“Oh, I highly doubt that,” Rhee said “Now I suggest you stop patronizing me and make arrangements for the flight. I’ll be in touch once they arrive.”
When Rhee hung up Duan pounded the receiver into his fist several times, then ripped the phone from its socket and threw it across the room with a howl of fury.
When he had regained some semblance of calm he took the rest of the files from the safe and placed them in his briefcase. Using one of several cell phones scattered inside the top drawer of his desk, he ordered a taxi to pick him up several blocks away and left his office. He had just reached the front door of the building when two cars came to a screeching halt outside. Three men in civilian clothing sprang from each and ran toward the steps. Duan turned around and made his way back to the stairs. He reached the first basement level just as the men upstairs began shouting.
Duan began to run.
When he reached the exit to the inner courtyard, he used his security pass to open the door. He took the stairs two at a time. There were several vehicles parked in the yard, including his own staff car. Ignoring his perplexed driver, Duan ran past him and jumped into a white unmarked van. When he reached the gate he shouted at the guard to open it.
But it was too late.
Two cars had already blocked the entrance to the yard. As Duan looked back he saw two of the men who had come through the front door running up the steps. They were joined by two more a moment later. Realizing there was nothing he could do, Duan opened the door and stepped out with his hands raised.
One of the men holstered his pistol, approached him and said, “Commander Shen Duan, you are hereby under arrest for crimes against the state.”
Duan shook his head and let out a nervous bark of laughter. “Of course I am. Why don’t you just shoot me now and get it over with?”
He considered forcing them to do it by reaching for his own weapon, but found he didn’t have the stomach for it. He was quickly searched and disarmed. Instead of driving him away, two of the men grabbed him by the arms and led him back inside the building.
Duan wasn’t surprised to find Minister Yew waiting for them in his office.
“I’ll take that,” Yew said, pointing at the briefcase one of the men had taken from Duan.
“Leave us,” Yew said.
When they were gone the minister put the briefcase down and shook his head. “Did you really think you could run?”
“It was worth a try,” Duan said.
Yew considered this for a moment and smiled, “Did you think Iris was going to help you?”
“He knows?” Duan said.
Yew shook his head. “No.”
“Then how did you find out?”
Yew reached into his suit jacket. For a moment Duan thought his time was up, but the minister only produced a sheet of paper. He handed it to Duan.
“What is this?” Duan said.
“Read it.”
Duan unfolded the sheet. It was a printed email. The receiving address was the Chinese embassy in Moscow. It read: To whom it may concern,
It should interest you to know that your neighbors to the north appear to have grown disillusioned with your joint venture at Nampo and the Jangdan-myeon mine. As a friend of peace I suggest you act swiftly to address the situation, lest the world discover your plans and act accordingly.
Sincerely,
X
“Who is this from?” Duan said.
“I was hoping you might tell me,” Yew said. “You were the one running, after all. Perhaps you received a similar message?”
Duan read it again and shook his head. “I have no idea who wrote this.”
“Then why were you running away?”
Duan rehashed his brief conversation with General Rhee. As he did the horror on Yew’s face grew increasingly pronounced.
“He’s gone mad,” Yew said.
“Yes,” Duan said. “It would appear so. And if I were you I would consider taking the ultimatum seriously. He seems to have a pretty good case.”
“A good case?” Yew said. “It’s blackmail.”
“We’ve created a monster,” Duan said. “Do you think he’ll listen to reason?”
“You’ve created a monster,” Yew said. “You assured us the general was loyal.”
“He was,” Duan said. “And now he isn’t. May I remind you that Project 38 was your idea, Minister. Although I doubt anyone will remember that once you have dragged my name through the mud and left me swinging on the gallows.”
Yew was silent for a long time. When he looked at Duan again his features were more reflective than angry. “If you think I will survive this any more than you, you misunderstand my position. I have staked my future on the success of this project. News of its failure will be the end of everyone involved.”
“Then what do you propose be done?” Duan said.
“The general must be killed,” Yew said. “And the warheads recovered.”
“Yes,” Duan said.
“What about Marshal Hwang? Would he cooperate?”
Duan shook his head. “There is no way Rhee could attempt what he is doing without the marshal’s help. There may be another way though. It would be risky.”
Duan explained his plan.
Chapter 100
The Pandora
Tuesday 26 June 2007
1200 EEST
“You’re sure there is no way to trace the email back to us?” Richelle said.
“Not a chance,” Mitch said.
“The question is, will it work?” Francis asked. “We don’t know who inside the Chinese government is behind this.”
“You’re saying this could be some rogue operation?” Richelle said. “Something the government doesn’t even know about?”
Francis shook his head. “I highly doubt that. But you can bet your ass there aren’t many people involved.”
“The president?” Titov said.
Francis shrugged. “In my experience, things like this tend to be run on a need-to-know basis, plausible deniability being the primary reason. I suggest we sit back and watch for now.”
“What about the ship?” Naoko asked.
In the four hours that had passed since they sent the email, the Xilin Gol had sailed through the lock of the West Sea Barrier and reached open water. It was currently headed southwest toward the East China Sea and away from the Korean peninsula.
“Shouldn’t we warn them?” Richelle asked.
“I’m worried that if we do, their reaction might make things worse,” Francis said. “Tip the scales in the wrong direction.”
“Worse?” Titov repeated. “You think that’s possible?”
“Well,” Francis said. “No one’s dead yet. I’d say that leaves plenty of room for worse.”
“So what are we supposed to do?” Heinz demanded. “We can’t just sit here and watch a nuclear bomb sailing on a hijacked ship. Has it occurred to anyone that they could be heading for a port in the South?”
“China,” Francis said. “If they’re heading for a port, it’s going to be in China.”
“That’s hardly encouraging,” Mitch said.
Francis wasn’t listening. He appeared to be deep in thought. When he looked up he turned to Mitch. “What would happen if you hit that ship with whatever it was you did to the jets in the Gulf?
Mitch considered this. “Well, I highly doubt it would sink.”
“Very funny,” Francis said. “What I mean is, would it shut down?”
“It might,” Heinz suggested. “If not the propulsion systems then at least the radar and navigation.”
“So it doesn’t exactly solve the problem,” Francis muttered. “But it would buy time.”
“So?” Mitch said. “Do we do it?”
“Not yet,” Francis said. “Let them get as far from land as possible. In the meantime there’s something I’d like you to have a look at.”
Chapter 101
Sunan, North Korea
Tuesday 26 June 2007
2300 KST
Marshal Hwang had all but given up and was about to call Rhee and tell him as much when the phone rang. The call was from the radar station on Ka-Do island. The operator informed him that a plane was approaching the mainland and had provided the correct authorization codes.
Hwang turned to the young officer sitting at the air traffic control terminal and ordered him to contact the pilot as soon as he was in range.
Another twenty minutes passed before the officer looked up and said, “He’s asking for permission to land, sir.”
“So give it to him,” Hwang said.
The major in command of the Red Battalion, who had returned with the remainder of his troops from Nampo that morning, entered the room and saluted.
“Get your men ready,” Hwang ordered.
The major hurried away. Hwang watched as his men spread out from the terminal building and took up positions around the end of the runway.
“How far away are they?” Hwang said.
“Sixty miles, sir,” the operator said.
The next ten minutes passed in silence as the blip on the radar screen grew closer. Then the plane was there, turning on its landing lights and lining up for the approach. Hwang had expected a small plane, but what came hurtling down the runway was anything but. The Shaanxi Y-8 was a medium size transport, big enough to hold a hundred men. As it came to a stop and began taxiing toward the terminal building Hwang had a sudden premonition of impending disaster. He barely had time to pick up his radio before it struck.
Men, all wearing black combat uniforms and armed to the teeth, came streaming out of the rear cargo hold and both side exits like ants from a hill. Hwang watched in horror as his own men, outnumbered and caught completely by surprise, began to fall like practice targets. Panic broke out around him as the staff ran for the door. Hwang followed them down the stairs and into the main terminal where the major was frantically organizing the few men he had kept back. They put up a brave fight, but it was futile. Before Hwang could reach his own car he was cut off by several of the Chinese attackers who had flanked the building. One of them either recognized him or merely saw the rank on his epaulettes and shouted something to the others. A moment later Hwang was being dragged back into the terminal building. The major lay sprawled out on the floor near the door to the control tower, his chest riddled with bullets.
Hwang was pushed up the stairs and back into the room he had fled only moments earlier. When the man standing by the window turned around, Hwang could hardly believe his eyes.
“Surprised to see me, Marshal?” Duan asked.
“General Rhee told me you had been arrested,” Hwang said.
“General Rhee has lost his mind,” Duan replied.
Hwang suddenly turned pale. “Oh God, what have I done?”
“What have you done?” Duan asked.
Hwang only looked at him, his face a mask of confusion.
“Where are the warheads?” Duan demanded.
“On the Xilin Gol.”
Duan studied the marshal doubtfully for a moment and said, “You are lying.”
“My men boarded her this morning,” Hwang said. “Her crew are being held captive.”
“Why? What does he intend to do?”
“He said we had to move the ship into open water in case you try to detonate the warheads remotely.”
“There is only one remote detonator, you idiot,” Duan said. “And Rhee has it.”
Hwang appeared to be going into shock. He sat down in the chair behind him and put his hands over his face.
“Get your men back on the plane,” Duan said to the soldier standing beside him.
“Will you not be returning, sir?” the soldier asked.
“I can’t,” Duan replied. “Hurry up. You may not have much time.”
Chapter 102
Pyongyang, North Korea
Tuesday 26 June 2007
2330 KST
When Kim Jong-sul turned to Rhee his face was white. For a moment it looked like he might actually be sick. On the television screen mounted to the wall in front of them, Duan’s assault team was running back across the runway to the plane they had arrived in. Several of them stopped to drag the bodies of the men they had killed off the tarmac and into the grass.
“I told you they would betray us,” Rhee said. “They have no intention of letting you see your wife and son again.”
“But why?” Kim said, now on the verge of tears.
“Because we are nothing to them,” Rhee said. “A means to an end. And now that they have changed their minds, they think they can use you to bring us to heel.”
Kim, who knew of Project 38 in only the vaguest of terms, suddenly dropped to his knees and grabbed Rhee’s hand in a gesture of desperation. “What will they do to my wife and son?”
Rhee felt a little sick himself at this pathetic display.
“There must be something we can do,” Kim said. “Can’t you speak to them?”
“You cannot reason with men like these,” Rhee said. “But you can make them listen.”
Kim looked up, his eyes streaming. “How? Tell me what to do. I beg you.”
Rhee knelt until they were face to face and said, “I can make them listen. But I need you to do something for me in return.”
“Anything,” Kim said.
Rhee leaned forward until his mouth was almost touching Kim’s ear and told him what he needed to do.
Chapter 103
Sunan, North Korea
Tuesday 26 June 2007
2330 KST
Duan waited long enough to see the plane take off, then led the now pliant Hwang back downstairs.
“You’re driving,” Duan said when they reached the marshal’s car.
The driver, a young sergeant, had apparently tried to make his escape and paid for it with a bullet in the back of the head. Hwang had to step over him to get into the car. Duan got in but the marshal made no move to reach for the ignition.
“Marshal?” Duan said.
When the marshal didn’t respond Duan reached over and slapped him hard across the face. The absent stare left Hwang’s eyes.
“There may still be time,” Duan said. “I need you to take me to Rhee.”
The drive from the airfield to the capital took less than half an hour, although they were stopped twice on their way in. On both occasions Duan had been ready to draw his weapon, but the marshal made no attempt to alert the soldiers to his plight.
They were stopped again at the gate to the dear leader’s residence, but to Hwang’s surprise—and Duan’s bewilderment—they were waved inside without challenge.
The reason was soon apparent.
Standing at the top of the steps was Rhee himself, surrounded by a dozen of the dear leader’s personal guards. He smiled as Duan approached the foot of the steps.
“It’s good to see you again, commander,” Rhee said. “You’re a braver man than I gave you credit for.”
“And you’re a fool,” Duan said.
“It’s a little late for petty insults, don’t you think?” Rhee said. “Your little adventure on the airfield was impressive, by the way. It’s a shame your men won’t get a chance to brag about it.”
When Duan looked back at the car the marshal got out and joined him. If Rhee was surprised to see him he didn’t let on.
“General,” Hwang said. “You are hereby relieved of your command and placed under arrest.”
Rhee laughed and turned to the captain of the guard, “General? I see no generals here. Do you, captain?”
As if on cue, the captain of the guard stepped forward and announced, “Comrade Rhee has been appointed Grand Marshal of the Republic by the dear leader and speaks in his name.”
“You see?” Rhee said. “No generals.”
“Nevertheless,” Duan said. “I’ve come to speak to Kim Jong-sul.”
“Let me guess,” Rhee said. “You are prepared to give him what he wants in return for your warheads.
Am I right?”
“What we are prepared to do no longer concerns you,” Duan said. “I want to speak to Kim Jong-sul.”
Rhee turned to the captain and said, “Detain these men. Commander Duan is an enemy of the state and the marshal is his accomplice. You will hold them downstairs until the dear leader decides what to do with them.”
“Captain,” Hwang said. “This man is the traitor, not me. His actions may well lead us into a war that will spell the end of our country. If you’re going to arrest anyone, I suggest you arrest him.”
“A valiant effort, Marshal,” Rhee said. “Take them away.”
Rhee turned and walked back inside.
The captain ordered his men to search them and led the captives down to the basement where a number of crude cells had been constructed at one end of the large boiler room.
“You’re making a big mistake, Captain,” Hwang said as he was led inside. “You’ll be dead before the week is out. Rhee will lead this nation into a war we cannot win. Do you hear me?”
The captain ignored him and assigned four of the guards to remain in the boiler room. As he walked back to the stairs, Duan shouted, “The dear leader has a son. He and his mother are being held captive in Beijing. They will be killed.”
The captain stopped just short of the door.
“Rhee will attempt to threaten us,” Duan said. “It won’t work. A great number of people may die if he is not stopped.”
The captain walked back to Duan’s cell and ordered the guards to leave. When they were gone he said, “How do you know this?”
“My name is Shen Duan,” Duan said. “I am the chief of the navy special intelligence directorate. I’ve been working with the general for years on a special joint project between our two countries.”
“He’s telling you the truth,” Hwang said.
“And what of this child?” the captain asked.
“Kim Jong-sul was married during his time in China,” Duan said. “I arranged the wedding myself. They have a son. His name is Jang. If Rhee tries to blackmail us, the dear leader will never see them again.”
Origin - Season Two Page 33