Hood nodded. He covered his right ear to block out Liz's typing on the keyboard. 'What did the North Koreans say, Mr. Yung-Hoon?'
'That several boots, explosives, and handguns were taken from a truck en route to the depot in Koksan four weeks ago.'
'They radioed this information to her, and then she told you?'
'That's right. It's very strange, because after she brought Hwan to National University Hospital, she stole a car and left. We're looking for her now.'
'Is there anything else, sir?'
'No. Hwan is still in surgery.'
'Thanks. I'll be in touch— we may have something.'
Reconnoitering in the North, Hood thought. He hung up the phone. 'Bob, check with General Sam and find out if our friend Lee was doing any reconnoitering in the North four weeks ago.'
'Of course,' Herbert said. He wheeled himself from the office with enthusiasm Hood had never before seen.
Liz Gordon was looking at the computer. 'You know, Paul, I think that if there is a plot, this Colonel Sun may be involved as well.'
'Why?'
'I just had Sun's file sent over. It says that he doesn't delegate authority.'
'So Lee is on a tight leash?'
'Quite the contrary. Sun doesn't appear to have much to do with Lee's operation.'
'Which means that he may not be involved—'
'Or that his trust in Lee is so complete he doesn't need to oversee him.'
'That sounds like a reach to me—'
'It isn't. It's classic when two people are on the same wavelength. It's a textbook symbiotic relationship for a hands-on type of officer like Sun.'
'All right. I'll have Bob check on Sun's whereabouts as well.' Hood looked at the countdown clock, then at the partly eaten salad by his elbow. He picked up a piece of warm carrot and started chewing on it. 'You know, it took us nearly ten hours to pick up our first real lead, and we needed help from a North Korean spy just to get that. What does that tell you about our operation?'
'That we're still learning.'
'I don't buy that. We missed things along the way. We should have contacted the North about a theft. There should have been a channel of communications for that. We also should have had a file on the separatist South Koreans.'
'That's Monday morning quarterbacking. We'll have one now. We're actually doing pretty well, considering we're working at cross-purposes with the President and some of his closest advisers.'
'Maybe.' He smiled. 'You were the first one to say that the North Korean President wasn't behind this. How do you feel now that the rest of us here have come around?'
'Scared,' she said.
'Good. Just wanted to make sure I wasn't the only one.' He saved the ROK files. 'Now, I've got to bring Mike Rodgers up to speed, and see if we can use our little Striker force to get Op-Center a piece of the military pie. Who knows? Maybe Mike will have some ideas to surprise even the newly hatched hawks at Pennsylvania Avenue.'
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Just over an hour before, in the skies over Hawaii, the thundering C-141A was refueled by a KC-135 tanker. It was good now for another four thousand miles, more than enough to make it to Osaka. And with the strong tail wind they were picking up in the South Pacific, Captain Harryhausen informed Lt. Col. Squires that they'd be reaching Japan up to an hour ahead of schedule; at roughly five A.M. Squires checked with the navigator: the sun wouldn't be rising in eastern North Korea until a few minutes after six. With any luck, they would be on the ground in the Diamond Mountains by then.
Mike Rodgers was sitting with his arms crossed and his eyes shut, thinking dreamily about any number of things. Disconnected bits of the past, of friends no longer with him, mingled with pictures of what the Diamond Mountains might be like. He thought about Op-Center, wondered what was going on, wished he were cracking the whip? but glad to be in the field.
By design, everything drifted in and out of his mind like clouds. He had learned that the best way to remember complex plans fast was to read them two or three times, let them float on top of his memory, then review them once again a couple of hours later. That technique, which he learned from an actor friend, burned the material into the brain for a few days, after which it evaporated. Rodgers liked it because it didn't take up much time and it didn't monopolize brain cells forever. He hated the fact that he could still remember useless information from exams he'd crammed for in junior high school, that Frances Folsom Cleveland, widow of President Grover Cleveland, was the first First Lady to remarry, and that the unseaworthy sister ship of the Mayflower was called the Speedwell.
Best of all, floating the game plans Squires had reviewed with him gave Rodgers time to kick back on long flights, to compose himself for the mission- 'General!'
— and take the occasional call from Paul Hood. Rodgers sat up and removed his earplugs. 'Yes, Private Puckett.'
'Mr. Hood, sir.'
'Thank you, Private.'
Puckett sat the radio on the bench beside Rodgers and returned to his seat. Rodgers slipped on the earphones as Lt. Col. Squires stirred from his nap.
'Rodgers, here.'
'Mike, there are new developments. The North Koreans shot at one of our spy planes, killing a recon officer, and the President hit back by destroying the enemy plane on the ground.'
'Good work, Mr. President!'
'Mike, we're not really in his camp on that one.'
Rodgers's teeth closed tightly. 'Oh?'
'We believe that the DPRK was set up,' Hood said, 'that a South Korean officer was behind this morning's bombing.'
'Did he shoot our officer too?'
'No, Mike, but we were deep in North Korea.'
'Then the procedure is to force the plane down without firing,' Rodgers said. 'They didn't do that, did they, the pricks?'
'They did not, and we'll debate this some other time. We're at Defcon 3, and we believe things are going to get hotter. If they do, we can get to all the fixed Nodongs by air. But it will be up to you to take care of the mobile units.'
'At my own discretion?'
'Are you in command or Lt. Col. Squires?'
'He is. But we think alike. At our discretion, then?'
'There may not be time to clear your actions with the Pentagon, and the President doesn't want to know anything about it. Yes, Mike. If it looks like the missiles are going to be launched, you take them out. Quite frankly, Mike, we've got a little egg on our faces here. We've been pushing peace, but the strike against the airstrip in Sariwon is going to go over really big. I need something with a little gunpowder in it.'
'Message received, Paul.'
It was indeed. Once again, a politician in trouble wanted a military strike to blast his constituents— in this case the President— back onto his side. He was being tough on Hood; he really did like the man, as a fourth in poker or next to him at a Redskins game. But Rodgers was a charter member of the George Patton School of
