by Rick Acker
That was all right. He had been prepared for much worse fates when he took this mission: torture, death, life in prisons much worse than Guantanamo. The Americans probably wouldn’t even interrogate him much—he was already telling them everything they wanted to know. Well, almost everything.
There was a perfunctory knock at the door. Before Kim said anything, it opened and two men walked in. One was slender, white and wore a dark blue suit. The other was Asian, fat, and wore a rumpled gray suit.
“Good morning,” the thin man said as he and his companion sat in guest chairs. The fat one put a tape recorder on the square bedside table, opened a small laptop computer, and nodded. “My name is Tim Jones,” continued the thin man, “and this is Andy Ban. I’m with the CIA and Mr. Ban is with the South Korean National Intelligence Service. We’re here to talk to you about the voyage of the Grasp II and related events.”
“I already spoke to the government.”
Jones nodded. “Yes, you talked to Homeland Security and the FBI. We’re different agencies, Mr. Cho.”
Ban leaned forward. “Which brings us to our first question. You’re name isn’t really David Cho, is it?”
“No.”
“In fact, you are Lieutenant Young Moo-hyun of the South Korean Navy, correct?”
That was not correct, but Kim nodded.
“So, Lieutenant Young, why were you on board the Grasp II pretending to be North Korean?”
“Because Captain Ryu asked me to go on a secret mission.”
“Who is Captain Ryu?”
“He was my commander during the mission. He called himself Mr. Lee on the ship.”
“What did Captain Ryu tell you about the mission when he asked you to volunteer?”
“That we would strike a major blow against our enemy to the north.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
Ban nodded and looked down. He typed energetically as Jones took over the questioning. “When did he first tell you that you would be impersonating North Korean military officers?”
“Two days before we came to America. He said we would have documents showing that we were—” he struggled for the right word “not military. Businessmen. We would also have secret papers saying we were North Korean soldiers.”
“Did you find it strange?”
“I do not understand.”
Jones leaned back and steepled his long white fingers. “Well, Lieutenant Young, weren’t you curious why you would be going to America pretending to be North Korean soldiers pretending to be civilian businessmen?”
“I—” Kim coughed and then paused for several seconds to recover his breath and decide how to answer. “I trusted Captain Ryu.”
“It did not occur to you that Captain Ryu might be planning to commit some outrageous act and make it look like North Korea was responsible?”
“He did not tell us the plan until we were on the ship. Then I knew.”
“What did he say?”
“He said we would lift nuclear warheads from a sunken Soviet submarine. We would take them to America and explode them in San Francisco. He said we would do this on the same day America planned a test of the missile defense system in Hawaii. It would look like North Korea saying, ‘Your missile defense cannot stop us.’ ”
“Did he really think that a warhead that had been underwater for twenty years would still work?”
“They were sealed in a missile, but he knew the bombs would need very big repairs. We had two engineers with us who worked to fix them. Even if they could not make the full chain reaction, they could explode much radioactive material over San Francisco.”
Jones frowned. “But North Korea would deny any involvement.”
“Yes, that is what Captain Ryu thought also. North Korea would deny that they had done this, but there would be American witnesses who would say they saw North Koreans do it. Captain Ryu told us to make ‘mistakes’ in front of the Americans—to leave North Korean documents where they could be found. Also, the captain said that when the money for the ship was investigated, it would look like it came from North Korea.”
“I see. What did Captain Ryu think would happen next?”
“He said America would act the same way it acted after September 11. It would attack the terrorists’ country and change its government.”
Ban stopped typing and looked up. “He really wanted to start a war with North Korea?”
Kim nodded. “He said the South had lived in fear of the North for too long. He said our people should be reunited, like the Germans. Then—”
“But the cost of a war! The millions who would die!” Ban’s face was pale and his mouth quivered slightly. “The North would destroy Seoul in an hour!”
“He thought the Americans would destroy the North in half an hour. America would think the North had attacked with nuclear weapons, so America would attack back with nuclear weapons. Some people in the South might die, but mostly the North’s army. It would be destroyed before it could fight.”
Silence filled the room for half a minute, punctuated by an oath from Jones.
Finally, Jones cleared his throat. That seemed to break the spell for Ban, who started typing again. “Do you know whether Captain Ryu was acting on orders from anyone?”
Kim didn’t know, but it couldn’t hurt to push the blame as far up the ladder as possible. The more trouble he could make for the South Korean militarists, the better. “Chain of command is very important to Captain Ryu. He would not do a thing like this without orders.”
“Do you know who gave those orders?”
“For something this important, I am thinking the Blue House.”
Ban stared at him. “The Blue House? You believe this plan was approved by the President of South Korea himself? Why? What evidence do you have?”
“Starting a war is a very big decision. A soldier, even a general or admiral, could not make it by himself.”
Ban and Jones exchanged a look. “Thank you for your opinion, Lieutenant Young,” said Ban. “We will look into this further.” He nodded to the CIA agent.
“How much do you know about the company that owned the ship and dock facilities?” Jones asked.
“Very little. Captain Ryu worked with them.”
“Do you know whether the company was aware of Captain Ryu’s plans?”
“I don’t. The men on the ship did not know, but I think some guessed.”
Jones crossed his legs. “And the executives?”
“I don’t know. If the bombs went off in San Francisco, many of them would die, so I don’t think they knew.”
“Yes, that makes sense.”
“Captain Ryu once said he liked the company because they did not ask questions and knew what to do to people who did.”
Jones’s eyebrows went up. “I see.”
Ban leaned forward. “Let’s go back to your story. What did you do when you learned Captain Ryu’s plans?”
“While we were at sea, I could do little. I tried to help two crewmen send a message to the American navy, but they were caught.”
“Granger and Daniels?”
“Yes. They thought we were North Koreans, so Captain Ryu said they must be locked in a hold until we are in America. Then we let them escape after we exploded a bomb in San Francisco.”
A look of sudden understanding came over Ban’s face. “But you helped them escape early.”
“Yes.”
“And you gave them something?”
“Yes, a USB drive with files showing Captain Ryu’s plans and that the North was not attacking.” Another coughing fit interrupted him. “I am sorry. I must keep my speaking shorter.”
“I understand. We’ll let you rest soon. If Captain Ryu or the others discovered what you were doing, how would they respond?”
“To kill me.”
Ban nodded. “You risked much, Lieutenant Young.”
“I am a patriot, sir.”
“You are indeed.”
J
ones stood up. “Well, we promised the doctor that we wouldn’t keep you for too long. We may come back.”
Ban put away his computer and stood. “Thank you, Lieutenant Young.” He bowed and Kim nodded in response.
Jones and Ban left and Kim lay back on his bed. He looked out the window at the blue sky outside. Perhaps he would not go to Guantanamo after all.
69
IN SOME WAYS, CONNOR’S LIFE HAD GONE BACK TO NORMAL IN THE WEEKS since a nurse wheeled him out of the hospital. Reporters no longer called every hour. The CIA and FBI had questioned him to their hearts’ content. He was back at work, and he even had a new false claims case that Max liked.
But there were big differences too. The biggest was that he now worked for the Law Offices of Connor Norman. After a wave of positive press coverage turned him back into an asset, Doyle & Brown’s ExComm had dispatched Tom Concannon to try to lure Connor back to the firm. Did he want a corner office? An increased share of firm profits? How about a written guarantee that he would never be asked to take a case that made him uncomfortable?
Connor had turned Tom down as diplomatically as possible. He had no desire to burn a bridge with a powerful firm like D&B but also no desire to walk back over it. A few months ago, he couldn’t have imagined leaving the firm. Now he couldn’t imagine going back, no matter what they offered him. The easy alliance between profit and principle that had characterized his career at the firm could never be rebuilt—at least not at Doyle & Brown. As he told Bill Fisher and Tom at Slanted Door, he had made a choice. And he did not regret it.
Not all the changes were positive. Connor’s left leg was still in a walking cast that wouldn’t come off for weeks. Worse, the White Knight was still on the bottom of the San Francisco Bay and would cost hundreds of thousands of dollars to repair once it was raised. But those were both temporary problems, and he couldn’t let them distract him from the task at hand.
He focused himself on the meeting that had just started. He sat in his usual chair in conference room 11436 at DOJ, his foot resting on an empty chair. Max Volusca sat beside him with a tall stack of documents, questioning a hapless executive.
Today’s lucky CEO was Sanford “Sandy” Allen of Blue Sea Technology. At Connor’s suggestion, Allen had received a letter—not a subpoena—from Max inviting him to meet with DOJ about “irregularities in the bidding for the Golden Gate turbine project.” Blue Sea’s general counsel had written back that “Mr. Allen would be happy to discuss what he knows about Deep Seven Maritime Engineering.”
The general counsel was a former tugboat captain named Alex McDonnell who picked up a law degree in night school. Connor suspected he knew more about practical admiralty law than he did about responding to government investigations, but he had been perceptive enough to look uncomfortable when he discovered Connor, a court reporter, and a videographer waiting in the conference room. And he had looked downright disturbed when Max put Allen under oath. Allen, however, seemed not to notice that anything was amiss.
The DAG wasted no time. “Thanks for coming in today, Mr. Allen. I’ll get right to the point. As you know, we’re investigating allegations of fraud in the Golden Gate turbine project.”
“Good, good. I’m glad to hear it.” Allen shook his snowy head with concern. “It’s terrible what happened.”
“What exactly happened, to your knowledge?”
Allen cocked his head to the side, as if he didn’t quite understand the question. “Why, it was all over the news. It came out that Deep Seven was killing people and working with terrorists.”
Max frowned. “Let me try again. What exactly happened, to your knowledge? How did the investigation of Deep Seven start? Did you or your company play a role in that?”
Allen smiled like a modest grandfather whose grandchild has just been praised. “We may have played some small role. I’ve heard that one of our former temporary employees helped uncover Deep Seven’s crimes. As for me personally, I encouraged her to look around if she ever took a job at Deep Seven.”
Max leaned back and folded his tree-trunk arms atop his massive stomach. “Did you give that advice to all your temps?”
Allen’s smile faltered. “Ah, no.”
“So why did you say that to this temp?”
“I… I’m not sure exactly why. She seemed curious.”
“She wasn’t the only one, was she?”
“Excuse me?”
“You were curious about her, weren’t you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Max snorted. “Yes, you do!”
Blue Sea’s general counsel gave Max a stern look. “Counsel, please don’t badger the witness.”
Max ignored him. “Is it Blue Sea’s practice to have a private investigator do a report on every temp they hire?”
Allen sat frozen. “A report?”
Max plucked a document out of the pile in front of him and slid it across the table. “A report like this one. Is that standard practice at Blue Sea?” He handed a copy to the court reporter. “Exhibit one.”
Allen went pale. “Where did you get this?”
Max’s face darkened. “Answer my question!”
Allen looked to his lawyer. “I thought we were here to talk about Deep Seven.”
McDonnell nodded. “That’s right. We’re here voluntarily. You don’t have to answer any questions you don’t want to.” He looked at Max and thrust out his chin. He was a big man. Not as big as Max, but he looked like he’d been in more bar fights.
Connor turned to Max, waiting for the inevitable explosion—but Max didn’t explode. Instead he lifted another document off his stack of paper and flipped it across the table into Allen’s lap. “All right, you’ve just been served with a subpoena. Answer my question or go to jail.”
Max was taking a calculated risk. In reality, refusing to answer his questions—even if asked pursuant to a subpoena—wouldn’t result in jail time unless Max got a court order enforcing the subpoena, Allen ignored the court order, and the court held Allen in contempt. But there was a good chance that McDonnell didn’t know how the process worked.
McDonnell took the subpoena from his client and looked at it for a moment. Then he glared at Max. “This is dirty pool.”
Now Max exploded. “You want to know what’s really dirty pool?” he boomed. “Blackmailing temps to plant false evidence at a competing bidder to get their bid disqualified!”
Allen and McDonnell both jumped to their feet. “That’s a lie!” shouted Allen. “We never did anything like that!”
Max stood and shoved a finger in Allen’s face. “Be careful, buddy!” he bellowed in a voice that made Connor’s teeth rattle. “Perjury is a felony, and you’re under oath!” He dialed it back a few decibels. “But I’m a nice guy, so I’ll give you another chance: did you or anyone else at Blue Sea blackmail Allison Whitman in order to get her to plant evidence at Deep Seven so that their bid would be disqualified?”
Allen looked at the stack of paper in front of the DAG, as if wondering what else might be in there. “Don’t I have the right to remain silent?”
Max sat down and leaned back, making his chair groan. “Only if your answer might implicate you in a crime.”
Allen’s eyes stayed on the pile of documents. “I think I’ll remain silent.”
Connor wanted to let out a whoop of triumph. Exercising the right to remain silent couldn’t be used against Allen in a criminal case, but in a civil case (such as a false claims case) it was fair game. Allen had just done the next best thing to admitting guilt. All that was left to talk about was money.
Max flipped through his notes. “All right. Well, if you’re going to invoke the Fifth Amendment rights, I guess we’re done for today.”
Allen and McDonnell walked out as the court reporter and videographer began to pack up. They left a few minutes later.
Once they were alone, Connor stuck out his hand. “Nicely played, Max. They’re dead men walking after Allen’s performance toda
y.”
Max shook the proffered hand. “Thanks. Looks like Allie brought us another winner.” He paused and looked Connor in the eye. “Might be the last one for a while, huh?”
Connor let out a sigh. “Yeah. The DA in Kansas is taking a really hard line. He wants her to testify against her ex-boyfriend next week and do at least a year in prison.”
Max shoved his stack of paper—most of which was blank sheets intended to make the pile look bigger—into a box. “Can’t say I’m surprised. DAs get elected for being tough on crime, especially crimes that get kids killed.”