Ballistic Force(21)
Tokaido’s cell phone was on the dresser of the officers’ quarters where he was staying for the week. He’d left the phone on in hopes Lim might call, and his spirits rallied when he saw that someone had indeed left a message. It turned out, however, that the call had been from Barbara Price back at Stony Man Farm. Tokaido showered first, then dressed and pulled his long black hair into a ponytail before returning the call. The mission controller wasn’t available, so Tokaido asked to be patched through to Aaron Kurtzman at the Annex.
After they exchanged a quick greeting, Kurtzman told Tokaido the reason Price had called.
“Look, I know your plate’s full out there,” Kurtzman said, “but there’s a new wrinkle to this whole mess that you might want to keep an ear open for.”
Tokaido quickly tracked down a pen and paper, then scribbled notes as Kurtzman apprised him of the latest developments involving attempts by North Korean REDI agents to abduct members of the Kanggye nuclear team.
“If you come across any intel mentioning the defectors,” Kurtzman concluded, “you might want to give it top priority, because if the KPA spells out where they plan on bringing these guys, odds are we’ll find the missiles there, too.”
“It’s definitely worth a shot,” Tokaido admitted. “I’ll get on it first thing.”
“Listen, Akira,” Kurtzman went on, “I don’t know if it’s just the connection, but you sound exhausted. Were you out partying with the relatives last night?”
“I wish.”
Tokaido told Kurtzman about the problems he’d had getting in touch with his cousin.
“That’s strange,” Kurtzman said. “If you’re really concerned, maybe you ought to head down there and check things out. It’s only an hour drive to Seoul from where you are, right?”
“Something like that,” Tokaido said. “I can probably wrangle a chopper ride and get there even quicker. I want to wait until a little later, though. I keep thinking there’s been some kind of mixup and I’ll still hear from him.”
“You don’t sound very convinced of that,” Kurtzman said.
“Maybe not,” Tokaido confessed, “but it beats thinking about the alternatives.”
“I can understand that,” Kurtzman said. “Well, keep us posted. And if you come up with anything on that defector angle…”
“Don’t worry, I’ll get right on it and give you a holler if we get lucky.”
Tokaido wrapped up the call, then tried Lim again. There was still no answer. Anxious for some kind of news, he tried Lim’s office. Seung-Whan was CEO of a computer-electronics firm in Seoul bearing the family name: in fact, it had been the profits from Lim Systems International that had allowed him to buy his share of the Sky-Eagles baseball team. Tokaido managed to speak with Lim’s executive secretary, but she hadn’t heard from Lim and wasn’t expecting him back in the office until the beginning of the following week. She offered him some fleeting hope, however, explaining that Lim owned a beach house near Incheon and might have stopped over there after the fishing trip. The house didn’t have a phone, but Tokaido assumed Lim had his cell phone with him and should have received his earlier messages. Things still didn’t add up, at least in any way that was reassuring.
“Where are you, Seung-Whan?” he muttered as he hung up.
Tokaido slipped his cell phone into the same carrying case that held his laptop and the notes he’d compiled during his long hours at the base’s Communications and Radio Control Center. Though he wasn’t hungry, he stopped by the cafeteria for an early dinner. The food was standard Army fare: bland but filling. He stared into space as he ate, trying to suppress his growing concern over Lim’s whereabouts. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice an officer approach his table. The man had to wave a hand in front of Tokaido’s face to get his attention.
“Sorry,” Tokaido said in apology, staring up at U.S. Army Colonel Thomas Michaels.
“You weren’t in your room, so I figured I might find you here,” the officer told him.
Although Camp Bonifas was technically home of the United Nations Command Security Battalion, the U.S. Army’s 2nd Armored Division comprised the majority of the base’s actual manpower, and Michaels, who headed up intelligence operations along the DMZ, was third in command at the facility. A tall, hawk-nosed Seattle native, Michaels had been Tokaido’s primary contact the past week. Normally the man had a surprisingly easygoing demeanor, but as he took a seat, Tokaido noticed that the colonel’s expression was grim.