pieces protected the small steel cable loops that controlled the connection of the harness to the parachute risers; pulling the loops would release the risers, separating the jumper from his parachute. Doing this in the air would result in death, but Min had a reason for taking this dangerous step prior to exiting the aircraft.

He shuffled a little closer to the door, his parachute and rucksack doubling his weight. "Open the door," he ordered Chong. "Activate trackers," he called back to the rest of the team. Then Min reached down and activated the small transponder/receiver strapped to his right forearm.

Chong twisted the handle on the door. It swung in with a freezing swoosh. They'd depressurized a half hour ago and were now flying in the middle of the storm and still descending. They were at an estimated altitude of 1,500 feet above the ground.

Snow swirled in the open door, along with bone-chilling cold. Min didn't even bother taking a look-he knew he wouldn't be able to see a few feet, never mind the ground. The plan was to jump as soon as Hyun relayed that the needle focusing on the transponder swung from forward to rear, indicating they'd flown over the beacon.

"One minute," Chong relayed. The one-minute warning was Hyun's best guess, meaning that the needle had started to shiver in its case in the cockpit.

Min grabbed either side of the door with his gloved hands, his eyes on Chong, waiting for the go. The seconds went by slowly, and Min realized he was losing the feeling in his hands, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Chong suddenly stiffened. "Go!" he screamed.

Min pulled forward and threw himself into the turbulent white fog. Behind him, the other eight men followed as fast as they could get out of the aircraft.

Min fell to the end of the eighteen-foot static line, which popped the closing tie on his main parachute. The pack split open and the parachute slid out, struggling to deploy against the wind. He felt the opening jolt and looked up to make sure he had a good canopy.

He couldn't tell what the wind was doing to the chute, nor could he see the ground. With numbed hands, he reached down to find the release for his rucksack so it would drop below him on its lowering line and he wouldn't smash into the ground with it still attached.

Min was still trying to find the quick releases when he did exactly that: his feet hit ice, then his sideways speed, built up by the wind, slammed his head into the ice, the helmet absorbing some of the blow.

Min blinked as stars exploded inside his head. Now the lack of feeling in his hands truly started to work against him. He scrabbled at his right shoulder with both hands, trying to find the canopy release; he'd never have been able to grasp and pop the cover under these circumstances, proving his risky decision in the plane was been correct. The wind took hold of his parachute, skiing him across the icy surface, his parka and cold weather pants sliding across the ice and snow, his head rattling as he hit small bumps.

Finally his numbed fingers found the cable loop. Min pushed with his gloved right thumb underneath, grabbed his right wrist with his left hand and pulled with all the strength in both arms. The riser released and the canopy flipped over, letting the wind out. Then he lay on his back, trying to gather his wits. He knew he needed to be up and moving but his head was still spinning.

Min had no idea how long he'd been lying there when a figure appeared out of the snow, right wrist held before his face, the receiver there homing in on Min's transmitter. The small face of the receiver blipped with a red light, indicating the direction of the team leader's device. By following the red dot, the team could assemble on Min.

The soldier immediately ran to the apex of Min's parachute and began S-rolling it, gathering the canopy in. Min finally turned over and got to one knee. He popped the chest release for his harness and slipped it off, then pulled his weapon off the top of the reserve and made sure it was still functioning.

As Min was stuffing his chute into his rucksack, other figures appeared out of the blowing snow. He could see that two men were hurt: Sergeant Yong apparently had a broken arm that the medic, Corporal Sun, was still working on, and Corporal Lee was limping. Min counted heads. Seven, besides himself. One was missing.

"Where is Song?" he yelled to the others above the roar of the wind.

When there was no immediate answer, Min quickly ordered the team on line. "Turn off all receivers!" He pushed a button on his transmitter, and it became a receiver, picking up the different frequency that Song's wrist guidance device had been set to send on.

Min headed in the direction the red dot indicated, his team flanking him on either side. His first priority was accountability of all personnel. He broke into a trot, his men keeping pace, Yong and Lee gritting their teeth to ignore the pain of their injuries. Min was actually satisfied so far that he had eight of his nine men-he'd expected at least twenty-five percent casualties on the jump.

They found Song, his body fortunately jammed up between two blocks of ice, otherwise it might have been blown all the way to the mountains. As two men ran around to collapse the parachute and gather it in, Min knelt down next to his soldier. Song's eyes were unfocused and glassy, and Min unsnapped the man's helmet. As he pulled it off he immediately spotted the caked blood and frozen, exposed brain matter that had oozed through the cracked skull.

Min looked up at Senior Lieutenant Kim. "Have two men pull him with us to the target."

Min pulled his mitten off and quickly reset his wrist transmitter/receiver to receive on the transponder frequency. He turned his face into the wind. The target was in that direction.

"I'm going to check the weather," Brothers announced.

"Don't stay too long," Burke called out from the stove as Brothers zipped his parka up. "The food will be ready in about five minutes."

"Who wants to go with me?" Brothers asked as he headed for the door to check on the weather and, if possible, his plane.

Smithers hopped up from his chair. "I'll join you. I'd like to take a look outside. Feeling a little cooped up in here."

Vaughn glanced around the mess hall at the remaining members of the party. Logan had recovered the instruction manual for the nuclear reactor from the control room and was poring through it. Tai was staring intently at whatever was displayed on the screen of her portable computer.

Vaughn was not happy with the current situation. There was little of the base left to explore. Other than the note from Lansale, they had found nothing of much value. If publicized, the nukes and stock of Nazi nerve agent would cause a scandal, but a scandal wasn't exactly a threat. When the weather cleared they would head back and report in to Royce. Maybe he could do more with the information.

Min froze and peered through the driving snow. There was something large looming directly in front of him. He moved forward ten feet on his hands and knees until he was sure it was the surface shaft, about forty feet ahead. Using hand and arm signals, he sent two men scurrying around each flank to encircle the entrance.

There was a black wedge open on Min's side, and he could make out some movement there. Staying low, he continued forward, slowly closing the distance. His team was poised behind him, awaiting his instructions. He silently worked the bolt on his weapon, making sure it wasn't frozen.

After five minutes two figures appeared in the doorway. One walked out a few feet. The other one just stood there peering out, almost directly at Min.

Brothers shivered under the lash of the cold, but the release from the claustrophobic darkness of the base more than made up for the pain. The shots sounded like muffled pops, and Brothers turned, astounded as Smithers pirouetted into the snow, the bullet tearing through his shoulder. Brothers stared at the blood seeping out from Smithers for a split second.

Min moved forward at the run, his team dashing behind him. In two seconds he'd closed half the distance to the door before he was spotted. He fired another sustained burst from his AK, and the man dove for the door. The man who had been shot was yelling after his comrade, crawling for the opening.

Min slipped on the ice and immediately rolled back to his feet, keeping his eyes on the door. He was twenty feet from the door when it started to swing shut. The wounded man was slithering through, barely missing get caught in it.

Min ran up and pointed at the door. "Lieutenant Kim! Open this!"

Vaughn met Brothers halfway down the stairs of the shaft. "What the hell happened?"

Brothers slumped down and sat on the metal steps, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Smithers was shot!"

"What?" Vaughn said, grabbing him by the arm. He looked up the stairs. "Where is he now?"

"Up there."

A dull echo sounded from above as two shots rang out. Vaughn let go of Brothers and sprinted up the remaining stairs. Smithers lay on the top landing, blood flowing from a wound in his shoulder. The door was shut. Vaughn slid the blade of the broken pick they'd left there through the wheel and jammed it against the side wall. Then he pulled out a bandage from his vest and wrapped it around Smithers's wound.

"Who was shooting?" he asked.

"No fucking idea," Smithers responded. "Brothers damn near left me out there."

Vaughn turned as the rest of the party assembled on the stairs around Brothers, yelling confused questions at him. They'd heard the initial rifle fire as if from a great distance in the mess hall and had immediately come to see what was happening.

"Everyone shut up!" Vaughn yelled sharply. He helped Smithers down the stairs. "All right. Tell us what happened."

Smithers took a deep breath. "I caught a glimpse of several people moving out there. Someone was shooting. That's it. I don't know any more."

Vaughn craned his head. There were no more sounds from the door. That worried him.

"Who could have done that?" Tai asked just as the same question flashed through Vaughn's mind.

"Someone either wants us dead, or they want the goddamn bombs, or both." Even as he answered, Vaughn knew what the immediate course of action had to be. "All right. Listen up and do what I say. I don't know who these people are. For all we know they could be Americans, but one thing's for sure: they aren't friendly. They didn't hesitate to shoot.

"Logan, you take Brothers, Burke, and Smithers to the reactor. I want you to wait by the first door. If you hear Tai or me, you open it. If it's anybody else, retreat and shut the second one, securing that one too. You all should be safe in there."

He turned to the Tai. "You come with me."

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"What I should have done when we first found the bombs."

"Maybe we can talk to these people," Logan weakly suggested.

Vaughn grabbed him by the shoulders. "They aren't here to ask questions. If they get in and catch us, we'll all be dead. We don't have time to stand here discussing things." He pushed him toward the corridor. "Move!"

The four headed off down the east tunnel. Vaughn sprinted for the armory, with Tai behind. He threw open the door and headed directly for the cases lining the wall as he called over his shoulder, "Grab two M-1s, two pistols and ammo!"

As she did that, he went through the door to the bombs. Vaughn looked in the case at the bombs. He wasn't even sure which access panel opened onto the PAL keypad. There were at least six metal plates secured with numerous Philips head screws that he could see on the top side of the bomb. He didn't have time for that. He needed a more expedient way to neutralize the bombs.

Meanwhile, Tai used a bayonet to open a crate of.30 caliber ammunition. She threw a couple of bandoliers over her shoulder. Then she secured two.45 caliber pistols along with ammunition and magazines.

Vaughn ran back in and grabbed a crate marked C-4 and tore the lid off. He took out several blocks of the plastique, then looked for caps and fuses. He found them on the other side of the room. For good measure, he grabbed a few other goodies.

Tai was struggling with a clip of ammunition and the M-1 she held. Vaughn grabbed the other rifle and a bandolier. "Like this," he said as he slammed a clip home through the top.

Tai nodded and did the same. "What are you going to do?"

"We destroy the PAL codes. It's the quickest thing we can do. Come on."

He led her to Unit A2. "Keep an eye on the corridor," he ordered as he lay out a couple blocks of C-4 and a fuse in front of him next to the safe. As he was unwinding the detonating cord the sharp crack of an explosion roared through the base. Vaughn slid the block of old C-4 against the safe, primed it, and ran out the det cord as quickly as he could.

He pulled the initiator.

Nothing.

"Fuck," he muttered.

"What's wrong?" Tai asked.

"Either the fuse or the cord or the C-4 or all of them are too old," Vaughn said. He forgot about the explosives and grabbed his M-1. They'd run out of time.

Min was the first to leap in through the blasted door. Weapon first, he sidled down the stairs, his men right behind, the muzzles of their weapons searching out every corner.

Stopping short of the first intersection, Min deployed his men in two-man teams. He'd gotten a sketch of the layout of the base in the OPLAN, so he had an idea of where he was and what lay ahead. He signaled for two teams to head down the east tunnel, clearing in that direction; he would take the rest directly to A2 to secure the codes, and then to A1 to get the bombs.

As the first two men stepped forward into the intersection, a burst of fire ripped into them, slamming them to the floor. Min slid the muzzle of his AK-47 around the corner and blindly fired a magazine in that direction as Kim pulled one of the men back undercover. The other lay motionless in the center of the intersection.

"Smoke," Min ordered.

Lee took a grenade off his combat vest, pulled the pin, and threw it in the north tunnel. Bright red smoke immediately billowed out and filled the corridor.

"Go," Min ordered, gesturing.

Two men stepped into the corridor and moved slowly forward, while two more sprinted across the side corridor to loop around and catch whoever had done the firing from the flank.

Vaughn was sure he had hit two of them as he slammed home another clip into the M-1. All he'd seen were two men bundled up in dark-colored clothes, not enough to make an ID. He and Tai were just to the south of the intersection of the north and west tunnels, using the corner of B2 to protect them.

Vaughn gave the smoke enough time to completely fill the corridor and then pulled the trigger on the M-1 as fast as he could, emptying the clip. As he slammed another clip in to reload, the enemy replied with several bursts of automatic fire that ricocheted off the walls.

"They're going to try and flank us," he told Tai. "Let's go."

Weapon at the ready, Vaughn moved into the smoke-filled corridor, heading for the door on the north end of B2. He opened it and slid in just as he spotted two figures out of the corner of his eyes. He quietly shut the door behind Tai as the two men passed by, moving toward their old location.

Vaughn made his way through the mess hall to the far door. Were the flankers already around, or were they right in front of the door? Fuck it, he thought, swung the door open and stepped out. No one.

He opened the door to C2 and hustled Tai through. Then across into the south tunnel. Vaughn moved out into that hallway-he could hear voices yelling in a foreign tongue back in the direction they had come from. He recognized the language with a quiet chill-Han Gul, Korean, with a strange accent he had never heard. North Korean, he had to assume.

Vaughn had his finger on the trigger and almost fired as he spotted a figure coming toward them. But it was Smithers, an M-1 in his hand. "Thought you might need some help," he said.

"All right," Vaughn said. He leaned with his back against the outside wall of the library. Tai was looking at him calmly, the M-1 across her lap. Smithers knelt down close to them. Vaughn whispered his plan. "We have to cross and get in the generator room. If these guys have their shit together, they've left someone watching the east tunnel.

"We go together, Tai on the right, me in the center, Smithers on the left. If there's someone there, I'm going to fire. Both of you keep going no matter what. If I don't make it, go to the access tunnel to the left of the control panel. Crawl down it till you come to the first hatch. Logan should be on the other side. Call out and have him open it, then go in and make sure you seal both hatches. Do you understand?"

Tai and Smithers nodded.

"Ready? Go!"

Vaughn stepped out, weapon tight against his shoulder, aiming up the tunnel. He fired at the same time the two Koreans at the other end did. Whether it was by sound or feel, he couldn't quite say, he sensed the bullets passing by him.

In the second and a half it took to cross the corridor, Vaughn had emptied his magazine, as had the two men. Miraculously, he was untouched as he slid into the safety of the cover of Unit C3.

The scream that tore through the air informed him that Smithers hadn't been as fortunate. Vaughn spun around. The man was lying in the middle of the tunnel, hands grasped to his left leg, blood pouring over it. His M-1 lay on the floor, forgotten.

Even as Vaughn started to move to go out and pull him to safety, a burst of automatic fire walked up the floor, sending chips of wood flying, and then the rounds stitched a pattern across Smithers's midsection, the velocity of the rounds punching him three feet down the south tunnel, where he came to rest, dead.

"Leave him," Tai called out, looking over her shoulder.

Vaughn followed her, hoping the Koreans would move cautiously down the corridor. He slid into the power access tunnel. There was no way he could replace the grate from the inside, so there would be little doubt about which direction he had gone in. They'd have to trust to the strength of the double hatches.

He crawled on his hands and knees right behind Tai, the distance to the first hatch, and waited as she pounded on it. "It's me. Tai."

The wheel slowly turned, then the door opened, Logan's face framed by the hatch. Tai went first, and then Vaughn slid through. "Shut it," he ordered, and slumped against the corrugated steel tubing that made up the wall. "Secure it."

Logan flipped over the latch, locking the handle. "Where's Smithers?"

"Dead," Vaughn said. He looked around the tunnel and pulled off one of the OD green bags he had draped over his shoulders.

"What are you doing?" Logan asked.

"If they blew in the top door, they can probably blow this one in too. I want to leave them a surprise that will make them think twice about doing the second one."

Airspace, Antarctica

Captain Hyun craned his neck, looking out the window. They had just cleared the last mountains and broken into intermittent cloud cover, leaving the storm behind. The sea of ice that surrounded Antarctica was spread out below as far as he could see to the north. There was no way he could land on that.

"We must turn back and try to land," he pleaded with the impassive Sergeant Chong. "We are almost out of fuel. We could land at McMurdo and get refueled."

Chong fingered his slung AK-47, took a deep breath, held it, then pulled the trigger. The first round blew the copilot's brains against the right windshield.

"What are you doing?" Hyun screamed, twisting in his seat, his eyes growing wide as the gaping muzzle of the AK-47 turned in his direction. "If you kill me, there will be no one to fly the plane," he desperately reasoned.

Chong's finger increased pressure on the trigger.

"Please!" Hyun begged.

Chong shot him through the chest three times, disgusted with his pleading. The third round knocked the pilot out of his seat. Without hands on the controls, the plane continued to fly forward smoothly. Chong reached over and pushed down on the yoke. The nose of the plane turned downward.

When the angle became too steep, the plane plummeted out of control toward the ice-covered water. The nose hit first, and the rest of the plane crumpled and compressed as it punched through the ice into the freezing water below.

In five minutes a disappearing black smear was all that was left to mark the grave of the IL-8.

Antarctica

Min looked at the primed block of old C-4 lying on top of the untouched safe and frowned. Someone in the other party had been smart, but not quick enough.

"Open that safe, but make sure you don't destroy the contents," he instructed Lieutenant Kim.

Kim slid his backpack off and pulled out his more modern explosives, molding the plastique with his fingers, shaping the charge to blow the door off.

Sergeant Jae stuck his head in the door. "They are down a tunnel blocked by a steel door, sir."

Min nodded. "Blow the door and kill them."

Jae nodded and sprinted away.

Min checked his watch. Chong was most likely dead by now, along with Hyun and his copilot. Nam had been killed when they crossed the intersection. Ho had been wounded, although not severely. Song had also been killed moving forward. Yong and Lee had been injured in the jump. That left three wounded and four healthy men. Not good.

"Clear!" Kim yelled as he finished priming the charge. He unraveled detonating cord as they left the unit. "Firing!" Kim pulled the igniter, and the soft burp of a controlled explosion echoed out the door.

Min walked in and checked the results. The door of the safe was off its hinges, the contents untouched. He pulled out the paper and leafed through it until he found what he needed.

Kim gathered his gear. "I will assist Sergeant Jae."

Min nodded his concurrence, engrossed in translating the documents.

Vaughn stared at the pack full of explosives, wondering if it was worth his time to even try to rig them, given what had happened when he tried to blow the safe.

"What are you doing?" Logan demanded.

"I'm thinking of blowing the tunnel," Vaughn said.

"We'll be trapped then!" Logan exclaimed.

"If I don't do it," Vaughn said, "we'll be dead."

The argument was interrupted by the deep rumble of an explosion, reverberating down the tunnel.

"That's the first door," Vaughn said.

A second, sharper explosion followed by screams could be faintly heard through the thick steel door.

"That's the mine," Vaughn said. "At least it worked. That will make them think twice about taking out this door."

Min looked at the mangled remains of Sergeant Jae. The corrugated steel tunnel had intensified the effects of the antipersonnel mine. Jae's body had taken most of the impact, but some had gotten by him, and Yong's right arm and leg were saturated with a load of shrapnel. Sun had given Yong a shot of morphine, and his screaming had stopped.

Kim came crawling back through the blood. "I can still blow the second door, sir."

"I know." Min rubbed his chin. He had not expected such a fight. In fact, he had not expected any fight at all. He had been so concerned with simply getting here that he had not war-gamed possible events upon arrival sufficiently. Now was time to cut his losses.

"Leave the door." Min announced.

Kim looked up at his team leader in surprise. "But they are still alive in there. Our orders are to leave no trace."

Min nodded grimly. "I know."