At first Len could scarcely believe the news, but as Woo’s facts gathered irresistible force, what had happened became clear. The treaty banning all nuclear weapons in Asia had been signed by the Russian Republic as well as the other Asian nations. Something somewhere in the dusty, creaking Russian bureaucratic machine had malfunctioned, and a theater commander had failed to order the missiles turned over to the UN destruction committee. Apparently the mistake was never found. The Russians were not so stupid that they had forgotten about the nuclear missiles, but whoever the Sikhote Alin regional commander had been, Len knew he was an idiot. Through a combination of errors, the regional CO had neglected to report to the UN the Tamga facility. The mistake had to have been uncovered over the next year, since at some point the Russian army had evacuated the military bases and abandoned them, but Len’s theory was that the regional CO had thought it better to abandon the missiles and gamble on them not being found than to call attention to his humiliating, compromising mistake. He had to have rationalized his decision with the thought that the untutored Greater Manchurians would never understand how to use so modern a weapon system anyway. Whatever his thinking, a cache of SS-34s was now in Len’s quiver, and he used them wisely.
Woo Sei Wah had tried to convince Len to strike with the missiles, but Len had argued that two phone calls would be more effective. The first was to the Kremlin, in which Len had calmly informed the Russian president that he had the SS-34s, that if there were any doubts that there were SS-34s they should check the records and interrogate the former Sikhote Alin Regional Commanding General, and that his people knew how to deploy the missiles, and that, in fact, the armies massing on his borders were targeted by missiles one through seventeen. Before he hung up he suggested that the Russian president call the West Chinese Party Secretary and confirm the presence of the nukes. The second call took only minutes to be put through to the party secretary’s office.
Ten days later the Russian and Chinese forces rolled back deep into their respective nations, and Greater Manchuria had survived unmolested ever since.
Until now.
Earlier that morning Colonel Woo had stood before Len’s large desk, a storm cloud rolling over his face as he dropped a bombshelclass="underline" “The Tamga depot has been raided by a commando. The fenceline was breached. A single operative neutralized several guards, two killer dogs, opened the bunker’s electronically locked door and visited the weapons for over two minutes. When he was done he left the way he came, then within sight of the fence hole committed suicide.”
“The Russians?”
“No, sir. The Japanese.”
“The Japanese? Are you insane? Why would the Japanese break into Tamga? And how did you make the determination that the raid was done by the Japanese?”
“General, we found a scorched reentry vehicle, some kind of space capsule, two kilometers into the woods. The commando didn’t cover his trail, as though he knew he wouldn’t have to. At the fence there were several instruments charred beyond recognition. There was a penchant for self-destruction of the tools this man used, leading us to believe it was a suicide raid. The fence was penetrated, then the man managed to unlock an electronic security blast door. From everything we know, the Russians and Chinese don’t have the technology to do that. Finally, the man blew himself up. All we found left of him were his feet inside his boots. The planning of the suicide mission leads us to believe that only two cultures could have done this — the Islamics or the Japanese. And why would the Muslims be concerned? Finally, the stature of the corpse indicates that the warrior was quite short. Likely Japanese.”
“But why would they do this? Why are they worried about Tamga?”
“Have you considered the map lately, sir? If you roll it out and look at it from Japan’s point of view, we are their new landward neighbors across the Sea of Japan. They likely see us as a threat, and that is the worst news we’ve had since the Russians and Chinese tried to invade us. If the Japanese know about our missiles, it is almost a certainty that they are threatened by them. Tokyo, after all, is only minutes away from Tamga by rocket motor.”
“Why would I lift a hand against Japan?”
“Why do the Japanese hate the Koreans? Like Greater Manchuria, it is the proximity to their island, their sacred world. You know Korea is considered a dagger pointed at the heart of Japan.”
Len had lapsed into silence. Woo waited, staring out the window at the city below.
“Do you truly believe the invader was Japanese?”
“I do. But perhaps you should see for yourself.”
“And do you also believe this indicates a future hostile action by the Japanese against Greater Manchuria?”
“More difficult to predict, and based on less evidence, but the answer is yes.”
“What is more likely, a protest to the UN or a strike against my missiles?”
“An attack.”
“We must move the missiles—”
“No. Outside their bunker they would be exposed.”
“But an attacker would have to find their redeployed location. We could hide different missiles in different places.”
“You might buy time, sir, but taking the missiles from the compound makes them susceptible to one-man attacks of the kind that happened at the compound. It is one thing for the Japanese to find them, another for them to blow them up. Meanwhile, we have increased the base perimeter outward by two kilometers, we are installing infrared and radar motion sensors. The buffer zone is patrolled by killer dogs. The fenceline voltage has been boosted from eleven-thousand volts to one-hundred-twenty-four thousand. If you get closer than ten meters to it, every hair on your body stands on end. We have a system on the drawing board to put nerve-gas canisters on the perimeter fence posts, actuated automatically by an approaching intruder. In addition I am moving antiaircraft gun emplacements around the bunker itself. The blast door electronic lock has been replaced by old-fashioned metal-hardware locks.”
“But a determined, technologically advanced enemy could still destroy the missiles.”
“Perhaps some of them. But if even one remains, that enemy will suffer regret for a very long time.”
Woo left then. He had saved Len’s life on a battlefield in Iran five years earlier, which had only been the beginning of their partnership. Since then they had gone through much. Was it only prelude to much more? Len wondered.
CHAPTER 7
“This isn’t like the Japanese,” Len said, shrugging into his full military tunic as Lee Chun Wah held it for him. “They plan everything they do. Nothing spontaneous.”
“Sir,” Lee said, “it is a diplomatic delegation. They seem to be sincere.”
President Len looked at Lee Chun Wah, his personal aide.
“Mr. Lee, you may, in my presence, accuse the Japanese of many things. But don’t ever accuse them of being sincere.”
“Yes, sir.”
Len buttoned the tunic and concentrated on putting on his war face. Only minutes before he had been called by Lee, who relayed the fact that a Japanese diplomatic delegation headed by Ambassador Usume Nakamoto was enroute to the presidential palace and had requested permission to convene with President Len. Unprecedented.
Len would never have allowed it under normal circumstances, but he suspected that this must have something to do with the suicide raid on the missile complex.
He watched out the window as the door of the Lexus limousine opened, and a three-man diplomatic team disembarked, clearly one leader with two lackies, one of them carrying the leader’s briefcase, the other holding a bulky metal suitcase. The leader stood by the car for several moments, smiling, bowing and shaking hands with the palace guards.