“Now, about this collar around the vault,” he prompted. “Would that be a stopgap measure or something permanent?”
“It could be either,” Dahn responded. “Up front it will truss back any loose debris, and that might be all that is needed. But if the more detailed studies show a need to wall off the area like we did elsewhere here, most likely we’d just incorporate the collar into the reinforced wall, which would, of course, wind up being more than thick enough to bolster its holding capacity.”
Jin chuckled lightly. “I’m sure all of that might make sense to another engineer, but you’ve lost me with all the jargon.”
“The matter will be taken care of,” Dahn said. “That’s really all you need to know.”
“Of course,” Jin said. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Perhaps,” Dahn said. He lowered his voice and leaned forward slightly, then said, “I know this is a little off topic, but as I was riding here in my motorcycle I passed by the opium fields, and I couldn’t help noticing the number of women at work there. One or two of them seemed attractive, especially for prisoners.”
Jin smiled faintly. Dahn was playing right into his hand. It almost seemed too easy.
“There are some choice ones there, I have to agree,” he told Dahn. “And from what I hear, they can be most accommodating. With the right persuasion, of course.”
“Of course,” Dahn replied with a grin. “The thing is, I’d just returned from another assignment when I got the call to come here, and its been a while since I’ve had a chance to, well, I think you understand my plight.”
“All too well,” Jin said. “And it should be an easy enough matter for you to have your plight addressed.”
The major picked up the phone, again showing no sign that he was aware it had been tampered with, then told Dahn, “I’ll put in a word for you with the commandant. By the time you reach his bungalow, I’m sure he’ll be ready to take care of you.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Zane Island, Pacific Ocean
After a short, uneventful drive, the two-vehicle caravan carrying Mack Bolan, Jayne Bahn, Ed Scanlon and Major William Cook’s hastily assembled strike force reached the airfield leased out to the island’s cargo carriers. Cook was behind the wheel of the Hummer, with Bolan riding shotgun. Bahn and Scanlon shared the rear with two Rangers, while the rest of the special ops was concealed beneath the canvas shell of the second truck.
The watchman tending the front gate recognized Cook as soon as he stopped the Hummer and lowered his window. And, as predicted, the major had little trouble convincing him that he was making just another routine army drop-off.
“We’re running a little late, though,” he added, “so if we could just scoot on through…”
“Sure thing.”
Foregoing any inspection of the vehicles, the guard stepped back and opened the main gates, then waved Cook and the other driver through.
“What if he’d asked to check the vehicles?” Bolan asked as they drove onto the premises.
“Come off it,” Cook scoffed. “We own this place, remember? When the landlord asks a favor, what the hell’s a tenant supposed to do except go along with it?”
“Far East is a tenant,” Bolan reminded the major, “and I don’t know about you, but my guess is they aren’t going to be as easy of a pushover.”
“They’re an exception,” Cook replied with a grin.
As they made their way toward the hangar facilities used by the various cargo companies, Bolan stared out at the nearest runway, watching a C-5 cargo plane pick up speed and take to the air just as it was about to run out of tarmac. It continued to gain altitude as it flew out over the Pacific and banked slightly, righting its course for a flight to the States. Seconds later another cargo jet was already coming in for a landing, lining up with a second runway that angled slightly away from the one used by the C-5. Bolan knew that soon it would be the plane carrying the Project Kanggye Team defectors that was touching down on the island. If he and the others wanted to have a trap set by then, they were going to have to make their move quick.
Following a narrow spur road flanking the runways, the caravan was soon approaching the warehouse and hangar facilities for Global Express Cargo Lines. The Far East Trading Company complex was another hundred yards down the road, with the control tower rising up from behind the FETC’s main hangar.
“Here’s where it gets tricky,” Cook said.
Following customary procedure, a Global Express officer standing by the turnoff to the GEC complex waved to the approaching Hummer and then motioned for the vehicle to turn into the lot. Cook ignored the man, however, and drove past, as did the truck bringing up the rear. The GEC official shouted out and waved his arms frantically as he broke into a jog, trying to keep up with the errant caravan.