Burke had never been guilty of harboring any illusions of grandeur. He was quite happy with who he was and what he had. Particularly happy right now, since a couple of hours ago he thought he had lost it all. His desires were simple. He had been looking forward to his first real family Christmas in years, relaxing with Lori and the twins, and now with Cliff as well. The trappings of fame held no interest for him. TV and newspaper interviews, ticker-tape parades, congressional appearances, speaking engagements. Yet that was the kind of image he saw emerging from Nate's comments.
Fortunately, he needn't worry about any of those eventualities. On this assignment, he would succeed or fail in anonymity.
Nevertheless, he slept fitfully, burdened by the bandages on his neck and forehead.
Chapter 69
With all the solemnity of a military courier, the Koryo Ilbo production manager personally delivered a large brown envelope shortly after Burke arrived at the office. Burke placed the envelope in his briefcase and went immediately to the American Embassy. He was promptly ushered into Ambassador Shearing's office.
A patrician from the Ivy League/Eastern Establishment ranks, Shearing was near retirement age after a long and distinguished career in the diplomatic corps. He had been posted to Seoul because of his reputation for handling difficult situations. Burke interpreted the scowl on his handsome face this morning as the result of feeling he was being sabotaged, undermined, subverted, for reasons that were entirely unclear.
Shearing held the envelope with the embossed White House return address in both hands as he stared at Burke.
"I have no idea what has possessed the President and the Secretary to do this. Had I had the opportunity to counsel against it, you can be certain that I would have."
Burke masked his discomfort with a noncommittal look. "I'm sorry I can't help you, Mr. Ambassador. I've been sworn to secrecy."
"I had no doubt you would be. The letter that accompanied this envelope explained briefly what was in it, though it was woefully short of details on the purpose behind it. Have you ever negotiated with a foreign leader before?"
"No, sir, I haven't," said Burke.
Shearing shook his head. "What time is your appointment?"
"I don't have one. We thought it best to go in cold."
"God help us!" The Ambassador groaned. "This may set the practice of diplomacy back into the nineteenth century." He looked down at a folder on his desk bearing a red Top Secret stamp. "I also received a highly classified message from Washington this morning. It directs me to arrange for the pickup and transportation of the body of an employee of your company. All to be accomplished with utmost discretion. It appears he died under mysterious circumstances. I presume you know what this is all about?"
"I'm afraid I can't tell you anything about that, either. Other than the arrangements to take his body to a hospital morgue were made by a high official in the Seoul Metropolitan Police Bureau."
Ambassador Shearing handed over the envelope, an ambivalent look on his face. "I wish you luck in whatever the hell you're doing, Mr. Hill. I have a hunch that if you don't succeed, my life is going to become very complicated."
"Thank you, sir," Burke said, slipping the envelope into his briefcase. "I'm afraid you're right."
Rising temperatures and a bright red ball in the eastern skies combined to reduce yesterday's snowfall from a heavy blanket to a thin sheet. But there was still plenty of white background to readily show the beefed up security strung out along the chain-link fence that surrounded the Blue House grounds. Camouflage-suited troops armed with automatic weapons were stationed all along the perimeter.
A pair of guards at the entrance inquired about the business Burke and Lieutenant Yun had in mind.
"We would like to see President Kwak," Burke advised. "Please tell him we want to talk to him about Lee Horangi-chelmun. I think he'll want to see us."
One of the security men glanced at the other with a "who-are-these-nuts" look on his face. Burke understood. Their job no doubt brought them in contact with all kinds of kooks and weirdos. A decently dressed American and a Seoul police officer talking about a "Young Tiger Lee" probably ranked high on the list.
Burke watched as the guard spoke on the telephone, then returned with a puzzled look on his face.
"They're sending someone to escort you to the president's office," he said in obvious disbelief.
Burke smiled inwardly, but only until the escorts arrived. They were two gun-toting, uniformed security men, neither of whom appeared capable of reciprocating a smile. It didn't strike him as a favorable sign. The Lieutenant was told to check his service pistol at the guard post and it would be returned when he left. Burke's briefcase was checked and run through a metal detector.
They were led to a reception room where they were told President Kwak would see them shortly. As they sat beneath the watchful stares of the uniformed contingent, Burke turned to Lieutenant Yun.
"Do you think this is the usual treatment for Blue House guests?"
Yun Se-jin shrugged. "I've never been here before. But apparently they're taking no chances in the current political climate."
Burke looked around. There was reading material on a table, but it was all in Korean. He clutched the briefcase in his lap and waited, glancing frequently at his watch. Had they allowed enough time? The editor had indicated that he possessed a certain amount of discretion in delaying the deadline, but there was a limit, of course.
He wondered if Kwak was really that busy or if they were merely being put on ice to show that he wasn't being intimidated. Whatever, it seemed an endless wait until they were ushered into the president's large office. Kwak Sung-kyo stood behind his desk, his stooped shoulders and sharp beak of a nose giving him somewhat the look of a gray-maned buzzard. Seated at one side of the desk was a white-haired man Burke recognized from photographs. The man appeared to stare with some odd fascination at the bandages that covered the stitches on Burke's forehead and neck.
"My name is Burke Hill, Mr. President," he said by way of introduction. "I am controller and chief financial officer of Worldwide Communications Consultants, which is headquartered in Washington, D.C. My colleague here is Lieutenant Yun Se-jin of the Seoul Metropolitan Police Bureau."
His face solemn, Kwak nodded, and in much better English than Burke had expected, recognized the man at his side. "This is Colonel Han Sun-shin, one of my closest advisors and director of the Agency for National Security Planning. Please be seated, gentlemen. I'm told you wish to speak with me about a Lee Horangi-chelmun. It sounds like a rather fanciful name. I must warn you I have a heavy schedule this morning. I can give you only a few minutes. What is this all about, and what does it have to do with the Lieutenant?"
"Lieutenant Yun's father was Captain Yun Yu-sop, who was killed by a hit-and-run driver in Pyongyang during the talks two weeks ago," Burke said.
The president gave the young officer a condescending look. "I regretted to hear of your father's death. I'm sure you understood the necessity for playing down the circumstances."
"We understood them much better," Burke said, "after considering what Captain Yun learned from one of your old Northeast Anti-Japanese United Army comrades in Pyongyang. His name was Chung Woo-keun."
"My old comrades?" said Kwak, a hint of anger in his voice.
"Yes, sir. Ahn Wi-jong confirmed it when I spoke with him in Chiangmai last weekend. He told me all about the Poksu band and your role as its leader."
Kwak obviously realized there was no use in further denial. He gave an indifferent shrug. "So you know about my wartime activities. Then you know I have been falsely accused of working for the Japanese. I kept my Manchurian service secret at first to prevent charges of cooperating with communists. My sole purpose was always to fight the invaders."
Burke opened his briefcase and took out the Koryo Ilbo envelope. "I have no quarrel with your wartime service. I'm concerned with your more recent use of the Poksu symbol and use of the name in Operation Po
k Su.'
"You're speaking of things I know nothing about," said Kwak.
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you do, Mr. President." He looked around at Colonel Han. "And your good friend, the Colonel, personally orchestrated the murders of several prominent Koreans, including Lieutenant Yun's father and your own half-sister's son-in-law, Yi In-wha."
Colonel Han's green eyes turned to chunks of jade. "Such false accusations will land you in jail in this country, Mr. Hill," he said.
Burke took a cassette tape out of his briefcase. "If you're wondering about my bandages, Colonel, they cover cuts made last night by your hired assassin, Hwang Sang-sol. While he had the upper hand, he told me what he had done for you. What he didn't know was I had a tape recorder running in my coat pocket. I wouldn't be here today if the Lieutenant hadn't come along and saved me."
"I think we've heard enough." Colonel Han looked around at the president.
"On the contrary, Colonel," said Kwak, "I'd like to hear what else these gentlemen think they know. I'm not unfamiliar with your activities, Mr. Hill. I understand you and your people have been trying to stir up trouble for us with some dissidents around Kyongju."
"More properly around Reijeo's Chuwangsan Plant, Mr. President. And the nuclear power station at Kanggu. We know you're planning to test an atomic weapon on New Year's Day. We know the work that's been going on at the Chuwangsan Plant for the past several years, and about Israel's help under the secret nuclear agreement."
"Some bastard has been talking too damned much," said Colonel Han. "I told you Yi wouldn't be the last."
Burke lifted an eyebrow. "Yi In-wha?"
"Yes, Mr. Hill," said President Kwak. "I regretted the necessity of eliminating my half-sister's son-in-law, but he threatened me. During my tenure with Reijeo, I had encouraged establishment of Operation Pok Su. Yes, I chose the name. Ironic, don't you think? When Yi became head of his division, he got too eager to know what others were doing. He learned about the work at Chuwangsan. He didn't understand the Republic's need for a nuclear arsenal. He was too international minded, you might say. He threatened to reveal the operation unless I called it off. When I learned he had made an appointment to meet with your Ambassador Shearing, I knew it was time to act."
"So Colonel Han called in Hwang to do the job," Burke said, nodding. "I hate to have to inform you that he won't be available anymore, Colonel."
The NSP director sat stiffly in his chair, hatred in his eyes. "The same may be said of you, Mr. Hill."
Burke ignored the remark. "What puzzles me, Mr. President, is why you stirred up all this pro-Japanese speculation, when it appears you have every reason to hate them?"
Kwak's partially paralyzed face relaxed into what passed for a smile. "It's too bad you won't be around to see my plan played out, Mr. Hill. After we shock the world with a successful missile and nuclear warhead test, I shall present the Japanese prime minister with an ultimatum. It will be the reverse of what they did to us early in the century with their Twenty-One Demands. Japan will become a protectorate of Korea. We will control their foreign relations, their police and justice system. We will merge their economy with ours and become the superpower of the East. With our nuclear weapons arsenal, no one, not even your vaunted United States of America, will dare to challenge us."
For a moment, Burke sat in stunned silence. It was the President and Nathaniel Highsmith's nightmare scenario, but with a different twist. Korea, not Japan, would be the transgressor.
"Now you understand my call for the study of Japanese," Kwak continued. "We need people to exercise authority over the vassals in Tokyo. It also provides a small disinformation campaign, a softening up operation. The Japanese are fawning over us now. It should make it that much easier to press our demands."
"You don't really think you can get away with something like that?" Burke said, shaking his head. The man was out of his mind. This was the dawn of the twenty-first century, not 1905. The world was an entirely different place now. You couldn't jab an atomic warhead into somebody's back and say give me your money and your country. You'd be looking down the barrel of World War III.
"We shall, Mr. Hill. You can count on it."
"Call in your security people," Colonel Han told the president. "I'll take charge of them."
Chapter 70
"You'd better read this first," Burke said, handing over the White House envelope.
Kwak tore it open, unfolded the paper inside and stared with narrowed eyes at the letterhead, the signature and the embossed Seal of the United States of America. He looked up at Burke.
"So your President has appointed you a special ambassador."
"Yes, sir. I have diplomatic immunity. I should add that the President is aware of everything I have said this morning."
"Diplomats have been known to disappear, Mr. Hill," said the Colonel, his look colder than the snow and ice on the streets. "You never arrived here to present your credentials. We have people quite as capable as Hwang Sang-sol at handling your type of case."
"I'm sure you do. No doubt men like Ko Pong-hak, the goon who caused the ruckus at the American Embassy press party." Burke turned to the president. "There's one other thing you should know." He opened the Koryo Ilbo envelope, took out a proof of the front page of the next edition of the newspaper, along with several photographs, and laid them on the desk.
President Kwak glanced down the page, then looked up, eyes blazing, his face puffed out like a crimson cloud at sunset. "Damn you!" he shouted.
Colonel Han jumped up to look. He read the headlines about the president of the Republic being caught seducing a teenager, about his weekly tryst at the Jang Jung Gak kisaeng house. The story told how he would dine with Colonel Han and other close associates. Then they would leave him alone to relax, meditate on the problems of state and gain a fresh outlook for the days ahead. However, in actuality, a teenage girl would enter the room and perform various sex acts with the still vigorous, sexually at least, old philanderer. The newspaper showed a clear photograph of Kwak, stripped to his underwear, undressing the girl. Prints of other, more graphic, pictures lay on the president's desk.
"That story will never see the light of day," Colonel Han said. "I'll have that newspaper closed down so quick it will make their heads swim."
"If you'd prefer to see it on TV, we have the whole sorry affair on videotape." Burke glanced at his watch and glared back at the Colonel. "Unless I call Editor Kang Han-kyo in the next ten minutes, the presses will roll at Koryo Ilbo, and pre-positioned couriers will deliver copies of the story and photographs to every daily newspaper in the country, plus every foreign news outlet."
Han drew a pistol from beneath his coat and pointed it at Burke. "Make the damned call!"
"Sure. But Kang and I agreed on the exact wording I would use. If I say anything different, it means I'm being coerced. He's to go ahead with the story."
Han stood there like a smoking volcano on the verge of eruption. Burke wondered if after surviving the vicious assault by Hwang Sang-sol, he would now end up being a victim of this raging security officer. Then Kwak, who sat behind his desk breathing hard, his eyes blinking as if attempting to penetrate a fog, spoke softly.
"What will it take for you to make the proper call?"
Burke took two other sheets from his briefcase, one in English, the other in Korean. Each had a place for a signature at the bottom.
"You must sign these and follow through immediately with verbal instructions to the appropriate officials."
The president quickly scanned the document, which ordered the Minister of Defense to cancel the planned missile and atomic weapons test. He was instructed further to halt all operations involving the production of nuclear weapons and to enter into negotiations with American representatives on verifiable procedures for dismantling the Korean nuclear project. All officials involved were ordered to take immediate steps to comply fully with provisions of the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty and account for all fissionable materi
al with the International Atomic Energy Agency.
Kwak's scarred face showed little emotion as he stared at the blank line at the bottom with his name printed beneath it, but his quickened breathing said volumes about the turmoil within. "And if I sign?"
"You have the President's word that everything we have discussed will remain completely secret, so long as you follow through with the provisions of the document."
Kwak had spent most of his life serving his country as a military leader. He had been highly successful. Except for the bombing incident in Rangoon perpetrated by that damnable Kim Il-sung, and Kwak had exacted a terrible retribution for that one, he had always been on the winning side.
But he knew that fate was a fickle master. All the glory and all the successful campaigns of the past meant nothing when you encountered an enemy who held all the high ground and had you outnumbered and outgunned. He had misread the Americans, thought them too soft to put up this kind of fight. They knew all about his past and how to use it as a rapier-like weapon, pricking him where he was most vulnerable.
All he had left was his pride, and that was the most important thing to him. He had wanted to be remembered as the man who had vindicated Korea against the Japanese. Now that was virtually impossible. If the Americans spread the story of his nuclear intentions, it would not only put Japan on the defensive, it would alienate the Republic of Korea with most of the remaining nations of the world. His plan had been to shock everyone by his audacity, to catch them completely off guard and freeze them into immobility. By the time they managed to recover, he would have grabbed off Japan with no more effort than a kid looting a candy store. His nuclear arsenal would have been growing rapidly, assuring that other members of the nuclear club would honor his membership with deference, offering pledges of non-interference in exchange for guarantees against a first strike.
The Poksu Conspiracy (Post Cold War Political Thriller Book 2) Page 46