“You’re on the line with the White House situation room,” said Corrigan.
Corrine waited for Slott to say something.
Slott, waiting for her, remained silent.
“I hope there is nothing wrong with this line,” said the president finally.
“Mr. President,” said Slott. “The First Team has stopped the aircraft. We are in the process of securing the weapon.”
“There
“Yes, sir.”
“Good work, Mr. Slott. How long will it take before the bomb is secured?”
“We’re going to use a marine helicopter to airlift it out,” said Slott. “We want to bring it to one of our assault ships offshore. It will take a few hours.”
“I would imagine that securing that weapon is a tricky thing.”
“Yes, sir. One of our people has experience with that,” he added, referring to Ferguson. “But, uh, every weapon is different.”
“Are the North Koreans in a position to stop us?”
“We don’t believe so at this time. We’re monitoring the situation closely. There are no units nearby. There’s a great deal of confusion in the capital.”
“You will tell me the moment the weapon is in our complete control aboard our ship,” said McCarthy.
“Yes, sir, I will.”
“We will keep a careful watch until then, and do nothing to alert either country.”
“I can’t guarantee we can keep this a secret,” Slott said.
“Then we had best move as quickly as possible,” said McCarthy. “Miss Alston, are you on the line?”
“Yes, sir, I am.”
“Job well done to you as well.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said, cringing as she heard Slott click off the line.
33
The idea was rather simple; the trick was in its execution. Fortunately, Thera’s plan relied heavily on the billionaire’s ego, which was commensurate with his wealth.
“I am calling from the BBC,” she told Park’s official spokesman by phone. ‘‘We have heard that the South Korean military has been put on alert because of a possible attack by the North. We would like to arrange an interview with Mr. Park on the situation because of his prominence. His opinion will be of great importance to the business community internationally.”
Thera hoped to worm Pack’s location out of the man or, failing that, to set up a trace on her line when Park came on to be interviewed. But the PR man did even better than she expected: He invited the BBC reporter and camera crew to Park’s home at six a.m. for an interview.
“A very complex situation, and Mr. Park can surely shed important light on it,” said the aide.
“We’ll be there,” said Thera.
She punched off the phone. It was half-past two; they were about thirty minutes from the compound.
“You have time to refuel,” Thera told the pilot. “I have some calls to make.”
34
So it was done.
Years of planning and maneuvering. The difficult arrangements with the scientists, the companies, the Northerners, the mobsters and criminals like Manski, so repulsive and yet so necessary — it had all paid off. The plan would be well underway by now. In less than an hour, the people of Korea would have their revenge and be launched on the road to reunion and strength.
Park knew he would not get any credit for it, but credit was never his goal or desire. It was enough to know what had been accomplished.
The billionaire ordinarily had no use for TV, especially the news. But he could not resist the pleasure of seeing the newscasters’ response to and coverage of the destruction of Korea’s traditional enemy. He went to his office and turned on the small set he kept there, surfing through the channels, though by his calculations it would be at least a half hour before the aircraft would reach Japan.
The half hour passed slowly. Park flipped through the channels, waiting.
Another half hour. He settled on a Japanese station, reasoning that it would carry the news first.
Nothing.
Another half hour. He flipped to CNN. The network was playing a feature about shearing sheep.
Park once more began flipping idly through the channels. There should be news any moment. Any moment.
The phone rang.
Park glanced at the clock on the desk before answering. It was nearly four.
“Something has gone wrong,” Li told him. “The Northern troops haven’t moved as planned. Namgung is not in the capital. And Tokyo—”
“Yes,” said Park, putting down the phone.
35
“Rankin is aboard the
Corrine glanced at her watch. It was precisely 2:15 p.m. — a quarter past four in Korea. She punched the line to connect with Slott.
“Give Thera the go-ahead,” Slott said.
Corrine nodded to Corrigan.
“Why don’t you talk to the president this time?” Slott said. “I’m in the middle of something.”
“Sure,” said Corrine.
Corrigan made the connection.
“Mr. President, Dan Slott asked me to tell you that the bomb is aboard the
“Well done, dear. We will give your people forty minutes to complete their task, and then I will call Yeop Hu in Seoul. After that, I will share what we know with the American public. It has been a difficult time,” added McCarthy, “and I expect a few more difficult moments ahead. But you have all done yeoman’s service. Yeoman’s service.”
“Jonathon, there’s one thing you should know about where some of the information came from on this,” said Corrine. “There was an e-mail that we think, that I think, came originally from Park or one of his people. It was sent to Senator Tewilliger. He gave it to me, and I gave it to the CIA.”
“Gordon was involved in this?”
“Indirectly. And probably unwittingly.”
“Well now,” said McCarthy, “isn’t that a fine, fine twist in the old bull’s tail.”
“Sir?” Corrine had never heard that expression before.
