Jerry summarized the status of each staff member's activities. Brittany's desk had stayed piled high with papers as she analyzed the results of the Korean market survey. After her report was completed, there would be a brainstorming session with the entire staff to refine the steps they would follow. The PR plan that had been developed in Washington would serve as the basic guideline, adapted to fit the situation as detailed by the research.
Travis had made a number of useful contacts in the media, plus he had located an ambitious young bilingual reporter interested in learning the craft of writing news releases and radio and TV spots. Jerry had put Mr. Yoo on his trail, with orders to check him out thoroughly. Since news people were by nature highly inquisitive, he wanted to know as much as possible about the man before deciding to hire him.
Duane had spent the bulk of his time calling on local managers of firms affiliated with the American Council for Business in Korea. He briefed them on the Council's objectives and how they could cooperate in carrying out the planned PR campaign. On the "amber" side, his request that Washington supply additional background on Dr. Nam U-je had turned up several revealing details. Dr. Nam had been one of the primary members of the Korean Weapons Exploitation Committee, the group appointed in the seventies to gather information on establishing a nuclear weapons program. Among other things, he had dealt with a French firm that was ready to contract for a uranium reprocessing plant when the U.S. finally squeezed hard enough that the deal was canceled. Over the past few years, he had worked with the same French firm on building two nuclear power generation units.
"How are you coming with the bureaucrats?" Jerry inquired after they had finished discussing the staff's status.
Burke shook his head. "Don't ask."
"That bad, huh?"
He leaned back in the chair and clasped his hands over his head. "Ever dream you're in a crowd of people, and no matter what you say, nobody pays any attention? That's about how I'm doing with the bureaucrats."
Chapter 35
Duane Elliston and his photographer, a short, thin man whose name, Mr. No, had the sound of a character from a James Bond movie, took a KAL Boeing 707 out of Kimpo on Friday morning, landing fifty minutes later at Pusan's Kimhae Airport. The visit to Taesong had been cleared the previous day by Dr. Nam U-je's office. Although the airfield was some distance outside the city, the flight circled the big seaport on the way in. Duane craned his neck to stare out at the packed mass of buildings that seemed to flow down a mountainside into the sea, more properly the Korea Strait. Pusan wasn't as large as Seoul, but with three-and-a-half million people, it looked just as crowded. And, like Seoul, it's cluttered, hilly landscape featured a tall spire topped with a restaurant and observation deck. The Pusan Tower, perched on a promontory in Yongdusan Park, jutted into the sky like a lofty Olympic torch, providing a perfect view of South Korea's largest port, including dozens of ships from around the world anchored in the bay.
The first thing Duane noticed was the warmer temperature. Pusan lay at the southern tip of the peninsula. He had been bundled into a topcoat when he left for Kimpo Airport that morning. Comparatively speaking, it was mild here. He rented a car at the airport, loaded No's camera equipment aboard and, with the photographer's help as navigator, circled north of Pusan and east toward the coast. Once they reached what most maps identified as the Sea of Japan, but in Korea is called Tonghae, East Sea, they took a narrow local road that ran north along the coast, past a nearly deserted beach that would become littered with sunbathers again after the passage of winter.
Duane hadn't been told the full story, which he took as another slight at the behest of Burke Hill, but it was easy enough to figure that the South Korean government was suspected of embarking upon a nuclear weapons program they were attempting to hide from the outside world. That could bear all sorts of ramifications. As a child of the nuclear age, Duane had viewed the atom bomb as a fearsome, unfathomable monster whose existence he had first encountered as a small boy. In the pantheon of horror, it had ranked right up there with Godzilla and whatever it was that ate Cincinnati. During his days as a reporter, he had visited a Minuteman missile silo amidst a peaceful farming community on the Great Plains. Watching the launch control officers coolly going about their deadly business of preparing for the unthinkable had left an impression in his mind that could not be easily erased. Years later, he could still picture the scene with frightening clarity.
"That's it up ahead," No told him as they approached a bridge over a small river. He could see the plant in the distance, its round cooling towers rising against the horizon.
Duane followed the signs to the power station, where armed guards instructed him to park at the gate while his credentials were checked. Finally an escort arrived, a stern-looking man named Chung, who took them to the project manager's office.
Duane stuck out his hand as he approached the tall, flinty-eyed engineer. "Duane Elliston, Mr. Steele. Nice to meet you."
Steele's handshake was firm, but there seemed little enthusiasm behind it. He was a big, rough-edged man who appeared to have a lot on his mind. He didn't waste any time. "Hello, Elliston. This your photographer? Since you're here, we might as well get on with it. Know what you want pictures of?"
"Yes, sir. This is Mr. No. I've gone over with him what we'd like in the way of photos."
"Mr. Chung here will doubtless have to approve everything," Steele said, standing with fists jammed against his hips, looking like an umpire anticipating objections to a close call. "I just put things together. He decides if they're okay to look at."
"My only interest is in protecting matters of security," Chung said.
Duane nodded. "Why don't we let Mr. No and Mr. Chung go do their thing, and I'll spend a few minutes getting a little background from you?"
Steele grunted his agreement and the photographer ambled off with his escort, multiple cameras draped around his neck. Steele sat at his desk and motioned Duane to a chair.
"What do you want to know?" the crusty engineer asked, leaning back and propping a large foot against an open desk drawer. He pulled a pack of Marlboros from his shirt pocket and held it out. "Smoke?"
"No thanks."
"Mind if I do?"
Duane shrugged. "It's your lungs."
Steele shot him an icy look. "I know. I quit after I came over here. Couldn't stand the damned Korean cigarettes. Then we had a new guy arrive, must have had a suitcase full of Marlboros. After I run out of these, I'll probably quit again."
"When we talked on the phone, you sounded like a man under a lot of pressure. Is there a big push to get this project finished?"
"Yeah. They threw me a curve. The contract called for completion of Unit One next June, and Unit Two in January of the following year."
"You mentioned four weeks."
He nodded. "Back last June they told me they wanted Unit One done by the end of this year. Unit Two was moved up to June of next year. Said they planned to pull a unit of the Kanggu power station off-line in December. That was the first I'd heard of it."
Kanggu was where the satellite had spotted all the activity, Duane recalled. "Why would they want to do that?"