They had little experience of war, Kai reflected. The last time the Chinese military had been involved in serious fighting had been 1979, during a brief and unsuccessful invasion of Vietnam. Most of the people in the room had never witnessed what they had just seen on video, thousands of people being killed deliberately and violently.
The anger and grief of the people in the room would be matched by ordinary citizens, Kai felt sure. The desire for revenge would be strong here and even greater on the streets, among the people whose taxes had paid for the aircraft carrier. The Chinese government had to retaliate. Even Kai thought that. They could not overlook the killing of so many Chinese people.
General Huang said: ‘At a minimum, we must sink one of their aircraft carriers in retaliation.’
As usual Kong Zhao, the young defence minister, sounded the cautious note. ‘If we do that, they will sink another of ours. One more round of that tit-for-tat and we will have none left, whereas the Americans will still have –’ he thought for a moment – ‘eight.’
‘Will you just let them get away with this?’
‘No, but I think we might pause to reflect.’
Kai’s phone rang. He left the table and found a quiet corner of the room.
It was Ham. He said: ‘The South Koreans are taking over the city of Pyongyang. General Pak has left.’
‘Where has he gone?’
‘To his original base at Yeongjeo-dong.’
‘Where the nuclear missiles are.’ Kai had seen them, the day he visited: six of them, lined up on their giant launch vehicles.
‘There’s a way you can stop him using them.’
‘Tell me, quick.’
‘You won’t like it.’
‘I bet.’
‘Get the US to make the South Korean army pull back from Pyongyang.’
The suggestion was radical, but it made a kind of sense. For a moment Kai said nothing, thinking.
Ham added: ‘You have contacts with the Americans, don’t you?’
‘I’ll call them, but they may not be able to do what you want.’
‘Tell them that if the South Koreans don’t withdraw, Pak will use nuclear weapons.’
‘Would he?’
‘It’s possible.’
‘That would be suicide.’
‘This is his last shot. It’s all he has left. He can’t win any other way. And if he loses they’ll kill him.’
‘You really think he might use nuclear weapons?’
‘I can’t see what’s stopping him.’
‘I’ll do what I can.’
‘Tell me something. Give me your opinion. What are the chances that I’m going to die in the next twenty-four hours?’
Kai felt he owed Ham an honest answer. ‘Fifty–fifty,’ he said.
‘So I may never live in my new house,’ Ham said with quiet sadness.
Kai felt a tug of compassion. ‘It’s not over yet,’ he said.
Ham hung up.
Before calling Neil, Kai returned to the stage. ‘General Pak has left Pyongyang,’ he said. ‘The South Koreans are now in possession of the capital.’
President Chen said: ‘Where did Pak go?’
‘To Yeongjeo-dong,’ said Kai. He paused, then added: ‘Where the nuclear missiles are.’
*
Sophia Magliani, the Director of National Intelligence, had been speaking on the phone, and now she said: ‘Madam President, if I may.’
‘Please.’
‘You know we have a back channel in Beijing.’ A back channel was what they called an unofficial, informal means of communication between governments.
‘I do, of course.’
‘We’ve just learned that the rebels have abandoned Pyongyang. South Korea has won.’
‘That’s good news – isn’t it?’
‘Not necessarily. All General Pak can do now is deploy his nuclear weapons.’
‘Will he do that?’
‘The Chinese believe he will – unless the South Koreans withdraw.’
‘Jesus.’
‘Will you talk to President No?’
‘Of course.’ Pauline looked at Chief of Staff Jacqueline Brody. ‘Put a call in, please, Jacqueline.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘But I don’t hold out much hope,’ Pauline added.
President No Do-hui had achieved her lifetime ambition: she had reunited North and South Korea under one leader – herself. Would she give that up under threat of nuclear attack? Would Abraham Lincoln have given up the South after winning the civil war? No, but Lincoln was not threatened by nuclear weapons.
The phone rang and Pauline picked up and said: ‘Hello, Madam President.’
No’s voice resonated with triumph. ‘Hello, Madam President.’
‘Congratulations on your splendid military victory.’
‘Which you tried to talk me out of.’
In some ways it was a disadvantage that No spoke such good English. Her fluency enabled her to be more assertive.
Pauline said: ‘I fear that General Pak may be about to snatch that victory away from you.’
‘Let him try.’
‘The Chinese think he will use his nuclear weapons.’
‘That would be suicidal.’
‘He may do it all the same – unless you withdraw your troops.’
‘Withdraw?’ she said incredulously. ‘I’ve won! The people are celebrating the long-awaited reunion of North and South Korea.’
‘The celebration is premature.’
‘If I order a retreat now, my presidency won’t survive the day. The army will revolt and I’ll be usurped in a military coup.’
‘What about a partial withdrawal? You could retreat to the outskirts of Pyongyang, declare it a neutral city, and invite Pak to a constitutional conference to discuss the future of North Korea.’ Pauline was not at all sure that Pak would accept that as a basis for peace, but it was worth a try.
However, No was not going to give it a chance. ‘My generals would see that as an unnecessary surrender. And they’d be right.’
‘So you’re willing to risk nuclear annihilation.’
‘We all risk that every day, Madam President.’
‘Not like this, we don’t.’
‘In the next few seconds I have to speak to my people on television. Thank you for your call, and please excuse me.’ She hung up.
Pauline was momentarily stunned. Not many people hung up on the president of the United States.
After a moment she said: ‘Can we get South Korean TV on our screens, please? Try YTN, it’s the all-news cable channel.’
A newsreader appeared, speaking Korean, and after a pause real-time subtitles were shown at the bottom of the screen. Somewhere in the White House, Pauline realized, there was an interpreter who could do simultaneous translation from Korean to English and type the result on a keyboard.
The picture changed to an unsteady shot of a bomb-damaged city filmed from a vehicle, and the subtitles said South Korean forces have taken control of Pyongyang. A hysterically excited reporter was sitting on a moving tank, holding a microphone and shouting to camera. He was wearing a military helmet with a suit and tie. The subtitles dried up, perhaps because the interpreter could not make out what the reporter was saying; but commentary was superfluous anyway. Behind the reporter’s head Pauline could see a long line of military vehicles on what was evidently a main road into the city. It was a triumphal entry into the enemy capital.
Pauline said: ‘Hell, I bet Pak is watching this and burning up inside.’
The inhabitants of Pyongyang were staring from windows and open doors, and a few bold ones had the courage to wave, but they did not come out onto the streets to celebrate their liberation. They had lived their lives under one of the most repressive governments in the world, and they would wait until they were certain of its demise before they took the risk of showing their feelings.
The TV picture changed again, and Pauline saw the severe grey hairdo and lined face of President No. As always, she had beside her the South Korean flag, white with a red-and-blue taegeuk, the emblem of cosmic balance, surrounded by four equally symbolic trigrams. But now the blue-and-white Unification Flag stood on her other side. It was an unmistakable statement: she now ruled both halves of the country.
However, Pauline had been in President No’s office, and this was not it. No was in an underground bunker, Pauline guessed.
No began to speak, and the subtitles returned. ‘Our brave soldiers have taken possession of the city of Pyongyang,’ she said. ‘The artificial barrier that has divided Korea since 1945 is coming down. Soon we will be in reality what we have always been in our minds: one country.’
She’s doing well, Pauline thought, but let’s hear the specifics.