of problems.”
“Amen to that,” said Secretary of State Jackson Steele.
Josh Franklin fidgeted in his seat, and continued to do so as the chairman of the joint chiefs of staff concurred with Stich’s recommendation.
“Josh, did you have a point?” asked Manzi.
Franklin glanced at his boss before speaking. Until the last two or three months, the two men had gotten along very well. Things would probably be different from now on.
So be it.
“Whatever the situation is north of the border,” said Franklin, “whatever their motivation, this gives us an opportunity to deal with North Korea once and for all. If we act quickly, we’ll never have to worry about them again. Strike their nuclear capability, wipe out their artillery at the border, just take them completely down.”
“If we were successful,” said the secretary of state. He ran his ebony fingers through the thick curls of his white hair. “A
The assistant secretary of defense continued, laying out the case for a preemptive strike in a calm tone, though the action he proposed was anything but. Corrine glanced at Tuttle, wondering if she would come to Franklin’s defense as the others began poking holes in his argument.
She didn’t. Her boss told the group that he agreed with the secretary of defense, and Tuttle sank lower in her seat.
“Are we agreed then?” said Manzi, as the conversation became repetitive. “We go to alert but hold off on aggressive action?”
She looked around the room. “Then that’s the recommendation I’ll take to the president.”
Belatedly, she glanced at the vice president, who nodded.
Corrine took her time packing her things as the meeting broke up. She fell in alongside Parnelles as he walked out of the room.
“Mr. Director,” she said.
“Ms. Alston, how are you?”
“Fine.”
“I’m glad you’re taking an interest in foreign affairs.”
“The president asked me to sit in. In case there was anything of interest regarding the treaty.”
“Yes. He mentioned he would do that. Was there?”
“Not directly. Though if news of this comes out, it won’t help.”
“No. But I would suggest it’s a matter of when, not if.”
Corrine nodded. It wasn’t simply that many people knew about it; now that a decision had been reached on what to do, there was bound to be dissension.
“Any word on Ferg?” she asked.
“I’m afraid not. We think we know now where they stayed during the visit. Park uses a hunting lodge northwest of the city. But the satellite photos show nothing unusual there.”
“Van suggested a mission to North Korea,” said Corrine. “Can we go there?”
“Out of the question.”
“Is it?”
Parnelles stopped, glancing around to make sure they were alone in the hall. His eyeballs seemed to bulge slightly as they moved, before returning to their sockets as he fixed his gaze on her.
“The great problem here, Corrine, is that Mr. Ferguson is entirely expendable. We can’t decide what to do based on the small possibility that we might get him back.”
“I understand that. But—”
“There are no buts,” said Parnelles. “His father was my closest friend. I’ve known Bobby since he was born. Don’t you think I want to save him? Duty comes first. The fires of war, Corrine, they always burn what we love.”
He turned and walked away, a much older man than the one who’d come to the meeting.
22
Thera scanned the room for bugs as soon as she got back to the hotel. Still wearing her slinky dress, she collapsed in the chair and called The Cube to report in.
“Are you OK?” were the first words out of Corrigan’s mouth.
“Of course I’m OK.”
“It’s past one o’clock there.”
“Well, I didn’t get lucky, if that’s what you’re trying to ask.”
“Jeez, Thera.”
“Park tried to buy me off. He claimed Ferg had business with people in the North, but then he tried to buy me off. And intimidate me.”
Thera described the dinner and Park’s house, recalling the conversation almost word for word.
“I want to talk to other people who were on the trip, and I want to bug his house. The security there didn’t look all that difficult to get around.”
“I have to clear that first.”
“Why?”
“I just do. Anything that’s going on in Korea, I have to clear.”
“They stayed in some sort of lodge near the capital and hunted. Park’s family owned it. Can you find it?”
“We already did. Ciello made the connection a few hours ago.”
“Well, let’s go search it.”
“We can’t, at least not until we get evidence that he’s there.”
“Screw waiting. Where else could he be?” said Thera. “We should kidnap the son of a bitch Park and find out what the hell happened.”
“You can’t do that, Thera,” said Corrigan. “Jesus. Don’t do that.”
“We should.”
“Listen. You’re supposed to concentrate on the plutonium now. Slott says—”
“Whose side are you on, Corrigan?” she said angrily. “Ferg is part of the team. I can’t just leave him.”
“We’re not leaving him.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“We’re all on the same side.”
“Then act like it. If we don’t do something, he’ll be dead.”
Thera ended the call, fearing Corrigan might say the obvious: There was a very good chance Ferguson was already dead.
23
Ferguson lay face up on the cot, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember the Chaucer he had learned with the Jesuits in prep school.
Whan that Aprille with his schowres swoote
The drought of Marche hath perceed to the roote,
And bathud every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertue engendred is the flour; —
