The Target (13 page)

T
HE THREE MEN WERE IN
the White House Situation Room again. And once more the NSC Watch teams had been walled off. There were no recordings being made. There were no other attendees. No official transcript would be kept.

Evan Tucker looked at the president, and the president stared back at him. The latter had not been told why this meeting had been called, only that it was urgent and needed to take place immediately. That was why they were sitting here now and why the president had canceled four meetings that he had been scheduled to attend.

“Care to take me out of the dark, Evan?” the president said in a clearly annoyed tone.

Josh Potter had already met with Tucker and thus knew what was coming. He had been uncomfortable not informing the president directly since he was the president’s man, but Tucker had browbeaten him into letting the DCI make the briefing.

And, in truth, Potter did not want to be the messenger on this debacle.

Tucker cleared his throat, which lately had felt like mold was growing there. He clasped his hands together and rubbed his two thumbs against one another so hard they turned bright pink.

“There have been developments of a critical nature related to the mission and none of them are good.”

All the color seemed to drain from the president’s face. He barked, “Explain that.”

Tucker said, “As you know, Lloyd Carson was the British envoy assigned to the embassy in Pyongyang. He has been our chief go-between with General Pak. Really our only go-between.”

The president said, “And I was initially incredulous. He should’ve gone to his own government with this. Then my esteemed colleague at 10 Downing Street could have dealt with it.”

“And as I explained, Carson was well aware that no one in his country would have the stomach to follow this through. So with his leader’s blessing he presented the opportunity to us.”

The president closed his eyes, his top row of teeth clamping onto his bottom lip. When he opened his eyes, his look was one of fury. “It always falls to us, doesn’t it? The good old USA, the world’s policeman. We’ll do the dirty work while everyone else stays safely on the sidelines. And if things go to hell feel free to turn on us or simply run away.”

Tucker nodded and said, “Superpower status carries great responsibility and much of it is unfair. But the fact remains we did follow it up because we saw a tremendous opportunity to get rid of a regime that has been a thorn in the civilized world’s side for decades. We knew there were risks, but we all felt that the benefits outweighed them.”

“Save the cover-your-ass speech, Evan,” snapped the president, “and tell me what happened.”

Tucker sat back and composed himself. The president had read him exactly right. That
was
his CYA speech, but at least he had said it.

“Lloyd Carson apparently got on the radar of the North Korean’s state security people.”

“How?”

“The entire country is one huge pool of paranoia where everyone spies on everyone else, sir. That’s built into their psyche from the cradle. It truly is like Orwell’s novel.”

“So he got on their radar. Then what?” said the president tersely.

“He was traveling outside the country. He had stops along the way, so he flew to Istanbul and boarded the Orient Express, which would take him first to eastern Europe and then on to western Europe, ending in Venice.”

“But he didn’t finish his ride?”

“He apparently felt compromised in Romania and got off. He went to a hotel. In his room there he was attacked. And killed.”

“My God,” exclaimed the president, and then he waited for Tucker to continue.

“Apparently he had called a number shortly before he was murdered.”

“Whose number?”

“General Pak’s. It was a special phone, untraceable.”

“All right. So what exactly is the problem?” said the president, looking puzzled.

“Apparently, their agent called the number. General Pak, thinking it was Carson, answered. And the agent recognized his voice.”

“Shit!” roared the president. “Are you serious, Tucker? That’s how it went down?” He slumped back in his chair, his eyes closed once more.

Tucker and Potter exchanged anxious glances. Each man was probably thinking about what his next career might be. Certainly it would be outside government.

Without opening his eyes the president said, “And if Carson was murdered and no one other than us knew about this mission, how did we learn about all this?”

Tucker knew the question was coming and he had prepared many answers, some longer than others. He had decided the shortest response would be the best.

“General Pak. When he learned that Carson had been murdered, he immediately recognized his mistake in answering the phone and reported to us.”

The president opened his eyes. “So what exactly does North Korea intend to do?”

“Well, this is only conjecture, but I imagine that they intend to tell the world what the plot was. That Western powers were planning to assassinate their Supreme Leader and install General Pak as the new leader. And even though Carson was a Brit, the term ‘Western powers’ would obviously include us.”

“And who would believe that?”

“Well, we’ve done it before,” pointed out Tucker. “In other countries.”

“But not for a long time,” replied the president. “That’s why there’s a law now that—” He broke off and muttered “Shit” again.

“Great Britain is our closest ally. No one would believe they would act without us on something like this,” added Potter.

“They will torture Pak and his family until he tells all he knows,” said Tucker. “He will have details, facts that will substantiate his position. He will tell them of the video conference here where you gave him your word—”

The president slammed his fist against the tabletop. “Don’t throw that in my face, Tucker; this is your screwup and yours only.”

“I absolutely agree with you, sir. Only—”

“Only what!” snapped the president.

Potter spoke, perhaps feeling that as the president’s advisor he needed to, well, advise. “Only the ultimate blame will fall to you, sir,” he said in an apologetic tone.

The president put a hand to his face and said, “Harry Truman, right? Buck stops here?”

Potter nodded and eyed Tucker severely. “Unfair, sir, but true. The DCI won’t be the main target. You will.”

The president opened his eyes and looked at Tucker.

“We certainly hoped for better, sir,” said Tucker lamely.

The president sighed and said resignedly, “So they tell the world. All right. They torture Pak and he gives them ammo for it. All right. I guess we wait and counterpunch when the blow comes. Do we know what the timing will be? I assume they already have Pak in custody.”

“He’s not in North Korea,” answered Tucker.

The president shot him a glance. “What?”

“He left North Korea both on official business and because of a medical condition that needed tending to and which he felt foreign doctors were better suited to treat. Because of his position within the leadership he was able to do that.”

“Well, where the hell is he?” sputtered the president, evidently still trying to process all of this.

“He’s in France.”

“But with what the North Koreans know, won’t he already be under arrest there?”

“He would have been, except he has unofficially left his entourage and is now in hiding.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me this before?”

“Because I needed you to fully understand the situation, sir, before I started to present possible solutions.”

Potter spoke up. “If he’s in hiding and not under North Korean arrest, why don’t we simply go get him and put him in hiding permanently?”

“With what explanation?” asked Tucker.

The president said, “Why the need for explanation at all? They don’t have to know that we have him.”

“Then they’ll simply release publicly that we attempted to use Pak to overthrow the government in violation of both international law and our own laws. And that we are now harboring him and granting him asylum in the United States.”

“And they won’t have a shred of proof.”

“Sir, they do not deal in facts. But consider this. If they do make the allegations, it will stir up a lot of attention. As you’ve said, Carson was a Brit. That will entangle our allies in London. He goes missing in France. Our Paris colleagues will be targeted. No one will believe that they acted without the United States. The media will have a field day. They will leave no stone unturned. Questions will be asked. Answers will have to be given. And if the truth comes out?” He looked at both Potter and the president. “I personally do not want to go to prison over this.”

The president jerked to his feet, put his hands in his pockets, and began to pace, agitation all over his features. “I can’t believe this situation, I really cannot believe that I allowed myself to be put in this…in this untenable,
bullshit
position.”

“I think that we must remain calm and think this through,” said Potter, though his face was very pale.

The president stopped pacing and looked derisively at his aide. “Easy for you to say, Josh. Your participation in this will amount to no more than a stupid footnote in history. I’ll take the major hit. I’ll be the president in disgrace.”

Potter’s face turned bright red. “Of course, sir, I did not mean to imply otherwise. I—”

The president held up his hand and dropped into his seat. “Just…don’t,” he said wearily. He looked at Tucker. “So what are you proposing?”

Tucker took a moment to compose his reply while the president and Potter watched him closely. “I propose that we target and kill General Pak while he is in France and then blame it on the North Koreans.”

The president gaped. “Kill him? But I gave the man my word. I—”

Tucker broke in. “That was then and this is now. And besides, I blame Pak for this. He must’ve known Carson was compromised. He never should have answered the damn phone. He screwed up. And when you screw up you pay the price.” He looked at both men. “Well,” he said breathlessly, “this is the price.”

“His death? His murder?” said the president.

“How does that help us?” asked Potter.

“Power struggles occur in North Korea all the time. There was a recent assassination attempt on Un that failed. We can tie all that to Pak and wrap it up neatly. With that as an alternative explanation and with the help of our allies I believe we can effectively turn this around and throw it right in their faces. We can argue that they’re blaming us for something they did. General and blanket denials without the need to get into specifics that might come back to haunt us, all based on Pak as the scapegoat.”

The president was about to say something and then stopped as he continued to mull this over.

Neither Potter nor Tucker seemed inclined to break the silence.

“This is a choice that would befuddle Solomon,” the president said at last. “A choice between awful and terrible.”

“Yes, sir,” agreed Tucker.

“If we do what you propose, it must be now.”

“I have my team in place. They can be deployed at once.”

The president cast him a sharp glance. “Robie and Reel?”

Tucker nodded. “Robie and Reel.”

More silence passed.

Finally, Tucker said, “Sir, have you made a decision?”

The president didn’t speak right away. When he did, his voice was weak and resigned. “I really can’t believe this is happening. But it is. We’ve gone far enough down this road that there’s no turning back.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Well, at least we didn’t start a war, right? No American has died.” His face was ashen as he said this.

“Not yet,” muttered Potter under his breath.

“No, sir,” replied Tucker firmly.

The president rose and without looking at Tucker said, “Do what you have to do. And when this is all over, start thinking about a career outside of my administration, Tucker. You’re done.”

Then he walked out of the room.

T
HEY WAITED. THEY HAD BEEN
waiting for some time now.

Reel looked at Robie and he glanced back at her. Then both their gazes turned to the door, which was opening.

They had expected to see DD Marks standing there, and were startled when, instead, it was DCI Evan Tucker.

He strode briskly in with an air of calm and authority. He unbuttoned his suit coat, sat down, and opened the bottle of water waiting for him there. He turned to an aide who had walked in with him.

“Coffee.” He looked at Robie and Reel. “You two want anything to drink?”

Reel shook her head, her lips pursed, her arms folded in front of her. Robie said, “No, thanks.”

Tucker waited for the aide to bring the coffee and leave, closing the door behind her. Then he turned to them after taking a sip.

“I understand that you both made it through the Burner Box with flying colors,” he said pleasantly. “Congratulations.”

“Does that mean we’re done?” asked Reel.

Tucker seemed surprised by this. “Didn’t the DD tell you?”

“She said a mission was coming and things had to be sped up,” answered Robie while Reel simply stared at the DCI.

“Well, I might not have been entirely clear with her,” conceded Tucker.

“And why isn’t she in this meeting?” asked Robie. “She runs the ops.”

“She doesn’t run all the ops,” corrected Tucker. “I’m the DCI.”

“So what’s the mission?” asked Robie.

“Yes, what
is
the mission, Director?” asked Reel pointedly.

Tucker took another swig of his coffee, uncapped the water, and took a drink from that too. Both Robie and Reel saw the beads of sweat on his forehead although the room was very chilly.

“I wanted to tell you personally,” began Tucker. “Heightened rules of secrecy will apply to this.”

“So high the DD isn’t in the loop?” asked Reel.

Tucker licked his lips. “I didn’t say that.”

“So who
is
the
target
?” asked Robie.

Tucker indicated computer screen panels built into the table in front of them. He hit some keys on his panel, and the screens in front of Robie and Reel came to life. They looked down at them and saw a photo of a man there.

Tucker said, “His name is General Pak Chin-Hae. He is vice marshal, chief of the North Korean Army’s general staff, and he helps to run the Central Military Committee, arguably the most powerful body in the country.”

“And he’s the target?” asked Robie. “Why?”

“You don’t have to know why, Robie,” snapped Tucker. “Have you learned nothing while you’ve been at the Burner? You follow orders. You don’t do analysis. Your job is to pull the trigger, not question those who tell you to do so.”

A few moments of silence passed before Tucker said, “I’m sorry. We’re all under a lot of pressure. We need to work together. Just be assured that this target has to be eliminated. It’s in the national security interests of this country.”

Robie looked over at Reel. She said, “Okay, he has to die. Does this mean we go to North Korea? If so, how do we get in and how do we get out? Or is that not in the game plan, the ‘getting out’ part?”

Tucker cleared his throat. “I understand the concerns you might have after Syria.”

“That’s good to hear, sir,” replied Robie.

“But I met with you before to assure you that this is not personal. This mission is for the greater good. Nothing gets in the way of that.”

“So, where is the target?” asked Reel.

“The target will not be in North Korea.”

“Where, then?”

“He’s currently in France. He traveled there for a medical procedure. The hit will take place there.”

“A medical issue and he went to France?” pondered Robie. “Why not China? Or Russia? They’re buddies with Pyongyang.”

“I really didn’t bother to find out why,” said Tucker curtly. “And hitting him in either of those places would have been far more problematic and perhaps resulted in dangerous international turmoil.”

“We’re taking out basically the number two guy in North Korea and you don’t think there’ll be international turmoil?” said Reel incredulously.

“We’re not going to announce that it’s us, for God’s sake,” said Tucker. “We’re not the only enemies that North Korea has. There’s a long list, actually. And that cover I think will be enough.” He added, “We’re going to lay the blame elsewhere. We might very well lay it at the feet of North Korea itself. Un has many internal enemies. It’s not a stretch to think one of them could have plotted against him and he took his revenge. No one will find out we did it.”

“When is all this taking place?” asked Robie.

Tucker took another sip of coffee and fiddled with the top to his bottled water.

“You leave tonight.”

Robie and Reel both stared at him incredulously.

Tucker finally lifted his gaze to meet theirs. “I understand that it’s not the usual amount of time for an op like this.”

“It’s not even close, actually,” said Robie.

“The SEALs did bin Laden on short notice,” the DCI pointed out.

“The target site there had been under eyes for a long time. There were plans. The squad was ’coptered in. They hit hard and fast. There was no cover-up or finger pointing. We wanted the world to know we’d done it,” Robie responded. “What you’re asking from us is far more challenging.”

“Yes, I admit that is a difference,” said Tucker.

“What sort of support will we have from the locals?” asked Robie.

“None,” said Tucker. “You’re going in naked.”

“And the exit plan?” said Reel. “You never really addressed that.”

“There
is
an exit plan.”

“You’re sure about that?” asked Robie.

“And with no local help?” Reel added.

Tucker’s features darkened. “You managed to get out of Syria and back home without the benefit of any local help,” he barked, momentarily losing his temper. He took another gulp of water and wiped his face.

“And the margin for error there was so narrow as to be nonexistent,” said Robie. “We hoped for better this time around.”

“There will be assets there to help you. Our assets. We will get you out. That I promise.”

Reel leaned forward and studied him. “And why the change of heart, Director? You go from waterboarding us to try and get a signed confession to being concerned for our personal welfare.”

“I already explained that to you,” Tucker said in an exasperated tone. More calmly he added, “Things have changed.”

Reel sat back. “Yes, I think they have. This isn’t the original mission you’d envisioned. Something happened and now we’re being sent in to clean up a mess.” She leaned forward again. “So what was the original mission?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” replied Tucker.

“Sure you do. It’s as plain as the spooked look in your eyes and the beads of sweat on your forehead.” She paused and added, “Does the president know?”

Tucker rose and gripped his coffee. “You’ll receive training briefs in a few minutes. Once you get to France you will do a practice scenario and come up to speed on every aspect of the op. You will do the hit and you will return home.” He paused. “You do that,” he said, staring directly at Reel, “and all will be forgiven.”

Reel stood too and looked directly back at him.

“That’s very nice, Director, only I don’t remember asking for your forgiveness.”