Steve Abbott - Devil's Gambit

The cost in lives had been high on both sides. Chun was the last survivor. His squad’s young faces lived on as ghosts in his mind. As testament to them, he wore the scars on his hands with more pride than medals on his chest that he was required to don for political functions.

After the cease fire was declared and the fighting ground to a halt, Chun’s military service came to an end. He threw himself into the Korean Worker’s Party and became a rising star. Five years later, he found himself personal aide to the Under-Secretary of the Ministry of Public Security. An employee of the power elite, Chun was insulated from the day-to-day struggle foisted upon the common population as North Korea fought to raise itself out of the ashes of war. His principal job was hunting down dissidents fingered by his immediate superior for “political re-education.” Chun was quick to notice the majority of these “dissidents” were often those who posed an immediate or perceived threat to the under-secretary’s power. Chun was smart, and he kept his silence. He weathered his overseer until the day the man was dragged from his office protesting his loyalty to the Great Leader. The MPS agents had shown him the same amount of mercy they had shown those targeted by him.

Chun worked even harder. He was soon recognized and rewarded for his devotion and his ability to get a job done. He rose rapidly through the jungle of party politics until he became Deputy Director of Supply Section. The portfolio was part of the Third Engineering section, Ministry of People’s Security. In his new posting, he was responsible for supplying necessary material to all Korean Worker’s Party construction projects. At the time he assumed the Deputy Directorship, the KWP was just starting the ground work of its most ambitious project. The creation of a top secret Uranium processing plant at Yongbyon.

At this point in Chun’s career, the West finally took an interest in him. Information on the man was thin. A break in the gap did not appear until the KWP had Chun start the Yeun Tae Trading Company, a cover operation in the Belgian Congo. It provided North Korea with a secret supply point for the nuclear materials they so desperately sought.

Their main supplier? Twenty years ago, it was a well-established African country, isolated by world opinion on how a distinct minority ruled over the majority. It was a simple trade deal. Supplies of Soviet-style weapons, ammunition, and equipment to spread the destabilizing forces of revolution and terror. Deniable necessities for insurgency programs running in the myriad of new neighboring countries that surrounded their segregated paradise.

In return, the North Koreans received shipments of raw Cobalt and Uranium ore needed for their brand new nuclear facilities, both public and secret. Their new friends even helped them secure essential precision machining tools, through front companies of their own. The trading company was very successful and soon became a third party, bulk goods operation. A supply network of weapons and logistic assistance to those that could pay.

Of course, nothing lasts forever. Their friend underwent a drastic change of government. This, in turn, ended the embargo on their country. No longer needing to do deals in dark alleys, everything dried up overnight. It had been a struggle ever since to find similar resources from much poorer and even more violent relations. The successes of the past seemed very much relegated to stay there.

Chun liked the Congo. In his old age, he felt less of a need to subject himself to the bitter winters, characteristic of his native land. The relative freedom and autonomy of responsibility in his new position was a welcome change from the cloistered and drab atmosphere of Pyongyang.

Chun was brought back from his reverie by the presence of his guest, Khon Yueng-Hwan, the First Secretary of the North Korean Embassy in Brazzaville. They were almost the same age, but they looked nothing alike; Khon was about as thin as a human could be and not fade from sight. He was not happy in what he had to deliver to Chun.

“I am sorry to bring you such news.”

Chun crumpled the termination order Khon had given him into a ball and gave a noncommittal shake of his head. “It is of no matter. I have seen it happen to others enough times before. Old age must have clouded my eyes, not to have seen the treachery which lurked in young Comrade Sung.”

Khon looked down at the floor. “We are but simple soldiers. Such a thing is out of our understanding.”

“You have indeed come far, for such a simple soldier.” Chun let out a long sigh. “How long did your friend in the Ministry give me?”

“He said the order was immediate and that a team had been dispatched. He has not failed me yet. Nor should he, considering the large retainer I pay him.”

“Then you must go. Being seen here with me is dangerous, tantamount to treachery in the eyes of the state.” Chun snorted, “Five years I have been here, trying to rebuild new paths to get them their blasted materials. Keeping the liberation groups supplied and running. I should have gone back more often.”

“It would have changed nothing.”

“I especially liked the part about falling prey to western excess.”

Khon laughed, “I always wondered about the number of young girls you paraded through here.”

Chun smiled in spite of his predicament, “If only it were true. You must go, old friend. It will be dark soon and what I must do, I must do alone.”

“Good luck Chun.” Khon saluted him.

Chun return the salute and the two men embraced. As Chun watched his friend walk away, he called out. “Do not worry about me. This old soldier still has some fight left in him yet.” The gray shadows of twilight crept across the perfect lawn. Khon turned around, his back ramrod straight and saluted one last time. Chun did the same. Khon turned and disappeared into the shadows.

Chun went into the house. Khon was right, the MPS agents could not be far away. An executive assassination order would be carried out with expedience. He went to the bureau in his office. Over the years, through all the periodic purges that had torn through his department, Chun had seen friends and others in his ministry swept away by the capricious will of his government. He had not been entirely truthful with Khon. Chun knew Sung would seek his position. The hope his party service and military record would insulate him from the sword of Damocles that so many others had fallen under, had proved to be an empty one.

Chun had a contingency plan for the eventuality he now faced. Step one of the plan lay wrapped with an oilcloth in his bureau bottom drawer. Chun pulled out the heavy bundle and unwrapped a 7.65 millimeter, Type 64 automatic. It was an ugly weapon, an assassin’s gun of Chinese manufacture, it had a built in silencer. Chun had learned long ago that cold November, stealth was the best shield. He loaded the four empty magazines, seven rounds in each. The clips could have been left loaded, but tired magazine springs raise the risk of a misfeed. There was no need to decrease his odds of survival. Perhaps the gun would be unneeded. Chun had never been directly responsible for the death of those chosen by his Party bosses.

Even pushing eighty, he was still in good shape, thanks to long walks, a good exercise regime and none of the overindulgence he was accused of. One clip went in the gun and the rest in the front right pocket of his bush jacket.

Chun’s villa was on the outskirts of Brazzaville. There was an airport in town, but he assumed the MPS were already in the Congo. He had read the same operations manual they had. Their first task would be to secure the airport. So an escape by air was unworkable. Two hundred and fifty miles away on the coast, stored in a private dock in Point Noir, lay his best chance of escape. Chun had purchased a cigarette boat. The boat, with its high speed and shallow draft, was ideal for running small arms, and sometimes even agents, into remote areas. The boat would be known about by the MPS agents; after all, the MPS had paid for it. It had enough range to reach Liberia. From there, Chun would try the American Embassy in Monrovia.