As was her habit, the first lady departed when discussions turned serious and were necessarily classified. As she strode toward the open glass doors, Friedman remembered to tear his gaze from her long legs and snaking buttocks, made all the more luscious, he thought, by the white maillot clinging to silky, satin-black skin.
“Yes, sir, we discussed the latest threats coming from the NK Central News Agency. It’s nothing but bullshit, an NK temper tantrum. We’ve heard it all before.”
“And the satellite photos of Tongchong?”
“Right, the NK nuclear storage facility. Karl thinks they want us to see activity there to give us something to worry about.”
“I know what Karl thinks; I know what Defense thinks; I know what the joint chiefs think; I even know what my wife thinks. Now I want to know what you think.”
Friedman, heavyset, his wiry hair more unruly than normal from the Florida Keys’ towering humidity, flicked moisture from his chin. “Well, they did everything but wave at our KH-12s and at the UN’s surveillance cameras surrounding the area. The KH-12s recorded the thermal signatures the weapons give off when they’re on alert status. This was after the NKs broke the UNSCOM inspectors’ seals and entered the storage facility. That’s forbidden under the treaty Kim signed, which is now worthless. We know they have twenty nuclear warheads in that mountain cave complex of theirs, and I don’t think they’re doing an inventory. Like I said, Jin’s trying to scare us by making us think he’s willing to go to the brink of nuclear war. But I don’t believe he’s got the balls for it.”
“No? I saw the IR pictures of that truck driving away from the facility at night. Kim tore up the sole rail line into the Kangnam Mountains, so there’s no other way to get in or out of Tongchong except by road. So what are they up to? What does our contact in Pyongyang say?”
Friedman shook his head and sweated. “Nothing. He’s gone silent on us. I’m not surprised. What with the coup, he’s walking a tightrope. Maybe when things settle down, when it’s safe for him to pay a visit to the Danish ambassador—”
The president said, “In the meantime, Jin is moving nuclear warheads around like a shell game and we haven’t a clue to their whereabouts or his intentions. I can’t operate on the premise that he’s bluffing. What if he’s not?”
The president toweled prisms of water clinging to his close-cropped hair. He turned away from Friedman to the fleet of sailboats that gathered daily in Florida Bay off the president’s Key Largo estate, hoping to catch a glimpse of him and his glamorous wife. A Coast Guard vessel with a whooping siren chased a sailboat that had violated the one-thousand-yard-offshore security zone designed to protect the Florida White House from suicide bombers.
He rounded on Friedman. “Paul, let’s assume they are moving warheads. Where to? The SRO lost track of that damn truck we think was transporting them. When it didn’t show up at their test rig in Pyongyang or their missile launch complex at Hamhung, our people on the ground started looking for it, couldn’t find it, and panicked. So where the hell are they? Clearly the warheads are tied to Jin’s meeting with this… this, whoever he is… on Matsu Shan. But how are they tied to it?” The president spoke in a voice so pinched with distress that, Friedman flinched as if in pain when he heard it.
An aide with a document in her hand entered the pool area and approached the two men. In panty hose, heels, and a suit, she looked oddly out of place. Friedman, glad for the intrusion, said, “Hello, Karen.”
She said, “Sorry to interrupt, Mr. President, but there’s a message for Mr. Friedman from ComSubPac. Priority.”
He skimmed the message and announced, “The Reno has departed X-ray. Scott’s going in.”
Part Two
Black OPS
12
Jin and Tokugawa strolled from the dining room onto the terrace. A warm breeze scented with orange blossoms made the candlelight dance. Tokugawa saw a shadow move silently among the dripping orange trees and knew it was one of Fat’s armed men patrolling the grounds. He and the other guards on patrol had orders to remain out of sight while the two men conducted their business. Earlier, Jin’s aide had swept for hidden bugs and announced that none were present.
Jin took a seat on the veranda and lit a cigarette. Tokugawa, silent, contemplative, sipped brandy and listened to the ocean’s relentless assault on the sheer bluffs a hundred feet below where he stood. At length Tokugawa turned to Jin, who, during supper, had been remarkably composed, considering what had been discussed. Tokugawa had listened to the marshal and had felt the earth shift under his feet: Together, he and Jin would change the course of history.
The difference between Jin and Kim Jong-il could not have been greater, Tokugawa had marveled. Jin, long suppressed by a Dear Leader who, with good reason, had feared his latent power, had proved to be not only bolder in action but also far more treacherous than Kim had ever been. Tokugawa had been pleased to learn that Jin was a man just like himself.
“My dear friend,” Jin said in perfect Japanese, “I want to emphasize that, for all intents and purposes, Kim Jong-il has ceased to exist. The Korean People’s Court has convicted him of treason and ordered his execution. Even if Kim had not buckled to pressure from the Americans to disarm, I would have deposed him. He and his father, Kim il Sung — and everything they represented — have passed from the scene. We live in a new era.” As if to confirm this, he lifted a hand and, with a gesture of dismissal, chopped the air.
“After the operation has been completed, the United States will need all the help it can get from its allies to recover. The European nations will be able to provide only a small fraction of what they will need. Naturally, Japan will provide the largest share of both financial aid and personnel expert in civil and medical affairs. As for America’s economy, it will be left a shell. In fact, it may never recover. I see the United States breaking up into smaller self-governing units, all of them fighting for scarce resources. Should that happen, Japan would be in a position to dictate its own terms with each entity, rather than with a weakened central government in Washington. Either way, Japan will dominate the world. As a result, Europe’s importance will wane, as will the Canadian and South American economies that have harnessed their future to America’s. And with the collapse of South Korea, another of America’s client states, the DPRK will take control of the peninsula — with Japan’s help, of course.”
Tokugawa’s face betrayed no emotion as he said, “To accomplish this goal we must brush aside the animosities that have existed between our two countries for centuries. How do you propose to do that?”
“Under my leadership the DPRK will open its doors to Japan. The West believes that we will never modernize. They think we are a feudal society, closed and self-absorbed. They believe we lack modern science, technology, and medicine. But we will prove them wrong. If the United States had not attacked us in 1950 and forced us to defend all of Korea against their aggression, we could have powered one of the greatest societal transformations in the history of East Asia.”
“But that is history,” said Tokugawa, “and now we face the future.”
“I assure you, dear friend, that the DPRK harbors no ill will toward the Japanese people for past misunderstandings. When the Americans are neutralized, and with Pyongyang’s doors open to Japan, the North will prosper and both of our countries will benefit. Equally important, you will have avenged your family.”