“You act so damn self-righteous about this,” Kim said irritably. “I am not talking about treason — I’m talking about defending our country, our homeland. You certainly understand that.”
“And because I betrayed President Kim Jong-il, I am somehow predisposed or more willing to do it again to President Kwon Ki-chae, is that it?”
“Dammit, you are impossible!” Kim exploded. “You know what I’m saying!”
“I want you to say it, General Kim,” Pak snapped. “Make no mistake — we are talking treason. We are talking about a violent, illegal overthrow of the legally elected government. We deserve to die at the hands of the people for what we are talking about doing.
“But it so happens, General, that I agree with you. Kwon will never use the weapons we possess. We would then all be overrun and crushed by China, and persons like myself, former citizens of North Korea and especially former Communist Party members, would surely die.
“What I want from you, General, is your word. If it is done, if we betray Kwon, take the codes, retaliate against whatever enemy we face, and somehow survive, I want your word that you will do everything in your power to support me as president of United Korea. I will in turn support you as vice president.”
“I’ll do better than that,” Kim said. He pulled out a sheet of paper from his desk drawer and wrote and signed a message on it. “It’s in writing now, Mr. Vice President. Will you do the same for me?”
“Don’t you trust me — comrade?” Pak asked sardonically. Kim blanched, then turned angry again. Pak retrieved a piece of paper, wrote a similar message, then signed it with a flourish. “Now we’re both condemned to hell, General,” he said. “Care to join me in a drink to celebrate?”
Kevin Martindale was talking with Ellen Whiting when the telephone on his desk rang. Chief of Staff Jerrod Hale went over, looked at the flashing button, then froze. “You better take it, sir,” Hale said. “It’s Cheyenne Mountain.”
“Oh, shit,” the President muttered as he dashed over to his desk. “Jerrod, make an announcement, let’s get a nose count going, alert the Secret Service that choppers may be inbound — you know the drill.” Staff members of the White House and Old Executive Office Building had become well practiced lately in the art of rapid emergency evacuations.
The President picked up the phone, motioning for Philip Freeman to listen in on an extension in his study. He did not need to push a button — it was the most important button on the phone and would select itself. “This is the President. Go ahead.”
“Sir, this is Lieutenant Colonel Gordon, senior controller, Space Command Missile Tracking Center. DSP 9 missile-warning satellite has detected several ballistic missile launches originating inside North Kor… er, sorry, inside the northern part of United Korea. I am secure.”
“Damn it to hell,” the President swore. “Korea is attacking China?”
“Negative, sir,” the controller said. “The tracks are headed south. It appears the launches originated inside Korea and are targeted against the southern half of the peninsula. Fourth Space Surveillance Squadron radars indicate nine tracks total targeted within Korea and three tracks targeted against southern and central Japan.” The Air Force Space Command’s Fourth Space Surveillance Squadron’s radars and tracking sites in Korea were now all manned by Korean technicians. Very few American servicemen still remained in Korea.
“Who the hell is launching those missiles?” the President demanded.
“Unknown, sir,” the controller responded.
“Any reaction from China or Russia?”
“None, sir.”
“Very well. Please alert me if any more launches occur.” He hung up the phone. “Philip?” he called. “Explanation?”
“It’s got to be some rogue ex-North Korean missile units,” Freeman suggested, coming back into the Oval Office. “Most of North Korea’s operational ballistic missiles were mobile. The big ones, the Nodong series, were rail-mobile; the smaller Scud series were all-terrain road-mobile. Apparently, some were able to escape the revolution and transition, find a presurveyed launch point, and fire in a coordinated attack. Mobile missiles are the hardest to find and relatively easy to disguise.”
“Get President Kwon back on the phone right away and tell him I want to speak with him at once,” Kevin Martindale said. “I don’t want him retaliating against the Chinese.”
About to call the White House Communications Center, Hale took another incoming call.
“What was that, Jerrod?”
“It’s too late,” Jerrod Hale said, his anger palpable. “Space Command says the Koreans fired back.”
“Damn them all to hell!” Martindale shouted. “Where? How many? What kind?”
“Unknown at this time, sir,” Hale replied. “I’ll get details right away.”
“Shit. And we’re as helpless as we can be,” the President said. “Jerrod, make sure Space Command notifies the Japanese government. I want to talk with the Russians, Chinese, Koreans, and Japanese ASAP. Everyone has got to back off, or Asia is going to blow up in one big red fireball.”
Another call came in: “Reports coming in, sir: Chemical weapons attacks against Kunsan and Pusan. Vx nerve agents. Very high casualties. And State’s also issued an emergency report, saying that a thermonuclear warhead exploded at high altitude a hundred miles north of Osaka, Japan,” he said. “Japanese Self-Defense Force authorities claim the warhead was large, over three hundred kilotons. An evacuation of the entire area is under way.”
“My God,” the President said. “What about the Korean retaliation? What about the Chinese?”
“Stand by, sir, we’re checking…” It took several minutes for further reports to come in. “Looks like Korea launched a small retaliatory strike against some Chinese armored and rocket divisions stationed along the China-Korea border,” Freeman finally reported. “Short-range ballistic missiles only, a salvo of about twenty rockets, probably Scud-or FROG-7-series rockets — high-explosive, very high-powered, perhaps incendiary devices. No reports of… stand by… Now receiving reports of mushroom clouds…”
“Mushroom clouds! You mean the Koreans attacked China with nuclear weapons?”
“I’ll get clarification of this, sir. Usually, we get more reliable reports than this of nuclear detonations. We also sometimes experience blackouts of nonhardened communications facilities. We got none of that this time.”
“What could that mean?” the Vice President asked. “Did they try to hit the Chinese with nuclear weapons, and they didn’t go off?”
“Or they weren’t supposed to go off,” Freeman suggested. “It could be a dangerous game of brinkmanship — threaten China with a nuclear retaliation without producing a nuclear yield.”
“But why China?” the President asked. “Did China launch those missiles against Korea? The guy at Space Command I just talked to said the missiles came from inside Korea.”
“The Korean military could have made a mistake… or Kwon did it deliberately,” Freeman offered. “We know China had massed several thousand troops along the border, and there were intelligence reports saying that Chinese air forces were conducting more cross-border flights, perhaps probing Korea’s air defenses.”
“So you think it’s possible that Kwon was sending China a message — stay away or else?” the Vice President asked, astonished. “How suicidal can you get?”
“Suicidal, yes — but he succeeded in getting my attention, all right,” the President said. “I don’t see Kwon’s hand in this — this smells like Defense Minister Kim’s handiwork. If we had to set up an antiballistic missile system over the Korean peninsula, it looks as though we’d not only have to try to protect Korea from China, but protect China from Korea. There will be no winners in this game.”