Code Word: Paternity, A Presidential Thriller (24 page)

Martin’s mind said what his lips did not:
You should think, too, Ming! Think what
it would mean for China if
the U.S.
went to war with your younger cousin. Think about the face in that!

Instead, he said: “Thank you for that,
Ming. I pray your efforts with Kim will be successful, because the effects of
war between America and China’s younger
cousin—and neighbor—are unpredictable. I think we truly are balanced now
between a bright future for our two countries and a disaster for both of us.
Let us choose wisely, despite Kim’s efforts to divide and confuse us.”

Scowling, Ming said, “We have an under
standing
that will prevent difficulties. We will
issue the joint statement immediately and send our representative to Kwajalein. I will be my most persuasive with Kim if our
joint inspection of the bomb proves it to be his.”

“This has been an excellent discussion,
and we have reached important agreements. Good day, Ming.”

“Good evening,
Rick.”

Martin looked anxiously at Battista,
Dorn, and Guarini. “Any reactions?”

“Well, he agreed
to the deal we wanted, Mr. President,” said Battista.

“That’s not quite what I heard,” said
Dorn. “He agreed to give it a try, then reminded you what a big stake China has in
the DPRK. I think he was signaling that he’d ask but wouldn’t hold a gun to
Kim’s head.”

“It’s important that he agreed to send a
representative to Kwajalein!” said Battista.
“I think we have some leverage if it turns out to be a Chinese bomb design.”

“That was certainly better than if he’d
refused our offer,” said Guarini. “Now, Anne and John, if you’ll excuse us,
it’s time for the president’s meeting with the vice president.”

Rick felt his stomach, which had just
subsided, flame again.

Chapter 44

They had decided on a show of power, so
the president was seated behind his desk, with Guarini to his right and
Attorney General McDonnell to his left, when Dottie Branson ushered in the vice
president.

Griffith
gestured at the three, saying, “Looks
like the firing squad for me! Do I get a last cigarette and a blindfold?”

The jab stung Martin.
So here I am, the guy who’s never needed
more than wits and words to face anyone, now presenting myself in the panoply
of commander-in-chief. But, dammit, I
am
commander-in-chief and this man is challenging me head-on!

Rick tried to lighten it up: “Sorry,
smoking isn’t permitted in federal buildings. How about a Nicorette?”

 
“May I sit?” said Griffith, his disregard for Martin’s attempt
at humor shouting his message: ‘Fuck you.’

“Of course, Bruce,” said the president,
ignoring it. “We’re here for a discussion, not a sentencing.

“Bart, you called this meeting. Get us
started, please.”

The chief of staff felt sweat bead at his
hairline, not only from the situation, but from the fear he didn’t dare reveal.
He spoke as he’d rehearsed: “Sir, after you left the NSC meeting yesterday, the
vice president questioned your fitness to serve as president, indicated he had
doubts you were up to the task. To be fair, he did so reluctantly and in the
context of what he believes is mortal danger to our country. But he did it
nonetheless, in front of the entire group. In view of that, I asked him to
return to Washington
immediately and meet with you.”

Griffith
waved a big, blunt-fingered hand.

“Bart, there’s no need recounting what
I’m sure the three of you have reviewed on video several times! Look, I know I
was way out of line as vice president yesterday. Because you left suddenly, Mr.
President, I had no opportunity to express those views to you. But, had you
stayed, I would have. I wasn’t speaking because you had left; I was speaking
because America
is fast running out of time to take measures that may,
may,
preserve it in some semblance of what it was when this
administration took office.”

Don’t let him bait you,
said the same voice that had spoken
during his encounter with Kim.

The VP charged on: “We’ve got to get
Kim’s hand off the nuclear trigger. Every minute he remains in control of the
DPRK is a minute in which hundreds of thousands more Americans could die!”

Rick’s mind acknowledged that Griffith had just said
what many Americans believed, something he couldn’t dismiss out of hand. But
his answer boiled up from someplace else, someplace he rarely visited.

“Bruce, surely you don’t believe there’s
a button on Kim’s desk connected to bombs in the U.S.! Save the sensationalism for
your next press conference!”

Griffith
hurled his response like a rock: “Mr.
President, surely
you
don’t believe
any longer we have the time or leverage to negotiate our safety with Kim!”

The two glared at each other. The
attorney general took notes, scribbling furiously. Guarini started to speak,
but Martin beat him to it.

“Look, Bruce,” he said in a calmer voice,
“I
don’t
believe we can negotiate Kim
into giving up his nukes. He has to go and he
will
go. I just had an important conversation with Ming Liu. He
agreed to pressure Kim into stepping down, going into exile, and working with
us to replace him with someone who’ll give up the country’s nukes.”

I wonder what you gave away to get
that? thought the VP.

But he said
only, “I’m glad to hear that, sir.
When
do you expect Kim to leave?”

“Soon. Within a
couple of weeks.”

Yeah,
right,
thought Griffith,
who leaned forward in his chair, elbows on knees, fists clenched, eyes mocking.
“How many things has Kim promised to do and then not done, in the last twenty
years? What’s your backup? What will you do if Kim is still running the country
fifteen days from now?”

This time Rick contained his anger and
thought of the long conversation he and Ella had had the night before:
Then, I’ll have to protect our tribe. I
might as well tell you, because I won’t have any choice if it happens.

“I’m not setting a deadline of exactly
fifteen days. But if we can’t pressure him into stepping down, I’ll use force
to remove him.”

Griffith
looked surprised, seemed to relax a bit.
But inside, he was on high alert.
I don’t
believe him, but I’m not going to say that here, with the tapes running.

“Well, I worry about letting him stay
even for two weeks, but I guess we’re on the same page. I’m very glad to hear
that, sir.”

Then Martin said, “And now
I’ll
be glad to hear your pledge to stop
bad-mouthing your president!”

The VP’s eyes bulged in his suddenly red
face. “If what you mean by bad-mouthing is disagreement, I won’t give that
pledge!”

The president stood up behind the big
desk crowded with symbols of his power, placed his hands on either side of the
blotter, leaned forward with blazing eyes. “Dammit, Bruce, you
know
what I mean!”

Griffith
visibly considered his reply, then rose
and said, “I will not question your ability to do the job unless you fail to
take adequate action, should Kim remain in power past the deadline you just
gave.”

“Deadline is your word, Bruce, not mine!
I haven’t set a deadline, but I think two weeks will tell whether Ming can talk
him out.”

They stood glaring at each other as
McDonnell continued to scribble.

Guarini gazed in horror at the spectacle
of a vice president going toe to toe with his president, arguing as an equal.
Has this ever happened before?
he
wondered.
Probably between Nixon and
Ford, maybe between the Clintons
and Gore, and in each case impeachment was on the wind. These two are very
nearly out of control.
He swallowed hard, eyes roaming the room vacantly.
I’ve got to end this! But how?

 
McDonnell, the silent scribe, kept his head
down.

Dottie Branson’s voice startled them:
“Mr. President, it’s time for your meeting with the Wisconsin Cheese Queen,
accompanied by Senators Presley and Robbins and Representative Bays,
in the Roosevelt Room.”

Martin looked as if she had just pulled
him back into his body, and he was surprised to find himself standing.

Griffith
’s face turned even redder, then his
shoulders shook. Unable to suppress it, he began to guffaw. Suddenly they were
laughing until tears came.

Griffith
regained control. “If it’s not one damn
thing, it’s another, isn’t it, Mr. President?”

“That’s right, Bruce. Sorry to end this
discussion, but now I have to do something
really
important!”

As Rick walked toward the Roosevelt Room,
Dottie moved to his side. She whispered, “I made that up, Mr. President. It
sounded to me like you gladiators needed to break.” She turned and walked
rapidly toward her desk.

Martin had just settled in his private
office when Guarini’s head and shoulders leaned in. He saw that his friend’s
once starched collar had wilted and knew his own had, too.

“So, Bart, she
fooled you, too!”

“Yeah, and thank heaven I didn’t open my
big mouth when I realized that
wasn’t
on
your schedule!

“Something else I held my tongue about
was that timeline for Kim. When did you decide that?”

“Last night.”

Guarini was silent, waiting for more.
When nothing came, he said, “Have you told Eric and John?”

“No. I guess I’d
better do that!” Rick flashed his disarming grin.

“Yeah, you
should.

“So now what’s
your take on the vice president?”

“Bart, I believe he’s a patriot like you
and me but sees things through a different lens. We’ve stopped him encouraging
impeachment talk, but he’ll start again if Kim doesn’t give it up and step down
soon.

“And I think—and that’s why I gave the
timeline—it will stiffen Ming’s resolve knowing there
is
one and that military planning to remove Kim is underway.”

“How’s Ming
going to know that?”

“Because you,
Bart, will orchestrate the necessary leaks.”

“Am I leaking
nuclear?”

“No, you are
not.
”

The chief of staff bit his tongue. Rick
was threatening military action when the only effective military action was
something
he
refused even to discuss.
Eric was going to love that, not to mention Premier Kato when he got wind of
it! And what about the fear he didn’t dare name, even to himself?

About to unburden himself, he realized
his friend’s brittleness, knew he couldn’t imagine the pressure Rick felt, and
said instead, “OK, boss,” with as much spirit as he could muster.

***

“It saddens me that the Arabs are
incompetent,” said Kim, belching gently after swallowing a last bite of sashimi
prepared by his excellent Japanese chef. “Too bad for them! As for us, we are
accomplishing our objectives. I met President Martin and frightened him with
the strength and determination of our beloved Korean people. Then I made him
lose face at the UN. He has made threats, but they have only strengthened the
ardor of our people to defend our homeland. And those same threats have thrown
the fools in the south into confusion and terrified the Japanese. Our elder
cousins to the north are a disappointment because they have supported the
illegal blockade, but I know they cannot afford to let the American pirates
prevail.”

Supping with Kim were his youngest son,
designated to succeed him in the indefinite future, and Field Marshal Young-san
Ho, head of Kim’s military. Gazing at Young-san with the menacing
inscrutability of a python, Kim said, “Tell me, Comrade Field Marshal, what is
the state of your preparations?”

Young-san, who had attained his rank by
always having the right answer for Kim, said, “Dear Leader, our soldiers have
sworn to become human bombs and bullets, to hurl themselves against the enemy.
Our pilots have pledged to shoot down ten for every loss to them. Our brave
sailors are ready to put to sea in swarms of fast attack boats and submarines.
We are ready!”

“And our missile
strike forces?”

“Also ready, Dear Leader! At your command
they will destroy Seoul, Pusan,
Osaka, Sasebo, Yokohama, and Tokyo.”

Kim’s eyes grew opaque as he looked
inward at firestorms and shock waves and ruined cities blazing.
I have the powers of a god. Even my father
could not have done what I can!
He felt a rush of achievement.

“Thank you, Comrade Field Marshal. Remain
alert! The call may come at any time.”

Chapter 45

Ming Liu patrolled his garden, hoe ready.
I enjoy caring for this plot so much!
he
thought
,
savoring the smell of earth
wet from a summer shower.
I wish I could
pluck China’s
problems as easily as weeds! Kim is pushing Martin closer to the worst for us,
a nuclear attack. He’s a fool, and like most fools he leaves it to others to
deal with the consequences of his follies. My duty to protect China won’t
even leave me in peace to tend my vegetables for an hour!

He threw down the hoe, startling the aide
who hovered at the edge of the plot. His mind recycled conversations with
Kim—telephone conversations because he refused to come to Beijing. Kim had turned aside both compliments
and threats. He would not leave the DPRK for a retirement of honor and luxury
in China.

Ming stooped and cupped a ripening tomato
in both hands, then picked up the hoe and resumed patrolling.

Throughout their conversations Kim was
cheerfully confident. He knew he occupied Martin’s every waking moment, which
gave him face after so many years of being ignored by American presidents. He
feared nothing from American power but a nuclear attack, and he was absolutely
certain—in fact he was gleeful about it—that he had shaped American public
opinion so as to prevent it.

Kim boasted about the videos he was using
to control Americans’ perceptions. He was especially pleased with his latest.
It featured two Korean children playing a haunting duet of “You Were Born to be
Loved” on violin and piano, standing near the altar of a Christian church. The
genius of this one, Kim bragged, was that the video would also appeal to South
Koreans because the song was popular there and was in fact written by a South
Korean.

There!
Ming slashed so hard the
handle vibrated.
Kim deceived me about
the second bomb! He was willing to let his elder cousin, who protected him,
lose face. Kim gambles with the very existence of life on the Korean peninsula,
betting the Americans won’t retaliate a hundred-fold, as they could in a
single, cataclysmic instant. Only a crazy man would risk that!

Of
course, we
do
have agents high up in the DPRK. But they
are Korean after all, taught by a lifetime of conditioning to venerate Kim. So
there are limits to what they will do for China. And they lack commitment;
mostly they are working for us to ensure themselves a safe haven, should Kim
turn on them for some imagined transgression.

There
are too many questions: Can I have Kim assassinated? Could I control what
happened if I did? Could China
seize the DPRK’s nuclear bombs and end its capacity to build others? Would China have to
deploy half its army to keep millions of starving, brutish North Koreans from
crossing our border?

Those
are huge unknowns carrying big risks—big for me if I order certain measures
taken and big for China.
I don’t want to gamble at those stakes!

The
worst of it was Martin’s demeanor when I gave him the bad news! He was
defeated, resigned to the failure of his diplomacy and ready to use force to
remove Kim. He even asked whether I had the means to “surgically
remove”—meaning assassinate—Kim. Of course I gave a rambling non-reply, but
Martin’s response was alarming: “Then I am now left only with terrible means to
protect my country and must use them soon.”

China
is caught between a desperate man and a crazy one!
Ming stood stock-still, gazing across
his plot with unseeing eyes.

Still,
I doubt Martin would order an invasion to remove Kim, much less a nuclear
strike. So much of his life, and his entire presidency before Six-thirteen, has
been about how dialogue and the glue of common humanity could defuse even deep
hatreds. I don’t believe that, but I think Rick Martin probably does.

And
Huang Bo told me that a significant minority of Americans, including an
influential part of Martin’s political base, angrily reject attacking North Korea:
War is not the answer. Find another way. We don’t have to kill Korean children
to protect American children.

 
Ming snorted.
Fine sentiments, artfully planted and nurtured by Kim, but having no
place in the real world—except America, where Huang is certain they are deeply
felt by groups that Martin can’t ignore.

The
English have a saying: the leopard cannot change its spots. I hope they are
right!