by Van Torrey
“Thank you, Commander,” Chance said. “We appreciate your courtesies and your situation. Good luck on your fence-mending here, sir.”
In an undertone that could be heard only by Lyon, the Commander replied, “Mr. Lyon, I’d rather be back with the teams. I’m sure you understand.”
*
Clayton Wheatley gathered Chance’s group together one more time as they gathered around the vehicles for a few remarks before they all moved on. “We’re sending Peggy back to Vancouver in an FBI Citation to close down the safe house and pick up everyone’s gear that was left behind. We won’t need that site any longer. She’ll be returning directly to Washington in a couple of days. We’ll all catch another G-Five out of SeaTac tonight and return to Washington. We have a house there for you, Chance and Blackie to stay in. Of course Peggy and Miss Joon live in the area. Is that okay?”
“Director, my family lives in the area and Blackie and I would prefer to stay with them, if it’s all the same to you. We’ll be available for a debrief for a couple of days and then we’d both prefer to head back out West.”
“Suit yourself, gentlemen. Maybe you could come in to my office on the day after the fifth so you can enjoy the holiday. Oh, and by the way, there’s something brewing that we might need your expertise for.”
“Thank you, Director. That’ll give me an opportunity to prepare the bill for our services,” replied Chance with a grin.
“Just so, Mr. Lyon, I’m sure it’ll be a whopper!” Wheatley said as they mounted the vehicles and headed for SeaTac.
EPILOGUE
“(Anastasio Somoza Garcia) may be a son of a bitch, but he’s our son of a bitch.”
Franklin Roosevelt*
*Attributed
*
Park Man-soo stared groggily at the stark white ceiling of his brightly-lit, noiseless environment as he began to come out of his anesthetized state induced by Blackie Olyphant a few hours earlier on the ferry. Over the next few minutes he slowly began to reconstruct through the fog of emerging consciousness a struggle with two people in the vehicle he had been driving, and then blackness. As the powerful anesthetic began to abate Park became more aware of certain basic physical and mental stimuli that challenged his senses. First was the dull, throbbing pain in his groin area which became more pronounced as the Propofol anesthetic steadily wore off. What was that? Good God! That bitch of a woman attacked me with a large object. Why? Where am I now and how did I get here? I’ve got to get up and reorient myself.
In spite of the pain, Park attempted to right himself but could not move against some type of restraints holding him to...to what? He was able to move his head from side-to-side but could see nothing but plain white walls, fluorescent lights, and a gray colored floor off to both sides. I must be on a bed of some sort.
As he became more lucid, the sense of euphoria induced by the Propofol diminished and was replaced by a sudden stark sense of reality. I AM CAPTIVE...BUT WHERE? THESE SURROUNDINGS ARE UNKNOWN TO ME. WHY ARE THERE NO PEOPLE? A sense of despair quickly set in and Park closed his eyes attempting to right himself. WHAT OF THE WARHEAD?...WHERE IS KIM? HAVE WE FAILED AFTER SO MUCH EFFORT? I AM SO TIRED AND MY BALLS ARE SCREAMING!
*
“I think your patient is waking up, Doc,” said the technician monitoring the display showing images coming from cameras in the room at the Trident submarine base where Park was being held.
“Okay, I’ll go in and have a look at the poor guy. Bet he has no idea where he is or what happened. Get me a Marine guard and one of the CIA types to go with me. That’s the protocol they established when they brought him in.”
In a few moments the three men assembled outside the holding room and conferred before they went in to visit Park. The CIA interpreter took the lead, “Doc, you are here strictly for medical purposes. Anything not related to his immediate medical condition just don’t engage in.” The CIA interpreter looked at the Marine and continued, “Corporal, you are strictly here for security. Under no circumstances is this man to leave this room without being escorted by me. Do not engage this man in any conversation. I’ll take care of anything not medical or security in nature. If there are no questions, let’s go in.”
“Hello Mr. Park, my name is Joseph. The doctor here is taking care of you and wants to examine you. Do you wish to speak in Korean or English? I speak both.”
Park’s eyes darted back and forth between the interpreter and the doctor, revealing anxiety and distrust. Finally he answered, “English is fine. Where am I, and how long have I been here?”
“The doc has some medical questions first, Mr. Park.”
The doctor took Park’s blood pressure and examined his eyes before taking a close look at the bruising around his neck that was the result of Max holding him in a headlock during their struggle inside the cargo van on the ferry.
He lifted the hospital gown covering Park and spent a moment looking at his groin area. “You have significant swelling and bruising of your genitalia, Mr. Park. Rate your pain on a scale of one to ten, with one being no pain,” said the doctor evenly as he looked directly at Park.
“Twelve!” fired back Park sarcastically.
Joseph tried to conceal a slight grin and spoke to the doctor. “What more do you need, Doc? When can I get some quality time with Mr. Park? He needs to be lucid when I talk to him.”
“I’m giving him some pain medication, and we’ll see how he tolerates that. Come back in 24 hours, and he’ll be in better shape to talk to you.”
Without even looking back at Park, Joseph turned and made his exit from the holding room. Twenty-four hours won’t set us back any. Mr. Park and I are going to get to know each other very well in the next couple of weeks, he thought.
*
“Joseph”, the alias of Nathan Morgan, used his encrypted cell phone to call Rebecca Monroe, the case officer that had been assigned to the Park Man-soo interrogation, after he had seen Park in the holding area. “Becky, I saw our friend Oscar,” the name that had been assigned to Park for communication purposes by the CIA, “moments ago and he looks a little worse for wear. I thought I saw the doctor wince a little when he pulled up his gown and look at his privates. I don’t think this guy is going to get frisky anytime soon.”
“Yeah, maybe he had it coming, Nathan. Just remember, treat us ladies with respect. Anyway, what is your assessment about getting an interrogation started?”
“The doc says at least twenty-four hours before we can start. So, how’s this going to go down, Becky? I think this guy is probably pretty hard core from reading the preliminary reports of the other Korean who was on the trip with him. By the way, where is he? Can I talk to him?”
“That guy is untouchable, Nathan. Only the brass here at Langley know anything about him, it’s blacker than black. His handler grabbed him at the Coast Guard station, and they disappeared in a private jet to parts unknown.”
“Who’s going to do the interrogation of Park?”
“You just keep him on ice, Nathan. When he’s okay to talk, he’s going on a plane ride to a secure location to recover and spill the beans to some professionals who want answers. I’m confident that we’re going to get them.”
“I thought we didn’t do those things...the extraordinary rendition thing...anymore.” said Nathan.
“Who said anything about extraordinary rendition, Nathan?” replied Rebecca. “That is so yesterday.”
“Well, what is it today, may I ask?”
“It’s called coming to a mutual understanding of the needs and wants of both parties. A spin-master at State will come up with some bullshit bureaucratic speak that sounds like a new version of the May-Pole dance, so everyone can hide behind that until a Congressional committee finds out what it really means. But by then, the goons will have devised some other exotic way to get the information they want.” “Okay, that’s all I have. Anything else for me?” asked Nathan.
“Just keep Oscar on ice and let me know when the doc says it’s okay to start talking
to him. I’ll let you know the next step.”
*
Unbeknownst to everyone involved in Operation Hard Candy except Marilyn Mitchell and Clayton Wheatley, Kim Dong-sun and his handler, Doug Chambers, stayed behind at the Bangor Trident Base to examine the North Korean warhead in order to understand the degree of technological advancement that had been achieved by the DPRK’s nuclear development program. As much as the CIA would have liked for Gamma to be able to meet with the nuclear engineers who were coming from Sandia Laboratories in New Mexico in the following days to inspect the warhead, Gamma was too important an asset to be seen face to face with anyone other than the select few within the CIA and FBI who already knew him. Moving Gamma around in the foreseeable future would entail an elaborate security screen to keep it that way.
Instead, the first observations were made by General Kim and Doug Chambers, with Kim using the exotic tool sets available in the missile storage area of the Trident base. Chambers took digital images while Kim went through the painstaking process of dismantling the warhead. Gamma gave an audio account of what he was doing that could be disguised later for security purposes.
As Gamma began the process, he spoke as Chambers took video and still images. “This warhead is an exact copy of a very recent iteration of a Pakistani warhead designed to be delivered by a guided missile. To an unpracticed eye, it could appear to be manufactured in Pakistan, but there are several small differences that indicate this warhead was actually built in the DPRK. There can be no question about that,” explained Kim, as he pointed to some electronic connectors and machined parts within the warhead package.
“I would estimate that this warhead is at least one year old, which would indicate that the DPRK may have further miniaturized the warhead since then,” he continued.
“As any of you who see this video know, this technology is still significantly behind that has been done in the West, and possibly the People’s Republic of China recently, but this warhead is small enough to be placed on a medium-range ballistic missile with a range of several hundred miles. It could theoretically hit targets in South Korea, Japan, and many populated parts of the Chinese mainland. It is my professional opinion that the DPRK is further along in their nuclear development program than Western intelligence may have previously thought,” Kim concluded.
*
An hour later Doug Chambers was on an encrypted video conference with Marilyn Mitchell, her Deputy Director of Intelligence, and Clayton Wheatley.
“Gamma and I spent almost two hours examining the warhead in the secure location today,” said Chambers as he consulted his notes. “As a result of his experience in Pakistan, he seems to know his stuff, and I’m having the video sent by courier overnight so you can look at it tomorrow. If what he says is true, the DPRK is more of a threat than we thought they were, but I’m just the messenger here and can’t validate that as being fact.”
“Okay Mr. Chambers,” remarked Mitchell’s Deputy. “We see no further reason from you to stay there. We’ll send a Citation to McChord to bring you and Gamma back to Washington. Never mind the courier, the fewer who have any contact with that video, the better. Call me when you’re an hour out of Reagan. I’ll have a security team meet you and take you to the safe house in Virginia. As far as security is concerned, make sure Gamma’s wearing a ball cap, sunglasses and a DEA windbreaker. I don’t want to take any chances with anyone I.D.’ing him.”
“And Mr. Chambers,” said Marilyn Mitchell. “Thanks for your strong work with this asset. It’s clear that he trusts you. In our business that’s gold!”
*
Late that night Rachel Hunter met in the Oval Office with her Chief of Staff, Philip Johnson, and her Secretary of State, Alexander Randolph. “Mr. Randolph we have secured the North Korean warhead at the missile containment room at the Bangor, Washington, Nuclear Submarine Base. Our experts have examined it with the conclusion being it was unmistakably made in the DPRK. We are also currently questioning the leader of the North Korean terrorist group that transported the warhead from the DPRK to Vancouver, with the ultimate destination being Seattle, where they had intentions of detonating it. We are very clear on these facts. The question now becomes, what is the path forward for us?”
“Well, we certainly cannot allow such a provocation to go unanswered,” remarked Alexander.
“Quite true, but how do we do this artfully, with the greatest impact, and without making this public knowledge? At the moment we have containment on this knowledge, and I intend to keep it that way. If this became public there would be panic, outcries for a dramatic and ill-advised violent response, and perhaps, an invitation for other terrorists to attempt such a vicious act on our soil,” replied the President. “That is precisely what we are trying to avoid.”
“There is also an internal political aspect to consider, Ms. President,” said Randolph. “The fact that you and your administration foiled such a major terrorist attempt could increase your political capital substantially. This fact alone could make you substantially more popular, erase any latent concerns about your toughness, and make you a shoo-in for election in the next cycle. This is definitely something to consider.”
“I appreciate your insights, Mr. Randolph, but unlike some of my predecessors, I don’t view everything from a political win-lose perspective. Mr. Johnson knows I never sought this job - not even the antecedent position - and I’m not yet sure whether I even like it enough to take a run at being elected to it. Jonathan Braxton sold me on the job with the underlying idea that I might be able to bring a certain amount of idealism to his administration, and be listened to in the process. The last thing we’re going to do, if I can help it, is to start a nuclear war over this provocation. I would hope we wouldn’t have to sink to the level of the powers that be in the DPRK to come to closure on this sordid matter.”
“Might I say that I’m very pleased to hear you take this position, Ms. President? There are others who have occupied this office in the past who might not have been as thoughtful and idealistic in their initial appraisal of how to respond to such a provocation,” replied Randolph.
“That is where you come in, Mr. Secretary,” Rachel Hunter continued. “I want you to leave tomorrow morning carrying my letter addressed to the Chinese Premier, and personally deliver it to your counterpart, Foreign Minister Yang. This will hopefully be passed on and read by the Premier, and will generate a response on their part. The letter contains a brief summary of the DPRK plot, how we foiled it, leaving out certain highly sensitive details of course, and an invitation for him, or his designee, to travel to the U.S. to actually see the weapon up close and actually speak directly to a member of the plotting group to verify the authenticity of our claims.”
“This is a bold and unconventional move, Ms. President,” offered Randolph. “But why involve the PRC in this nasty business?”
“It’s a calculated risk, Mr. Secretary. There are those who would view this as unnecessary and a show of weakness, but I would disagree. So far, the Chinese Premier has been receptive to our overtures to engage on the difficulties of our relationship - or should I say, lack thereof - with the DPRK, and I would like to continue in that vein of dialogue and consultation prior to taking any action. Don’t forget that it is through the relationship that our Ambassador, Mr. Bledsoe, has with Foreign Minister Yang, we know of the PRC’s frustration and impatience with the Fhang regime. Hopefully, a visit by the Premier or his designee to view the warhead would be seen as a show of good faith on our part and could be the basis for opening some dialogue on how we plan to confront this provocation.”
“A noble thought, Ms. President, but what if they decline?” asked Randolph.
“Candidly, Mr. Randolph, I don’t have a Plan B. The Chinese are literally and figuratively the eight-hundred gorilla in Asia and I would like to have them at least in a neutral position when it comes to any response we make to this,” replied the President. “I’m betting that the last thing the PRC wants is a nuc
lear war in their backyard, and the very real and unintended consequences thereof. Any further questions, gentlemen? If not, I wish you Godspeed tomorrow, Mr. Secretary.”
*
“Premier,” Foreign Minister Yang said into the telephone from his office, “I have two things to talk to you about this morning. Secretary of State Randolph is flying to Beijing as we speak and has requested an appointment at my earliest convenience to speak personally with me, along with Ambassador Bledsoe. He tells me he is coming at the behest of President Hunter. Also, according to the doctors, there is no change in the medical condition of General Fhang Jhai. The neurologist thinks the General will need surgery to alleviate the condition in his brain. The aneurysm is in the part of his brain that is extremely difficult to get to and, as such, would be very risky. He has sent the MRI images to one of his colleagues in France for a consultation.”
“What of the two doctors that accompanied him and the woman?” replied the Chinese Premier. “What is their role in this?”
“Based on my conversation with them, I doubt they have the necessary experience or desire to operate on General Fhang,” Yang responded. “They are in fear of their lives and those of their families should there not be a good outcome.”
“And the woman...?”
“She describes herself as his companion, whatever that means,” replied Yang. “She does not seem to be sophisticated.”
As if to dismiss the General Fhang matter, the Premier told his Foreign Minister to keep him apprised of the meeting with Yang’s counterpart, and rang off.
*
A U.S. Army Black Hawk helicopter landed in the large courtyard of the Annex to the U.S. Embassy in San Salvador, El Salvador, just before dawn. Park Man-soo, his face still hidden under a loose-fitting fabric hood and his hands bound behind him was carefully helped out of the helicopter and escorted across the cobblestone courtyard by three CIA agents to the main entrance of the empty building. As the doors closed behind them the helicopter lifted off and climbed high into the dark sky above El Salvador.