Lucente seemed caught off guard. “I’m not sure it’s quite that many, Mr. President.”
“It’s at least that many, Salvador, and I won’t have it,” Oaks said firmly. “Not today. Not right now. The last thing we need is another war in the Middle East.”
“I quite agree, Mr. President. But the Kurds’ timing couldn’t have been worse. They’ve declared independence at a time that could really provoke a conflict.”
“Then why are you flying back to Beijing? You need to get Mustafa to pull troops back — now — before things spin out of control.”
“It’s a problem, I know,” Lucente said, conceding the obvious. “But compared to the situation between you and China, I must say it doesn’t even come close. I will see Premier Zhao in a few hours. Perhaps there is a message I could convey for you, Mr. President.”
“I will call the premier myself in a few minutes,” Oaks said. “But my message to him will be the same message I give to Mustafa: stand down.”
“Beijing has mobilized its military because you have, Mr. President,” Lucente said. “They mean no harm. They’re only taking defensive measures.”
“Salvador, have you seen the intelligence?” Oaks countered. “Those aren’t defensive measures. The PLA looks like it’s getting ready to invade Taiwan, and the Taiwanese are apoplectic.”
“The premier insists he has no hostile intent,” Lucente reiterated. “But he fears you are about to blame them for the attacks on your cities.”
“Should I?” Oaks asked, careful not to tip his hand.
“No, Mr. President,” Lucente insisted.
“You sound quite certain, Salvador.”
“China is not your enemy, Mr. President. Of this I am sure.”
“Then who is?”
Lucente was silent.
“If you know something, Salvador, now is the time to tell me,” Oaks said.
“I have spoken with the chiefs of several intelligence agencies within the last few hours,” Lucente said.
“And?”
“They have nothing definitive.”
“But they have something.”
“Pieces. Chatter. Nothing conclusive.”
“Where does it point, Salvador?” Oaks pressed. “I have to know.”
Lucente paused.
“The world cannot afford a miscalculation, Salvador,” Oaks insisted.
“My only reluctance to speak is that my job is supposed to be that of a peacemaker,” Lucente protested, “not judge, jury, and executioner.”
“You’d be none of the above,” Oaks said. “Only a witness.”
“Fair enough,” Lucente said, “but please don’t say anything — publicly or privately — about where you are getting this.”
“We’re doing an intensive investigation, Salvador,” Oaks assured him. “We won’t take any action unless we have hard evidence. But I need every lead I can get at the moment.”
“Very well,” Lucente said. He took a deep breath and then said, “Everything I’m hearing points to Pyongyang.”
56
Bobby Caulfield didn’t hang up the phone.
He slammed it onto the men’s room floor, where it smashed into pieces. Then he stomped on each piece until it was just bits of plastic that scattered like dust under his feet. He burst out of the stall and grabbed his briefcase off a sink. He tore through it in a rage but didn’t find what he wanted. It was gone. All of it. How was that possible? Where was he going to get more?
Caulfield grabbed the leather bag and flung it against the bathroom mirror. When all of its contents spilled out and crashed onto the cold tile, his rage only seemed to intensify. He grabbed the nearest objecT — his digital camera — and heaved it at the mirror again. This time, not only did the camera shatter but so did the mirror.
His breathing heavy, his eyes glassy and dilated, Caulfield stormed out of the men’s room and ran to the lounge. There was no one there. He headed next to the senior executive dining room, but it, too, was empty. Then he moved to a small kitchen down the hall and around the corner from the president’s makeshift office, and there he found a military police officer pouring himself a cup of coffee.
“Mr. Caulfield, you don’t look so good,” the MP said. “Everything okay?”
But Caulfield never answered. Instead, he coldcocked the MP in the face, sending the man crashing to the floor, unconscious and nose bleeding. The man never saw it coming. Caulfield stared down at him, listening for voices, listening for footsteps. All was quiet. Then he began prying the MP’s gun from his holster.
“I just spoke to the president of Liberia,” Lucente said.
“What did he say?” Oaks asked.
“He told me about the Liberian-flagged container ship that your air force sank.”
“That was an act of self-defense,” the president noted, sensing a confrontation.
“I’m sure it was,” Lucente assured him. “That wasn’t my point.”
“What was?”
“The ship, apparently, had been chartered by a company in Bangkok, but it turns out the company isn’t Thai owned.”
“So?”
“So the company was bought last year by an outfit called Mercury Star Holdings, Limited, which Thai intelligence has determined is actually a front group for the DPRK.”
“Interesting,” Oaks said. “What else?”
“The head of intelligence for the PLA just told one of my deputies he’s got nineteen hours of telephone intercepts between senior DPRK officials and known members of the Legion. He’s got photos of Umberto Milano in Pyongyang six weeks ago. He says Vincenzo Milano, Umberto’s younger brother, flew into Pyongyang three days ago.”
“Why?”
“He doesn’t know.”
“What about Aldo Clemenza?” the president asked, referring to the alleged leader of the shadowy terror faction. “When was he in North Korea last?”
“He doesn’t know.”
“You asked?”
“I asked,” Lucente said. “He said he doesn’t know.”
Oaks was skeptical at best. “Forgive me, Salvador, but I’m not certain this is the week I’m going to start relying on intelligence provided to me by the People’s Liberation Army.”
“They’re willing to make the tapes available to the CIA station chief in Beijing.”
“I’m sure the PLA would love to know who the CIA station chief is in Beijing,” the president replied, then added, “Assuming, that is, we even have a CIA station chief in Beijing.”
“Look, Mr. President,” Lucente said, “I’m just telling you what I’m hearing. Do you really want a global thermonuclear war with the Chinese? Think about it. They could lose a billion people and still have a bigger population than the United States. But do you really think they won’t respond in kind? Of course they will. And how many more Americans are you willing to lose?”
Oaks said nothing.
Lucente continued, “And, really, do you honestly think Beijing would be stupid enough to trigger a war that will force you to go nuclear? They’re power-hungry; I grant you that. They want Taiwan back. They want to control the Pacific. Yes. But suicidal? Hardly. The North Koreans, on the other hand — that’s an entirely different story. I believe they did this. They had the means, the motive, and the opportunity. And if you hit them — and hit them hard — you can show the entire world America remains the world’s only superpower. Right now, isn’t that really the point?”
Oaks thanked Lucente for the call, reiterated his request that he persuade Al-Hassani not to launch hostilities against the Kurds, and hung up the phone. His war council was waiting, but his thoughts were racing so fast he needed a moment to refocus.