Never, page 35
Gus spoke in his most emollient voice. “Madam President, if I may say so, I think you will find the narrative helpful.”
If Gus said so, it was true. “All right. Carry on, Mr. Hare.”
Hare continued as if he had hardly noticed the interruption. “Yesterday Chang flew to Yanji, a town near the border with North Korea. We know this because the CIA station in Beijing has hacked the airport computer system.”
Pauline frowned. “He used his own name?”
“For the flight out, yes. However, when he came back he either used a false name or took an unscheduled flight; either way his return doesn’t appear in the system.”
“Perhaps he didn’t come back.”
“But he did. This morning at eight thirty Beijing time, one of our agents there called his home, posing as a friend, and Chang’s wife said he’d gone to the office.”
Pauline was interested, despite her dislike of Hare. “So,” she said thoughtfully, “yesterday he made a trip that at first seemed routine but became either urgent or high security or both, and he went to his office early this morning, a Sunday. Why? What else do you know?”
“I’m getting to that.” Again the irritation. He was like a college professor who did not like his lecture to be interrupted by students with foolish questions. Sophia looked embarrassed but did not say anything. Hare went on: “Earlier today South Korean radio reported that North Korea’s elite Special Operation Force had raided an unnamed military base in an attempt to seize antigovernment protestors. Later, Pyongyang announced that a number of American-controlled traitors had been arrested at a military base, again not identified.”
“This is partly our doing,” Pauline said.
Chess spoke for the first time. “Because we tightened up sanctions on North Korea, after the Chinese defeated our resolution on arms sales.”
“Which damaged the North Korean economy.”
“That’s the purpose of sanctions,” Chess said defensively. It had been his idea.
“And it worked better than we expected,” Pauline said. “The North Korean economy was weak in the first place, and we made it fall off a cliff.”
“If we didn’t want that to happen we shouldn’t have taken the action.”
Pauline did not intend for Chess to see this as an attack on him. “I made the decision, Chess. And I’m not saying it was a wrong move. But none of us thought it would trigger a rebellion against the Pyongyang government . . . if that’s what this is.” She turned back to the CIA analyst. “Carry on, please, Mr. Hare. You were saying that there was a conflict in the reports over whether any arrests had actually taken place.”
“A conflict that was resolved two hours ago—late afternoon Korean time, predawn here,” said Hare. “A reporter for KBS1, the most important South Korean news channel, is in touch with the so-called traitors—who, by the way, are not American controlled.”
“More’s the pity,” Gus interjected.
“The station broadcast an interview, filmed over the internet, with a North Korean army officer who claimed to be one of the rebels. He was not named, but we have since identified him as General Pak Jae-jin. He said that no one had been arrested, the Special Operation Force had been driven off, and the rebels were in control of the base.”
“Did the report say which base?”
“No. And there are no satellite pictures of this morning’s skirmish, because it’s winter and there’s cloud cover over the entire region. But he was filmed in the open air, with buildings behind him, so we compared what we could see with existing photographs and other information about North Korean army bases, and we were able to establish that this one is called Sangnam-ni.”
“That name rings a bell,” Pauline said. “Isn’t it a nuclear missile base?” Enlightenment dawned. “Oh, Christ,” she said. “The rebels have nuclear weapons.”
Gus said: “That’s why we’re here.”
Pauline was silent for a few moments while the news sunk in. Then she said: “This is very serious. Actions? I think my first move should be to speak to President Chen of China.”
The others nodded.
She looked at her watch. “It’s not yet eight p.m. in Beijing, he won’t be asleep. Jacqueline, please book that call.” The chief of staff went into the next room to make the arrangements.
Chess said: “What are you going to say to Chen?”
“That’s the next big question. What do you suggest?”
“First of all, he could give us his assessment of the danger.”
“I’ll certainly ask. He should have more information than we do. He must have talked to Supreme Leader Kang at least once in the last twelve hours.”
Hare said scornfully: “He won’t have gotten much out of Kang. They hate each other. But Chen’s intelligence service has been working hard all day, just as we’ve been doing all night, and they’re just as smart as we are, so he should have learned something from his man Chang Kai. Whether he’ll share it with you is another question.”
That did not require a response from Pauline. She said: “What else, Chess?”
“Ask him what he plans to do about it.”
“What are his options?”
“He could propose a joint Chinese and North Korean attack force to retake the Sangnam-ni base for the Pyongyang government in a lightning raid.”
Hare spoke again, uninvited. “Kang won’t go for that,” he said dismissively.
Unfortunately, Pauline thought, he’s right. She said: “All right, Mr. Hare, what can the Chinese president do, in your opinion?”
“Nothing.”
“And what makes you think that?”
“I don’t think it, I know it. Anything the Chinese do will escalate the situation.”
“Regardless of that, I’m going to ask him if there’s anything the United States or the international community can do that he would find helpful.”
Hare said: “So long as you first say: ‘I do not wish to interfere in the internal affairs of another country, but . . .’ The Chinese are obsessive about that.”
Pauline did not need a lesson in diplomacy from him. “Mr. Hare, I think we can let you go and get some sleep.”
“Yeah, sure.” Hare slouched to the door and went out.
Sophia said: “I apologize for his manners. No one likes him, but he’s too smart to fire.”
Pauline had no interest in discussing Hare. She said: “We need to make a decision about putting the US military on alert.”
Gus said: “Yes, ma’am. Right now everything is on DEFCON 5, normal readiness.”
“We should raise that to DEFCON 4.”
“Heightened intelligence watch and strengthened security measures.”
“I don’t like doing this, because the media overreact, but in this instance it’s inevitable.”
“I agree. And we may need to move South Korea up to DEFCON 3. Last time it was used in the US was on 9/11.”
“Remind me, what’s the difference between four and three?”
“Crucially, in DEFCON 3 the air force must be ready to mobilize in fifteen minutes.”
Jacqueline came back in. “The translators are in place, and we’re getting Chen on video.”
Pauline looked at her computer screen. “That’s quick.”
“I guess he was expecting your call.”
Pauline scribbled notes on a pad—Sangnam-ni, nuclear, Special Operation Force, no arrests, regional stability, international stability—then there was a chime and Chen appeared. He was in his office, seated at a vast desk, with China’s red-and-yellow flag over his shoulder and a painting of the Great Wall behind him.
Pauline said: “Good day to you, Mr. President, and thank you for taking my call.”
Through the interpreter he replied: “I’m glad to have the opportunity to talk to you.”
In informal situations Chen had chatted to Pauline in English quite comfortably, but in a conversation such as this they had to be absolutely sure they were not misunderstood.
Pauline said: “What’s going on in Sangnam-ni?”
“I’m afraid an economic crisis has been caused by the American sanctions.”
They were United Nations sanctions, and there would have been no crisis if not for the lousy Communist economic system, Pauline thought, but she did not say it.
Chen continued: “In response, China is sending emergency economic aid to North Korea in the form of rice, pork, and gasoline.”
So we’re the bad guys and you’re the good guys, Pauline thought; yeah, yeah, yeah. But let’s get down to business. “We understand that the Special Operation Force was defeated with no arrests. Doesn’t that tell us that the rebels are in control of nuclear weapons?”
“I cannot confirm that.”
Which means yes, Pauline thought, and her heart sank. Chen would have denied it if he possibly could. “If it turns out to be true, Mr. President, what will you do?”
“I will not interfere in the internal affairs of another country,” Chen said sternly. “This is a cardinal principle of Chinese foreign policy.”
It was cardinal bullshit, Pauline thought, but she put her point more subtly. “If a rogue group has nuclear weapons, there is surely a threat to regional stability, which must concern you.”
“At present there is no threat to regional stability.”
Stone wall.
Pauline tried a shot in the dark. “What if the rebellion spreads to other military bases in North Korea? Sangnam-ni is not the only nuclear facility there.”
Chen hesitated for several moments, then said: “Supreme Leader Kang has taken firm action to prevent such a development.”
That statement, woodenly formulaic, actually contained a hidden revelation, but Pauline suppressed her excitement. She decided to bring the conversation to a close. Chen had been closemouthed, but—as often happened—he had inadvertently told her something she needed to know. She said: “Thank you for your help, Mr. President. As always, a conversation with you is a pleasant duty. Let us stay in close touch.”
“Thank you, Madam President.”
The screen went dark and Pauline looked at Gus and Chess. Both looked animated. They had drawn the conclusion too.
She said: “If the rebellion was confined to one base, he would have said so.”
“Exactly,” said Gus. “But Kang took firm action, which means that firm action was called for, because the rebellion has spread.”
Chess agreed. “He must have sent troops to the base at Yongdok, where nuclear warheads are stored. And rebels there must have fought back. Chen did not say that government forces had prevailed, he said merely that Kang had taken steps. That suggests the situation is unresolved.”
Gus said: “Kang is focused on the most important bases—but those are the places the rebels have targeted too.”
Pauline judged it was time to move on. “I’d like more information. Sophia, make sure our signals intelligence people are reading everything we can pick up from North Korea. Gus, check our latest information on North Korea’s nukes—how many, how big, things like that. Chess, talk to the foreign minister of South Korea in case she has insights—she may know things we’ve missed. And I need to put out some kind of announcement about this—Jacqueline, get Sandip in here, please.”
They all left. Pauline thought about how best to explain the situation to the American people. Everything she said would be misrepresented and distorted by James Moore and his cheerleaders in the media. She needed to be crystal clear.
Sandip appeared a couple of minutes later, padding into the room in his sneakers. Pauline briefed him on Sangnam-ni.
“This can’t be kept under wraps,” he said. “The South Korean media are too good. Everything will come out.”
“I agree. So I need to show Americans that their government is on top of the situation.”
“Will you say that we are ready for nuclear war?”
“No, that’s too alarmist.”
“James Moore will ask the question.”
“I can say we’re ready for anything.”
“Much better. But tell me what you’re actually doing.”
“I spoke to the president of China. He’s concerned but says there’s no danger of regional destabilization.”
“What action is he taking?”
“Sending aid to North Korea—food and fuel—because he thinks the economic crisis is the real problem.”
“Okay, practical if undramatic.”
“It won’t do any harm, at least.”
“What else are you doing?”
“I don’t think this will have immediate repercussions for the US, but as a precaution I’m raising the alert level to DEFCON 4.”
“It’s all very low-key.”
“That’s how I want it.”
“When would you like to talk to the media?”
She looked at her watch. “Is ten o’clock too soon? I want to be out in front on this.”
“Ten it is.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you, Madam President.”
* * *
Pauline enjoyed press conferences. By and large, the White House correspondents were intelligent men and women who understood that politics was rarely simple. They asked her challenging questions and she tried to give them honest answers. She enjoyed the cut and thrust of debate when it was genuinely about the issues and not just posturing.
She had seen historic photos of past press conferences, when the correspondents were all men in suits with white shirts and ties. Now the group included women, and the dress code was more relaxed, with the TV crews in sweatshirts and sneakers.
Pauline had been nervous at her very first press conference, twenty years ago. She had been a Chicago city alderman. Chicago was a Democratic city, and Republican aldermen were almost unknown, so she had run as an independent. Because of her record as a champion gymnast, she had become an advocate for better athletic facilities, and that was what her first press conference had been about. Her nervousness had not lasted long. As soon as she’d gotten into discussion with the journalists, she’d relaxed, and before long she had made them laugh. After that she was never nervous again.
Today’s event went according to plan. Sandip had told the correspondents that Pauline would not answer questions about her daughter, and that if anyone asked such a question, the press conference would immediately come to an end. Pauline half expected that someone would break the rule, but no one did.
She talked about her conversation with Chen, she told them about DEFCON 4, and she finished with the words she wanted them to take home: “America is ready for anything.”
She answered questions from the senior correspondents and then, with just a minute or two left, she called on Ricardo Alvarez from the hostile New York Mail.
He said: “Earlier today James Moore was asked about the crisis in North Korea and he said that in these circumstances America needs to be led by a man. What do you say to that, Madam President?”
There was a chuckle around the room, though Pauline noticed that the women were not laughing.
The question did not surprise her. Sandip had told her about Moore’s misogynist remark. She had said it was a blunder that would deprive Moore of many women’s support, and Sandip had said: “My mother thinks he’s right.” Not all women were feminists.
Anyway, she did not want to get into a discussion with the press corps about whether a woman could be a war leader. That would allow Moore to define the terms of the argument. She needed to bring it back to her own territory.
She thought for a long moment. An idea came to her, but it was a little off-the-wall. However, she decided to go with it. She leaned forward and spoke in a more informal voice. “Have you folks noticed,” she said, “that James Moore never does this?” With a broad sweep of her hand she indicated the correspondents massed in the room. “Here I have the networks and the cable channels, the broadsheets and the toxic tabloids, the liberal and the conservative media.”
She paused and pointed at the questioner. “Right now I’m responding to a question from Ricky, whose paper has never had a good word to say about me. What a contrast with Mr. Moore! Do you know when he last gave an in-depth interview on network television? The answer is never. He has never facilitated a profile of himself in The Wall Street Journal or The New York Times or any of the mainstream newspapers, to the best of my knowledge. He takes questions only from his friends and supporters. Ask yourself why that is.”
She paused again. She had thought of a zinger to finish with. Did she want to be aggressive? Yes, she decided. She resumed before anyone could interrupt. “I’ll tell you what I think. James Moore is scared. He’s frightened that he won’t be able to defend his policies against a serious interrogator. And that brings me right back to your question, Ricky.” Here comes the zinger, she thought. “When the chips are down, do you want America to be led by Timid Jim?”
She paused again, briefly, then said: “Thank you, everyone.” And she left the room.
* * *
Pauline had dinner with Gerry and Pippa in the Residence that Sunday evening, looking out at the streetlights of Washington, while people in Beijing and Pyongyang were getting up in the dark on a winter Monday morning.
The Residence cook had made curried beef, Pippa’s new favorite dish. Pauline ate the rice and the salad. Food did not excite her, nor did booze. Whatever was put in front of her, she would eat or drink a little.
She asked Pippa: “How are you getting on with Ms. Judd now?”
“Old Judders is off my case, thank God,” Pippa said.
If Pippa was no longer attracting the attention of the school principal, it probably meant that her behavior had gotten better. It was the same at home: there had been no more rows. Pauline thought the improvement might be due to the threat of home schooling. Regardless of how much Pipa rebelled, school was the center of her social life. Pauline’s talk of a tutor had served as a reality check.
