“You eat sushi, Harbin?”
“Ah—” He thought the general had said “shoosh.”
“Raw fish,” explained Norton.
“No — I–I don’t believe I have, General. Didn’t have any of that in Idaho.”
“Just as well. Mightn’t be here today if you did. Goes through you like crap through a goose. Sucks all the energy out of your legs. That right, Jim?”
“That’s right, General. Though I must say I’ve never had any trouble with—”
“Don’t contradict me, goddamn it!”
“No, sir.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Do we know for certain?” asked President Suzlov.
Soviet head of KGB Vladimir Chernko was equivocal. “Not absolutely, Premier — I mean Mr. President.” Despite his support of President Gorbachev during the latter’s years of decline, Chernko had always found it difficult to address subsequent leaders as “president” rather than the old pre-Gorbachev “premier.” “Our agent, one of the best in Brussels, said the car was unmarked — a Mercedes en route to the airport. No fanfare, no motorcycle escorts. But a glimpse of Freeman stepping out. It’s Freeman’s style, President.”
“What?” challenged Suzlov. “To slip out in the middle of the night? Hardly, Comrade. I thought he was a prima donna. Likes to be seen.”
“Unquestionably, Comrade President,” said Chernko. “Publicly — and I suppose for that matter, privately, but he’s no fool. He is the most brilliant tactician the Americans have. Anywhere. A master of the unexpected. Everyone thought this would be a war of high mobility and technology. That the so-called technological imperative would dictate strategy. But this Freeman has obviously mastered more than technical manuals. His grasp of tactics and of tactical details is legendary among his troops. We know now that the Pentagon thought he was mad when he presented the plan for Pyongyang — an airborne assault. At night — precisely when the American and South Korean forces were in full retreat. Therefore it is logical in my opinion that they would shift him back to Korea now the Chinese have crossed the Yalu. He knows the country.”
Suzlov remained unconvinced. “Yes, Comrade Director, but another of your agents is reporting that Freeman is still in Europe — going between Brussels and the front. He may be a first-rate commander, Comrade, but he’s not a magician.”
Suzlov turned away in his swivel chair, banks of white phones behind him, and looked over at the picture of Lenin. “He can’t be in two places at once. And why would the Americans give him a new command when his offensive against us is going so well in Europe?”
“Their supply line from the French ports to our Polish/Russian front is now over seventeen hundred kilometers, Mr. President. It’s true they have aerial superiority and their armored divisions have moved within striking distance of Minsk, but we are having increasing success where it ultimately counts — with our submarines. In the Pacific and the Atlantic, they’re about to turn the tide.”
“Are you that confident, Comrade?” asked Suzlov while studying Lenin’s photograph as if he had never really seen it before.
“Yes,” came the reply from Director Chernko. “If our submarines continue to stop the supplies, we will win. The mathematical equation is simple — no supplies, no advance. Meanwhile we are also reinforcing our supplies along the Trans-Siberian to Khabarovsk and Vladivostok. And now China’s entry has diverted what would have been NATO supplies from America to Korea, this takes even more pressure off our western front. If the Americans are beaten in Korea, we’ll be free to move our Sino-Soviet divisions for a final push against the Aleutians. It’s no wonder Washington is sending this Freeman back to Korea.”
“Perhaps,” responded Suzlov, “but you can never be sure what the Chinese will do. They will make peace and war when it suits them. Our situation will not influence them either way. They are strictly allies of convenience. You know this. If we falter anywhere in the Eastern Theater — they will cross the Amur into our territory and gobble up what they can. Look at Khabarovsk. Sabotage is already taking place there and we can’t seem to stop it.”
“We will,” Chernko promised him. “But back to Freeman. It makes sense for the Americans to give Freeman the Korean command. The snow is deep in Western Europe, and neither side, apart from the air forces, will be making much of a move until the spring. It is an ideal opportunity for them to recall their senior commander for ‘consultation.’ We also do this when—”
Suzlov turned abruptly away from the table, and began pacing down past the long, baize-topped table where the STAVKA high command sat during the long day and night sessions in the enormous complex of the Council of Ministers building. Suzlov was considering the number of fighters the director was requesting, based on air force estimates of what Chernko’s plan would need. Most of them would probably be shot down by either American or Japanese fighters. The bulk of the Soviet fighters might evade radar on a low run in from the Russian airfields at Vladivostok, but the rotodomes of the American Hawkeye electronic surveillance planes from the U.S. carriers in the Sea of Japan would pick them up before they intercepted Freeman’s plane. If indeed it was Freeman who had left Brussels en route to Washington, D.C., and then possibly on to South Korea.
To make it more difficult for Suzlov, the distance, he discovered, between Vladivostok to Seoul was twelve hundred kilometers. MiG Flogger C interceptors with a combat radius of twelve hundred kilometers would need drop tanks, thus slowing their speed significantly, to say nothing of their maneuverability — at least on the way in. Still, the target, Suzlov had to admit, was irresistible. If they could get confirmation from their Japanese agents of Freeman’s arrival in Japan, and attack him en route to Korea, his death would be a stunning victory.
America would be devastated by the loss of her most able field commander, and at a time when she desperately needed him, if her troops in Korea were not to suffer another humiliation at the hands of the Chinese-NKA legions. And the psychological effect of Freeman’s death in Europe would be almost as dramatic, and help tilt the odds in favor of the Soviet Union.
“If we are to do it,” said Suzlov, “we must have the best. All volunteers.”
“That doesn’t necessarily bring us the best, Comrade President.”
“Oh?” said Suzlov, looking genuinely surprised. The president turned back to his desk and globe, contemplating the Korean Peninsula. It had been a constant thorn in the Soviet side. First it was Kim Il Sung using millions of rubles in foreign aid to build towering bronze statues of himself all over Pyongyang, and his son, Kim Il Jong, determined to keep the “dynasty,” as Gorbachev had once referred to it, going. And now there was talk that General Kim, hero of the North Korean invasion of the South, once in disgrace due to the success of Freeman’s Pyongyang raid, was now back in command of all North Korean forces along with Zhou Li, supreme commander of the PLA’s northern armies.
Kim was no more likable, in Suzlov’s opinion, than Kim Il Jong and Co., but at least he was convinced that for North Korea, allegiance to Moscow was as important as allegiance to Beijing — unlike Il Jong and Il Sung, who had been stunned by Gorbachev’s criticism of their self-glorification. Freeman’s death would also have the advantage of impressing Kim that allegiance to Moscow was not, as Beijing not so subtly charged, “less important” because of North Korea’s closer proximity to China. It would demonstrate that in matters of technology, the kind of technology it would take to kill Freeman, the Soviet Union was light years ahead of China.
“Very well,” said Suzlov. “Go ahead, but only if we get positive confirmation of Freeman arriving and leaving Japan.”