“Admiral,” said Scott, looking past Ellsworth at a handsome black man. The man was clean shaven and wore a well-tailored blazer and slacks, which flattered his good build.
“Jefferson,” he said. “McCoy Jefferson. Lieutenant Colonel, U.S. Air Force.”
“McCoy’s my deputy for special-ops,” said Radford.
As they shook hands, Scott sensed that Jefferson was sizing him up. “Combat Control Team?” Scott asked.
“That’s right, CCT.”
Air Force combat controllers were trained to support special-operations forces such as Navy SEALs and often deployed with them to assist their insertion and extraction.
Radford turned and acknowledged an elegant Japanese woman who had entered the room.
“How do you do, Commander Scott?” she said in perfect English. “I’m Fumiko Kida.” She offered Scott her hand, which was smooth and warm.
He held her hand a tad longer than courtesy dictated while his eyes roamed her striking features: silky black hair that grazed her shoulders and framed her face; a pair of full, encompassing lips that were moist and very red.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Commander.” She saw a man in his early forties, well built and with dark hair flecked with gray. He had rough-edged good looks and a bearing that indicated he knew how to handle himself in tough situations.
“Please call me Jake.” He released her hand. “I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but most of it’s not true.”
“Come off it, Scott,” Ellsworth snorted. “You’re among friends. Ms. Kida knows about the Baltic op.”
“What brings you to Virginia?” Scott asked her.
“Marshal Kim Gwan Jin brings her to Virginia,” said Radford, making himself comfortable in a wing chair. “Ms. Kida works for the Japan Defense Intelligence Headquarters. She was sent here by Director General Kabe to share information about Marshal Jin.”
“Information we believe is tied to the recent coup in North Korea,” she added.
A woman, whom Scott recognized from the gray Buick Regal in Alexandria, entered the room with a tray of sandwiches, which she placed on the coffee table. The man Scott had seen driving the Buick carried in a tray of soft drinks and condiments.
After the couple departed, Radford said, “McCoy, why don’t you and Ms. Kida brief Scott.”
Jefferson popped open a soda, took a quick pull, then put the can aside. “As you know, Jin has abrogated the agreement Kim Jong-il negotiated with us to dismantle his nuclear arsenal. Apparently he believes we’ll launch a preemptive strike against North Korea as payback for the bombings in New York, and is threatening to start a nuclear war in the Far East or to launch missiles at the U.S. The problem we face is compounded by the fact that the DPRK is on the verge of collapse. Should that happen, we’ll have to find and secure the warheads so they won’t fall into the hands of terrorists. Either way, it’s a huge problem.”
“Do we know where the warheads are?” Scott asked.
“Not all of them,” Jefferson admitted. “At any rate, five days before the terrorist bombings in Manhattan, the JDIH picked up intercepts which indicated that Jin is planning to attend a meeting with an unidentified individual near Taiwan. Right now it isn’t clear what this meeting is about or what his intentions are. We know from JDIH intercepts that the meeting was scheduled in advance of the attacks in New York. We think the meeting may have something to do with Jin’s seizing power but can’t be sure.”
“Do you have any idea who this person is that Jin is meeting?”
“Not yet,” Fumiko said, “but we think he is a Japanese.”
“What kind of comms intercepts are you picking up?” Scott asked. “Maybe that’ll tell you something.”
“It has. We’re seeing line discriminators and jumped wave band with blocks and filters. Very sophisticated stuff, probably a Geng auto-crypt system, definitely not European or Scandinavian.”
“Any guesses what this meeting is about?”
“Jin is one of the most reclusive individuals in North Korea,” said Jefferson. “As far as we know, he’s never traveled out of the country. For him to do it now means that the meeting is damned important.”
Scott turned to Fumiko. “How many Japanese can there be who would have a legitimate reason to meet with Jin at a time when things are so unsettled? And for what reason? A business deal maybe?”
Fumiko said, “Until recently Japan has had very bad relations with North Korea. But then our new prime minister agreed to open the door a crack to allow trade and cultural exchanges with Pyongyang.”
“So maybe someone in Japan is meeting with Jin to discuss a deal for, say, food, fuel, and other goods that they desperately need.”
“I don’t think so,” Fumiko said. “The North has trade ministers who negotiate such things with the Japanese government. Given the new reality in Pyongyang, Jin wouldn’t leave the country unless the meeting was vital to the DPRK’s survival.”
“You mean the survival of their nuclear arsenal, don’t you?” Scott said.
They all looked at him; their silence conveyed comprehension.
Scott began to see the outline of the plan being hatched by Radford and Ellsworth, and he didn’t like it. “You said this meeting is being held near Taiwan. Where?”
Fumiko said, “On an island called Matsu Shan. We identified it from our intercepts.”
“So what’s on this Matsu Shan?” Scott asked.
“A villa owned by a Taiwanese druglord.”
3
“General, do I understand,” Scott said, “that you want to insert a SEAL team into Matsu Shan to find out what Jin is up to?”
“We absolutely must know what the meeting is about,” Radford said. “And the only way to find out is by putting SEALs ashore.”
“We need your expertise on this one,” Ellsworth chimed in.
Scott felt his gut tighten. He saw it again, the North Korean frigate charging, the race to get the SEAL team back onboard the Chicago; her torpedoes slamming into the frigate; its bow and stern folding into a V…. “With respect, Admiral, I seem to recall you once had doubts about my abilities to carry out a similar mission.”
Ellsworth pointed a finger. “We’re not here to rehash the past, Scott. Your actions in the Baltic squared the account.” His temper held in check by the presence of Radford, Jefferson, and Fumiko, Ellsworth said evenly, “You inserted SOF teams into Dubrovnik and North Korea, so this job at Matsu Shan should be a piece of cake.”
“Sir, they’re never a piece of cake.”
Jefferson, his face an unreadable mask, said nothing. Fumiko, perhaps unaccustomed to verbal fencing between superiors and subordinates, looked uncomfortable. Radford, smoking a cigarette, seemed content to let Scott and Ellsworth slug it out.
“What I’m saying, Scott, is that you’d be operating in friendly waters, Taiwanese territorial waters, not in the damned Yellow Sea off Korea.”
“Admiral, the Chinese Navy patrols those waters. So do the Taiwanese. Getting in and out undetected, much less making an insertion, can be nasty business. Have the Taiwanese been told about this op?”
“They won’t be brought into it,” Radford said, lurching out of his chair. “This is strictly our show. All we want is a recon job, not an assault. McCoy will head the team. We need first-rate intelligence on this. So we need someone who knows what to listen for and what to look for. That means you’ll go in with them.”
Scott felt as if he’d just been kicked in the gut.
Fumiko set up a presentation for viewing on a wall-sized flat-screen monitor mounted behind drapes in the living room. Radford, Ellsworth, and Jefferson ate sandwiches and drank sodas while waiting for the show to begin.