Page 69 of Soul on Fire
Pak followed behind as Rhee led Majambu out of the plane and down to the tarmac. A separate car park squatted behind the hangars for private planes, separate from the main airport. They’d left a car there before flying to Kisangani.
And in the car was the package: a small nuclear warhead’s inner core shielded inside a lead-lined sack that fit inside a backpack or a duffel bag. It was heavy, but not unmanageable.
“We’re taking you to a safehouse where you will change into your disguise,” Rhee told Majambu, holding open the back door for him. He was careful not to touch Majambu anywhere. “And then we will take you to your target.”
“No.” Majambu’s eyes flared, cold fire and rage sparking within, despite the bloodred flooding. He stared Rhee down. “I have done everything you asked. You have not kept up your end of the bargain. Where is the device? Where is my nuclear warhead?”
Silently, Rhee moved to the trunk. He popped the lid. “See for yourself.”
Majambu took his time studying it, turning the warhead’s core over and around and upside down. He ran his fingers over the timer, followed the corded wire from timer to the ignition.
“There is no manual switch?”
“You can set a timer if you choose. You may drop it and leave. Or, you can detonate it while you are near.”
“I have not come all this way to take the coward’s path,” Majambu growled. “I am giving my life for this plan.”
Indeed you are. Rhee flashed him a quick smile. “Your dedication is why you were meant for this mission.” Whatever kept Majambu happy until it was time for him to deliver the package. “You will be a glorious martyr.”
“When will the mission proceed?”
“As soon as you are dressed.”
* * *
It took longerthan they thought adding Majambu’s image to the ID card they’d been given. By the time they finished, the sun had set hours before and night had fallen outside the safe house. Manama glittered from the windows, a neon cascade of fallen stars bouncing off the lapping waves of the Gulf. Majambu stood by the window while he waited, entranced with the lights, the colors, and the ocean.
He’d showered and dressed before they took his photo for the ID. He had to look the part, and look the part he did. Majambu filled out the United States Navy BDUs Rhee had given him as if they were made for him. He looked like he belonged, and that was what exactly what they needed.
Finally, they were ready. He gave Majambu the ID badge, a fully functional Common Access Card for the United States Navy. All Rhee had to do was fill in Majambu’s fake name—Captain Jonathan Price—and his rank on the CAC’s sim card and add his current photo, then update the file with Majambu’s photo in the base access systems.
No one would suspect a US Navy sailor. Si had cautioned Rhee, telling him this access was only to be used for civilian entry to the base. That reaching for too much would expose the vulnerability and the Americans would snap it shut. Go in as a landscaper, Si had cautioned. The Americans never look at landscapers.
He’d nodded and agreed and promptly dismissed Si’s warnings. This alone was worth all the time they’d spent nurturing Assistant Minister Si, paying him handsomely for his services to the Democratic People’s Republic of North Korea. It was all about one heart united for the Party, correct? Didn’t that one heart extend to North Korea, China’s closest Communist ally? They were brothers. They should act like so.
“You know what to do?”
Majambu nodded. “I am Captain Jonathan Price. I work on the base. I’m reporting for my duties which began at twenty-hundred hours.”
He even sounded the part. Rhee smiled, something cold and deadly as a cobra, hard edged. Venomous. “Perfect.” He handed Majambu the keys to the car they’d driven to the safehouse. “This is your car. You will drive to the base and you will present your ID to the gate guards. Base security is run by local contractors. If they give you any trouble, keep insisting you have to be at your post.”
“And if they search the car?”
“They will find a backpack stuffed with clothes.” He’d placed a pair of shorts, a t-shirt, and socks on top of the lead-lined sack with the warhead’s core. “The device is shielded by the sack. Someone would have to be within three feet of you and searching specifically for a radiation signature to detect anything at all. If they mirror under your car or wave a wand past your doors, they will find nothing.”
Majambu nodded once. “There is one more thing,” he said. “I must make my martyrdom video. You will record it for me.” He sat against the wall, crossed his legs, and waited.
Rhee had brought a camera just for this purpose. “Remember to talk about the war in Syria as well as the Congo.”
Everything was falling into place. Everything was going perfectly.
* * *
Chapter Twenty-Six
Bahrain
An armed escortgreeted them when they landed, twenty Humvees stuffed full of US Navy military police, their red and blue lights twirling in Manama’s furnace-hot desert night. Elliot squinted as the bright lights strobed, knifing into his brain.
