operations. Reference General McLanahan’s written orders and his own verbal orders.”
As Long got on his cell phone to initiate the recall, Furness turned to McLanahan, a mischievous smile on her lips and a malevolent glow in her eyes. She looked him up and down, then said, “McLanahan. I once heard of a McLanahan from a friend of mine, the chief of staff of the Lithuanian Army. He told some pretty extraordinary stories about him. Any relation, sir?”
“Maybe.”
“Interesting.” Furness grinned. “This McLanahan was in charge of some pretty cosmic stuff, real Buck Rogers high-tech gear, made for bombers.” There was no response. She nodded, then asked, “You ready for this, General McLanahan? We move pretty fast around here.”
“I’ll be with you the entire way,” Patrick said. “When the sorties launch, I want to be manifested with Seaver as copilot. He’ll be number two in your flight.”
Furness glared at McLanahan in surprise. “I can’t do that, sir,” she said. “I’m not going to put an unqualified person in the right seat during a live weapons mission. It’s unsafe.” She looked at him warily. “Or are you going to pull rank on this too?”
“Yes, I was,” Patrick said, “but I’ll make you a deal: I’ll fly in the copilot’s seat with Seaver in the sim. If you don’t think I know my shit well enough, you can kick me out. Deal?”
“Deal,” Furness said. “Have fun flying in the DSO’s seat, sir.”
“Don’t bet on it, Colonel,” Patrick said with a smile. He glanced over at John Long and added, “Put Colonel Long in my OSO’s seat.”
“Whatever you want, sir,” Furness responded. Then she shouted to the rest of the squadron members, “Get your asses moving, you grunts! That’s the last time I want to see any of you hogs standing around with your thumbs up your asses! Now
It’s good of you to come, Minister Kang,” the President of the United States said. He shook hands warmly with Minister of Foreign Affairs Kang No-myong of the Republic of Korea. With him in the Oval Office were Vice President Ellen Christine Whiting, Secretary of Defense Arthur Chastain, and White House Chief of Staff Jerrod Hale. Official White House photographers took photos of the handshakes; no reporters were present.
“Mr. President, Madam Vice President, Secretary Chastain, Mr. Hale, may I please introduce the South Korean minister of defense, retired general Kim Kun-mo,” Minister Kang said in broken but very understandable English. General Kim bowed deeply, then shook hands with each American. His Korean translator was also introduced, and all were led to seats around the coffee table in the Oval Office. As refreshments were served, the photographers snapped a few more shots of the leaders making small talk, then departed. The visitors looked around the famous White House Oval Office, as wide-eyed and awed as any congressman’s constituent on a “photo opportunity” visit. Jerrod Hale remained standing in his usual place behind and to the right of the President.
“This is an unexpected but certainly welcome visit, gentlemen,” President Martindale began politely. “We all knew that you were both in our country visiting military installations and preparing to address the United Nations. I’m glad we have this chance to get together.” The Koreans bowed in thanks.
Unexpected, yes — welcome, no, the President thought. Nearing the end of a tumultuous first term in the White House, following two terms as Vice President, the fifty-one-year-old divorced Texan, a former state attorney general, U.S. senator, and secretary of defense, was in the midst of the greatest fight of his long political life. He was knowledgeable in foreign and military affairs, but it seemed that almost every foreign policy decision he had made in recent years, especially those involving his military forces, had cost him dearly at home. And having Asian political and military leaders pop in on him at the White House was never good news.
“We thank you most profoundly for the honor of meeting with you in person, Mr. President,” Minister Kang said formally. Kang was pudgy, with thick glasses and greased-back straight black hair. He was a sharp contrast to General Kim’s wiry body, chiseled face, and cold, steady eyes. Nonetheless, despite Kang’s disarming features, Martindale knew he was an expert strategist and businessman, the former head of one of the most powerful oceangoing shipping companies in the world.
As impressive as Kang’s background was, General Kim’s was even more so. He had risen through the ranks from conscript to chairman of the chiefs of staff of the South Korean military. He had survived innumerable purges, dismissals, and outright assassination attempts, only to emerge stronger and wiser after every encounter with his foes. Kevin Martindale stared into Kim’s eyes and saw the general staring unabashedly right back at him, unblinking, challenging.
What was it like, Martindale asked himself, to live in a country like South Korea? The entire peninsula had been a pawn in an Asian chess match spanning many centuries. Like so many other world hot spots today — Iran, Iraq, Kuwait, Germany, Africa, Israel, the Balkans — his country was spawned out of the ashes of war, trampled, blood-soaked land divided up between conquering invaders. But because the lines drawn on a map rarely take into account the social and cultural differences of a nation, the warring never ended for countries like South Korea. Kim’s country had known either foreign occupation or political and societal schizophrenia for centuries. What was that like? It sounded like an unending civil war.
Martindale noticed Kim give him a subtle smile and a nod before resuming his unblinking stare. It was as if he knew what Martindale was thinking and was thanking him for trying to understand. Although the President did not show it, Kim gave him the creeps. There was a war raging in that man’s head as well as in his homeland, the President decided.
Jerrod Hale noted Kim’s defiant gaze. He shifted his position slightly. It had the desired effect: it caught Kim’s attention. “I hope you’re finding your tour of our military installations informative, General Kim,” Hale said when Kim looked at him, his voice neutral, neither friendly nor challenging. The translator passed along Hale’s words; Kim bowed deeply in response but remained silent. The two men looked at each other unblinkingly. But Jerrod Hale, a former Los Angeles County prosecutor and police commissioner and a longtime political ramrod, took intimidation from no one. As he stood by the most powerful man in the Western world, in the most prized hall of power on earth, General Kim respectfully averted his eyes.
“Mr. President, I wanted to personally deliver to you some very disturbing and alarming evidence that we recently acquired,” Minister Kang said. He withdrew a folder from a briefcase. “I apologize if these pictures offend your sensibilities, Mr. President. I only offer them because of the enormous gravity of the situation they portend.”
Martindale studied them, his eyes narrowing in shock, then wordlessly passed them along to Vice President Whiting. She swallowed a gasp when she saw the photograph of the mangled, emaciated corpse of the North Korean fighter pilot. “Please explain, Minister Kang,” Martindale said.
“This starving, near-frozen man was at the controls of a North Korean attack jet that was shot down over South Korea,” Kang responded. “He was en route to Seoul.”
“An attack jet?” Secretary Chastain asked.
“A fighter-bomber on a one-way suicide mission, carrying two gravity bombs,” General Kim said via the translator. “Two
Whiting’s mouth opened in surprise; Chastain and the President exchanged shocked expressions. “My God!” the President gasped. “Were they live weapons? Fully functional? What yield?”
“Older but fully functioning weapons of Chinese design, in perhaps the six-hundred-kiloton-yield range,” Kang replied. He handed Chastain a folder. “Here is an analysis of the weapons, as conducted by our military intelligence division. It is in effect a standard Chinese medium-range ballistic missile reentry vehicle warhead, modified for gravity bomb use. A rather dated design, not very efficient or reliable. Discarded many decades ago by Communist China because of a lack of safety features, large design, and heavy carriage weight.”
“Were the weapons destroyed when you shot down the aircraft?” Chastain asked.
“No.”
“Then you recovered them?” Kang nodded. “Were they intact?”
“Yes, sir,” Kang replied. “The weapons have filled in many vital pieces of a giant puzzle that our intelligence agencies have been investigating for years. We have suspected the presence of nuclear weapons in the North, but now, after examining the components of the bombs, we have pinpointed the locations of several bases and facilities that manufacture these and other weapons of mass destruction.
