The Power Broker

by Nick Svolos

  “Your house, your rules,” I said as the butler entered with a fancy silver tray laden with an even fancier carafe and china coffee cups. As he poured, I pulled out my recorder. “I usually record my interviews to make sure I don’t get anything out of context. Will that be alright?”

  The General opened his mouth to protest, but Glorious Leader silenced him by raising a single finger. “It’s alright, General. We both know you’re recording this. I see no reason to object to Mr. Conway doing the same. Let’s let the man do his job.” The General shut his mouth and glowered like he’d just swallowed a glass of turpentine. It looked like his natural state.

  I had to admit Glorious Leader wasn’t anything like I expected. His public persona was all bluster and threats, but this didn’t match up with the real thing. I wondered which personality was the real him and which was the act. Well, it was my job to find out. I reminded myself to be careful, though. These dictator types were almost always pretty charismatic. It was easy to get sucked into their orbit. You see it every time some celebrity decides to take a shot at amateur diplomacy and comes back raving about how nice one of these guys are and how we’ve got him all wrong. Glorious Leader rose to power in one of the bloodiest coups in history, taking control of an already repressed nation only to lead it into even deeper repression. ‘Judge a man by his actions, not his personality’, as my dad would say.

  “Thanks,” I said, turning the recorder on. “Where would you like to start?”

  “I was thinking I’d start with my story, and then you can take it from there.”

  “Perfect.”

  He told me he grew up in northwestern Chagang in a small village just outside of Manp’o. Most of the province was mountains. There was a lot of work in the mines, but his village was down on the Yalu, where most of the work was in the lumber industry. When his abilities manifested at sixteen, his parents feared for his safety. The Kims were quite repressive when it came to superhumans. The lucky ones, the ones they could control, got inducted into the Army. The rest, well, they usually ended up on lab tables. His family decided to send him away. Escaping the country was easy for a kid who could fly and had the good fortune to live near the border. He made it to California and moved in with some distant relatives.

  This last bit was news to me. I knew he’d fled North Korea, but the official story had stopped there. “I had no idea. If you don’t mind my asking, where in California?”

  The dictator looked down. “It’s probably best not to say. I wouldn’t want a bunch of news crews showing up on their doorstep.”

  “I understand. Sorry for interrupting; please go on.”

  He told me how he got a doctorate in Political Science at UC Santa Cruz—more new information—and began to plan his return to North Korea. Picking up the official story again, he detailed his efforts to bring about change. He idealistically tried to put together a popular movement, which failed. The people had been beaten down for too long. Beyond a small cadre of loyal followers, he couldn’t get the numbers he needed. Disaster struck when the State Security Department caught one of his team, someone who knew his true identity. Naturally, the captive couldn’t stand up to what they put him through, and soon the SSD raided Manp’o and took Glorious Leader’s family captive. Things turned ugly after that.

  Forced into action, he single-handedly took on the Army to free his family. Things escalated. Now that he was in direct conflict with the regime, there was no turning back. Korea’s a big country, and all the old Party leaders had their own forces and underground bunkers to hide out in. It was too much for one man to handle, even one with his power. That was when General Ahn stepped in. He got several young, influential officers to follow the young super and they turned things around.

  This was good stuff. We in the West didn’t know much about the actual coup. All we knew was that North Korea descended into utter chaos for a few tense days before the triumphant superhuman went before the cameras and announced to the world that the country was under new management. I decided it was time to follow up with a little hardball. See how he handled it.

  “One of the major criticisms of your coup is how bloody it was. Did the families of the Party Leaders really have to die?”

  The tension in the room ratcheted up a couple of notches. Glorious Leader sighed and looked down again. “It was unfortunate, but yes. If you look at our history, that’s how things are done here. Family ties run deep, and grudges aren’t easily forgotten. It’s not how I wanted things to go. I guess I picked up some Western sensibilities in my time there. People here don’t think the same way, though. Western ways don’t work for us.”

  “South Korea has the same culture, doesn’t it? They seem to have settled into the modern world pretty well.”

  “That is a most insulting question, American!” General Ahn leaped to his feet in outrage.

  I was wondering when that guy would break. Glorious Leader seemed pretty calm, but I knew a hardliner when I see one, and the old general was a prime example. He and Drummond were cut from the same grumpy cloth.

  “I mean no disrespect, General. Glorious Leader asked me here to conduct an interview. Well, this is what it looks like. I didn’t come all this way to do a puff piece. I’m going to be asking the questions my readers would want to ask if they were here themselves. Not all of those questions will be pleasant.” I turned to GL. “This shouldn’t be a surprise to you. You asked for me by name, so I assume you’re familiar with my work. If this isn’t what you were prepared for, we can scratch the whole thing and I’ll go home. No harm, no foul.”

  The dictator nodded. “General, sit down. Mr. Conway is doing his job.” He turned to me. “I hope you will forgive him. The General’s a good friend, and he’s very protective of me. As I said, the old ways are strong here. People don’t ask these sorts of questions any more. That’s why I asked for you. As you said, I’m familiar with your work. When I read your articles on Gale and what happened last summer, I went back and read your archives. Good honest reporting. That’s what I need if I’m ever going to get our side of the story out without it being dismissed as State propaganda. Let’s continue.”

  Ah, so that’s what he was up to. It made sense. A positive story coming from the North Korean press would go nowhere. If he could win me over, that might get him somewhere. “Suits me. Would you like me to repeat the question?”

  “No need. The South has had over fifty years to get where they are and had substantial support from their capitalist allies. Their military expenditures, for example, are kept artificially low due to your country’s commitment to keeping troops on our border. By contrast, we’ve had less than four years since the Kims were overthrown, and the only support we’ve received is from countries with a, shall we say, less Western world view.”

  We went on like that for several hours, primarily covering culture and politics. General Ahn looked like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown at times, but Glorious Leader never broke a sweat. He was good at this. Interviewing takes a lot of skill, but if you asked me, being interviewed takes more. No matter how much I dug and even tried to trip him up a little bit, he always came across as well-informed, forthcoming and honest.

  I finally got around to more current events. “When the machines in Santa Monica turned out to have North Korean markings, your reaction was pretty…provocative. Do you really believe the United States attacked itself to implicate you?”

  “No, of course not. That would be as ridiculous as the notion that the attack came from us in the first place. But, your government blamed us, anyway. We simply returned the favor. If nothing else, it buys us some time. Believe me, we’re doing everything in our power to learn the truth behind this. We’ll find out who’s truly responsible and what their angle is. Then I will deal with them directly,” he finished darkly.

  I thought about solving that mystery for them right then and there. But then, I got the idea that this might be a poker chip I could use to get The Angels out of jail and tu
cked it away. Speaking of which, this seemed like as good a time as any to ask about them.

  “So, knowing you’re innocent, why did you arrest The Angels? You don’t have any giant robot bases for them to find. Your country would be cleared of any wrongdoing.”

  “As you say, there aren’t any giant robots, but there’s no way you Americans would be satisfied with the sort of search a handful of heroes could manage, even ones with the resources The Angels bring to the table. ‘The absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.’ Sadly, for security reasons, there are also other things we would prefer they don’t find. Finally, with your government preparing a Declaration of War, they looked a little too eager for my taste. I needed to put a pin in matters while we nail down what’s really going on. I think Ultiman knew that. He certainly hasn’t given us any trouble.”

  OK, let’s push on that a little. “Now that the war vote’s been tabled and things are calming down a bit, do you think you might consider letting the team go?”

  Glorious Leader shook his head. “I’m afraid the American Congress is too hot-headed. If I let The Angels go, they could just pull the bill out and move forward.”

  I leaned back in my chair. “I don’t think they have the support now. Plus, releasing The Angels would probably pull a few votes your way. It would be a pretty big peace offering.”

  “Out of the question,” General Ahn declared.

  Glorious Leader shot him a warning glance. “I think I have to rely on my advisors on this one, Mr. Conway. I still have two American carrier groups parked off my coast.”

  “I understand. Political analysis isn’t really my thing. You have a country to protect, after all. I certainly wouldn’t want to overstep my place.” For effect, I reached over and turned off the recorder. “But let’s just say, hypothetically of course, that I could offer you something you wanted. Like, maybe the identity of the party that framed you for Santa Monica.” I glanced at Ahn and then back to Glorious Leader, leaned back, crossed my legs and steepled my fingers. “Would that be of interest to you?”

  You could have heard a pin drop on the thick pile carpet of Glorious Leader’s office. Both men stared at me like I’d just done a magic trick. A really good one involving a hot babe and an invisible spaceship.

  “You know this?” General Ahn asked, incredulous. “Impossible! Our best intelligence operatives have been on this since the event and come up with nothing!”

  I calmly raised one index finger and wagged it at the general. “With all due respect, you haven’t answered my question.”

  “Yes, of course we’d be interested.” Glorious Leader leaned forward, an anxious look on his face. “Please, Mr. Conway, tell us.”

  “I’ll be happy to. But, this is some prime intel. Seems like it would be worth a great deal to you.”

  General Ahn looked fit to burst, sputtering, “So that’s why you came here, American? To hold us hostage? For money, I suppose?”

  I chuckled. This was fun. I was starting to think I wouldn’t need Ultiman’s powers after all. I pulled the list Kirk prepared out of my coat pocket. “Hardly. I want freedom. Specifically, the freedom of The Angels and the journalists on this list. Once they’re out of your airspace, I’ll give you the name and location of the responsible party. I’ll remain behind until you verify my information, if you wish.”

  The general crossed the room and snatched the list from my hand. “This is out of the question. These people are all spies. We have confessions. They have been tried and convicted of espionage.”

  “Bullshit, General. They’re journalists. Forced confessions and sham trials don’t change that. If they were spies, my government would have tried to get them back by now.”

  “Out of the question,” Ahn repeated, as if that settled matters.

  “What about if you told us the information up front?” Glorious Leader offered. “We’ll let everyone go after we verify your information.”

  “No deal. Look, I’m not here to hold you guys over a barrel, but we have trust issues and we’re probably not going to work through them any time soon. I’m not here to commit suicide, and I’m not going to jeopardize the freedom of eleven people and my own neck on your word. The Angels and the journalists go free, I give you the information, and when it checks out, you send me on my way to publish my interview with you and what a great and reasonable guy you are. That’s how this works. It’s the only way.”

  “No, it is not,” General Ahn said with a smirk, then he shouted something in Korean.

  A squad of soldiers crashed in as Glorious Leader sprang to his feet. He said something to General Ahn, and though I couldn’t understand a word of it, it sounded like a protest. The general gave Glorious Leader a stern look, said something in a harsh tone, and nodded to the guards.

  Glorious Leader, a defeated look on his face, sat back down in his chair, saying nothing. Something was very wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I didn’t have a lot of time to think about it though, because the guards grabbed me by my arms, yanked me to my feet and hauled me from the room.

  ***

  Another day, another jail. This one didn’t stack up well against the one in Dr. Schadenfreude’s lair. Filthy and small, it didn’t even meet the somewhat low-brow standards of the drunk tank at the LA County central jail. Don’t ask me how I knew that. It was a kind of embarrassing story. The cell boasted a thin mattress on its floor and a bucket that served as a commode. Apparently, after making Ryongsong a lush paradise, the budget didn’t have a lot left over for the dungeon.

  After the soldiers frog-marched me out of Glorious Leader’s office, I was half-dragged through a series of corridors and down into a subway that carried us here. I tried in vain to track the turns so I could remember the way out of this place, but my guards were none-too-tender with their treatment, and I soon lost track. There was one particular guy who took great pleasure in hastening my progress by slamming me in the lower back with his rifle butt. I got a good look at his leering face after being knocked to my knees from one of the blows, and I memorized it. I didn’t know how I was gonna get out of this, but if I ever did, that dude was on the top of my to-do list.

  At least I had company. Four of the captive journalists, the males, shared my little cell block. The guy in the cell next to mine shook my hand through the bars and kicked off the introductions.

  “Welcome to the neighborhood. Ken Hickman, Unified Press.”

  “Reuben Conway, Los Angeles Beacon.”

  “Ah, another newsie. GL’s building up quite a collection. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, Reuben, but, well you know. Across the way, we have Louie Hawes from the Associated Newswire, Bob Huff from Scott-Hayward, and the fella on the end is Jay Cardillo from the New York Register.” We greeted each other with nods and waves. The younger prisoners looked thin and a little worn-down from their experience, but not too bad considering the circumstances. Hawes, on the other hand, was in his seventies, and he didn’t look too good. He had a hacking cough and seemed to have a hard time moving around the confines of his cell. The first to be imprisoned, he’d been here a good seven or eight months. Hickman quietly whispered that they were worried about him. Without medical care, and soon, he’d be surprised if the older man made it to Christmas.

  “So, what brings you to these parts?” Cardillo asked.

  “Ah, it’s a long story,” I said, groaning as I rubbed my aching back.

  “We got time.” Huff grinned. “The barbeque and beach party doesn’t start until five, but we like to be fashionably late to those things, anyway.”

  I chuckled. At least they were keeping their spirits up. “Alright, then. Let’s see, where to start? Last week, a bunch of robots attacked Santa Monica. Big ones, about forty feet tall. Turns out they had fusion reactors with North Korean markings in ‘em. Naturally, everyone went nuts. GL denied the attack. Said we must have attacked ourselves to stir up trouble. Naturally, that didn’t help matters. Congress threatened a war vote.”


  “Holy shit! Why in the world would GL pick a fight with us?” Cardillo exclaimed.

  “He didn’t. Someone set him up, and he thought it would be clever to tweak America’s nose while he tried to figure out who was really behind it.”

  “So, who did it?”

  I looked around. “I better not say. I gotta figure this place is wired. Right now, it’s my only bargaining chip.” There was also the possibility that one of these guys might have been turned. Better men than me have failed to hold up under circumstances like these. I changed the subject back to the original topic. “Anyhow, the Feds asked The Angels to come here to investigate. Prove that the Koreans were innocent. Naturally, Glorious Leader pulled a fast one and captured them.”

  “Christ,” Hickman shook his head. “How’d they pull that off?”

  “They put about ten thousand civilians on the tarmac at Sunan and surrounded them with the Army. Threatened to kill ‘em if The Angels didn’t surrender.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yup. So, after that, Glorious Leader asked the State Department to have me come out and interview him. I refused. Nothing personal, but it seemed like a bad idea.”

  “There’s an understatement.”

  “Yup. Anyhow, once I found out who’s really behind all this and I got the stupid idea I might be able to trade that information to get everyone out.”

  “Doesn’t seem to be working all that well,” Huff observed.

  “Nope. It sure doesn’t. But, I’ve still got the info, so there’s that.”

  Ken Hickman looked at me, deadly serious. “Reuben, I think you know what comes next. Take my advice, tell ‘em what they want to know. These guys don’t give up, and torture’s the national pastime in this country.”

  I shook my head. “Not a chance. Things look bad right now, but believe me, something will come up. Hey, I thought there was another reporter here. Maria Blunt from the Chicago Clarion. Any idea where they’re keeping her?”

  Hawes spoke up in a weak voice. “They have her in the next block over. I saw her.” He paused to let loose with a bout of dry coughing. “Back when they still bothered to work me over.”