“You don’t have a vote in this,” said Cassy.
“Since when?”
“Since you were put on the sick list. And they will let us in. A Bronze Star Marine with a medical emergency? We’ll get in alright. Leave it to me.”
“Key West is—”
Cassy cut him off. “Key West is more than twice as far away and I’m not waiting that long to get you to a doctor.”
“I’ll be fine,” said Jon.
“I know,” Cassy said. “Because I’m taking you to the nearest doctor. That leaves Key West off the list.”
Jon sighed. “You are one stubborn woman.”
“True,” Cassy said, “but my husband tells me that I’m also cute, so it more or less balances out.”
“I don’t remember ever saying that you were cute. I’m fairly certain that I said beautiful.”
“Same thing,” Cassy said.
“No it isn’t. Beautiful is way better than cute.”
“I suppose,” said Cassy. “But I can’t exactly take your word for it. You’re practically blind as a bat.”
“Bats aren’t blind. That’s a myth. And I’m definitely not too blind to spank you.”
Cassy snorted. “Give it your best shot, Marine. Then you can explain to the doctor at Guantanamo how you screwed up your eyesight and broke both of your arms.”
Jon laughed. “I love you.”
“I know,” Cassy said. “That’s why I’m not throwing you overboard.”
CHAPTER 28
“Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” President Bradley said. “This North Korean major gives us every impression that he wants to talk, and then he suddenly clams up?”
National Security Advisor Frank Cerney shook his head. “Not quite, Mr. President. Major Ri is talking, but he refuses to speak to our trained interpreters.”
“Which leaves us where?”
“We’re still in business; it’s just not happening the way we planned. Major Ri is willing to work with Petty Officer Philip Ahn, the Coast Guard sailor we sent ahead to start the initial dialogue.”
“He’ll talk to the amateur, but not to the professionals?”
“That’s right, sir.”
“Do we know why?”
Cerney’s fingers rose toward his necktie; then he seemed to catch himself and lowered his hands. “Petty Officer Ahn is of Korean descent, so it’s possible that Major Ri finds him easier to trust. It’s also possible that the professional interpreters come off as a little bit too professional.”
“Meaning that the major suspects them of being CIA?”
“Could be. Or he might believe that an amateur is more likely to let something slip during their conversations.”
“Should we be worried about that?”
“No, Mr. President. Petty Officer Ahn doesn’t know anything that would be of use to the North Koreans, or to the prisoner. We jacked up his clearance in case Major Ri happens to blurt out something sensitive, but Ahn has never been given access to any information pertaining to national security.”
“So our only real worry in using the Coast Guard kid is the danger of mistranslation?”
“That’s correct, sir, but the risk should be minimal. The trained interpreters will review recordings of every session. If Petty Officer Ahn makes a mistake, they’ll catch it.”
“I suppose that’ll have to be good enough,” said the president. “What about Major Ri’s big secret? Do we know any more about that?”
Cerney shook his head. “The topic is off limits until we promise to meet his terms.”
“He’s ready to take our word for it? We’re the Imperialist American Aggressors — the enemies of all good and right thinking people — and he’s willing to trust us?”
“So he says, Mr. President. The moment we agree to do what he wants, he starts talking.”
“Why would he take a chance like that? He has no way to be sure we’ll honor our end of the bargain.”
The national security advisor said nothing.
“It’s hope,” said the president. “That’s the only thing I can think of. Major Ri doesn’t know that we’ll deal with him honorably. He doesn’t know that America will be a good place for his family. He’s trusting in the hope that our government will be more honest than his government. That our way of life will be better than the one he’s leaving behind.”
Another half minute of silence passed before the president spoke again. “Send the word to Petty Officer Ahn. We accept Major Ri’s terms. He has the personal promise of the President of the United States.”
“Sir, that’s going to be a tough promise to keep.”
“I’m aware of that,” the president said. “But we’re going to keep it, Frank. Do I make myself clear on that? We are going to keep it.
CHAPTER 29
Jerry Catlin plopped into the chair across from Martin Quinn and deposited a much-reused paper lunch bag on the break table. “I figured out how they did it.”
Quinn chewed for a couple of seconds, and then swallowed a mouthful of bacon cheeseburger. “Don’t tell me… I’ve got this one… In the library with the candlestick. Am I right?”
“Alright,” Catlin said, “I didn’t actually figure out how they did it. I just figured out how I would do it, if I was in their position.”
Quinn wiped his lips with a Burger King napkin. “I assume you realize that you’ve started this conversation in the middle. Can we back up to the part where you tell me what the hell we’re talking about?”
Catlin unrolled the top of the paper bag and pulled out a homemade sandwich: ham and Swiss on wheat, with spicy mustard. “The North Korean supercav. We talked about it yesterday. I figured out how they made it work. Or at least how they could have made it work.”
“Oh, we’re back to that? I already told you. Can’t be done. It’s impossible.”
“Not for them,” Catlin said. “I agree that it’s impossible for us, but not for North Korea.”
The bacon cheeseburger paused midway to Quinn’s mouth. “Want to run that by me again? A bunch of third world nut jobs have better technology than we do?”
Catlin finished his first bite of sandwich. “Not better. Just different. It’s not a level playing field, Martin. This is one of those cases where they have the advantages.”
“Such as?”
“They don’t have to deal with the kind of environmental restrictions we face,” Catlin said. “Same thing for human safety.”
“Granted. So what?”
“That lack of regulatory oversight gives North Korean engineers options that we don’t have.”
“Meaning what, exactly?”
Catlin worked through another bite of sandwich before continuing. “Imagine this,” he said. “You’ve been tasked to design a supercavitating submarine propulsion system, and all of the usual restrictions are taken away. Your bosses don’t care if your design pollutes the ocean. They don’t care about long term health effects on the crew, as long as the sub is operational for the duration of the mission.”
“The bosses might not care, but the crew would never go for it.”
“Not one of our crews,” said Catlin. “I’ll give you that much. But a North Korean crew wouldn’t have the kind of technical background that our sailors bring to the table. Plus, they’re raised in a culture that likes to kill off people who question the wisdom and benevolence of their leaders.”