“Let’s hope it doesn’t,” said Tewilliger. “I think we can be firm without necessarily going to war.”
“Hopefully,” said Franklin.
“So let’s not give up,” said the senator, getting up from his desk.
“No, of course not.” Franklin got the hint and glanced at his watch. “I better get going. I still have a few more stops to make on the Hill.”
“Keep in touch, Josh,” said Tewilliger, showing him to the door.
“What do you think?” he asked Hannigan after closing the door.
“I think he wants to be defense secretary in a Tewilliger cabinet.”
“Probably.” The senator chuckled. “You don’t think he’s a McCarthy plant, do you?”
“Nah.”
“He was with him in New Hampshire. They seem reasonably close.”
“Franklin goes back to the last administration. I think he’s being honest.”
In Tewilliger’s opinion, McCarthy was easily devious enough to send one of his people out to stalk for opinions, pretending to be opposed to the treaty to find out what he was really thinking. Probably Franklin was truly against the treaty, Tewilliger decided… but only probably.
“You know, if the treaty were to be defeated, I doubt anyone would get a better one,” said Hannigan, getting up to go back to his own work.
“Probably not,” conceded the senator. “Fortunately, that’s not really our problem.”
“Not yet.”
“The future will take care of itself,” said Tewilliger. “Don’t be so pessimistic.”
“I’m not,” said Hannigan, closing the door.
3
The USN LHA-5
To Rankin, though, the USS
The Little Birds had come here after refueling aboard a frigate about a hundred miles off the Korean Coast. A CIA debriefer was due out any minute to meet Rankin and their “guest,” who’d said very little before going to sleep earlier that morning.
“Helo’s landing now, sir,” said the ensign assigned to liaison with Rankin. “If you follow me, you can meet your party on deck. You’ll want to watch those knee knockers.”
Knee knockers. What the hell were they?
Rankin followed the woman out to the flight deck, lifting his feet carefully over the metal thresholds — knee knockers — that came up from the deck to make the doors watertight.
A cold wind punched him in the face as he stepped outside. He turned to the side and was almost knocked down as a pair of marines passed quickly inside. The ensign grabbed hold of him and, smiling, pointed him in the direction of the helicopter as it landed.
The chopper was a bright blue Sikorsky, civilian, leased especially for the purpose of bringing the interrogators to the ship. The pilot was a CIA contract employee who had retired from the navy and was used to shipboard landings; he’d put down marine MH-53s on this very same deck. The helo swooped in, hovered for half a second then settled gently on its wheels.
The rear door opened, and two men in light jackets hopped out, holding their heads down as they ran out from under the still-rotating blades.
The helicopter lifted off before they reached Rankin.
“You Colonel Rankin?” said the first man.
Rankin, who was wearing civilian clothes, snorted, but decided not to correct him. “Yeah, I’m Rankin.”
“You got a prisoner?”
“He’s not a prisoner; he’s a defector.”
“Yeah, that’s what I meant. I’m Gabe Jimenez. This is John Rhee. He’s a Korean language specialist.”
“OK.”
“Can we get goin’? I’m freezin’ my nuts off here,” said Jimenez.
“Yeah, let’s go,” Rankin said, turning to the ensign to show them the way.
The touch seemed to come from the other side of the world. It pulled Tak Ch’o from a deep sleep, almost as if he had been ripped from the womb. He woke startled, unsure where he was.
“Sir, there are some people who would like to see you,” said the young man standing over him. “I brought some tea. I can get you some breakfast.”
Ch’o stared at the sailor.
What had happened to the IAEA people? Why was he on a military ship?
“I have some fresh clothes, sir,” said the man. He pointed to a set of Western-style khaki pants and shirt on the desk. “If they’re not your size we’ll get you some. Some slippers and socks as well.”
Ch’o nodded slowly.
“Are you all right, sir?” asked the sailor. “Sir?”
“Yes.” Ch’o’s voice sounded thin and weak, even to him.
“I’ll just be outside when you’re ready.”
The sailor, who knew nothing about the Korean scientist except that he was to be treated with the greatest respect, smiled and went out to wait for him in the narrow hall outside the cabin.
Ch’o put his hands on the clothes. As he did, a heavy sense of doom gripped him.
What had he expected? He thought the girl would be there, the other scientists he had met. Not soldiers.
He’d seen the world; he knew America wasn’t in charge of everything. They didn’t run the IAEA or the UN.
But here they were.
What should he do? All his life, Ch’o had heard that the Americans were evil incarnate, the enemy not just of his country but of the entire world. And now they had him.
They’d been kind last night. But of course they would be — it was a trick.
The enormity of what he had done paralyzed Ch’o. He’d always been a logical man, but now his emotions overwhelmed him. He thought of his ancestors’ graves, never to be tended again.
Their spirits will turn their backs on me, he thought. I’ve shamed them and cut myself off from my family.
He sat back on the bed, unable to move. After a few minutes, the sailor outside cleared his throat.
“Sir?”
Ch’o stared at the wall in front of him. Perhaps if he stared long enough, he would slip into a hole where nothing he did mattered any more.
Rankin found Ch’o sitting motionless on his cot, exactly as the sailor had described.
“Sir? Mr. Ch’o? It’s Stephen Rankin. I’m the guy that picked you up last night.”
Ch’o didn’t respond. He barely heard the words.
