CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Getting across the border would not be easy. After the incidents of the last few weeks, security was tighter, and the fences had been reinforced. They would be able to scramble the camera signals, but only for short bursts of time. With their faces painted with the camouflage makeup, their packs filled with the stealth suits, and their weapons ready, they watched the border from the safety of the trees.

"Four at a time," said Conor. "Get across the border and hide in the rocky outcropping on the hill. Don't breathe until we all get there."

"Roger that," said the chorus of men.

Rush, Cowboy, Tanner, and Christian went first. Three of those men were well over six-feet-five and hulking masses of power. If they could get hidden, they would all breathe a sigh of relief.

Carefully, they walked toward the gates, Tanner flipping on the switch to disrupt the cameras and sensors. Slowly, inches at a time, they moved through and found their way to the bottom of the hill, then moved up slowly. When they were secure beneath the rocks, they tapped their comms.

"Next group," whispered Conor.

Hiro, Tobias, Abe, and Nate went next, following the exact same movements and patterns as the team before. The darkness was helpful, but so were the amazing tools they'd been given to complete the job.

Last was Mike, Rett, East, and Dan, Christopher and Patrick, with Conor following. When they went through the gates, Conor stopped, staring at the building that held him prisoner once upon a time. He walked toward the window, trying to hear if anyone was kept inside, but heard nothing.

"Conor, move it!" whispered Cowboy in the comms.

When everyone reached the rocky outcropping, the team began to slowly move over the small mountain and down into the valleys of farmland. There wasn't time to stop. There wasn't time to sleep. Not now. They had to get miles behind them if they were to do this.

They followed the Ryesong River for as long as they could, then veered into the countryside to the northwest. On the second night, they stopped to rest for only three hours near a small village outside of Ba-Do. Still covered in their camouflage paint, the men hid beneath the trees and shrubs, hoping that no one would see them.

Early the following morning, Conor felt a tap on his boot. Startled, he sat up, staring into the darkness. An old man stared at him. He wore old, loose clothing. His large sunhat shielding him from what would come soon enough as the sun rose above them. He stared at Conor, holding a finger to his lips, then pushed his feet backward, further into the brush.

Conor tapped his comms, and the other men immediately woke, staring at the old man. He gave a small head shake, then moved away from them. They heard the footsteps and the old man speaking swiftly.

"Where were you?" asked the voice.

"Relieving myself in the bushes," said the old man. "I wouldn't want to contaminate my crops."

"No. We wouldn't want that," said the soldier, looking over his shoulder. "Who is with you?"

"No one. I have no one," said the old man. The men held their breaths, watching the interaction. The old man was doing an excellent job.

"If you see any strangers, you will report them immediately, or I will come back and kill you myself."

"Of course," said the old man. The three soldiers walked on, following the remote path back toward the main road. When they'd disappeared, he turned back toward the bushes and nodded.

"Thank you," said Tanner in Korean.

"Be careful. They must suspect you are here. They have extra patrols out."

"We have to get to Pyongyang," said Tanner. The old man nodded, taking his walking stick and drawing a crude map in the dirt.

"They are smart enough to know that you will avoid the main roads and waterways. Hiding in the woods is what they expect. They use televisions to find you."

"Cameras?" frowned Tanner.

"Cameras with colors that show a man."

"Heat maps," said Hiro.

"Be careful. Whatever your mission is, I wish you success," said the old man.

"You risked your life for us. Why?" asked Tanner.

"Because we do not all have the same dream." The old man walked down the hill and toward his farm once again. He never bothered to look back. Whoever he was, he risked his life to keep the men safe, and they would never forget that.

"Do as he says. Stay off the main roads and waterways, but don't rely completely on the forest," said Conor. "Pigsty? You read?"

"Loud and clear."

"Find us a way into the city. We're going to head northwest across the farms, but we need to know if the camo paint is visible with heat signatures. We know the suits aren't, but we can't wear them forever."

"I'll get back with you. Stay out of sight for now."

"Roger that. Let's move. We need to get closer to the city."

The team moved swiftly but quietly, staying out of sight and clear of any major traffic areas. They were surprised to find that on the rare occasions they were exposed to people in the smaller villages, they were helpful, or completely ignored them. It only told them they were doing the right thing.

By the third day, the men were exhausted and ready to get some sleep. They hit the rise above Pyongyang, seeing the busy metropolis below. In the distance, the palace where the event was to take place loomed before them.

"Get some sleep," said Tobias. "Nate, Mike, and I will do some recon."

"No," said Conor, shaking his head. "It's too dangerous."

"We all have dark hair. We'll blend in if we have to," said Tobias. "You're part of a team, Conor. Family. We do for one another. It's all going to work out." He gripped his friend's shoulder, giving him a squeeze.

"Alright. Stay on comms and let us know what you find."

"Don't worry," smirked Rush. "We've got help on the way. If we're lucky, this will all be over before we have to do anything." Conor frowned at the man, laying his head back against his pack.

"If only it were all that easy."