“I’m more concerned with Kim’s nuclear weapons, General.”
“Yes, Mr. President, I thought you would be.” Fascione smiled politely. He could understand the president’s higher priority about the nukes; chemical weapons would only affect those on the Korean Peninsula. “From what little I’ve heard, the ROK commandos haven’t found anything yet.”
“I see,” stated Wyman. His expression showed his displeasure. “General, I’m not very happy with this arrangement. I’d like to have a US observer as part of this Operation Gangrim.”
Fascione took a deep breath. He’d have to word his answer carefully. A US general just didn’t say no to his commander in chief lightly. “That may be difficult to arrange, Mr. President.”
“I understand it’s a sensitive topic, General. Give the South Koreans as much latitude as you can in approving our observer. Suggest someone they know and trust, and then do some light arm-twisting. It’s in both our best interests to find those nuclear weapons, and we can lend more ‘quiet’ assistance if we have someone on the ground, as it were.”
The general nodded. “I understand, sir. I’ll do my best to get someone directly involved.” Suddenly, the general’s face changed from uneasiness to confidence. “And I think I know just the soldier for the job.”
Kary laid dozing on her desk. Her stamina had all but vanished. She was abruptly jarred to consciousness when Cho’s cell phone started buzzing in her back pocket. Initially she thought it was her father, given the time difference, but a quick look at the number showed it was her friend Anita. “Hello,” Kary answered.
“Kary… Kary, it’s me, Anita.” Kary heard the excitement and fear in her friend’s voice. She was now fully awake.
“Anita, what’s wrong?”
“Kary, there are Chinese soldiers everywhere. They started coming through our camp a few minutes ago. There are hundreds of them, Kary, on the Korean side of the border.”
“What?” exclaimed Kary. “Anita, are you sure?”
“Absolutely, Kary. There are tanks, trucks, and other vehicles pouring through our camp right —”
“Anita? Anita?” Kary shouted. She looked at the phone’s screen. “Signal Lost” it said. The connection had been broken.
Chapter 13 — Precipice
The United States had never had diplomatic relations with North Korea, but the country did have a seat at the United Nations. The diplomatic mission that supported the DPRK representative to the United Nations was located in Manhattan, on East Forty-Fourth Street, near the East River. In the past, it had sometimes served as an informal, unofficial link between the two countries.
There was no sign marking the location of the DPRK mission, just a steel door at street level in a pale brick office building. Credit unions, restaurants, hotels, and other diplomatic missions crowded against it and each other in the commercial district.
Lieutenant Joe Vitale led the Emergency Service Unit for Lower Manhattan, and he hoped adrenaline could substitute for sleep, at least for another fifteen minutes. It had been a busy night. Federal agencies had piled onto his operation like he was giving away toasters — State, FBI, Homeland Security, even the CIA. The New York City Police Department was used to interagency operations, but it all took time. If he’d had his choice, they would have done this last night.
It had to happen quickly. He was in the lead van, with two more behind. As his convoy turned onto East Forty-Third, units blocked the incoming lanes off First and Second Avenues. Another unit was already covering the building’s parking garage.
A few startled pedestrians watched his assault team boil out of the van, but uniforms coming out of the second vehicle shooed them down the street, toward the corners, and made sure nobody else entered the area.
His team wired a charge to the door in moments, then waited impatiently for the “all clear” from the uniformed officers. Joe took that moment to check the big picture. His people were properly set, the investigators were standing by in the third van — well, okay, they were trying to watch, leaning out the side windows, but they were far enough back.
His headset radio buzzed with static for a moment, and the sergeant reported. “Clear, Joe.”
Vitale gave the command and plastic explosive along the hinge edge of the door detonated, sending the door clattering inside. It was made of steel, and they didn’t have time for half measures. The lieutenant was second in line, maybe twenty feet from the door, and even with the lead man holding a ballistic blanket, Vitale could feel the pressure wave ripple over him. The noise and blast reminded him of a flash-bang, but they were well back and tight against the wall.
They went in at a run, down a short corridor to a second steel door, just as stout as the first, and locked. They’d been expecting this, and Vitale called, “Breacher up!” then stepped back to let the man work. In fact, he kept right on backing up as the demo expert prepared the charge. Passing the word on his headset, he stepped outside, but stopped just past the entrance. The corridor would channel the blast. He’d be safe around the corner.
His demo expert was by definition the last man out of the corridor, but Joe still took one last look down the hall before pulling his head back and signaling again. This time the blast was not as bad, although hearing protection could only do so much.
The second door led into a large office complex. Joe found himself standing in a reception area, facing an empty desk. The walls were decorated with the North Korean flag, and photos of the three Kims were mixed with colorful shots of laughing children in traditional Korean clothing. The room was filled with a light gray haze that stung his eyes. There was nobody in sight.
His assault team was already pouring through the door. They knew the basic layout of the mission, based on the builder’s records, and Vitale stepped back and tried to be the big picture guy while the other six team members broke left and right.
Less than a minute later, he heard “Got one. Bringing him out” over the headset radio. Two team members emerged from the left-hand corridor almost dragging a handcuffed Korean, in his mid-fifties. Vitale didn’t even have to use the photo guide they’d assembled.
“Ambassador Soon Yeo-rim, I presume?”
Soon had not come willingly, and his rumpled appearance was not improved by his expression. Bright red with outrage, he shouted, “This is a diplomatic mission. The UN—”
Vitale tried to suppress a broad smile, almost succeeding. “The UN voted yesterday to disestablish the North Korean seat in the assembly. I’m sorry if you didn’t know, but according to the UN Secretariat, you haven’t been answering your phones for several days.”
The ambassador hardly listened. “You have no right to arrest me! I have diplomatic immunity!”
“You’re not under arrest, Ambassador. Since the US has no diplomatic relations with your country, and the reason for your presence no longer exists, you and your staff have been declared persona non grata. You’re in protective custody until we can return you all to North Korea, if there’s any of it left.”
His headset earpiece crackled. “Lieutenant, we’ve got some more. Two people, shredding documents.”
“Have them join us,” Vitale ordered cheerfully, then continued addressing Soon. “We also received word from a credible source that there might be illegal materials here, possibly including drugs or counterfeit currency. I have a warrant that allows us to search this establishment for evidence, including documents regarding such activity. There’s also the matter of over one hundred twenty thousand dollars in unpaid parking tickets.”