The Asian Assassin
The three American Special Forces Army operatives were not in uniform. Two were dressed in Russian attire for their clandestine mission. The third was dressed as a Kenyan General. Their nerves tense, they stalked through the Vladivostok’s airport. Their mission was to take out a North Korean General. The General was known to be in Russia. He was traveling on the Trans-Siberian Railway.
The six-foot three-inch, black, Sergeant Major, Etienne Mungo was the veteran. He impersonated a Kenyan General. Cowboy was slender and work hardened. Dude was the short, Chicago street-wise scrapper. They carried Russian papers proclaiming them to be body guards for the General. The three knew they operated on a slippery slope because General Jagwi had already circulated pictures of them to his spy network.
Mungo stopped the other two at the baggage area. He ordered “Here is the situation. We speak only Russian for the duration of the mission, no English, period. I will speak Swahili if necessary. While we are at the airport, and when we get to the train depot, I want your eyes on the crowd. I want you looking for anybody who appears to be interested in us. We want to avoid tangling with them if possible, until we complete the assignment.”
The Vladivostok air terminal was 70 kilometers from the Vladivostok Trans-Siberian railway center. They stopped in the baggage retrieval area. Mungo informed Dude, “Choosing a taxi here is like buying in a flea market. The drivers will haggle on the price of transportation to Vladivostok. Dude, I want you to look for a Primavtolayn taxi. One of that type might take the three of us to the train station for a lower price.”
Dude nodded, “Okay, let me try it my way.”
Mungo raised an eyebrow and dryly affirmed, “Okay, Sinatra. Do it.”
Dude turned and walked toward the taxis.
Mungo and Cowboy looked around the baggage retrieval point. Mungo said, “Now, let’s use our spy craft.” He nudged Cowboy, “See the guy in the corner, over there? The one who appears to be doing nothing?”
“Yeah, I see him.”
“Okay! Who stands around in an airport baggage area doing nothing? You see everyone else looking at their tickets, their luggage, or checking a schedule.”
Mungo stopped, “Hold on! Dude is waving for us. Let’s grab our luggage and go.”
As they walked toward Dude, Mungo said quietly, “See the bald Korean talking casually on his cell?”
“Yeah, I was watching him.”
“Did you notice that when he glanced toward our side of the baggage area, he always looked above us?”
Cowboy nodded, “Oh, yeah!”
They approached Dude standing next to a taxi. He ruefully exclaimed, “This driver will take the three of us to the train depot. He’ll do it for less than the others, but I have to give him my Sinatra CD.
“He wants to trade it to a nightclub owner for a season of vodka, free women, and good times.”
Mungo quietly nodded, “Let’s go for it.”
They seated themselves in the taxi. The bald Korean, who had watched them, ran up to the taxi. He stopped abruptly at the driver’s door. Sweat flew from his shaved head. He ordered, “I will ride to the train station in Vladivostok!”
The cab driver, a lean, blue-eyed man, with loose blond hair, explained, “Sorry, Comrade, but they have paid for all four seats.”
The bald man persisted, “But I am party member. I will pay for the fourth seat,” He held his coat open as he reached for his money. The butt of a pistol in his waist band stuck out.
The cab driver turned to look at Dude. The question of what to do was etched on his angular face, “This man is Communist Party member; very important man.”
Dude leaned forward. He said gruffly, “We are official bodyguards for the General. We want no one near him.”
The party man shouted, “I will reimburse the bodyguard for the seat, and I will pay you for the seat!” He thrust money in front of the driver’s face!
The taxi driver turned anxiously to look at Dude. His lips were drawn back in a rictus. He ground his teeth together. Again, his face held the question: What to do?
Dude slid forward on the rear seat. He stopped with his face near the driver’s face. He reached into his carry bag and pulled out his Sinatra disc. He held it up in front of the cab driver’s face.
Firmly, he said, “If that man gets in this taxi, we’re getting out. That means you lose this Sinatra CD. You decide what to do.”
The driver’s eyes caressed the CD. His mind drank deeply of the vodka, women, and song that he had been promised. He imagined his good times ebbing away. His insides clinched at the receding good times.
Dude waved the CD back and forth, tantalizingly.
The driver’s jaw muscles quivered. His teeth locked tightly. He put the taxi into drive. He stomped on the accelerator. The tires squealed.
The party member clung to the window frame. The increasing wind blew the sweat from his head. He yelled threatening curses at the driver. Finally, as the taxi roared away, his overweight body slid to the rough pavement, spinning around and around. The proffered cash flew out in a spiral of circles.
Dude calmly handed the driver the Sinatra CD.
More than an hour later, near sundown, the taxi arrived at the train station.
Mungo said, “Okay, here at the Vladivostok train depot, we need to pick up our reservations, and we need to find our Russian contact, Ivan Ivanovski.
“Cowboy, you go in ahead of us. Take up a position across the room from the ticket windows. Get a feel for the crowd and watch for any change of behavior when we enter.”
He nodded and left.
Mungo said quietly, “Dude, after Cowboy has been in there a few minutes, I want you to act like a guide and lead me in there. Point out things in there while you scan the crowd.
Moments later they entered the ticketing area. As they entered, a short, officious, round little man in a suit exited from an office. He noticed Mungo and Dude. With dark hair slicked back, and dark shoes polished to a patent leather sheen, he bustled toward Mungo.
Dude stepped in front of the man.
The officious little man said, “I will see your papers.”
Dude countered, “I am a registered body guard. His papers have been checked. He’s okay.”
The man loudly said, “I am a party member, and I will see your papers.”
Cowboy approached him from behind. He said, “Is there a problem here?”
The little man turned to Cowboy and asked, “Are you with these men?” As he turned to question Cowboy, his jacket bulged out and revealed the outline of a pistol grip in a shoulder holster.
The three soldiers looked at each other with eyebrows raised.
Finally, Cowboy answered, “Yes, I am a registered bodyguard for the General.”
“Good! I will see your papers, also,”
Cowboy and Dude started to protest.
The man persisted quietly, “I am Ivan Ivanovski. You will show me your papers.”
They glanced at each other in surprise. They glumly produced their papers.
He looked at the papers intently. He said, “Follow me!”
He led the group to an office behind the reservations cage. He ordered, “Wait here.”
In a tense whisper, Cowboy asked, “What are we going to do if he tries to derail our plan?”
Dude whispered to Mungo, “Yeah! Did you see the outline of the pistol in his shoulder holster when he turned to look at Cowboy?”
Mungo nodded, “Yes, I saw that. But didn’t you notice? He did not pull his weapon on us! Let’s just be patient and see how this thing plays out.”
Moments later, Ivanovski returned. He handed them their reservations and papers. He calmly reached into his jacket and pulled out his pistol.
The three men involuntarily took a half step back.
Ivanovski shrugged and flipped the pistol in his hand, He held the grip of the pistol toward Mungo.
He said, “Hold this, please.”
He continued, “I received a call moments before you arrived. The party member, whom your taxi threw to the pavement, called. He ordered me to detain you if you came through this station. He wants to question you. This is a very bad man. Be careful of him.”
Mungo raised the pistol. He asked, “What is this for?”
“One of you is going to hit me on the head.”
“When do we do that?”
“Before you leave here! Hit me just hard enough to raise a bump!”
Mungo queried, “Okay, what is the rest of the plan?”
Ivanovski pointed, “I will pretend to be unconscious on the floor when he arrives. The bump will prove that you attacked me. I will tell him you knocked me out and escaped. Now, you will go out this back door, turn left down the hallway. Go out of the door at the end. Go directly to the train. Find your assigned rail car, and hope my people can delay this wild man long enough for the train to depart.”
Mungo handed the pistol to Cowboy. He ordered, “Don’t knock his head off. Just hit him hard enough to raise a knot.”
“Yes General, will do!”
Cowboy spoke to Ivanovski, “Hold your head steady. Move your hands aside.”
Cowboy struck him a solid blow. Ivanovski folded to the floor. Cowboy joined Mungo and Dude in the hallway behind the office.
Mungo ordered the other two to stop inside exit door. He commanded, “We will not get in line together. I don’t want to create a picture of we three men together in the ticket official’s mind. We will go separately. Maybe we can avoid this Mad Korean.
“It’s going to be easy enough for bystanders to remember me, the way I stand out, a Kenyan who is 6 feet 3 inches tall. Whoever gets to our accommodations first, secure our location and let no one enter, period!”
Dude went first, scanning the crowd far any hostile faces.
Cowboy followed and mixed with the boarding crowd.
Mungo found a woman in the crowd who appeared to be alone, and he joined the line behind her as if they were traveling together.
Separately, the men arrived at their designated suite. They sat by the train window. They watched the thinning crowd and looked for bald scalp of the party member.
After thirty minutes had passed, Mungo said, “It’s almost dark outside. Cowboy, go out to the official who let us on the train. Ask him why this train has not departed yet. Then, come back here. I need to know if we should take contingency action.
”Listen to me, both of you. The rules of engagement are these: if that man is on to us, we’ll have to take him out. If we’re able to get him back to our suite, we’ll take him out here. We can’t do it in the open. There are too many witnesses. You got me?”
Both men nodded and said, “Copy, General.”
Cowboy left immediately.
Five minutes later, the train started moving.
Dude blurted, “We can’t leave. Where is Cowboy?”
Instead, Mungo asked, “What was that noise.”
Rising from his seat, Mungo whispered, “It sounded like it came from the doorway.”
Mungo grabbed the suite door and jerked it open. Cowboy stood there with hands hanging at his side. In Russian, he said, “Look at what followed me home.” A rough shove from behind sent him staggering into the suite.
The Korean party man, standing in the hallway, held an Asian revolver aimed at Cowboy. He motioned for everyone to step back. In the narrow walk area between the suite’s couches, they stood packed together.
They stepped back until their backs were pressed against the rail car windows. They saw that at a distance of two meters from the Korean, any wrong move could mean certain death for any of the three.
In Korean accented English, the Korean said, “Ah, the three who would not let me ride in the taxi with them.” He snarled, “And the three who left me bleeding on the street!”
Dude remembered Mungo’s instructions to speak only Russian until ordered otherwise. He asked in Russian, “What did he say?
Mungo shrugged in feigned puzzlement.
In Russian, the Korean said, “Do not try to fool me. General Jagwi has told me you are very clever. I know you speak English.”
The Korean pointed his revolver at Mungo. In English, he said, “The next one of you, who acts like he does not speak English, will die.”
Sweat formed on their upper lips. The three stood silently with their arms raised. They spoke not a word, moved not at all.
Sweat trickled from Cowboy’s hair down behind his right ear.
Mungo thought, The Korean is aiming at me. I can’t surprise him or jump him. He would shoot me before I could reach him. If Cowboy or Dude make a move, he may shoot me anyway, and he might be quick enough to shoot them before they could reach him. I think we can continue our charade for a few minutes more.
Cowboy, who stood beside Mungo, thought, If Mungo moves, that asshole will shoot him. If Dude and I move first, we could take him, but one of us would probably die. There’s got to be a better way. Are we going to speak English, or what? I’m glad Mungo’s responsible for our fate and not me.
Dude, who stood next to Cowboy, thought, I hate this job! Are we going to speak English, or are we going to take that asshole out? Maybe I can act like I’m going to make a move, distract the Korean. Then, either Mungo or Cowboy will get the hint, and we can take the guy down. The last thing Mungo said was speak only Russian.
I hate this job.
The Korean kept his pistol aimed center of mass at Mungo. He glared at Mungo. In English, he snarled at Mungo, “Okay, you! Lie face down on that couch, to your right. Lock your fingers behind your head, and cross one foot over the other.”
Mungo stood immobile, His face was blank. His eyes intently watched the muzzle of the Korean’s pistol. He thought, Okay, he’s not going to shoot first and ask questions later. That’s in our favor.
Cowboy thought, Damn! Mungo’s playing it close to the vest.
Dude thought, Remind me never to play Poker with Mungo. I hate this job.
The Korean stepped closer to Mungo. He raised the pistol in his hand higher. The muzzle pointed at the middle of Mungo’s forehead. The Korean grabbed Mungo’s shirt front. In English, he growled, “Get on the couch!”
Cowboy saw that the Korean’s attention was focused fully on Mungo. Cowboy’s hands, which he had been holding above his head, began to slowly come down.
In Russian, Mungo said, “Comrade, I will tell you whatever you want to know, if you will just tell me what you want in a language I understand.”
A momentary look of disbelief played across the Korean’s face. He stammered, “I…I know you speak English.”
He had intended to question the three, shoot them, and stop them from hindering General Jagwi. The Korean stepped even closer to Mungo. Anger contorted his face. His sole intent now was to force Mungo to speak English.
He pushed the pistol harder against Mungo’s forehead.
The pistol forced Mungo’s head against the interior train wall.
Dude leaned his head forward. He looked for an opportunity to do something.
Cowboy’s hands came down slowly.
Out of the corner of his eye, the Korean saw Dude’s head move forward,
The Korean grabbed Mungo’s shirt front. He flicked the revolver toward Dude.
In English, he snarled, “Get back!”
Several things happened at once.
Mungo’s knee snapped powerfully up, crushing the Korean’s groin.
Cowboy’s hand was inches from the revolver pointed at Dude. He grabbed the revolver. He expertly forced the skin between his thumb and forefinger into the gap between the pistol’s hammer and the firing pin.
The Korean pulled the trigger.
The hammer struck Cowboy’s skin. It slammed his skin against the firing pin. The pistol failed to fire.
Dude grabbed the pistol and Cowboy’s hand. He jerked the pistol from the Korean’s hand. His action pulled him and Cowboy away from the window. They fell to the floor.
Doubled over in pain, from Mungo’s knee smash, the Korean turned to see the two men fall. He struggled to move toward the two. He frantically reached for his pistol. As he struggled to regain his weapon, Mungo’s huge right fist crashed into the Korean's head just behind his ear.
The Korean fell on top of Cowboy and Dude.
Mungo grabbed the Korean by his shirt collar. He jerked the Korean hard upward. He heard a moist dull snap. He pulled the dead Korean up and off of Cowboy and Dude. The Korean’s body flopped onto one of the couches.
Dude sprang up from the floor with the pistol in his hand. He followed the body of the Korean onto the couch. He jammed the pistol into the dead Korean’s temple. He snarled, “Alright, bastard, you’re gonna die!”
As he pulled the trigger, Mungo grabbed Dude’s hand and the pistol. In Russian, he ordered, “Stop!”
Dude looked confused. He grunted, “I gotta kill this jerk.”
“You might, if he weren’t already dead.”
“What?”
“Yeah…I…I sort of broke his neck.”
Dude exclaimed, “Wow! Did you mean to do it?”
Mungo admitted, “Uh, yeah, I guess so.”
Cowboy asked, “What are we going to do now?”
Mungo took a deep breath. As he exhaled, he explained, “Well, headquarters wants us to find General Jagwi and take him out.”
Cowboy gasped, “You mean like more of this.” He inclined his head toward the Korean.
Mungo nodded and quietly said, “Yeah!”
Dude exclaimed, “Oh hell, no!”