Red Phoenix

sounded like all hell was breaking loose back there. It might spread across all of South Korea. And if it did, he and his troops were going to get caught right in the middle.

CHAPTER 3 The Washington Waltz

SEPTEMBER 8 — CAPITOL HILL, WASHINGTON, D.C.

The televisions are always on in a Congressional office.

“Good morning. I’m Amanda Hayes and this is a CNN special report — The Massacre in Seoul.”

Jeremy Mitchell looked up into the TV screen perched precariously on his bookcase. One hand reached for his tortoise-shell glasses while the other shoved the latest draft press release on National Frozen Food Week off his notepad. Without taking his eyes off the small screen, he waved the nearest intern over, a short, pudgy University of Michigan junior who was spending his fall semester learning the business of government while duplicating constituent mail for a congressman. Mitchell ignored the discontented frown on the kid’s face. Endless hours of gofer work — stapling, filing, duplicating — those were the dues you paid to get more meaningful work later on.

Mitchell had paid his own dues in full. Summers as an unpaid campaign volunteer. University terms spent crawling as an unpaid, overworked congressional intern. Two years after school as a poorly paid legislative correspondent, locked away for sixty-hour weeks drafting and redrafting answers to letters written by constituents. By then he’d seen how the system worked. You climbed over the still-warm bodies of those who’d thought they were your friends and coworkers. He’d used that knowledge to win a succession of promotions — first to handling domestic issues as a legislative assistant and later to committee staffer. A lot of people who’d trusted Jeremy Mitchell’s sincere smiles, open-featured good looks, twinkling blue eyes, and firm handshake had long since come to regret trusting first impressions.

Now, ten years and a pile of broken friendships later, he held the top-dog slot in any congressional office: he was the administrative assistant — the AA. And that meant he ran everything and everyone in the office, including the representative, if the man or woman was malleable enough.

Mitchell smiled thinly to himself. Ben Barnes was so malleable that he often reminded people of the Playdough little kids loved to squeeze and squash. He darted a glance at the intern impatiently waiting. “Phil, go get the congressman. He’s going to want to see this.”

The intern nodded grumpily and went, threading his way through the crowded maze of desks, cubicles, bookcases, filing cabinets, and stacks of newly printed newsletters that marked any House-side congressional office. Senators and their staffs usually had more room, but House members and their people worked under conditions that would have made a sweatshop seem spacious. A single suite of two rooms usually held twelve to fifteen harried staffers, their phones, files, and personal computers.

Congressman Ben Barnes appeared out of his inner office moments later, looking rumpled with wisps of his thinning, ash-blond hair sticking up at all angles. A wrinkled red silk tie hung loosely from his open shirt collar, and his eyes were puffy and bloodshot. Mitchell took it all in and made a mental note to never again let the congressman attend an auto industry luncheon unaccompanied. Thank God there hadn’t been any unfriendly press there. Barnes never seemed able to resist an open bar unless there was somebody around to pull him away.

The congressman smiled uncertainly and blearily at his AA. “What’s up, Jer?”

Mitchell pointed at the screen.

“… as this tape from a CNN camera team shows, armed troops began firing on the students — apparently without warning.

“Reports are sketchy and the South Korean government has imposed a news blackout, but it appears that at least several hundred people have been killed. Sources in one Seoul hospital report treating dozens of gunshot wounds and emergency rooms all across the city are said to be overflowing with the critically injured. There are even unconfirmed reports that several American or European tourists have been killed.

“For now, Seoul remains under strict curfew. And South Korea’s security forces have warned that violators will be shot on sight. That’s a threat they seem all too willing to enforce. This is Amanda Hayes. We’ll have more news from Seoul on the half-hour.”

Mitchell reached up and turned the volume down — shutting out an ad for hay fever medicine. He spun around in his chair to face the congressman.

Barnes seemed puzzled. “Very interesting, Jer. But couldn’t you have just put together a memo for me? I’ve got a million things to do before the committee meets this afternoon.”

“But don’t you see …” Mitchell stopped. Yelling at your boss was not recommended for Capitol Hill survival. He tried again. “Ben, this is the kind of break we’ve been waiting for. This Seoul massacre thing gives us the leverage we need to put an imports bill on the legislative fast track.”

“That’s great. That’s really wonderful.” Barnes still looked a little lost — an expression he was careful never to wear in front of TV cameras or constituent groups.

Mitchell decided to lay it all out. “South Korea makes those cheap Hyundai cars and other products that have the unions back home all hot and bothered. They want some more tariffs and import restrictions to even things up, but we haven’t been able to move anything worthwhile through both the House and Senate.”

Barnes seemed to be following along, so he threw in the clincher. “Right now these news reports are being shown all across the country — in every district — so I don’t think South Korea’s going to have too much public support by nightfall. They’ve been getting bad press for some time now, and this should really fan the flames. If we got a tough trade bill moving, we just might be able to ram it through before all the ‘free traders’ know what’s hit them. And that would make the autoworkers back home very happy.”

“And I’m going to need the autoworkers next year when I run for the Senate.” Barnes finished the sentence for him. He grinned. “That’s great thinking, Jer. Let’s do it. Draft up a real solid bill for me, something that’ll pull in a big coalition and get me a lot of press. I’ll take a look at it later this afternoon. Okay?”

Mitchell nodded and Barnes left humming happily. Mitchell spun back around to his keyboard and opened a new file, Korea-Bash. He smiled to himself. That was going to be a pretty accurate title.

Now, he thought, let’s see just what kind of a packaging deal I can come up with. Packaging was everything on the Hill, and if you wanted to pass a bill, you had to be sure it had a little something in it for every important interest group. That was part of the fun.

Mitchell started making a list.

The first section had to be a strong condemnation of South Korea’s human rights abuses and a tough set of required democratic reforms, with a short-term time limit for their implementation. Church groups and the other liberal lobbying organizations would really lap that stuff up.

Then came the sanctions the U.S. would impose if the Koreans didn’t put the reforms in place before the deadline.

The most obvious were new tariffs on Korean imports coming into the country. That would give the union bosses their bone, and they, in turn, would give a lot for Barnes come the next election.

Mitchell paused, his hands held over the keyboard while he thought. Yeah, the U.S. had troops in South Korea. Well, we wouldn’t want to prop up a corrupt, tyrannical regime, would we? He typed in “Withdrawal all U.S. forces if reforms not made.” That would piss off the conservatives, but it would win solid backing from the liberals in the party caucus. Maybe they could make sure that any troops pulled out of South Korea were sent to bases in Texas. That would make the Speaker happy. And making the Speaker happy was a crucial part of getting any bill through the House of Representatives.

Now he needed something to help break up the conservative opposition. “Cut off all military aid to South Korea and use the money to reduce the deficit.” Mitchell smiled. That would pick up a few votes. And it would give some of the Southern Democrats a conservative fig leaf to hide behind if they voted for the bill.

That should do it. Mitchell knew that the committee’s legislative counsel cold turn his rough notes into a polished piece of legal language in a matter of hours. He could concentrate on putting together all the background material they’d need — “Dear Colleague” letters soliciting support from other congressmen, fact sheets, and most