Scott thought for a moment, then brightened. “How would you like to talk to the president of the United States?”
32
It was morning in Washington. The president and his advisors — Friedman, Ellsworth, Radford, SecDef Gordon, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs Webster, and Deputy Chief of CIA Paige — listened as Scott wrapped up the briefing he’d given them over a secure voice-sleeved cell phone.
Fumiko, pressed against Scott, who was sitting on the edge of the bed in his cheap Tokyo hotel, listened in. She heard the president, his voice bleeding from the cell phone, say, “I must tell you, Commander, and Ms. Kida if you can hear me, that we appreciate your analysis of the situation but will need time to digest it. There are some differences of opinion to consider.”
Scott felt Fumiko take hold of his hand as she listened.
“Frankly, what you’ve told us seems far too speculative, and I would be reluctant to initiate any military action against North Korea based on such information. What I need is ironclad proof of what Marshal Jin intends to do. As far as we can tell, the weapons are still in trucks sitting on the border. Question is, what’s he going to do with them?”
The president sounded fatigued and hoarse; he cleared his throat before continuing.
“Furthermore, we can’t ask the Japanese to detain and question one of their leading citizens and a friend of the prime minister’s without good reason. We have no proof that he’s plotting with Marshal Jin. That’s all I have to say for now. General Radford wants to talk to you.”
The line rumbled and Radford said, “Scott, there’s nothing more you can do in Tokyo, so I want you back in Yokosuka. I’ll have a chat with DG Kabe, and of course I’ll not mention anything of what Ms. Kida has told us. I may be able to persuade him to take a look at this Tokugawa, tell Kabe we came up with his name ourselves. I was told we don’t have much on him in our files, but we’ll wring them out again anyway. Incidentally, Admiral Ellsworth tells me that Deacon’s wife had a breakdown, that ComSubPac has a new skipper headed for the Reno, but that we can pull your rabbit out of the hat instead.”
“General, I can do more good here than I can aboard the Reno.”
“Scott, you have my orders and—”
“Sir, I don’t know all the facts, but we’re on the scene here, where Fumiko has access to information and contacts the SRO and CIA don’t have. I believe we could run down intel and deliver the ironclad proof the president needs to confront Jin and to persuade the Japanese to arrest Tokugawa.”
He heard Carter Ellsworth talking heatedly in the background. Then he heard a sharp exchange between Gordon and Webster.
“General Radford?” said Scott.
“I’m here.”
“Sir, time’s running out. Give us a chance to run this down, see what we can find. We’ll keep under the radar, no one has to know.”
A pause. “Stand by, Scott. I’ll get back to you in a couple of minutes.”
“They don’t believe us,” Fumiko said. She realized she’d been squeezing Scott’s hand and now released it.
“It’s not that they don’t believe us, they don’t want a pain-in-the-ass like me and a bright Japanese intelligence agent telling them what to do. But if we give them the proof they need, they can get a bust on this Matsu Shan plan, take it down before it starts so we aren’t forced to launch a preemptive nuclear strike on North Korea.”
Fumiko looked very worried. “Jake, you made it sound like I have special access to information and people that will prove our case. I don’t have any information like that.”
“We’ll come up with something…”
The cell phone chirped. Radford said, “Scott, how much time do you and Ms. Kida need to do what you say you can do?”
“Seventy-two hours.”
Fumiko covered her mouth with a hand.
“All right, you’ve got it.”
They fell back on the bed together. At first Scott wasn’t sure what to do until Fumiko’s mouth was on his, her kisses soft, then more urgent as their tongues touched and danced. He felt her shiver as the intimacy they were suddenly sharing gathered momentum, until her breath was coming in ragged gulps. His mouth moved to her throat, to the pit of her neck, to her small breasts, their nipples hard under a red silk blouse. He put his lips to one of her delicate ears, whispered what he wanted, what he needed.
They undressed quickly, and with an easy, practiced move, Fumiko spread herself open and, looking down into his eyes, mounted him. He sucked in his breath, dug his fingers into the tight flesh of her buttocks, and together they found the rhythm until her urgent gyrations made him peak, then explode. It was good, very good, and they kept at it until he had fully satisfied her, until her long, shuddering climax had tapered off. Spent, she dropped her head to his chest. They lay glued together on the bed in the darkened room, not speaking, just listening to their thumping hearts and still-ragged breathing.
“Jake.”
“What?” He ran his hands over her smooth back and buttocks, delighting in the little hollows and satiny textures he found there.
“You knew this would happen, didn’t you?” she said, her head resting on his chest in the pool of her long, black, silky hair.
“No, I didn’t.”
“The first time we met, you knew.”
“I never think that far ahead.”
“But I did,” she confessed, and kissed him.
He looked into her dark, sparkling eyes and said, “Then I think our professional relationship has come to an abrupt end.”
“It can’t; it has to last at least another seventy-two hours.”
“Then we’ll have to put this on hold till later.”
“That’s a long time to wait,” she said. She eased onto her back and reached her arms up. He rose above her and entered her with long, rhythmic strokes. Afterwards they lay exhausted, arms around each other, until Fumiko’s breathing slowed and he pulled away to let her sleep.
An escorted Mercedes-Benz limousine hurtled across the Taedong River bridge. The big car swept east past the Monument to the Fallen Soldiers of the Korean People’s Army, then slowed as it approached the entrance to the Student’s and Children’s Palace.
The limousine came to a halt inside the palace’s walled forecourt, where Marshal Jin and General Yi had arrived to witness a Ping-Pong match between students from Pyongyang and Pyongson.
Marshal Jin peered from behind the limousine’s tinted bulletproof glass at staff members and children lined up and waving flags, anxious to greet their new Dear Leader.
Jin turned his gaze on General Yi, while outside, security officers cordoned off the limousine.
“You are satisfied that the weapons have been successfully modified?” Jin said.
“Completely satisfied, Dear Leader. Tokugawa’s technicians in Vladivostok worked wonders to meet our schedule.”
“They should. After all, he pays them handsomely for the work they do. Perhaps we should consider employing some of these technicians to work in our own nuclear laboratories,” Jin observed.
“Russians do not like to give up the comforts their new prosperity provides. They like vodka, not our soju.”
Jin crushed out a cigarette he’d been smoking, brushed ash from his tunic. “They might change their minds when they see what their work has accomplished.”
Yi nodded.
“And the weapons are in Nam’po?”
“Yes. Our technicians there will inspect them and receive instructions on their use from the Russian technicians who installed the krypton timers. Sailing orders went out to Nam’po. Admiral Woo confirmed that the Red Shark will get underway as soon as the weapons are loaded out.”