by Norton, Doug
In a moment of kindness to the man he had leaned on during what he now thought of as the first day of the rest of his life, Martin said, “John, you told me—when Paternity first implicated Kim—I should announce our course of action right then. You were right. That was the time to go for a declaration of war, back then, while we had diplomatic avenues to pursue as Congress debated. That wasn’t the course I chose. And because of my decision then, the time is past to go for a declaration.”
Dorn bobbed his head.
The president’s gaze swept the room. Zimmer said, “I’ve said my piece, sir.” MacAdoo shook his head and the two intelligence leaders returned his gaze inscrutably.
Numb, light-headed, feeling overpowered by dark, bloody forces, Rick said, “OK, now the principals.” He looked at Anne Battista.
God he looks bad! she thought. I’ve never seen Rick Martin with all the hope drained out of him, but that’s how he is now. He looks like my uncle, at the end, when the cancer was eating his guts.
“Mr. President, force always waits behind diplomacy, and Kim has now left us no choice but force. When Kim’s gone, the new partnership we’ve built with Ming and his government will allow us to return to diplomacy and, with Ming, end the threat of both North Korean nuclear weapons and aggression.
“My recommendation, Mr. President, is to carry out our plan to remove Kim.”
“No second thoughts, Anne, no doubts?”
“Of course I have doubts, Mr. President! But those doubts can’t be resolved now. We must act in spite of doubts.”
Martin nodded, whether in agreement or just in submission to the inevitable she couldn’t tell.
“Eric?”
“You can’t leave Kim in position to attack with nukes when and where he chooses. He’s left you no means but force to stop that. And you have, correctly in the view of us all, chosen to remove him with the method that poses least risk to Americans and by far the greatest chance of success: our nuclear weapons. It’s also the way that poses least risk to South Korea and Japan, because it’s certain Kim would nuke them if we invaded. Not to mention that if we invade, China will come in militarily!
“So, Mr. President, I recommend you sign the attack order.”
I agree with you Eric, but when your words have died away and become just part of the record of this meeting, my signature will still be on that order. I will always know I killed fifty thousand people.
Rick was sweating heavily, feeling nausea, pressure on his chest. He ignored them and turned to Griffith. “Bruce?”
Thinking of his place in history and his eventual run for the presidency, Griffith decided the dice had turned against him. Time to leave the table and cash in while he still had a stake for the next game. The trick was to be a team player, while leaving a whiff in the air that the president had only done what he would have done more quickly, leaving it to others, others he knew, to paint a picture of the cost of Martin’s dithering since Six-thirteen.
“Mr. President, at this meeting you asked for and received the best advice of the members of the NSC, advice rendered free of coercion and not precooked in any way. This is the most responsible form of presidential decision making and stands in marked contrast to the last Republican administration.
“We have not always seen eye to eye, sir—I was perhaps too early to recommend what I urge again now: Sign the order. Remove Kim immediately.”
Unbidden, Rick’s brain recalled another Bible verse: “It is finished.” He felt cold and clammy. OK, do it now, while you can still hold a pen.
He opened the folder, signed, handed the order to Easterly. Pain radiated down his left arm. Unsure if he could stand, he said, “Thank you all for your honesty and support. We’re done now, but I’d like to have the room for a few minutes with Bart.”
Chairs rustled on the carpet as the others left, with worried glances at him. Rick felt their sense of purpose—and fear. Besides having the duty to get this right, we’re all afraid of history’s verdict. Are Bart and the others going to take their places with Truman’s advisors, or Stalin’s? And which of them will I be compared to?
Alone with his president, Guarini heard a voice from within, speaking with the clarity and force of both mind and soul: You’ve got to keep him functioning. He’s got to make that speech.
He saw sweat on Martin’s forehead and trembling in his right hand. After a few words, Guarini called the White House physician, Captain Beck, and told him to come quickly but discreetly to the Cabinet Room.
Chapter 53
Ella, Bart, and Captain Beck watched from a corner of the Oval Office as the president pronounced Sinpo dead. To Dr. Beck’s relief it didn’t take long, just over two minutes. He wanted to get his IV going again, treating the president’s heart attack with a thrombolytic drug to break up any further clots and prevent a sequel.
As Rick began his final sentences with a slight quaver, Ella tensed, willing him to hold up.
“America and our allies, Japan and the Republic of Korea, will not permit an outlaw regime to attack us at the whim of its murderous leader, Kim Jong-il. That tyrant has refused repeated opportunities to turn away the horror that has engulfed Sinpo. Sadly, his countrymen have been unwilling—so far—to protect themselves from the consequences of Kim’s actions by forcing him to give up power.
“If Kim still refuses to step down, and his countrymen refuse to make him do so, we will obliterate the nation that has attacked us twice, killing more Americans than any enemy since World War II. I pray that will not be necessary, but I promise you, and I promise all who dwell in North Korea, that I will give the order.
“Good night, my fellow Americans. Tonight, as on Six-thirteen, I have miles to go before I sleep. I ask for your prayers.”
Dr. Beck and a navy medic moved rapidly toward the president, Ella right behind. At his side, she saw tears in his eyes and took his hand. Bart hovered silently.
Guarini and Easterly intended that after his speech the president would go to the National Military Command Center during this period of greatest danger, especially to South Korea and Japan. If Kim decided to carry out his threats, artillery shells would crash onto Seoul and missiles would appear briefly on launch pads before climbing skyward with nuclear warheads.
Dr. Beck forbade that move now. He insisted that his patient sit or lie quietly. Bart didn’t want outsiders to see the president hooked to an IV line, so they went to the Situation Room.
Guarini thought Rick seemed shattered by what he had ordered. Taking the Sit Room watch officer aside, the chief of staff told him not to display video of Sinpo and to give any information about the city to him alone.
Satellites gazed piercingly at North Korea, employing high-powered optics by day and infrared radar to see through night and clouds. If Kim’s missiles appeared on launch pads, Martin could give an order that would turn every North Korean missile site and city into ground zero of a nuclear missile. Or, he could spare North Korea and the planet the effects of so many nuclear detonations and pray that U.S. jets swarming the launch pads, plus the Asian missile defenses so recently cobbled together, would prevent Kim’s missiles from incinerating Tokyo, Seoul, Pusan, and other cities and U.S. bases.
After the initial bustle of the president’s arrival, compounded by Dr. Beck’s insistence that he lie down, the room was quiet. Ella sat beside her husband, gently stroking his twitching hand.
Today Rick’s lived the destruction of his beliefs, not by someone else, but by his own hand, she thought. He’s not fierce. He can’t wrap himself in a shield of rage. But he did it anyway, feeling all the pain. He’s not a warrior like my father or Ray, but he’s brave.
She sat quietly, holding her husband’s hand and savoring this new dimension of the man she’d loved for twenty-five years but never trusted, on the primal level that still lurked, as her protector. Now her doubts were gone.
***
Minister of Defense Chen Shaoshi looked up from the note passed by an aide.
“Aircraft wi
th our soldiers are flying toward Pyongyang but will not cross the border until you approve. Our fighters are on the highest ground alert and will launch for Pyongyang at your command.”
Ming nodded and gazed silently at images from China’s satellites. Sinpo was very heavily damaged, but not obliterated. As the live feed swept the DPRK, Ming was relieved by what he did not see. He didn’t see any missiles in launch position. Their plan was working, at least for the moment.
***
It was alarming: even the heavy damage to Sinpo did not explain the thousands of bleeding, twitching people lying in the streets or staggering about. Marshal Young-san read reports impassively but worried. It was clear that that something more than blast and fire was stalking the surviving citizens of Sinpo.
He feared that perhaps the unknown killer was biological, a deadly toxin that would fell his troops and destroy his strategy for ousting Kim. Then an aide brought him information from an American press briefing. It was not a toxin, but radiation that produced the ever-growing flood of vomiting, collapsing, hemorrhaging people.
On learning that, the marshal again felt confident of success and, since he cared not a whit for Sinpo’s inhabitants, became elated. Stifling that distraction, Young-san directed his rifle regiment commander to seize the national radio and television facilities. Putting on his cap bearing five red stars, he moved decisively toward his waiting limo. As he settled into the rear seat, he checked his pistol.
***
Kim Jong-il’s fury was white hot because it was fueled by shame. Once again Martin failed to respect him and his dear people. The American was such a fool! This attack meant Martin didn’t believe he would unleash nuclear fire on the dogs to the south, on the hated Japanese, and on American bases. Such disrespect must be answered! Hearing the guards outside his door stomp to attention, Kim spun around.
Marshal Yong-san burst into the room. “Your missiles are launching now, Dear Leader! Seoul is crumbling under the impact of your artillery and rockets. You have stood firm, faced the Americans, and sent them a fitting response for Sinpo, a response ten times Martin’s minor damage to an insignificant city!
“Now, Dear Leader, we must follow our plan; we must go to your war headquarters, because the Americans will surely hit Pyongyang.”
Kim longed to lead his onrushing army through the DMZ and into Seoul, killing and destroying. He wanted to bayonet enemy soldiers as his own soldiers watched, awestruck at their leader’s courage and raging fury. But, he had to think of his dear people’s needs. He needed to show himself and his wise leadership to the entire nation. As satisfying as it would be to slash and stab with his assault troops, he would be affecting only a tiny part of the battle. No, as he always did, Kim must push aside his own desires and steadily use his clear vision to care for his people. He could not indulge himself. He must go to Mount Jamo.
“Then let us go, Marshal.”
Kim and Marshal Young-san descended to the sub-basement in the Dear Leader’s private elevator. There before an unmarked door were Major Rhee Song-il, who had made a career of handling “special assignments” for Young-san, and two armed soldiers. As Kim and Young-san passed through, Rhee and the soldiers took positions guarding the door.
When the two leaders had gone, Rhee returned to the Dear Leader’s office. He dialed the communications minister’s direct number, which was answered not by the minister but the army colonel now controlling all national communications facilities.
Broadcasters soon announced the joyous news: the People’s Republic of China Army was once again coming to stand fearlessly beside their younger cousins in defiance of the Americans.
Kim Jong-il was one of the few in the DPRK who didn’t hear the joyous news. After passing through the unmarked door, he and the marshal had entered a high-speed elevator and descended one hundred fifty meters. An electric vehicle waited to carry them through a tunnel to Mount Jamo.
After standing aside to let Kim enter, Marshal Young-san shot him. Kim sprawled face down, his lower legs projecting out the door. The marshal lifted Kim’s legs, bending Kim’s knees until his heels nearly touched his buttocks, then pushed him in. His body slid easily, lubricated by gore from his shattered skull. From the platform, the marshal leaned in and pushed a button, setting the car in motion. Marshal Young-san walked swiftly to the elevator and returned to Kim’s former office. He had much to do while Major Rhee’s special security unit dealt with Kim’s body.
***
“Sir! President Ming’s coming up on secure one. The NMCC is also on the circuit.”
The president had been in the Situation Room with Ella, Guarini, Battista, and Dorn for eighteen hours. Rick had been dozing; now he fought to clear the cobwebs.
“Good evening, Rick.”
His heart pounding, the American responded. “Good morning, Ming.”
“China has dealt with the terrible dangers you created by bombing Sinpo. Tell me, Rick, how did you know that Kim was going to inspect the army garrison at Sinpo yesterday?”
“Ming, I didn’t know.”
“Kim’s body was found in Sinpo a few hours ago.”
Martin, uncertain, said nothing.
“As you no doubt already know, China’s forces are now entering the DPRK. We are responding to the invitation of Kim’s successor, Marshal Young-san Ho, who asked for assistance in defending against another U.S. invasion. I told him China would stand with him if the DPRK gives up its nuclear weapons and the means of building them. He agreed.”
The release of tension in the Sit Room and the national military command center was accompanied by high fives and backslapping. Amid the hubbub, Martin blurted, “Ming that is very, very good news! What are China’s intentions now regarding Korea?”
“To provide the support necessary for the DPRK to remain a member of the socialist brotherhood and to ensure that neither Marshal Young-san nor his successors rebuild the nuclear weapons program. Surely this is important to American security, and America will support it politically, financially, and militarily!”
“China can count on that!”
Rick exhaled in a rush that swept his fear and weariness away. Sadness and guilt remained, and he knew he would never be as he was before the deaths of Las Vegas and Sinpo, but now there were a million hopeful things to do. He was anxious to begin.
Chapter 54
Two Weeks Later
“Come on, Julie, you oughta come with me!” Ray gave an encouraging grin.
“No, Ray—really! It’s OK; you should go alone. You three lived this together; I wasn’t part of it. That’s not, oh, poor me—that’s just a fact. I’d be a distraction and that would make me feel awkward. Just go! Don’t keep the president and first lady waiting!”
Said with a smile, but forcefully, his wife’s words propelled Ray Morales out the door. About forty-five minutes later he arrived at the main gate of Aberdeen Proving Grounds, where his four-star identification card produced the snappiest salute the Federal Protective Service policeman could muster and drew a smile from a waiting Secret Service agent. It was the agent who had escorted Ray into the White House on his secret visit, and this time he was much friendlier. They chatted about the Marines and outfits they had served with, while the agent drove to dockside.
The Martins welcomed him aboard a Hunter Thirty-six and got it underway expertly. Aware of the president’s preference for quiet, Ray munched a sandwich, nursed a beer, and didn’t say much. After maneuvering the boat into the broad mouth of the Gunpowder River, Rick laid her on a starboard tack and smiled at Ray and Ella.
“Ray, I don’t know exactly where to begin. Certainly I should start by thanking you for your wisdom and discretion. You helped me steady myself when I needed it a lot.
You’ve never revealed our meeting . . . never asked for anything. The country owes you and I owe you.”
“This is where the cowboy hero would say, ‘Aw shucks—t’warn’t nothin’—and really, it wasn’t—but if I may, I’d like to ask som
e questions, Mr. President.”
“Go ahead, Ray—anything!”
“Do you think al-Qaeda did it, or Kim’s people?
“I don’t know. My best guess is al-Qaeda.”
“So you went ahead with the nuclear attack on Sinpo without knowing if Kim was directly involved in the attacks on us?”
“Yes. Because our attack wasn’t about punishing the guilty. I wouldn’t have done it for punishment or revenge. It was to get Kim out, quickly, after all else had failed to do it. I believed regardless of who was setting the bombs off, getting Kim out of power would stop the bombing by cutting off the bomb supply.”
Feeling a wind shift, the president adjusted the boat’s course.
“I had to convince Ming that if he didn’t remove Kim, I would. Ming knew that invasion of the DPRK would fail and he knew that I knew it. He also knew that if I had the stomach for it the United States could end Kim’s regime using nuclear missiles and leave the mess on China’s doorstep. The nuclear destruction of their neighbor and ‘younger cousin’ would be a disaster for China, sucking them into the chaos no matter how they tried to avoid it. I had to convince Ming I did have the stomach for that and it took the destruction of Sinpo to do it.”
Morales thought for a moment. “Do you believe it was Ming who took Kim down? The DPRK announced he was killed at Sinpo.”
“Well, I don’t believe he was killed at Sinpo. That’s just too much of a coincidence, unless I were to believe that China has an agent in here so deep that he could tell Ming Sinpo was the target and Ming could somehow maneuver Kim to Sinpo at the right time. I don’t buy that!
“Ming took Kim down indirectly, by cutting a deal with Marshal Young-san: get rid of Kim, give up the nukes, and you’ll have Chinese resources and a free hand to rule. That’s a pretty sweet package for a thug like Young-san and I’m not surprised he took it. I think Young-san killed Kim, or ordered it, and had his body deposited in the wreckage of Sinpo to tie up the loose end.”