Had Thera screwed up? Had the people in Washington? Had something happened to the defector?
Most likely, no one would ever know. No one would care, probably, unless something else screwed up — if the choppers couldn’t make it back because of the weather.
A good possibility, Rankin thought, giving one last glance toward the road. The he turned and ran for the Little Bird.
Inside, he pulled off his sodden campaign hat and looked at the pilot.
“Ready, Skip?”
“Let ‘er rock.”
The rotor blades began churning above his head. The other helicopter took off first, twisting backward toward the ship they were supposed to rendezvous with to the south.
Rankin held on as the Little Bird bucked forward, stuttering in the wind. The wall loomed in front of them, suddenly taller than it was in real life, a trick of the shadows dancing in the rain. As Rankin stared at it, something seemed to shoot across their path.
“Flip the searchlight on,” Rankin told the pilot.
“Searchlight?”
“I think there was something back by the wall, near the road.”
Silently, the pilot complied, circling back.
There was nothing by the wall. Rankin had seen an optical illusion, a shadow thrown by the helicopter, but further down the road, a tiny figure appeared, waving its hands,
“There,” he told the pilot, pointing. “There. Let’s get him.”
ACT III
The wide, dark road leads to hell,
The narrow to Buddha's Heaven.
1
Past time: Sonjae’s eyelids looked like disheveled bedcovers sagging toward the floor.
Ferg reached over and killed the machine midsong.
“Ready for some rest?”
“Sounds good,” mumbled the former FBI agent. “Real good.”
Ferguson gave him a thumbs-up. Despite hitting nearly every bar and karaoke joint within five miles of Science Industries, they hadn’t come across the secretary he’d stolen the ID tag from the night before. Nor had he seen any Science Industries employees, or at least none who had admitted to Sonjae that they worked there.
A disappointment.
One of the managers came over as they were getting ready to leave and began peppering Sonjae with questions.
“He’s asking if everything was OK,” Sonjae told Ferguson. His Korean had started to improve, though he was a long way from being comfortable with it.
“Perfect.” Ferguson handed over his credit card. “Except, Sinatra was a off-key.”
“I don’t think I can translate that exactly,” said Sonjae.
“The hotel’s a couple of blocks away,” Ferguson told him. “You’ll be snoozing in a few minutes.”
“Great.” Sonjae shook his head, trying to clear it. “What do you have in mind for tomorrow?”
“We need to make a few phone calls, visit an apartment building, and look for nosey neighbors. Then I have you booked on an eleven a.m. flight to the States.”
“I’m going home?” Sonjae asked as they walked up to the limo. The driver was sleeping in his seat.
“I need you to deliver a few things for me.”
“Like what?”
“Dirt, mostly.”
2
“The president may already have the votes he needs,” Hannigan told Senator Tewilliger and Josh Franklin, the assistant secretary of defense. “My count shows the treaty will pass by two votes.”
The senator nodded. There was one thing you needed to be able to do in Washington to succeed — count — and Hannigan was a genius at counting.
“Even if we lose this one vote — admittedly it’s a big vote and I’m not ready to give up on it yet,” the senator told the assistant secretary of defense, “but even if we lose it, we’re not going to give up. Korea is the fulcrum of Asia, and it will be for the next ten years. We can’t lower our guard against North Korea.”
“I absolutely agree,” said Franklin. “I was afraid you wouldn’t. I got the impression in New Hampshire that the president was convincing you to change your mind.”
“The president can be very persuasive,” said Tewilliger, “but he hasn’t persuaded me on this.”
“You haven’t made a statement against yet.”
Tewilliger glanced across his office at Hannigan.
“Going public in a speech might actually do more harm than good,” said Hannigan. “Right now, McCarthy isn’t exactly sure what he’s up against. He’s courting the senator, spending time with him rather than with other people who might actually be persuaded.”
Franklin nodded.
“Right before the vote, that’s the time to declare your intentions,” said Hannigan, turning to the senator. They’d actually discussed this several times, but the aide made it seem as if this was a new idea. “When you can have some impact.”
And when the media might actually be paying attention. A speech, a press conference, an appearance on the
“Do you think the North Korean regime is as weak as people are claiming it is?” Tewilliger asked Franklin, changing the subject.
“I wouldn’t trust that,” said Franklin. “That sort of intelligence seems to go in cycles. Besides, if they are weak, that’s an argument for taking a stronger stand.”
“Invasion?” asked Hannigan.
“If it comes to that.”
