The Acting President tried a joke to mask his anxiety. “I suppose you’ll be taking us next through a secret door in the back of the meat freezer?”
Hayes didn’t laugh. “Hardly necessary, sir. Placing the entrance in the kitchen was a matter of necessity. The White House doesn’t always lend itself well to modern modifications. Would you please press your right thumb on this pad, sir?” Chaseman did as requested.
Hayes swung the steel door open, and then led them down several more flights of stairs. At the bottom they found a golf cart with an enlisted man sitting stiffly in the driver’s seat. Hayes joined the driver up front while Chaseman and Sanford climbed in behind. Ahead, a cramped tunnel barely six feet high and periodically lit by single, bare light bulbs extended off into the distance as far as they could see.
“Sorry for the musty smell, sir. This tunnel was opened in 1950, not long after the first Soviet nuclear test. Except for occasional maintenance inspections, it’s been closed up since the Cold War ended.”
My God, Chaseman thought as the cart accelerated into the void ahead. What have I gotten myself into?
* * *
General Chan Bach Choy and President Kim Lang-Dong spoke quietly in the back of the blacked-out limousine. On the other side of the thick glass divider, the driver wore night-vision goggles in order to thread his way slowly along the narrow mountain road.
“What do you think this Acting President Chaseman will do? Will he in fact bomb Pyongyang?” the President asked.
“I believe he will try to bomb Pyongyang – but he will fail,” the General replied.
The President was not comforted by the General’s assurance. “How can you be so sure that we will succeed with our missiles and they will fail with theirs? This has troubled me greatly for some time.”
“Do not underestimate the military, my friend. You must leave this in my charge and trust that it will be as I have promised. As soon as the missiles are ready, they will be fired. Approximately twenty minutes later, Washington and another city that will surprise you will be destroyed. There will be utter chaos in the enemy’s ranks, and in that chaos, I will give the order for our troops to attack across the border. Seoul will be ours before nightfall.”
President Lang-Dong peered into the darkness, his brow furrowed. Despite the General’s words, he was very happy not to be in Pyongyang.
The driver turned off the road and stopped in front of what appeared to be a shepherd’s stone cottage perched on the steep side of the mountain. The driver opened their door, and then rapped on the door of the cottage. A red light shone on them briefly as a peep slot in the door opened and closed, and then the door itself swung open.
They stepped into a darkened chamber, and then were shown by a guard through a second door. In the well-lit room beyond, they found the Beloved Father and all of his sons sitting around a table. Behind them, a half dozen heavily armed men stood at attention. These were members not of the military, but of Jong Kim-Lo’s intensely loyal corps of personal bodyguards. Each had been born and raised in the same humble village where the Beloved Father himself had grown up, as had his father before him. General Bach Choy always felt uneasy around them. He wasn’t used to men that couldn’t be bought or blackmailed.
As soon as they entered the room, Kim-Lo spoke. “Is all in readiness, General?”
“Indeed it is, Beloved Father. The fueling process is proceeding perfectly. It will be complete in fifteen minutes, and then the flight readiness tests will commence. When complete, the ten minute countdown can begin.”
“Thank you, General.” Kim-Lo looked uncertain, as if waiting for someone to tell him what should happen next.
The General cleared his throat. “Perhaps you should give the launch order now, Beloved Father, to fire as soon as the missiles are ready. That way you can make your way down into the bunker without further delay. Despite all our precautions, we can never know for sure that the enemy has not discovered your location. It would be best if you were safely underground well before the missiles are launched.”
“Yes,” Kim-Lo agreed. “Yes, that would be wise.”
“If I may, sir?” Kim-Lo nodded, and General Bach Choy stepped forward. He picked up the telephone that lay on the table in front of the Beloved Father, pressed a button, and spoke a few words.
“Lieutenant Grid-Li, I will hand the phone now to the Beloved Father, who will give you the final order.”
Bach Choy handed the phone to Jong Kim-Lo. In a surprisingly strong voice, he spoke into the phone: “You may fire when ready, Grid-Li.”
The General nodded approvingly. “That was very memorable, sir.”
General Bach Choy looked out of the corner of his eye at Kim-Lo’s eldest son as he replaced the phone in its cradle. “You really should be going now, Beloved Father. We will remain in constant communication with you as the launch and the offensive unfold.”
Kim-Lo rose unsteadily to his feet, and General Bach Choy and President Lang-Dong turned to go. And then the Beloved Father’s eldest son spoke.
“Father, the General and the President have performed their roles so well, it does not seem right to leave them vulnerable to harm. Who knows what will happen even moments from now, and the communications from the bunker are excellent. Why not invite them to share it with us?”
The two men froze, each afraid to look at the other.
Kim-Lo nodded. “Yes, you are quite right. If they are with us, I can stay in closer contact with what is happening on the battlefield. My leadership will be essential, of course, to the success of this enterprise. Gentlemen, I must ask you to accept my personal hospitality. Follow us now into the bunker.”
The General and the President turned slowly to see the wicked smile on the face of Jong Kim-Lo’s eldest son. As the Beloved Father stepped through the door of the elevator beyond, his hulking body guards stepped behind the President and the General, blocking the door through which they had entered.
“After you,” their nemesis said, gesturing towards the open elevator.
As if in a dream, they walked slowly forward.
* * *
Frank, Sr. wore a grim expression as he drove south through Rock Creek Park, still driving overland. Indeed, it was impossible to do otherwise, because the park lane he paralleled, like every other road in Washington, was choked with cars trying to evacuate the city. People stared at them as they drove in the opposite direction, wondering whether the father and son were crazy, or perhaps knew something they didn’t and wished they did.
“You’ve got to get through to someone, damn it!” Frank was yelling into his cellphone.
“Believe me, I’ve tried. And I’ll keep trying,” George Marchand replied. “At this point, you might as well keep heading for the Library – we’re moving the most precious items down into the bomb shelter now. There’s room for the full staff down there, if we need to duck and cover.”
Frank dialed Marla next. “Where are you?”
“We’re already outside the Library. We arrived early, in case you did, too. Things didn’t start getting really crazy until we were almost here.”
“Call George – tell him to let you in right now! We should be there soon.”
The scene became increasingly bizarre as they reached the Potomac. Along the river, everything was deserted and peaceful. But on the roads above, horns blared constantly as people maneuvered frantically for position in their efforts to escape.
Frank turned on the radio. The Civil Defense broadcaster was periodically breaking in on all channels, but it was clear that the authorities had little of use to say. The announcer simply repeated the same message each time.
This is not a test. Repeat: this is not a test.
While there is no immediate danger, the city has been placed on high alert, and the possibility of a nuclear attack cannot be discounted. In the event that the threat escalates, an announcement will be made immediately. If an attack is launched, sirens will sound across the city. Repeat: sirens
will sound across the city.
All residents are advised to remain calm. If you have a vehicle and decide to leave Washington, be sure you have a full tank of gas and take sufficient food and water with you to last several days. If you have a home emergency kit, be sure to take that along as well.
“Fat lot of good that will do you!” Frank, Sr. said with a snort. “Same crap as we used to hear back in the ‘60s.”
Please be advised that traffic leaving the city is extremely heavy and may come to a halt. Inbound lanes on many major arteries have been converted for use by outbound traffic. Use extreme caution and do not enter any normally inbound lane unless there is an officer directing traffic into that lane.
In the event that you are informed that an attack is imminent, if you are driving, stop immediately and seek shelter, below ground if possible. If shelter is not available, attempt to get under your car. If you are at home, go to your basement immediately. If you do not have a basement....
Frank, Sr. switched off the radio. “How long?”
“Till we get to the Library or till we’re fried?”
“I’d prefer Door Number One.”
“Not long,” Frank said, as they sped up the grass of the Mall, thumping over the curbs of the deserted cross streets. “But then what?”
* * *
General Hayes escorted Acting President Chaseman into the War Room. Some of the members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the National Security Council were already seated; others were standing in twos and threes, speaking quietly.
Around the periphery, technicians wearing headsets sat at terminals controlling the enormous LED displays that encircled the room and periodically flashed from one informational display to the next.
As the General led Chaseman to the head of the table that curved around the room, those standing moved to their seats, and the room grew quiet. By the time Chaseman sat down, a circle of stares, not all of them supportive, confronted him.
What was the script for a scene like this he wondered? Gratefully, he saw the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs rise from his seat.
“Sir, permit me to update you on the situation. It appears that North Korea’s ground forces reached their final deployment positions by midnight last night, local time. We’ve seen no further advances since then, but activity on the ground is intense and may indicate final preparations for an attack at any moment across the DMZ. South Korea’s deployment is not as far advanced, with approximately 25% of its forces still moving into position. This is hampering our own final preparations as well. Consequently, almost 20% of our ground forces are still in transit.”
The General paused, and Chaseman wondered what he was expected to say. Clearing his constricted throat, he tried this: “General, what do you estimate the final proportions on both sides will be?”
“Sir, only about 405,000 out of South Korea’s 522,000 army personnel are field troops. Of those, approximately 380,000 are combat ready and either in, or approaching, position. Of our 28,500 troops in theater, approximately 19,000 are war fighters, but only 12,000 have been deployed to the DMZ. The rest are needed to protect our bases and other U.S. interests in the event of open hostilities. That means that our combined forces on the DMZ will be less than 400,000 once all are in position.
“And for the North?”
“Almost 3 million, sir, but as you know, only a third are regular army. And the Red Guards are equipped primarily with light weapons.” Still, Chaseman thought, those numbers were overwhelming. And while much of the North’s mechanized forces were not state of the art, many of South Korea’s tanks and artillery were locally manufactured as well; some were even surplus Russian tanks purchased after the collapse of the Soviet Union.
“What do we have in the air?”
“Better than on the ground, but not as much as we’d like; things moved much too quickly for us to get an additional carrier group into the Pacific. Only one of our three B-52 Stratofortress wings is in range for turn-around missions. With three million targets on the other side of the DMZ, we could use everything we’ve got, but one wing is all we’ll have to work with. That means 22 aircraft. We’ve divided them into three rotating task forces. The first is already airborne.
“We’re better positioned with our B-1s, but we’ve only got sixty-six operational, not all of which are based and can be maintained within practical range. Count on forty-two being available. Again, we can bring more in using extra crew and multiple in-air refuelings, but it’s difficult to sustain a long campaign on that basis. We’ve divided the ready wings into three task forces once again, with one plane in each carrying nuclear weapons in addition to conventional ordinance.”
“Finally, we have the B-2s, but we don’t see them playing a significant role here, given the magnitude of the challenge. The Navy’s Tomahawk missiles, on the other hand, will provide crucial support. And, of course, we’ve got overwhelming superiority with our land and submarine based nuclear missiles.”
The General paused before continuing. “For your nuclear contingency plan, we would recommend using our U.S. based ICBMs. The North will have no defenses against them, and we rate their delivery reliability in excess of 99%.”
My God, thought Chaseman. That meant that if he gave the order, it would be 99% certain that millions of people would die by his hand as assuredly as if he were to personally hold a gun to their heads. Could this truly be happening? He forced himself to continue.
“What is the status of their missiles?”
“The North Koreans completed fueling their two long range missiles approximately thirty minutes ago. Operational readiness could be achieved in as little as five minutes, but twenty-five minutes is a more likely figure.”
“What probability do you assign to their ability to reach their targets?”
The General paused again. “Sir, we have almost no way to estimate that accurately. The North has never successfully completed a test firing of the Taepodong 2. But they did achieve successful first and second stage ignition in their most recent test – only the third stage failed. As a result, we cannot safely assume that neither missile will reach the lower 48 states, even if it does not reach its final designated target. Whether or not it reaches its intended destination, we should assume that the warhead would be set to automatically detonate at an altitude that would guarantee substantial casualties if it happens to be over a populated area.”
“And how do you rate the possibility of our intercepting one or both missiles?”
“As you know, sir, our only defenses nominally capable of intercepting an ICBM are eleven ground based Midcourse Defense missiles. Fortunately, they are all deployed in Alaska. We assume that the North Korean missiles will have only the most primitive deception capabilities, if any at all. That said, our interception and kill capabilities remain questionable at best. If the North has no ability to camouflage its attack, we assign a 34% probability to our ability to intercept either missile. If they are capable of deploying even basic deception techniques, our assigned probability of interception drops to less than 11%.”
The General looked up at a large digital monitor on the wall.
“Sir, it is now less than one minute to earliest potential attack capability.”
* * *
“There’s George – in that doorway over there. Pull in between that construction dumpster and the building.”
Frank, Sr. crossed the curb and squeezed the Land Rover out of sight. They ran for the open door, Frank clutching his laptop under his arm. Moments later, Marla was hugging her father, oblivious to all around.
When she disengaged, Marla turned to the old man accompanying her father.
“And you must be, uh, my grandfather.”
Frank cut her off. “Sorry, Marla, but you’ll have to save that for later – if there is a ‘later.’ We’ve got to figure out how to stop our government from incinerating us.”
“What do you mean, ‘incinerate us?’”
For the first time, Frank n
oticed Carl Cummings standing behind Marla. “’Incinerate us,’ as in detonate a nuclear weapon overhead, maybe within the hour.”
Marla stared. “Yes,” Frank continued as they hustled into the building. “I feel like an idiot. I spent the last two weeks trying to make the answer ten times more complicated than it was. I’d been assuming that the database the North was hacking was being uploaded in its entirety for some important military use. It wasn’t until we discovered by accident that they’d swapped the coordinates for Pyongyang with those for Washington, D.C. that it hit me – the database must hold the coordinates that our nuclear forces draw on for targeting – they fly too high to use the global positioning satellite system, so the missiles need to navigate by magnetic compass. So unless we can get through to the War Room, our government may be about to nuke itself, and us along with it.”
“We can’t do that,” George interjected. “I’ve tried everything. All communications are in locked down mode. I don’t have clearance to reach anyone who has clearance to reach anyone in there.”
There was silence. Then Marla spoke.
“Dad, maybe whatever we plan to launch at North Korea hasn’t been programmed yet. Couldn’t you just fix any coordinates the North changed?”
“That’s good thinking. Unfortunately, I already thought of it, and there are two problems. First, although I’ve got administrative and editing privileges for the Web pages, I can’t alter anything in the database itself. But even if I did, there’s the second issue. If Chaseman decides to bomb a second target, there’s no way for me to know what that target would be – and there are lots of possibilities.”
George broke in. “But you could do a search to find every coordinate with a latitude and longitude that fell within the United States.”
Frank shook his head wearily. “I thought of that, too, and guess what? I didn’t find another one. But what if they changed the coordinates for a military base in North Korea to a city like Moscow? Needless to say, there are hundreds of thousands of Russian coordinates in the database already, and since the location names are highly encrypted, I can’t just search for North Korean locations with coordinates outside the national boundaries. Think about it – what could be better for North Korea than setting off a nuclear war between the U.S. and Russia?”
The Alexandria Project: A Tale of Treachery and Technology (Frank Adversego Thrillers Book 1) Page 29