Threat Level Black - Страница 29

Kuong had a packet of documents with him: the false ones prepared about the E-bomb, and a story that he was Dr. Park’s coworker prepared in case his identity had been challenged at the airstrip. But they weren’t necessary.

The o-koan had predicted they wouldn’t be. The bones had told him that morning luck would come to him… if he could be patient.

It had taken considerable time to punish the scientist for his treachery, but Kuong’s patience had been richly rewarded, not merely with the moment of triumph he felt when he personally killed the pathetic little man, but with this escape. Kuong had used his enemies’ own cleverness against them for a rich triumph. Now he must be patient once more. He would have his revenge against the Americans for destroying his country. And he would remove Howe, the only man who remained alive who might be able to give him away.

It would not be long to wait.

Chapter 5

Howe settled his hands on the ends of the chair’s arms, intending to pull himself upright, but somehow he felt too exhausted even to move. He had now told the story of his trip in and out of Korea four times, most recently during a conference call with Dr. Blitz and the defense secretary. He was tired and his head hurt.

But he also realized he was lucky. He could have been killed.

Why hadn’t he?

The CIA agents who had debriefed him had several theories. One was that his passenger felt grateful for his rescue. It was possible, too, that the approach of the small American team and the Japanese security people had scared the men on the ground, or at least encouraged them to move quickly.

Or maybe he was just lucky.

“Colonel, the ambassador wanted to talk with you,” said a young woman.

Howe had been introduced to her earlier but couldn’t remember her name or position now, beyond the fact that she was a member of the embassy staff. Howe pushed out of the chair and her followed down the hallway, his feet sinking deep into the carpet as he walked.

The ambassador was a holdover from the last administration, a political appointee who had turned out to be an extremely popular figure in Asia as well as Japan. A touch of gray at the temples gave his severe face a dignified air; his Montana accent had a slow, dignified beat. He came out from behind his desk as Howe was shown into his study. He clasped Howe’s hand firmly, then gestured for him to sit in one of the armchairs at the side of the room.

“Colonel Howe, thank you for seeing me. I know you’ve been through a great deal.”

“Sure,” said Howe.

“ North Korea is falling apart at the seams. More to the point, it has fallen apart.”

“Yes, sir,” said Howe.

“Do you have any idea who your passenger was?”

“No,” said Howe.

The ambassador nodded. He was in shirtsleeves, but his tie was tight at his collar.

“I have a theory,” said the ambassador. He took a long pause between each sentence, as if waiting for the words to line up in his mouth. “I believe it was a high-ranking North Korean. That’s not much of a guess. I think it was one of Kim Jong Il’s sons, or some other close relative.”

“Why would he need me to help him escape?”

“Because, with only a few exceptions, he’s hated worse than his father. The units that began the mutiny offered a reward for his capture. And he can’t be located.”

“What about the E-bomb?”

“I think it was merely a ruse to get us interested,” said the ambassador. “If they had that sort of weapon, they would have used it — or tried to use it, rather, against Seoul.”

Howe agreed, but when he started to nod, his head pounded.

“The Japanese police are searching throughout the country for your passenger.” The ambassador rose, indicating the interview was over. “The situation is very delicate.”

Howe got up slowly. It sounded to him as if the ambassador was hinting that he shouldn’t talk about what had happened, but if so, such hints were unnecessary. Even if Howe hadn’t been naturally inclined to keep his mouth shut, the incident didn’t make him look particularly good.

“You know, I saw some aircraft in that hangar near the end of the strip where I turned around,” said Howe.

“MiGs?”

“No, they were pretty small. UAVs, I think. Or maybe ultralights.”

“You think that is significant?”

“I don’t know, really.”

“We’ll arrange for a flight back to the States,” said the ambassador, gently touching Howe’s arm.

“Actually, I have my own plane to look after,” said Howe. “What I need is a ride back to the airport. The S-37 is an NADT asset.”

“Yes, of course,” said the ambassador. “You’ve done a very good job, Colonel,” he added. “A very good job.”

Howe nodded, though he didn’t agree.

* * *

It was only in the car on the way back to the airport that Howe realized what he’d said — or rather, what he’d thought.

His asset. He wanted the NADT job. Not for the money or the power, but because it was where he belonged. He had the ability to do it, and the will to do it right.

And it was his duty to do it. Or at least to try.

Chapter 6

Blitz could hear the buzz of the press corps in the East Room of the White House down the hall. The President stood next to Blitz, going over the most recent bulletins and handing each page back as he did. The press conference was already running about three minutes late, but that made it early by President D’Amici’s standards.

The President’s press adviser had suggested something less formal, perhaps remarks off-the-cuff as he boarded Marine One, the helicopter that flew him around the country. But the President sensed this was a historical moment, and he wanted to use the White House setting to emphasize not only its importance but the fact that America was in control of the situation.

And it was. Almost.

The North Korean army had collapsed. While on paper it was one of the most ferocious fighting forces in the world, the reality had proven considerably different. As American and Korean troops came across the border following the missile launches and artillery strikes, most of the soldiers had fled. Roughly a dozen strongholds remained in North Korean hands, as did the capital and the area close to the Chinese border. But not even the most optimistic Pentagon scenario envisioned such a swift collapse. The remaining units were dangerous, surely, but negotiations were already under way with most of them for a peaceful surrender. The real problem now was to plan for the peace.

The President handed Blitz the last page, then checked his hair in a mirror held by one of his aides.

“Last thoughts?” the President asked Blitz.

“Only that we can’t trust the Chinese.”

“Agreed. But they seem to have been taken by surprise.”

“That’s why we can’t trust them.”

The Chinese had moved two fresh divisions to the border area, saying that they were to help with refugees. There were refugees; nonetheless, the troops and China in general had to be watched very carefully. The President planned on mentioning their involvement as peace brokers in the speech, praising their cooperation and mentioning his three phone calls with the country’s leaders.

“What was the latest with Colonel Howe and the E-bomb plot?” asked the President as one of his aides appeared in the hall, gesturing that all was ready.

“Still trying to figure out who we helped escape,” said Blitz. “The ambassador thinks it was one of Kim Jong Il’s sons.”

“A very good guess.”

“I think it’s Paektu,” said Blitz, meaning the number two man in the security police agency, Hwang Paektu Jang. “He’s the sort who would think this up.”

“Hopefully we’ll find him soon.”

Blitz didn’t answer. With that well-thought-out a plot, he felt it unlikely.

* * *

The national security advisor listened to the President’s opening remarks from the hallway. He had to give D’Amici credit: The President managed to communicate his personal vision in a speech meant for the masses. Blitz knew that D’Amici’s model for the presidency was Eisenhower, but in his ability to speak he was closer to Reagan, though D’Amici lacked the folksy, casual touch Reagan could muster without any apparent effort.

Historically, however, D’Amici’s vision seemed more like a blend of Teddy Roosevelt with some Woodrow Wilson thrown in, assuming one could remove some of the naiveté from Wilson ’s vision of world peace.

That was probably a bum rap on Wilson, Blitz thought; Wilson ’s private papers showed he was hardly naive, and while he’d been snookered in Europe, it would have been difficult if not impossible to get the French to do the right thing after the bloodbath of World War I anyway.

And to be honest, it only became apparent what the right thing was long after that indecisive war.

There were no real parallels, Blitz thought as the President summed up and started taking questions. They were in completely new territory.

Someone grabbed Blitz’s shoulder. He turned around and found the press secretary, who seemed nearly out of breath.

“The AP is reporting that P’yongyang has been declared an open city,” he told Blitz. “The war is over.”

“Now comes the hard part,” said Blitz, walking out to tell the President personally.