“This is an unexpected but certainly welcome visit, gentlemen,” President Martindale began politely. “We all knew that you were both in our country visiting military installations and preparing to address the United Nations. I’m glad we have this chance to get together.” The Koreans bowed in thanks.
Unexpected, yes — welcome, no, the President thought. Nearing the end of a tumultuous first term in the White House, following two terms as Vice President, the fifty-one-year-old divorced Texan, a former state attorney general, U.S. senator, and secretary of defense, was in the midst of the greatest fight of his long political life. He was knowledgeable in foreign and military affairs, but it seemed that almost every foreign policy decision he had made in recent years, especially those involving his military forces, had cost him dearly at home. And having Asian political and military leaders pop in on him at the White House was never good news.
“We thank you most profoundly for the honor of meeting with you in person, Mr. President,” Minister Kang said formally. Kang was pudgy, with thick glasses and greased-back straight black hair. He was a sharp contrast to General Kim’s wiry body, chiseled face, and cold, steady eyes. Nonetheless, despite Kang’s disarming features, Martindale knew he was an expert strategist and businessman, the former head of one of the most powerful oceangoing shipping companies in the world.
As impressive as Kang’s background was, General Kim’s was even more so. He had risen through the ranks from conscript to chairman of the chiefs of staff of the South Korean military. He had survived innumerable purges, dismissals, and outright assassination attempts, only to emerge stronger and wiser after every encounter with his foes. Kevin Martindale stared into Kim’s eyes and saw the general staring unabashedly right back at him, unblinking, challenging.
What was it like, Martindale asked himself, to live in a country like South Korea? The entire peninsula had been a pawn in an Asian chess match spanning many centuries. Like so many other world hot spots today — Iran, Iraq, Kuwait, Germany, Africa, Israel, the Balkans — his country was spawned out of the ashes of war, trampled, blood-soaked land divided up between conquering invaders. But because the lines drawn on a map rarely take into account the social and cultural differences of a nation, the warring never ended for countries like South Korea. Kim’s country had known either foreign occupation or political and societal schizophrenia for centuries. What was that like? It sounded like an unending civil war.
Martindale noticed Kim give him a subtle smile and a nod before resuming his unblinking stare. It was as if he knew what Martindale was thinking and was thanking him for trying to understand. Although the President did not show it, Kim gave him the creeps. There was a war raging in that man’s head as well as in his homeland, the President decided.
Jerrod Hale noted Kim’s defiant gaze. He shifted his position slightly. It had the desired effect: it caught Kim’s attention. “I hope you’re finding your tour of our military installations informative, General Kim,” Hale said when Kim looked at him, his voice neutral, neither friendly nor challenging. The translator passed along Hale’s words; Kim bowed deeply in response but remained silent. The two men looked at each other unblinkingly. But Jerrod Hale, a former Los Angeles County prosecutor and police commissioner and a longtime political ramrod, took intimidation from no one. As he stood by the most powerful man in the Western world, in the most prized hall of power on earth, General Kim respectfully averted his eyes.
“Mr. President, I wanted to personally deliver to you some very disturbing and alarming evidence that we recently acquired,” Minister Kang said. He withdrew a folder from a briefcase. “I apologize if these pictures offend your sensibilities, Mr. President. I only offer them because of the enormous gravity of the situation they portend.”
Martindale studied them, his eyes narrowing in shock, then wordlessly passed them along to Vice President Whiting. She swallowed a gasp when she saw the photograph of the mangled, emaciated corpse of the North Korean fighter pilot. “Please explain, Minister Kang,” Martindale said.
“This starving, near-frozen man was at the controls of a North Korean attack jet that was shot down over South Korea,” Kang responded. “He was en route to Seoul.”
“An attack jet?” Secretary Chastain asked.
“A fighter-bomber on a one-way suicide mission, carrying two gravity bombs,” General Kim said via the translator. “Two nuclear bombs.”
Whiting’s mouth opened in surprise; Chastain and the President exchanged shocked expressions. “My God!” the President gasped. “Were they live weapons? Fully functional? What yield?”
“Older but fully functioning weapons of Chinese design, in perhaps the six-hundred-kiloton-yield range,” Kang replied. He handed Chastain a folder. “Here is an analysis of the weapons, as conducted by our military intelligence division. It is in effect a standard Chinese medium-range ballistic missile reentry vehicle warhead, modified for gravity bomb use. A rather dated design, not very efficient or reliable. Discarded many decades ago by Communist China because of a lack of safety features, large design, and heavy carriage weight.”
“Were the weapons destroyed when you shot down the aircraft?” Chastain asked.
“No.”
“Then you recovered them?” Kang nodded. “Were they intact?”
“Yes, sir,” Kang replied. “The weapons have filled in many vital pieces of a giant puzzle that our intelligence agencies have been investigating for years. We have suspected the presence of nuclear weapons in the North, but now, after examining the components of the bombs, we have pinpointed the locations of several bases and facilities that manufacture these and other weapons of mass destruction.
“What we now know, Mr. President, is that the Communists have nine key bases, mostly in the north close to the Chinese border and in the central part of the country,” Kang went on. “They not only manufacture and stockpile nuclear, chemical, and biological weapons, but they are also staging bases for air and rocket attacks using these weapons against targets in the South, against Japan, and against American bases as far away as Alaska. The evidence is incontrovertible.”
“Jesus,” the President murmured. He turned to Hale. “Jerrod, get Admiral Balboa and Director Plank over here immediately.” Hale was dialing his staff before the President finished the order.
“We would like to examine these weapons as soon as possible and assist in destroying them,” Secretary Chastain said. “We would also like to examine your intelligence material, allow us to update our own records, and verify your data with our own intelligence assets.”
The President noted that, after the translation, General Kim seemed agitated, as if barely controlling his rising anger. Minister Kang hesitated uneasily for a moment, glancing at Kim nervously, then replied, “I have provided all the pertinent information on the incident and the weapons in that file, Mr. President.”
“Does that mean you don’t want to let us see those weapons, Minister?” Martindale asked.
Again, Kang squirmed uneasily. “Mr. President, we will of course gladly provide you and your intelligence staff with anything you request.” Hearing the translator’s version, General Kim seemed irritated at the equivocal statement, but he said nothing. Kang went on: “But I have been instructed to beg you for your advice and assistance in dealing with the threat from the Communists in the North once and for all. The threat to our peace and security is real, and it is at the breaking point. My government feels it must act.”