The Korean Intercept (5 page)

General Chou, a ranking member of the Military Affairs Commission, was the exact physical opposite of Huang. Chou was heavyset and corpulent, with the eyes of a ferret. "Could this be a trick? An intelligence probe by the Americans to test and analyze our response?"

"There is that possibility," Huang acknowledged. Like them, he was a chain-smoker. The room was hazy with cigarette fumes. "If it is a trick, it is an audacious one. The Americans have officially notified us. Thus far none of this has been made public, but of course it will only be a matter of hours before the world learns of it."

Li Juntao, seated to Huang's left, was the third ranking member of the Politburo, which made him the army chief of staff. His compact, stocky form was all muscle. "The Americans have requested our cooperation?" He spoke with a heavy Cantonese dialect.

"They have demanded it."

Chou bristled. "They are in no position to demand anything. Our refusal would force them to act. Their only response would be to lose face or mount an incursion. They dare not risk a military confrontation with China."

Huang placed a fresh cigarette in an ebony holder. He touched the cigarette with flame from a lighter and replied through a plume of exhaled smoke. "The chairman and I are of the opinion that they would take such a risk, if they were certain that their shuttle did go down within our borders."

"What if the shuttle went down inside North Korea?" Li asked.

"We have contacted Pyongyang, as did the Americans. They claim to know nothing of it. But frankly, comrades, what the Koreans say is immaterial. It does not matter whether the shuttle went down in China or in North Korea. What need only concern us at this time is that a thorough search be initiated at once, and that every effort be expended to locate and secure the shuttle and the American defense satellite onboard, or its remains. There is the possibility that the pilot may have succeeded in setting the spacecraft down relatively intact. As you are aware, our space program is primitive in comparison to the West. We would find much aboard
Liberty
that would be extremely useful to China, equipment and information that the Americans would otherwise hardly be inclined to share with us."

"If the shuttle went down within our territory," Li began, "why hasn't our radar—"

"The shuttle was equipped with technology to evade radar."

Li frowned. "I served in Shenyang Province, the region of which we speak. There is extremely rugged terrain on both sides of that border. Finding the shuttle, if it is there, will not be easy."

"No one has suggested that it would be." Huang spoke curtly. "I am aware that you are familiar with that area, General. Therefore you will report at once to our regional headquarters at Shenyang. This matter will receive top priority and classification at every level."

La blinked his surprise. "Comrade?"

"You will meet with the regional commander to initiate a full-scale search and salvage operation without delay, mountain by mountain, valley by valley, if necessary." Huang paused for emphasis. "You will search along both sides of the border."

Li's frown deepened. "That would constitute a Chinese invasion of North Korea."

"The peasant filth who rule from Pyongyang will not acknowledge it as such, especially if they
do
know where the shuttle is located.
They
are the ones who will not risk a confrontation with
us
. North Korea's military is formidable, but their government is bankrupt. They would not exist as a nation had we not come to their aid during their war with the Americans. Yet they were so quick to turn from us for armament and money when the Soviet Union was strong and we were not. Now they would come crawling back to us. No, we need not concern ourselves with those bastard sons of mother China."

"The Americans then," said Li. "They will do anything to get their astronauts back, dead or alive. You're right, Comrade Defense Minister. The Americans will invade China or North Korea, if we force their hand."

Huang smiled tersely. "Let the Chairman and myself concern ourselves with that, comrade. Who is to say, perhaps you find only wreckage and human remains with nothing salvageable. If that proves to be the case, China will gladly return the useless remains to America as a gesture of humanitarian goodwill. But first it is imperative that we find the
Liberty
."

"We will not be able to stall the Americans for long," Chou said.

Huang nodded. "That is why time and thoroughness are of the essence. General Li, the shuttle or its wreckage must be found."

Li rose from his chair. "I leave immediately for Shenyang. I will locate the shuttle. Nothing will stop me. But I do have one question, comrades. What if there are survivors?"

"That would be highly unlikely," said Huang. "But if that is the case, you will advise us and the situation will be dealt with."

"In what way, may I ask?"

"That need not concern you at this time, Comrade General. Every possible contingency is being considered. Go now. The stakes are high and there is no time to lose."

 

Washington, DC

 

In the White House, the president met off the record with his closest advisors in a cramped basement facility called the Situation Room. A high-tech, highly secure facility once reserved for managing the occasional world crisis, these days it was in almost constant use. The Situation Room had become one of the busiest parts of the West Wing. The president sat at the head of a conference table. Also present were the secretary of defense, the secretary of state, the director of the Central Intelligence Agency and the national security advisor. And there was General Curtis McMann, a uniformed, barrel-chested, ruddy-cheeked five-star in charge of the military space program.

While the others leaned forward in their chairs, McMann stood at the president's shoulder and pointed out the triangle drawn on a map of Asia that was spread flat on the table in front of the president. "Their Mayday was picked up at several points around the region. We've triangulated the farthest points of reception and have narrowed down the probable crash site to this region."

The president scrutinized the map. "Several hundred miles?" he noted without enthusiasm.

"At this point, yes sir. The Mayday was picked up by one of our spy ships in the Sea of Japan off the North Korean coast, by a Russian weather station at Lake Baykal and by a commercial Japanese pilot on a Tokyo to Hong Kong flight."

Calhoun, the CIA Director, said, "We have satellites over China probing the region, but it's just now dawn over there." He was a pale-skinned man in a dark suit, with a computer-like mind. He spoke crisply. "So far we have no satellite imagery of
Liberty
, and the GPS infrared sensors haven't tracked it by heat. But that doesn't mean it's not down there. We've retasked our birds up over that region to photograph from every angle. It's been snowing off and on all night in that region, and that could have cooled the shuttle faster than usual. That could fool the heat sensors. What puzzles me is that we haven't picked up a signal from her Emergency Locator transmitter. And each of those astronauts is equipped with an individual 74 emergency radio, but they're not sending locator signals."

McMann returned to his seat. "This whole damn thing is out of left field. It doesn't add up."

The president looked up from the map. "Anything new from the Chinese or the North Koreans?"

Gorman, the secretary of state, shook his head no. "We're still collecting information. Both countries disavow any knowledge of
Liberty
going down in either airspace." The secretary affected a rumpled appearance, at odds with his hard-nosed mastery of international diplomacy. "They've each pledged cooperation."

"We have initiated an intelligence directive, with our Yokohama station as the hub," Calhoun interjected.

"But why don't we
already
have a search and salvage operation underway?" asked the president.

Gorman cleared his throat. "You have to appreciate, sir, how fast this is breaking. The shuttle was launched only hours ago. Both China and North Korea are muddled in bureaucracy."

The president's eyes grew steely. "I don't give a damn. We should already have a search and rescue mission en route over there to supervise. No stalling. We can't let them get away with that."

"Such a course would lead to a serious confrontation, Mr. President," Gorman pointed out.

MacDonald, the secretary of defense, tugged irritably at an earlobe. He was of a bulky build, another ex-military man, with a permanent five o'clock shadow. "You want serious? Our nuke forces are going from DefCon Four to DefCon Three."

Christ, thought the president. Korea.

Relations with China would stand the strain of just about anything these days. Beijing had gotten used to capitalism and liked it. The Korean problem, on the other hand, was a bad hangover from the Cold War. Not much had changed in the status quo between America and Korea in more than fifty years. But that was about to change. North Korea continued a nuclear arsenal buildup. He couldn't get out of his mind the words of his defense secretary during a previous, unrelated briefing: "Anyone who speaks with certainty about North Korea is not speaking with wisdom."

Available intelligence reports were estimating that the North presently had a formidable one million-man army. Pyongyang spent twenty-five percent of its GNP on arms. About one million of their armed-to-the-teeth soldiers eyeballed a U.S. military force across a DMZ; two awesome armies squared off in their bunkers behind the world's most fortified potential killing field. Significant elements within the North Korean military were hawkish on a possible nuclear standoff with the West. If war broke out, U.S. troops would be their main target.

The president turned to his national security advisor. "A military confrontation with North Korea?"

Latisha Samuels was a middle-aged African American woman whose background in the military and academia had marked her with a no-nonsense, can-do demeanor. "Our fleet is waiting for orders to deploy."

The President paused to consider. "We must proceed under the assumption that some salvageable debris does remain of
Liberty
, and that there are survivors on the ground over there, no matter how slim that possibility is. No one today remembers the crew of the
Pueblo
. That was a spy ship, and the North Koreans held its crew for more than a year. With a defense systems satellite aboard, anyone who gets their hands on the
Liberty
will have themselves a treasure of scientific data. I don't trust the Chinese or the North Koreans. I don't care how nicey-nice we've been making with Beijing over these trade agreements. If only we had some idea what happened to
Liberty
. Going down over there in that godforsaken corner of the world… a pure accident?" He glanced around the table.

General McMann said, "It is not entirely impossible that someone could have penetrated the shuttle's computerized control and programmed a deviation into their flight guidance system. There are two thousand sensors and data points in
Liberty's
computer system. The computers could have been fooled into sending the wrong signals."

"Are you saying," the president asked slowly, "that someone could take command of an American space shuttle in orbit and direct it to land anywhere they wanted?"

"Only if the transmissions between the shuttle and Houston were scrambled, so the pilots could be conned into believing that ground control was ordering the deviation. In fact, Commander Scott would have to be conned into thinking the mission was being aborted."

"If we accept that," said Calhoun, "how likely is it that someone at the Johnson Space Center had a hand in it?"

"That's a primary probability," said McMann. "That is, if we accept the scenario."

The president rapped the table in front of him decisively. "This is too important to close our minds to anything. Okay. The media blackout stands for now. No background leaks to the press until we have a better handle on this." He turned to MacDonald. "Mac, tell the Pentagon I want a situation update every fifteen minutes."

"Yes, Mr. President."

"And one thing more."

"Sir?"

"Get me Trev Galt."

 

Meiko Kurita signed off on her report for the satellite feed to Tokyo. While her cameraman packed his gear, she studied the now-vacant podium at the end of the long, low-ceilinged room where John Halliday, the president's press secretary, had presided for the preceding half hour, fielding questions at his daily session with the White House press corps. The print media journalists had already left to write their stories, while correspondents of the electronic media filed their reports against the stock backdrop of the podium, the presidential seal clearly visible, before dispersing under the watchful eye of the administration's spin doctors. Meiko's instincts told her that something was wrong. She wondered if any of the thirty or so others present had sensed it. Perhaps the camera caught it. The camera never blinked, or so they said.

She realized again how jaded she had become in so short a time, from the college girl who dreamed of a job in a profession that in Japan was almost completely dominated by men, much like every other profession in that conservative, virtually male-dominated society, to the woman who now embodied that dream. In Japan, women were still very much expected to play a secondary role. Little had changed since her mother's time. Japanese society made it nearly impossible for a woman to adopt a lifestyle that differed from the traditional housebound role. This was reinforced by the pervasive tendency among men and women in her home country to accept things as they are, rather than disturbing the social harmony by protesting their grievances. Women were taught from childhood to adhere to strict behavior, to obey, to be nice girls and good wives. The news media was a non-traditional choice in the extreme. And now, at age twenty-eight, she was White House correspondent for the prestigious Hakura News Network, an Asian version of CNN. Five-foot-two, one hundred and five pounds, with shoulder-length black hair and striking green eyes, she possessed the small-boned, trim figure that was considered television-friendly in both the domestic and international markets. She thought that her mouth was a bit too wide and showed too many teeth when she smiled, but was glad that this opinion was apparently not shared by her audience or Hakura News.