Chapter 11
Mission: OPRERATION RAILWAY
Army Intelligence Detachment
Seoul International Airport
0900 hours Local Time, Current Date
Mungo received Spence’s message about his bugged office before boarding the flight in Seoul, He said, “Ah, Hell! Spyware again!”
Cowboy asked, “Who, the Colonel?”
Mungo replied, “Yeah.”
Dude shook his head.
After boarding the Aeroflot international flight in Seoul, Mungo, Cowboy, and Dude were already in character. They arranged themselves in the seats. Cowboy took the aisle seat. Mungo sat in the middle. Dude took the seat by the window. They gave hard stares to anyone who looked at them more than a few seconds.
In an effort to solidify their appearance as bodyguards, they gruffly replied to anyone who attempted to wish them a good morning. Mungo appeared to be pre-occupied with paperwork in his valise.
Mungo had laid down the rules of conduct on the way to the airport.
He told his two bodyguards, “Alright, we speak only in Russian for the duration of the mission. I will speak Kenyan when necessary. I will pretend that I speak Russian poorly. You two will do most of the talking while I observe the persons we will deal with. When we use the phrase, “The mother tongue,” that will be a signal that you’re ready for action,”
“Acting as my bodyguards, I want you to keep everybody at least a meter separation from me. Do it with sullenness, and forcefulness. Do not smile when we are out in public.
“Everyone understand that?”
Cowboy and Dude both answered, “Da!”
In Russian, he explained, “Good! We have about a two-hour flight. The distance between Seoul and Vladivostok is about 750 kilometers. On this flight, I don’t expect any trouble, so, let’s lean back and enjoy peacefulness while we have it.”
Mungo had another thought, “When we arrive at the airport, I especially want the meter separation. I want your eyes on the crowd. I want you looking for anybody who appears to be interested in us. That’s who we’ll want to watch. That rat bastard, Jaqwi, is too damned sneaky. He could have a half-dozen assassins already at the train station looking for us. We will want to watch for them, especially if they follow us on-board the train.”
The two bodyguards nodded and relaxed for the duration of the plane trip.
They arrived at the Vladivostok air terminal, about 70 kilometers from the city of Vladivostok. Standing in the baggage retrieval area, Mungo told Dude, “This place is kind of like Chicago. These taxi drivers like to haggle on the price of transportation. They usually like to ask for a thousand Rubles for an hour’s ride. The roads are bad in Vladivostok, and there are always traffic jams. So, the trip to Railroad Square will probably take up to two hours.
“Look for a Primavtolayn taxi. They are the best ones to travel in. They won’t take the three of us to the train station for less than two thousand Rubles each. That’s about forty US dollars. They will probably ask for three times that much. I want you to see if you can negotiate a better price.”
“I don’t think that is more than I can chew. I think I can do it my way.”
“Okay, Frank Sinatra. Do it,”
“Okay, let me see if I can find one who looks desperate.”
“You’re the man. Cowboy and I will wait for our luggage.”
Dude began walking up and down the line of taxis. He stopped at one and began talking with the cab driver.
Cowboy nudged Mungo. Speaking quietly in Russian, he said, “I’ve seen at least four people in the waiting area who continue to watch us.”
“I think the ones you mention are looking at my uniform. I think it’s because they are accustomed to seeing Russian officer uniforms, not Kenyan. I believe they’re having trouble trying to figure out what I am.”
“I hope that’s all it is.”
“Okay, take a look at the man and the woman, over there, who have been openly watching me.”
“I see them.’
“Okay, if they were surveilling me, they wouldn’t be openly watching me and pointing at my uniform.”
“Yeah, I see them.”
“Yes, they would be doing their best to not appear to be watching me.”
“Well, maybe!”
“Okay. See the guy in the corner, over there? The one who appears to be doing nothing?”
“Yeah, I see him.”
“Okay! Who stands around an airport baggage area doing nothing? You see everyone else looking at their tickets, their luggage, or checking a schedule.”
“I get ya. He seems to be one who is looking for someone else. Who do you think he’s looking for?”
“I’m not sure, but I think he hasn’t found who he’s looking for because he is s still looking.”
“That might be a part of his cover.”
“Maybe, but he’s not sweating, and he’s not anxious.”
Cowboy watched the man in question. Finally, he said, “I think you’re right.”
Mungo interrupted him, “Look, Dude is waving for us. Let’s grab our luggage and go.”
As they walked, Mungo said quietly, “See the Korean talking casually on his cell?”
“Yeah, I was watching him.”
“Did you notice that when he glanced toward our side of the waiting area, he never looked directly at us? That he always looked above us?”
“Yep, that was what caught my attention about his behavior. His movements suggest a scan-your-target behavior.”
“Okay, I would tend to worry more about him than I would about the others.
“Do you think you would recognize him if you saw him on the train to Moscow?”
“He’d have to change his appearance radically for me not to recognize him. I can see the beads of sweat on his shaved head.
“Anyone else you have trouble with in that group?”
“Yeah. That couple back there.’
“Why?”
“I don’t know. They were so mundane. I mean so common. They were hardly recognizable.”
“Almost invisible, huh?”
“Ah,” Cowboy sighed, “The magic words. They have just reached the top of our ‘most likely’ followers. list”
Glancing over his shoulder as a tourist might, Mungo whispered, “When they saw us start to move, they moved too.
“And our cell phone guy is following us too!”
As they approached the taxi area, Dude stood next to a taxi. He ruefully exclaimed, “This driver will take the three of us for four thousand Rubles. That’s for three of us in a taxi made for four riders. He’ll do it, but I have to give him one of my discs of Sinatra’s greatest hits.
“He wants to trade it to a nightclub owner for a year’s worth of vodka, free women, and good times.”
Mungo grinned, “Is that the best you could do?”
“I think so. All the other taxi drivers wanted eight thousand Rubles for three of us. The best I could get out of them was six thousand Rubles.
“Looks like Sinatra wins the day.”
“See! I told ya! They like Sinatra in Mother Russia!”
“Okay, I’m convinced,” Mungo said as he motioned toward the trunk of the taxi for Cowboy and Dude to load the luggage.
As they seated themselves in the taxi, the Korean, who scanned Mungo and Cowboy in the baggage area, 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 was a lean man with a hard body. His blond hair hung below his ears. His sometimes smile showed large square teeth. He explained, “Sorry, Comrade, but they have paid for all four seats.”
The party man persisted, “But I am party member. I will pay you two thousand Rubles for the seat,” He held his coat open as he reached for his money. The butt of the pistol in his shoulder holster was clearly visible.
The cab driver turned to look at Dude. The question was written on his angular face. He raised his eyebrows at Dude, “The man is Communist Party member; very important man.”
Dude leaned forward. He gruffly explained, “We are official bodyguards for the General. We want no one near him. He has important work to do.”
The party man shouted, “I will reimburse the bodyguard for the seat, and I will pay you three thousand Rubles,”
The taxi driver turned 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.
Gruffly, he said, “If that man gets in this taxi, we’re getting out. That means you lose this Sinatra CD.
“You decide how to do it your way.”
The driver’s eyes caressed the CD. His mind drank deeply of the vodka, women, and song he had been promised. As in the grip of an opioid withdrawal, his insides clinched at the fading good times.
The driver turned to look at the party member. His eyes implored the party member to go away. He turned to look at Dude again.
Dude waved the CD back and forth, tantalizingly.
The driver’s eyes questioned his steering wheel.
The steering wheel gave back the only answer.
With his jaw muscles quivering, his teeth locked tightly, he put the taxi in 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 bald head. He yelled threatening curses at the driver. Finally, as the taxi roared away, he Korean’s overweight body fell to the rough pavement, spinning around and around.
Dude calmly handed the driver the Sinatra CD.
The driver said, “I will regret this tomorrow. This man will make more trouble for me at the licensing bureau.”
Dude asked, “What can he do?”
“Does not matter. Tonight, I go to the night club. I trade this CD to owner. I get pretty girls. I get to drink all vodka I want for one year. If I don’t work for one year, I don’t care.”
Curious, Dude asked, “What is this CD worth to the owner?”
“Not sure. With the many people who will come to listen, and to drink? Maybe twenty-five thousand Rubles for each night he features Sinatra.”
Dude did a quick calculation in his head. He figured maybe a $400 increase in a club’s nightly income.
Dude laughed, “My friend, you’re starting to sound like a capitalist.”
The taxi driver smiled largely. His withdrawal symptoms fading quickly. He licked his dry lips. Nodding and with a long exhalation of breath, he replied, “Daaa!”
The three looked out the back window of the speeding taxi. The other taxi drivers were leaving their cabs and running toward the party man on the pavement.
The “all but invisible” man and his wife were trying to get the drivers back in their taxis so that they could follow Dude’s taxi.
The man who used the cell phone in the airport baggage area worked with the man and wife to get a taxi. The taxi drivers were oblivious to their pleas as they jostled each other to solicitously help the downed party man regain his feet.
An hour later, near sundown, the taxi arrived at the train station. The driver helped them unload their luggage. He shook hands with Dude, “If you ever return to Vladivostok, ask for Sergei.”
Dude smiled, “I will ask for you, my friend. Maybe the next time, I will bring another Sinatra CD.”
The taxi driver smiled largely, “I think you must want me to be in a lot of trouble.”
Dude laughed, “Live well, my friend.”
Mungo said, “Okay, now that we are at the Vladivostok train station, let’s see if we can find Ivan Ivanovski. We need to go pick up our reservations.
“Cowboy, you in go 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.”
“Roger that. Leaving now.”
“Dude, after he has been in there a few minutes, I want you to act like a guide and lead me in there. I don’t mean by the hand but make it obvious that you’re a guide. Point out things in there while you scan the crowd.
“I believe Ivanovski is a rotund little man. So, don’t be too alarmed if someone of that nature approaches us.”
“Copy, General.”
Moments later they entered the ticketing area. As they entered, a short, officious, round little man in a suit exited from an office. With dark hair slicked back, and dark shoes polished to a patent leather sheen, he bustled toward Mungo.
Dude stepped in front of Mungo.
The officious little man said, “I will see your papers.”
Dude said, “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 man turned to Cowboy. asked, “Are you with these men?”
“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, I must see your papers, please.”
They looked at each other with eyebrows raised. They produced their papers.
He looked at the papers intently.
He said, “Follow me please.”
He led the group to an office behind the ticket cage. He ordered, “Wait here, please.”
He went out the door through which they had entered, taking their papers with him. They heard him on the other side of the wall saying, “Give me the reservations for these individuals.”
Cowboy grunted, “What the hell is going on? Is this the Ivanovski we were supposed to connect with?”
Dude agreed, “Yeah! Is this what we were supposed to have happen to us. Should we run like hell?”
Cowboy asked, “What are we going to do if he tries to derail our plan?”
Dude asked Mungo, “Yeah! Did you see the pistol in his shoulder holster when he turned to look at Cowboy?”
“Yes, I saw it. But you notice, he did not pull his weapon on us. Let’s just hold on and see how this thing plays out.”
Seconds later, Ivanovski returned. He called out, “Korova Chelovek?”
Hesitantly, Cowboy raised his hand.
Ivanovski asked, “Are you that name?”
Cowboy mutely nodded.
Ivanovski handed the reservations to him.
Ivanovski called out, “Frenk Pevets?”
Hesitantly, Dude raised his hand.
Ivanovski asked, “Are you that name?”
With his mouth slightly ajar, Dude nodded,
Ivanovski handed the reservations to him.
Ivanovski looked a Mungo. He asked, “That must make you General Mungo?”
Hoarsely, Mungo said, “Da.”
Ivanovski nodded. He reached into his jacket and pulled out his pistol.
The three men involuntarily took a half step back.
Ivanovski flipped the pistol in his hand, He held the grip of the pistol toward Mungo.
He said, “Hold this please.”
Mungo quickly took the pistol. Uncertain of what to do, he held the pistol loosely in his hand.
Ivanovski walked to his desk. He opened a drawer. He pulled out a small deep red 2x2 inch plastic pouch. He turned toward the three.
He said, “I received a call moments before you arrived. The party member, whom you left lying on the pavement, called. He asked me to detain you if I saw you come through this station. He wants to question you. He thinks you may want to catch the Trans-Siberian- Railroad here. He thinks you may be following someone.
“Because I have picked up your tickets, he will be able to ascertain that you will be on the train. If he gets here in time to board the train, he will have to confront you before the train gets to Kirovskiy. His authority to arrest or detain ends at Kirovskiy. This is a very bad man. Be careful of him.”
Mungo regained his senses. He asked, “What is the red pouch for?”
“Ah, this thing?”
“Yes.”
“It is a small sample of my own blood. I’m going to put it against my head, and one of you is going to hit me on the head. Probably not you, General. You wouldn’t want to ruin your uniform.”
“When do we do that?”
“Before you leave.
“The little pouch will break. Blood will splatter everywhere. It’s very effective at convincing people I have been attacked. When you leave, take the pouch with you and dispose of it somewhere. I will probably be unconscious.’
“Okay, what is the rest of the plan?
“You will go out this back door, turn left down the hallway. Go out door at the end. Go directly to the train and find your coach. Occupy your space and hope my people can delay him long enough for the train to depart.
“My people, those who are loyal to me, are sympathetic to the American people’s dilemma. Since Chernobyl, they don’t want anyone to have to suffer from a radiation fallout problem. We know if you don’t stop that North Korean General, many, many problems will afflict your fellow citizens.”
Mungo nodded, “We thank you for your help and for your concern. Do you have any other instructions for us.?”
Ivanovski sighed, “No.” He sat down on the floor.
Mungo asked, “What are you doing?”
From the floor Ivanovski said, “I don’t want to fall down and hurt myself when you knock me out.”
Mungo grumbled, “Oh, for Pete’s sake.’
He turned to Cowboy, “Don’t knock his head off. Hit him hard enough to break the bag and to raise a knot on his head.”
“Yes sir, General. I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
Cowboy spoke to Ivanovski, “Hold your bag steady. Move your fingers.”
Cowboy struck him a solid blow. He picked up the little bag. He checked his clothing for blood splatters. He wiped two small splatters off his jeans. He joined Mungo and Dude in the hallway behind the office.
As they walked toward the train, he said, ‘When Ivanovski pulled that pistol out, it sure made my butt pucker.”
Dude grinned, “It made my butt pucker so much that if I could have farted, I would have blown holes in my underwear.
“How about you General?”
Mungo mused, “I don’t want to get in a pissing contest with you two, but I was afraid I had soiled my undershorts beyond salvation.”
He asked the other two to stop just inside the exit door. He ordered, “Let’s not get in line together. I don’t want to create a picture of three men together in that official’s mind, the one who is checking reservations. If that party member shows up and asks about the three of us, I don’t want to give him an advantage. Let’s go separately.
“It’s going to be easy enough for bystanders to remember me, the way I stand out.
“Whoever gets to our accommodations first, secure our location and let no one else enter, period.”
Dude went first, scanning the crowd for any hostile faces.
Cowboy followed and mixed with the boarding crowd.
Mungo found a woman in the crowd who appeared to be alone. He spoke pleasantly to her and asked if she needed help. She allowed him to carry one small package for her. He joined the line behind her as if they were traveling together.
Separately, the men arrived at their designated compartment. They stowed their luggage and sat by the train window watching the crowd for the face of the party member.
After thirty minutes had passed, Mungo addressed Cowboy, “It’s almost dark now. I want you to go out there to the official who checked our reservations. I want you to find out why this train has not left yet. The time has passed for our departure. I need to know if we need to be making contingency plans.
“If you see that Communist party member, get back on the train immediately, and get back here. Listen to me, both of you. The Rules of Engagement: if that man is on to us, we’ll have to take him out. If we can get him back to our cubicle, we’ll take him out here. We can’t do it in the open: too many chances for witnesses to see. You get me?”
Both men nodded and said, “Copy, General.”
Cowboy left immediately.
Five minutes later, the train started moving.
Dude blurted, “Oh, shit! Where is Cowboy?
Mungo grunted, “I don’t know, but he had better get his ass back in here.”
Dude asked, “What was that noise.”
Rising from his seat, Mungo answered, “I don’t know. It sounded like it came from the doorway.”
Again, there was a small diffident knock.
Mungo opened the berth door. Cowboy stood there with both hands raised.
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 a semi-automatic pistol aimed at Cowboy. He motioned for everyone to step back. In the very narrow walk area between bunks, they were pressed closely together.
Mungo, Dude, and Cowboy stepped back until their backs were pressed against the rail car windows. They could see that the Korean held a Czech made CZ 75. It was a pistol that fired a 9 x 19 parabellum round with a 12 round detachable box magazine. At a distance of two and a half meters, any wrong move could mean certain death.
In Korean accented English, he said, “Ah, the three who bribed the taxi driver; the three who would not let me ride in the taxi with them; and the three who left me bleeding on the street!
“So, I have found you.” He had cuts and abrasions on his cheeks and on his arms and on the torso of the shirt he wore.
Dude turned slightly to look at Mungo. He remembered Mungo’s instructions to speak only Russian until ordered otherwise. He asked in Russian, “What did he say?
Mungo shrugged.
The Korean switched languages. In Russian, the Korean said, “Do not try to fool me. The General has told me you are very clever. I know you speak English.”
In Russian, Cowboy said, “Hey, he speaks the mother tongue.”
The Korean pointed his pistol at Mungo. The Korean, in English, said, “The next one of you who acts like he does not speak English, I will shoot.”
With sweat forming on their upper lips, the three stood with the train window at their backs. They stood silently with their arms raised. They said not a word, moved not at all. Their faces denied any knowledge of English.
Mungo thought, He is aiming at me. I can’t surprise him or jump him. He’ll shoot me before I can 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 can reach him. I think we can continue our charade for a few minutes yet, not speak English, and keep him guessing. Or we can hope for a better opportunity to develop.
Cowboy, who stood beside Mungo, thought, If Mungo moves, that asshole will shoot him. If we move first, either Dude or I 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? Mungo said we speak Russian only until he says not to. I’m glad Mungo’s responsible for our fate, and not me.
Dude, who stood next to Cowboy, thought, I hate this shit! 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, and either Mungo or Cowboy will get the hint, and make a move too, and we can take the guy down. I really need-to-know what Mungo thinks is the thing to do. The last thing he said was speak only Russian. I hate this shit.
The Korean kept his pistol aimed center of mass at Mungo. In English, he ordered 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 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, Holy shit. Remind me never to play Poker with Mungo.
The Korean stepped closer to Mungo! He stuck his pistol’s muzzle in the middle of Mungo’s forehead. He grabbed Mungo’s shirt front. He growled, “Get on the couch!”
The heads of both Cowboy and Dude were turned to watch Mungo and the Korean.
Cowboy could see that the Korean’s attention was focused fully on Mungo. Cowboy’s hands, which he had been holding above his head, began slowly to 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.”
The two stood closely together. They were eye to eye.
A momentary look of confusion played across the Korean’s face. He stammered, “I…I know you speak English.” His original intent was to get information from the three, shoot them, and stop them from confronting General Jagwi. He stepped even closer to Mungo. Anger contorted his face. His sole intent now was to force Mungo to speak English.
He shouted, “I’m going to blow your brains out.”
He pushed the revolver harder against Mungo’s forehead. Mungo’s head was pushed forcibly against the train wall.
Dude leaned his head forward. He was looking for an opportunity to do something.
Cowboy’s hands continued to come slowly down.
Out of the corner of his eye, the Korean saw Dude’s head move forward,
The Korean held Mungo’s shirt front. He flicked the pistol 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 Korean’s revolver. He grabbed the revolver. The skin between his thumb and forefinger slid into the space between the 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 revolver and Cowboy’s hand. He jerked the revolver 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 watch the two men fall. He struggled to move toward the two. He was trying to get his pistol.
As the Korean struggled to regain his weapon, Mungo’s huge right fist crashed into the Korean's jaw just below his ear.
The Korean fell on top of Cowboy and Dude.
Mungo was unwilling to wait to see what effect his fist strike had on the Korean. He grabbed the Korean by his shirt collar. He jerked the Korean hard upward. He heard a moist dull snap. He pulled the Korean up and off Cowboy and Dude. The Korean’s body flopped onto one of the lower couches.
Dude came up out of the pile with the pistol in his hand. He followed the body of the Korean onto the couch. He jammed the pistol into the Korean’s temple. He snarled, “Alright bastard, you’re gonna die now!”
As he began to pull the trigger Mungo grabbed his hand with the pistol in it. In Russian, he ordered, “Stop!”
Dude looked confused. He grunted, “According to the Chicago code I gotta kill this bastard.”
“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?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess so. I just wasn’t ready to cross the bar, yet!”
Dude queried, “What bar?”
Annoyed that Dude didn't understand, he muttered, “It’s a line from one of Tennyson’s poems. Maybe I’ll explain it later.”
Mungo looked around the small cubicle. He looked out the window. He mused, “We have to get rid of this body before anyone comes to our cubicle and finds him.”
From the floor, Cowboy asked, “What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know, yet. I need to call LTC Spence and report in.”
Mungo snapped his fingers at Dude and Cowboy. He ordered, “Give me a pen and a piece of paper.”
They handed both to Mungo. He sat down on the couch next to the Korean’s body.
“Right now, I have to write and encode our message to the Colonel,”
He thought for a moment and he wrote.
“2-1 1-1 1-7 3-5 1-9 3-1 2-7 3-7 2-6 2-5 2-2 2-6 3-3 3=1
“3-2 2-6 2-6 2-2 1-8 1-9 2-4 2-6 3-3 3-2
“J A G W I S P Y O N T O U S
“T O O K H I M O U T.”
When he had encoded and sent the message, he explained, “OPSEC at Spence’s TOC has been compromised. He knows he is being watched. He knows where the spyware is. When he figures out what to do about it, he will contact us. Until then, our reports must be submitted in a code.”
Spence’s reply was prompt. Mungo read his brief reply, “F I N D J A G W I. F O L L O W O R DERS.”
Mungo commanded cowboy and dude, “The train has left Vladivostok. It’s dark outside, now. Strip the Korean’s body. We will begin tossing his clothing and his pistol outside the window. When we are through spreading his belongings and his body across the countryside, we should be safe.”