“If that’s what they had in mind, they would’ve come in firing,” Bolan said.
“Maybe they just want to see us sweat before they let us have it,” Cook countered. “Hell, they know they’ve got the upper hand.”
Bolan knew the officers had a point, and by the time he’d finished wrapping Stevens’ leg, one of the choppers was hovering less than forty yards above him and the others. Rising to his feet, Bolan stared past the bore of the aircraft’s chain gun, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever was at the controls. All he could see in the windshield, however, was a reflection of the dark clouds. Unnerved, he slowly eased his right hand toward his shoulder holster. Before he could close his hands around the butt of his Desert Eagle, however, the chain gun suddenly erupted, pummeling the ground at Bolan’s feet. He took the hint and moved his hand away from his gun.
Down in the prison yard, one of the Rangers took the shots as his cue to take the offensive. He fired his carbine, glancing a shot off the underside of the gunship closest to him.
“Hold your fire, damn it!” Cook shouted. “All of you!”
The encampment fell silent except for the steady drone of the hovering MD-500s. For several minutes the standoff continued, with the Rangers and the copter gunners each drawing bead on the other but refusing to trigger a shootout that the Americans knew they had no chance of winning.
Then, after announcing their approach with another thunderous rumbling, two more helicopters drifted into view. Both were Russian-made Mi-17-1V transport choppers, each more than four times the size of the MD-500s. Both made their way past the gunships and then slowly set down near the prison yard rock piles, raising clouds of dust with their rotowash.
“What now?” Bolan wondered out loud.
As he watched, the side doors of both choppers slid open. Nearly two dozen armed KPA commandos spilled out, taking up positions around the compound. They were clearly mindful of the Rangers but made no effort to disarm them, much less gun them down. If anything, their primary focus seemed to be on the camp internees and the cave installation. Half the troops made their way to the mountain entrance and filed their way beneath the raised chassis of the missile transporter still blocking the way.
“Okay,” Cook surmised, “they’re taking the place back. I get it. But where the hell does that leave us?”
“I think we’re about to find out,” Stevens said, pointing downhill.
A uniformed officer had followed his troops out of the second transport chopper and was calling out to the nearest group of Rangers. Apparently none of the Rangers spoke Korean, because one of them turned to Lim Seung-Whan and Akira Tokaido, who had joined Lim’s family as well as that of Ji Pho-Hwa just before the arrival of the first gunships. Lim stepped forward and began speaking at length with the officer.
“Let’s get down there,” Stevens suggested.
Bolan and Cook helped the major onto the stretcher, then carefully hauled him downhill. By the time they reached the prison yard, Lim had finished speaking with the officer and passed along the North Korean’s message to his cousin. Tokaido, in turn, broke away from the others and jogged past several of the newly arrived KPA troops. He caught up with Bolan and the others just as they’d reached the barracks where the surviving camp guards had been held prisoner. Now that the tables had turned, those men had quickly moved away from the barracks and picked up the nearest available weapons, intent on retaliating against the Americans who’d briefly overtaken the camp. The Rangers were still armed and ready to defend themselves. Before things could escalate all over again, however, the officer in charge of the reinforcements shouted for order and commanded the guards to hold their fire.
In the midst of this second standoff, Tokaido told Bolan and the two Ranger officers, “They want us to board the transport choppers.”
“Why, so they can put us on display in Pyongyang!” Stevens exclaimed. “I should’ve known!” Ignoring the pain in his leg, the major climbed off the stretcher and gestured angrily as he shouted across the yard at the KPA officer Lim had been speaking with. “Screw that, buddy!”
“No, wait!” Tokaido interjected. “You’ve got it all wrong!”
Stevens was having trouble staying on his feet and Bolan had to reach over to steady him. “What’s the lowdown then?” he asked Tokaido.
“They’re taking us across the DMZ,” Tokaido explained. “We’re going to be dropped off in Panmunjom.”
“Come off it!” Stevens scoffed. “Why the hell would they do that?”