Vice President Whiting shook her head. “You are living a pipe dream, Mr. President,” she said, clearly upset. “You’re risking your life, your people’s lives and freedom, everything you’ve built and accomplished over the decades, for a fantasy, a fairy tale. The price of failure is almost too enormous to comprehend. You’re also risking the lives of thousands of American servicemen stationed here who know nothing of this folly of yours. You’re risking the peace and security of Asia, of the entire planet.”
“No one knows better than I what we risk, Madam Vice President!” Kwon retorted angrily. “But I and my government could not sit idly by and wait for the Communists to send their chemical terror and armies and tanks across the frontier. China would certainly follow in support of her little puppet. I would rather fight on our terms than on the North’s.”
“That sounds like something North Korea would say to justify an invasion of South Korea!” Admiral Allen said sardonically.
“The difference, Admiral, is that we do not seek the death and destruction of the North — we only seek to trigger the inevitable revolution that we feel must occur in Communist Korea. We recognize the stakes are high, but such a task is so important to our future, our peace, our survival, that we dare even the safety and security of Asia to bring it about.”
Kwon paused, looking hard at Whiting and Allen. “Frankly, madam, I am not sure whether our American allies would risk their own peace and freedom to save us. I think in order to avoid another nuclear confrontation, President Martindale would watch and wait until the North Korean forces were stretched too thin and the bulk of the Red Chinese Army was committed, and then decide whether or not to intervene. By then, my country would be ravaged. The entire peninsula, the whole Korean race, would be enslaved. We would again become the eternal battleground, a bone fought over by the Americans and the Chinese dogs of war.”
General Park spoke in a low voice to the president in Korean, and Kwon turned to the monitors. Special Agent Law whispered to the Vice President, “Ma’am, I think we can get out of here if we want to, but with all that’s going on…”
“This may be the safest place for us, after all,” Vice President Whiting said. “I agree.”
“But I wish we could contact Washington,” said Admiral Allen.
“We’ll do it right now,” Law said firmly. She went over to the director’s console and picked up a telephone. Someone responded in Korean. Law held the receiver up to President Kwon. “Tell the operator I want to be connected to the White House Communications Center immediately.”
“Mian hamnida. I am sorry, Special Agent,” Kwon said, “but I cannot allow any outside communications at this—”
Corrie Law raised her mini-Uzi, pointed it directly at the President’s face, and said, “Mr. President, you will never live to see whether or not your plan succeeds if you don’t order this operator to put the Vice President of the United States through to the White House in Washington, D.C., right now. I will not allow the Vice President to be treated like an insignificant nobody.”
Kwon was startled. He had never experienced a subordinate taking the initiative like this, especially without a command from a superior. But he nodded politely. “Mullonijyo. Chamkanman kidaryo chuseyo. Of course. Please wait a moment.” He took the receiver, gave a command in Korean, then handed the phone back to Vice President Whiting with a formal bow. “Please. But do not be long, madam. History will be made in the next few minutes.”
It took only moments and a few coded authentication phrases, and Whiting’s call was routed directly to the phone on the Oval Office desk. Courteously, President Kwon and General Park went over to the observation windows to allow her a modicum of privacy.
“Ellen, good to hear your voice,” President Martin-dale said, his voice filled with relief. “I just got the call from Bob Plank about your coded message. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Mr. President,” Whiting said. “I’m still in the Master Control and Reporting Center at Osan Air Base. I’m with Admiral Allen, General Park of the Korean Air Force, and President Kwon.” She took a deep breath, then said, “Mr. President, President Kwon has just informed me that he has initiated an invasion of North Korea.”
“What?”
“It’s under way right now,” Whiting went on. “President Kwon and General Park briefed me in detail. They have apparently infiltrated many North Korean command, control, and communications facilities to the point where they were able to shut down most of that country’s early-warning, air defense, and command networks. His planes are crossing the border as we speak. All of the planes he was going to use in the Team Spirit exercise are going to be used against the North.” Whiting’s voice broke for a moment. “Mr. President — Kevin — this is… frightening. I’m afraid. The war is on and we don’t know what’s going to happen next.”
“Ellen… Ellen, don’t worry,” Martindale said as calmly as he could. She knew what the President was just realizing: if the Chinese or North Koreans retaliated, that command center at Osan would probably be their primary target — and, faced with a massive invasion, it was very possible that either side could use chemical, biological, or nuclear weapons. China had certainly showed its willingness to use nuclear weapons just two short years ago. “I’m calling in the entire staff right now,” the President said quickly. “We’ll all be right here with you from now on.”
“Do you want to talk with President Kwon or Admiral—”
“I don’t want to talk with anyone or do anything else but be with you on the phone, right here, right now,” Martindale told her. “Try to relax. Talk to me. What’s going on in there?”
“Nothing… I mean, Jesus, Kwon and Park are watching the computer screens and chatting like a couple of guys watching a baseball game on TV. I can see dozens of lines moving north across the border. Lots of them heading toward Pyongyang, but most going after a base just north of Seoul. I… I can’t believe how calm these little bastards are…” Ellen Whiting stopped, her eyes wide in surprise, then she bit down on her right index finger. “Oh God, Mr. President, did I just say what I thought I said?”
“Ellen, stop calling me ‘Mr. President’ for once, okay?” Martindale said. “The name’s Kevin, remember? And they sure as hell have given you a reason to call them some names, haven’t they? I think you deserve to call them any name you goddamn feel like calling them right now.”
“I… oh shit, oh shit…”
“Ellen, what is it?”
“I… dammit, my knees are knocking!” Whiting cried. She broke into laughter. “I can’t believe this! I’m so scared, I’m shivering so much, my knees are knocking! I always thought that was a figure of speech or a cartoon thing. I guess your knees really can knock if you’re frightened enough.” She paused for a moment, then asked, “Are you going to leave Washington, Kevin?”
“I’ll discuss that with Philip, Jerrod, and Admiral Balboa as soon as they get here.”
“It might be a good idea…”
“I told you, I’m staying right here,” Martindale said. He raised his voice so everyone else in the Oval Office could hear. “I’m giving a direct fucking order — I’m staying right here! End of discussion! Oh, good, Jerrod’s here already… Jerrod, the staff meets right here, in this office. I’m not putting this phone down until I know the Vice President is safe… I don’t care if we can transfer the call to Air Force One or the NAOC. I’m not putting it down.” Whiting knew that NAOC, pronounced “kneock,” was the National Airborne Operations Center, formerly known as the National Emergency Airborne Command Post, a heavily modified Boeing 747 that allowed the President to command and control American military forces all over the world — even launch ballistic missiles if necessary. In 1992 the NAOC had been placed on standby status at Offutt Air Force Base in Nebraska; but after the China nuclear conflict, another one was stationed on round-the-clock alert at Andrews Air Force Base, ready to evacuate the National Command Authority — the President, the secretary of defense, and other national defense officials — from Washington.