“We do not need guns, we need rice,” said one old man when they asked.
They made four stops, spending much of the day talking to anyone they could find: American officers, sergeants, privates, and any North Korean brave enough to come near.
“They think of Americans as devils and look for your tails,” said the translator at one point. He didn’t seem to be joking.
“So?” asked Somers as they trudged toward their temporary headquarters at the end of the day. “What have we learned?”
Tyler smiled at the academic’s pedantic style but played along. “That North Korea is a hellhole and that we have to get these people food fast.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Can they mount a guerrilla campaign?”
“Some of the units are still intact. There are still weapons. But the population won’t support it.”
“I agree,” said Somers. “What’s really interesting, though, is the animosity between North and South,” Somers continued. “You saw our translator, and the people’s reactions to him. They thought he was arrogant.”
“Sure,” said Tyler.
“You don’t think that’s important?”
“Do you?” said Tyler.
“The friction is important,” explained Somers. “I know you’re here basically to see what the potential for resistance is from a military point of view, but the underlying realities are also important. Back home, people think that North and South want to be reunited. They think of Germany at the end of the Cold War. There is a lot of that, don’t get me wrong. But there’s also friction, as we’ve just seen. The North Koreans are looking at us with curiosity. They haven’t formed real opinions yet. But they do know the South. Or at least they think they do. And vice versa.”
“Okay,” said Tyler, nodding.
Somers smiled. “It wouldn’t be a minor matter to you if you were in charge of keeping the peace in a rural town. Think about it. For the most part you’d be relying on South Korean translators, and probably technical experts, to get the water running and electricity flowing. Could you trust what the translators were saying? Could you trust the people he spoke with to be open and honest?”
“Good points,” said Tyler.
“I assume you were pointing out the obvious and not buttering me up.”
Tyler laughed. As they turned toward the administrative building where they’d been assigned space, an MP came up in a Hummer.
“Major Tyler?”
“That’s me.”
“Sir, I need you to come to the secure communications center.”
Tyler started to tell the soldier that he would be along after checking in with the rest of his group, which was waiting inside. But before he could say anything the MP added, “Major, you’re wanted on the line to Washington immediately.”
Tyler was surprised to find that the call wasn’t from the Pentagon but rather an NSC staffer, who immediately began quizzing him about Tacit Ivan. The major answered the questions warily; he’d of course heard what had happened to Howe and was afraid that someone — maybe even Howe — was being set up as a sacrificial lamb for the failure of intelligence that had led to the botched mission. After a few routine questions about when they’d arrived there and how his men had infiltrated the field, the staffer began asking questions about the airstrip.
“Were you close enough to the field at Pong Yan to see into the hangar at the southeastern end?”
“Personally?” asked Tyler.
“Yes, sir.”
“I couldn’t see inside. But I didn’t have an angle to look at it. I wasn’t on the base.”
“Who was?”
Tyler gave the names of the team that had infiltrated the abandoned base. The staffer then asked if Tyler had seen UAVs at the field, or heard about them.
“You mean, flying reconnaissance for us?” asked Tyler. “We were there by ourselves.”
“No, sir, I mean based at the field. North Korean assets.”
“Not that I know of.”
“Yes, sir. Please hold the line.”
Before Tyler could say anything, Dr. Blitz came on the line.
“Ken, how are you?”
“I’m very well, sir,” he said cautiously.
“You saw no UAVs at the field?”
“No, sir.”
“Are you in a position to get up there now?”
“I, uh, can be if you want me to.”
“I do. Colonel Brott will get back to you with whatever orders you need. The sooner the better on this,” added the national security advisor. “Tomorrow morning if not tonight.”
“Yes, sir,” said Tyler. “Right away.”
“One other thing, Major. You enlisted Colonel Howe in the operation, didn’t you? Initially,” added Blitz.
“Yes, sir. He was the only person qualified to fly the aircraft. It was suggested by one of the CIA planners on the mission staff originally who’d been briefing the Russian flights; they had been touring the country the week before.”
“Was he eager to go on the mission?”
“I think he wanted to do his duty. The, uh-to be candid, Tacit Ivan wasn’t seen exactly as the first choice.”
“Did Colonel Howe know that?”
“He might have figured it out.”
“Did he push it?”
“No, sir. He just answered questions, that sort of thing. At one point I think he did volunteer to go — I mean, that was kind of implicit in his coming over, since he would have known that he was the only pilot available.”
“But you suggested the mission.”
“We suggested it to him, yes.”
“Very good,” said Blitz. “On this UAV project: You report directly to me. No one else is authorized to receive the information. Anything you need to do to accomplish the mission, anyone you want along — well, you know the drill. But otherwise strictly need-to-know. Strictly.”
“Okay.”
“Stand by for Colonel Brott.”
Chapter 2
Andy Fisher believed strongly in the value of sharing intelligence with brother agencies. Especially when cooperation might lead to the rapid conclusion of a case.
“Great bagels on Fourteenth Street,” he told Kowalski, dropping the bag on his desk at the Defense Intelligence Center in D.C. The DIA agent had returned to D.C. following the press conference announcing the sarin bust.
“Fisher, you got past security without being arrested? I can’t believe it.”
“Yeah, pretty slack. Hey, these are nice digs,” he said, glancing around. “You’d never know it used to be a laundry room.”
