Hwan recognized the radio as a state-of-the-art Israeli-made Kol 38. The KCIA was negotiating to buy them as well; with them, the user could reach distances of over 750 miles without using a satellite. One part was for listening, another for receiving, which made it possible for agents in the field to “conference call” with headquarters. The unit ran on lightweight cadmium batteries, which made it ideal for remote locations like this. Even the U.S. models weren’t as reliable.
She went to the window, opened it, and set the radio on the sill. Before switching it on, she casually rested her hand on the LED readout on top so Hwan couldn’t see the frequency to which it was set.
“If you say anything, it will be picked up. They must not know I’ve been compromised.”
Hwan nodded.
Kim pushed a button and a red light came on beside the condenser microphone built into the top of the unit.
“Seoul Oh-Miyo to home, Seoul Oh-Miyo to home, over.”
An operatic code name, Hwan thought. It was somehow appropriate to the Wagnerian events that swirled around them.
After a moment a voice came in so rich and clear that Hwan was startled.
“Home to Seoul Oh-Miyo. Ready. Over.”
“Home, need to know if army boots, explosives, and other items have been stolen. KCIA found evidence of same at Palace today. Over.”
“How recent was theft? Over.”
Kim looked at Hwan. He flashed ten fingers and mouthed month.
“Ten months,” she said. “Over.”
“Will call with any information. Over and out.”
Kim punched off the switch.
Hwan wanted to ask her if these things were computerized in the North as they were in the South. Instead, he asked, “How long might this take?”
“An hour … possibly longer.”
He held his watch near a candle, then looked out at Cho’s dark figure standing beside the car. “We’ll take the radio and go back.”
She didn’t move. “I can’t do that.”
“You don’t have a choice, Ms. Chong.” He came closer. “I’ve tried to show you courtesy-”
“We both gain-”
“No! That keeps us from becoming animals. But I must stay on top of the investigation, and I can’t do that from here. I promise that no one will look at your radio display. Will you give me what I need?”
Kim hesitated, then put the radio under her arm and shut the window. “All right. To keep from becoming animals.”
They went outside. The flashlight snapped on to light the way, and the dark figure beside the car opened the door so that Kim could enter.
FIFTY-ONE
Wednesday, 11:30 A. M., Op-Center
The faces of Ernesto Colon and Bugs Benet could not have been more unalike. Floating in a red border on Hood’s computer monitor, the face of the sixty-three-year-old Defense Secretary was drawn, the deepset eyes ringed with shadows. The head of a major defense contractor who had served as Undersecretary of the Navy, he was Dorian Gray’s portrait, reflecting every decision he’d had to make during two years in this office-the few that had gone well along with the many that had gone poorly.
Bugs was forty-four, with a round, angelic face and bright eyes that showed none of the pressure of managing Hood’s schedule and document processing. He had been the executive assistant to the Republican Governor of California when the Democratic Hood was Mayor, and they had gotten along extremely well- “conspiratorially” was the word the Governor had used more than once.
Hood had always found it strange how the pressures of sitting down and making a decision took a greater toll than running around and carrying them out. The conscience was a killer taskmaster.
Yet Hood had a deep respect for Bugs, who not only managed to deal with his boss’s brooding but with the moods and demands of men like Colon-and Bob Herbert, who ran a close second to Lowell Coffey as a voice of caution at Op-Center. The difference was that Coffey feared lawsuits and censure, while Herbert had seen only too well the results of failing to consider every possibility.
Benet and Herbert mostly listened as Hood and Colon reviewed simulation papers on the computer and formulated the military options they would recommend to the President. Though the timing and particulars of execution would be left to the Joint Chiefs of Staff in consultation with their field commanders, the men felt that the naval and Marine forces already en route from the Indian Ocean should be supplemented by three battleships and two aircraft carriers from the Pacific fleet, as well as calling up reserves and redeploying fifty thousand troops drawn from Saudi Arabia, Germany, and the U.S. They also would call for the immediate airlifting of a half-dozen Patriot missile systems to South Korea. Although the Patriots had underperformed dramatically in the Persian Gulf War, they made good TV news visuals when they worked, and keeping the public’s blood flowing red, white, and blue would be vital. Less visibly, tactical nuclear missiles were to be shifted by air from Hawaii to South Korea. DPRK might not be a nuclear power yet, but that wouldn’t stop them from purchasing a bomb from any number of countries.
The men also calculated anticipated casualties of a “short war” of two or three weeks before a U.N. mandated armistice, and a “long war” of six months or more. With nonnuclear strikes, U.S. losses were expected to be at least four hundred dead and three thousand wounded in a short war, at least ten times that in a long war.
During this discussion, Bugs remained silent and Herbert made only three suggestions. The first was that until more was known about the terrorists, only a minimum number of troops should be diverted from the Middle East. He felt there might still be the possibility that this was a plot to involve the U.S. in a fake front so a real war could be started somewhere else. The second was that until the satellites were back on-line, he be given time to analyze whatever up-to-the-minute intelligence they and CIA Director Kidd were able to collect before committing troops. And the third was that no force be sent into the field without beefed-up antiterrorist personnel. All three recommendations were put into the military options paper. Hood knew that Herbert could be crusty, but he’d hired him for his knowledge, not his charm.
While Bugs was putting the rough-draft document on the screen for the men to review, Herbert’s chair phone beeped. Paul glanced over as Bob hit the speaker button.
“What have you got, Rachel?”
“We’ve heard from our operative at the military communications station in Pyongyang. He says that it’s been difficult for him to get to us because the authorities there seem to be just as surprised by today’s events as we were.”
“That doesn’t mean their hands are clean.”
“No. But he does say that they just received a message from an operative in Seoul. She was requesting information about the possible theft of military boots and explosives from any base in the North.”
“A North Korean agent was asking.”
“Yes.”
“The agent must have learned about the KCIA’s suspicions. Inform Director Yung-Hoon there appears to be a leak in the pipeline. Did we pick up the transmission anywhere else?”
“No. I checked with Private Koh at the communications center at the DMZ. The message didn’t come through a satellite uplink.”
“Thanks, Rachel. Send the text of the transmission to Bugs.” After hanging up, he looked at Hood who nodded. “DPRK is checking into the possible theft from one of their depots of the materials used in the bombing. Looks like we all may have been had, Chief, by someone who wants us at war.”
Hood looked from Herbert to the monitor as the President’s words returned to haunt him: Whether or not the North was in it before, Paul, they’re in it now-up to their necks.
As the breakdowns of troop deployments were merged from the War Games file into the military options paper, Colon used his code to sign off on his section of the document. When he’d switched off, Hood said, “Bugs, I want that transmission placed up front, and I’d like you to add the notation I’m going to type in. Ask Ann Farris to get on, would you?”
Hood thought for a moment. He didn’t have Ann’s gift for conciseness, but he wanted a cautionary note to be somewhere in the permanent crisis Task Force file. He made a window that she would be able to read on her monitor, and began pecking at the keyboard.
Herbert rolled to his side and read over Hood’s shoulder.
“Mr. President: I share your outrage at the attack on our jet and the loss of an officer. However, I urge restraint from a position of strength. We stand to lose much and gain little fighting a foe who may not be our enemy.”
“Good for you, chief,” Herbert said. “You may not be speaking for the Task Force, but you speak for me.”