Code Word: Paternity, A Presidential Thriller (17 page)

Ming, thinking to stir the pot by calling
on Volkov, caught Martin’s motion and recognized him instead.

“President Ming, I now have even more to
thank you for. Ladies and gentlemen, through our host’s good offices I have
just had a brief meeting with Kim Jong-il.”

The many English speakers in the room
went on alert like pointers, unsettling those awaiting translation.

“I can tell you I felt our meeting was
useful but not productive. Kim denied his attack. After I rejected his denial
and called on him to step aside for the good of Koreans, he became angry and
started shouting. He threatened to destroy Seoul
and Tokyo, as well as defeat any invasion and
bathe the U.S.
in atomic fire, as he put it. He also said that diplomatic efforts to remove
him would fail. I’m summarizing now from memory, but my Chinese-language
interpreter took notes of what I said and of the English translation as Kim
spoke. I will make those notes available.”

Martin watched his counterparts as the
tulips winked out one by one. Gwon looked alarmed, Kato concerned, Volkov eager
to speak, and Ming wore a slight, wry smile.

Rick gave Volkov no opportunity. “Some of
you—certainly President Ming—have experience working with Kim. We will all
benefit from your observations and comments. For myself, I have the sense that
Kim is off balance and fears that this group of nations can, indeed, force him
to give up power. I find that encouraging and I suggest we redouble our efforts
around this table so that we do just that.”

Watching the tulips flicker, Martin
scribbled a note to Battista: When I write my memoirs, I’m going to call this
chapter ‘waiting on the tulips.’

Battista smiled, nodded, and passed the
note to the other Americans.

 
Dimitri Volkov watched them and wondered if a
trap was being laid. Were Ming and Martin setting him up? Was that “surprise”
meeting part of their plan to marginalize Russia?

Deciding to preempt any such move, Volkov
seized the floor, barely waiting for Ming’s recognition. He asserted that Kim
threatened South Korea and Japan because they had allowed themselves to
become U.S.
client states. This triggered a long, angry response from Gwon that amused
Martin, who allowed himself a smirk. There, Dimitri—now you see for yourself
how difficult it is to deal with Koreans!

While the heads of state were engaged, a
group of officials nearby were struggling to agree on a communiqué. Anne
Battista, part of her mind following the leaders’ discussions, reviewed the
latest draft. This would never do! She could see the headlines: Leaders Fail to
Reach Agreement. The document was a dollop of pabulum that deplored the attack
but spoke only of “agreeing to consider appropriate measures” when the attacker
had been “conclusively identified.” She murmured to Eric Easterly, then slipped
out the door.

Martin was less than half-listening to
Volkov about the critical uncertainties and grave dangers of taking action
against a sovereign state on the basis of unverified information.
I think I detect movement in our direction.
When I put it all together, with allowance for Chinese subtlety, I believe
Ming’s hinting that he could be convinced. Of course, he’s already convinced—he
knows damn well it was Kim’s bomb and that we know
it
the same way we knew about China’s
HEU in Pakistan’s
bomb tests. I think he’s preparing the record for a shift in position and
signaling me to come horse-trade.

Volkov rolled on, conveying in diplomatic
terms that it would be a cold day in hell before the Russians supported the
sanctimonious bastards who had lectured them about dealing with the Chechens.

Slipping into her seat, Battista passed a
note to the president. Martin examined her under arched eyebrows. She nodded.

“Mr. Chairman, I
wonder if we could have a short recess.”

Ming looked around and, seeing no
objection, agreed.

After moving into a corner of the
room—which, they assumed, was bugged—Martin turned to Battista.

“Anne, that’s good timing. I was thinking
Ming is shifting and signaling it’s time for the two of us to talk. So what’s
the problem with the communiqué?”

“We’re at an impasse. Let me show you”
Warily, Battista wrote on a steno pad:
 

If you bring
Ming, can force Gwon into line, leave only Russians out of quarantine. Without
Ming, only Kato with us
.
Ming’s price probably Taiwan.

I’ve
got to get a quarantine agreement,
thought Rick
. Lots of people are
demanding a military response and I can’t ignore them, even though they’re
wrong. Without quarantine, my softest military option is gone and I’m looking
at invasion, bombing, or nukes. By protecting them from Chinese attack, we’ve
given the Taiwan government
over fifty years to work out an agreement with China. I don’t think history will
judge us too harshly if I call a halt to that when the stakes are this high.

Martin scribbled “OK,” then scanned for
Ming and saw that, although appearing to be in conversation with his foreign
minister, Ming was watching him. Martin nodded and walked in Ming’s direction.

Ming met him and motioned toward the same
door through which Martin had passed to meet Kim.
Remember who you’ve got to deal with—you need my help.

Trailed by their interpreters, foreign
ministers, and bodyguards, the two entered the room. Ming looked at Martin with
a neutral expression, silent. Rick felt his heart accelerate.

“President Ming, history will not deal
kindly with us if we fail to find a way short of nuclear retaliation to deal
with despots like Kim.”

“President Martin, history’s verdict
reflects the writer. China
will write a lot of the history of the twenty-first century.”

Martin said, “You and I could talk for
hours. There would be many things we agree on. I think they would outweigh the
matters where we don’t agree. I wouldn’t say that to Dimitri Volkov.”

Ming looked at
him, expressionless.

Rick’s anger surged and he didn’t banish
it immediately.
You sonofabitch! You’re
not going to help me at all, are you? All right—let’s get this over!

Straining to keep his voice even,
catching himself before hands clenched into fists, Martin said, “I will impose
a quarantine on North Korea.
If China
does not support it, I fear military
confrontations between our forces. I’m sure neither of us wants that, but it
could happen, without either of us intending it.”

Pulling a battered cigarette case from
his pocket, Ming said, “Military confrontation is possible, Mr. President, but
my concern is greatest in another area, the Taiwan Straits.”

Martin waited, searching Ming’s round,
bland face, hoping Ming would continue, but he did not. He was making Martin
propose the betrayal. In the long silence, an aide lit Ming’s cigarette.

“So, let’s resolve both our concerns
now,” said Martin. “It would resolve America’s
concern if China undertook,
at this meeting and at the UN, to support a quarantine of North Korea by
sea, land, and air. If China did not challenge U.S. actions at sea and did not
allow North Korea to use Chinese airspace or export through China, that would
resolve U.S. concern. How might the United States
resolve China’s
concern?”

 
Eyes hooded, Ming exhaled, then replied, “If
certain U.S. military
undertakings with the rebel government of Taiwan Province
were set aside, I would no longer fear confrontation in either area.”

Rick nearly choked on his words: “I see a
clear alignment of our interests in this matter. I suggest we instruct our
foreign ministers to work out the specifics.”

Burying the sound of victory beneath a
glacial tone, Ming replied: “Yes. They should be able to do that in the next
few minutes, do you not agree?”

Rick’s stomach flopped.
Is there no way to build trust here?
Then he nodded.

Ming dropped his cigarette, crushing it
heavily as he spun away from Martin, then strode to the door. Martin followed
him back to the conference room.

Ming made a short, graceful statement
that China
had concluded, reluctantly, that quarantine was necessary. At Kato’s suggestion
he called it an outbound quarantine. Ming even managed to avoid saying China accepted
American evidence of Kim’s culpability, terming the quarantine “a necessary
interim step while evidence is gathered and evaluated.”

As Ming’s words were translated, Martin
observed their impact. Gwon looked angry but also stricken. Kato remained
unruffled. Volkov smirked, knowing he had forced Martin to crawl and pay a high
price. To his left, he saw Battista huddled with her South Korean counterpart.
He knew what she was saying
: join us, or no ship or
aircraft that has touched South Korea
will be allowed to enter the U.S.
Nor will South Korean companies be allowed to do business in America. They
all knew the South Korean econo
my could
n’t
withstand that.

Notes were passed and Gwon gave in. South Korea
joined the quarantine.

President Gwon Chung-hee stalked from the
meeting in a black rage. The Americans had ruined his presidency by accusing
the north and today they had humiliated him. He felt a nudge; his foreign
minister leaned close and whispered that President Volkov would like a few
minutes. Gwon smiled and followed him.

Chapter 33

Shortly after seeing his other guests
off, President Ming sat down in his study with Kim. Ming wanted to savor his
success over a favorite meal, followed by puttering in his garden, but knew he
could not relax in the long summer twilight until he had spoken to Kim.

“Comrade Kim, I trust you feel this has
been helpful.”

Kim, who knew Ming didn’t like him, hid
his own dislike, as he always did with the Chinese leaders. He replied in
Ming’s language, “Indeed, Comrade Ming. I thank you for arranging my meeting
with Martin.”

“What did you
think of him?”

“Unsure of himself when confronted. He
doesn’t know how to deal with a leader who doesn’t fear U.S. power.”

“Comrade Kim, I have been advised that the
American scientists made a mistake; this bomb was not yours. But, the Americans
are skilled at this analysis, as are we Chinese. It is unlikely they would be
wrong twice. It would be very uncertain and very challenging if they were to
point to you a second time.”

Ming stared at Kim, who returned his look
unfazed, silent. “Comrade Kim!” he said, more sharply than he intended. “An
elder cousin cannot protect a younger cousin, no matter how he may wish to, if
the younger is foolish!”

“Elder cousin, I
am not foolish.”

Ming stood and extended his hand. “I’m
sure you are anxious to return to your dear people.”

Kim smiled, shook hands, and took his
leave. He took pleasure in remaining silent about the second bomb, the one
Fahim was waiting for, the one that would show the world that he, Kim Jong-il,
had brought the Americans to their knees.

***

 
“We got handed our heads!” said Easterly,
making a chopping motion with his right hand that made ice cubes in his glass
tinkle. He polished it off with a grimace, as if the tea were castor oil.

He was sitting with Secretary of State
Anne Battista and National Security Advisor John Dorn in an area of Air Force
One designated for senior staff. The richly furnished cabin contained a small
table and four chairs and was next to the main galley. The aircraft rushed
homeward through black subzero sky, making just over six hundred miles per hour
at flight level four zero—forty thousand feet above the earth. Dinner had been
served and cleared. The president was in his suite about seventy-five feet
forward, maybe sleeping, maybe not.

The hard man continued, shaking his head.
“Can you
believe
that Kim Jong-il?
He’s decided we can’t get to him and is telling the United States to go fuck itself!
And that’s what the South Koreans, Chinese, and Russians told us, too, just a
hair less directly. We had to pay in blood to get Ming’s cooperation, and I’m
sure when I talk with his defense minister about quarantine ops the haggling
will start all over again. The ROKs will be even worse! Only the Japanese are
really with us!”

“Come on, Eric—it wasn’t
that
bad!” Battista glared at the
defense secretary, thinking that the man had absolutely no subtlety. “We did
better than you think.

“The president reinforced his personal
relationship with each of his opposites—excepting Kim, of course—and that will
come in handy later on. You and I had some useful nuts-and-bolts conversations
with our counterparts about ways to put military and diplomatic pressure on Pyongyang. Rome wasn’t built in a
day. You didn’t
actually
think each
of them would just salute”—she made a vague wave toward her temple—“and ask
where to sign up to our plan, did you?”

“No, but I
figured we’d at least get willing support for the quarantine.”

“
At
least
? Eric, supporting quarantine is a
huge
undertaking for Gwon and Ming! They’ve had very little time to consider it.
I’d have been stunned if they’d agreed easily, figured Scott’s boys and girls
must have slipped something into their green tea!”

“How do you
think the Kim meeting went down with the president?” said Dorn.

“I think he was
surprised at how Looney Tunes the guy is!” said Easterly.

“Yeah, he was surprised, but he realized
that he could outmaneuver Kim, that Kim’s world was unreal, that he could be
manipulated,” said Battista.

“What about
Kim’s threats?” said Dorn.

“That was the best news of the trip!”
said Easterly. “When somebody who’s just murdered eighty thousand of your
people tells you to your face he’ll do it again if you piss him off, it has to
get your attention. I think the president needed to hear that.”

“What do you
mean, Eric?” Battista said, her arms folded across her chest and her face
wearing a skeptical look.

Easterly sighed and grimaced. “Anne, what
I mean is that the president has, from day one, refused to discuss using
nuclear weapons against North
Korea. But those weapons are our best
military option, in fact our only realistic military option. I mean, we sure as
hell aren’t going to invade and chase Kim out with our infantry—he’s got as
many soldiers as we do, plus several million local defense forces, and they’ve
spent fifty years digging in on some of the most rugged terrain you can
imagine.”

“Can we make the quarantine work with the
support we’ve got?” said Dorn.

“Yes and no,” said Easterly. He planted both
feet on deck and gave a shove, tilting his chair and extending a footrest. Feet
up, he went on: “We can seal them off pretty well by sea, especially if the
president gives u
s a free hand
. But stopping
aircraft—that’s a big problem. To be honest, we probably can’t, at least not
without shooting at civilian planes.”

“But can we
look
like we’re sealing them off?” said
Battista.

“For a little
while. But the press will dig hard to catch us out, to show we’re exaggerating.
It’s what they
do,
” said Easterly with
a shrug.

Dorn looked at him. “Eric, let’s go back
to options. I’m wondering if there’s another one—short of bombing, invading, or
using nuclear weapons.”

“You mean a
special ops option? “

“Yeah, or CIA.”

Easterly
grinned. “My question to you is, ‘to do what?’”

Dorn and
Battista looked at him mutely.

“Yeah, you see the problem. The United States
doesn’t assassinate leaders of other countries. When you eliminate that, what’s
left for a special op or the CIA, kidnapping? No way that’s doable! We could
kill him, maybe, if all the stars aligned. But grab him and hustle him out of
his own country, a country he controls absolutely and where our guys are as
obvious as Martians? Impossible!”

“What about using spec ops to destroy
their nuclear capability?” said Battista.

“How?” Easterly’s hands flew wide, palms
up. “The facility at Yongbyon is large. Spec Ops troops could never lug enough
conventional explosive to seriously damage it. Plus, there’re probably other
facilities that we don’t know about and couldn’t penetrate if we did. No, if we
want to take out their nuclear weapons, it’s a job for missiles and planes, not
spec ops. And, short of using nukes, it’s no sure thing”

Rick lay on his bed, mind churning.

The
short-term, tactical thinking at that table today was shocking—crazy! Well, no,
Ming’s thinking, and Kato’s, is strategic. But Gwon and Volkov were so focused
on the pre
–
Six-thirteen universe I can scarcely believe
it!

Kato—now
there’s a clever guy! By explicitly expressing confidence in U.S. protection
from Kim’s missiles when he supported me in that meeting, he obligated me to do
just that. After I refused in private, he got what he needed by going public
and daring me to refuse again.
 

Ming
forced me to do something many will call feckless and disgraceful. Well, there
was no choice. Now I have to figure out how to deliver the news to the
Taiwanese government and how to announce it. That’s going to be a bitch!

No
doubt—I put the needs of our tribe above the needs of outsiders. He smiled;
Ella would approve. And, it was my decision. There wasn’t any “we” about this.
I feel vulnerable but also good, and I’m sure it was the right call.

And
Kim! I’ve certainly seen delusional thinking before—it’s not that rare in
politics—but never someone who expressed his delusions with a nuclear weapon.
With a jolt he remembered Kim yelling
that he would bathe his opponents in nuclear fire.

But
wait a minute. This isn’t just me and Kim, like two gunslingers. Messy and
disappointing as it was, the summit produced agreement between four nations to
a quarantine that will keep Kim from getting another nuke out of North Korea.

I’ve put Kim in a box. Still . . .

Rick shoved doubts into the lockbox where
he kept unwanted realities, commanded his mind to go blank, and concentrated on
deep breathing until sleep took him.