When The Devil Whistles (42 page)

That was all right. He had been prepared for much worse fates when he took this mission: torture, death, life in prisons much worse than Guantanamo. The Americans probably wouldn’t even interrogate him much—he was already telling them everything they wanted to know. Well, almost everything.

There was a perfunctory knock at the door. Before Kim said anything, it opened and two men walked in. One was slender, white and wore a dark blue suit. The other was Asian, fat, and wore a rumpled gray suit.

“Good morning,” the thin man said as he and his companion sat in guest chairs. The fat one put a tape recorder on the square bedside table, opened a small laptop computer, and nodded. “My name is Tim Jones,” continued the thin man, “and this is Andy Ban. I’m with the CIA and Mr. Ban is with the South Korean National Intelligence Service. We’re here to talk to you about the voyage of the
Grasp II
and related events.”

“I already spoke to the government.”

Jones nodded. “Yes, you talked to Homeland Security and the FBI. We’re different agencies, Mr. Cho.”

Ban leaned forward. “Which brings us to our first question. You’re name isn’t really David Cho, is it?”

“No.”

“In fact, you are Lieutenant Young Moo-hyun of the South Korean Navy, correct?”

That was not correct, but Kim nodded.

“So, Lieutenant Young, why were you on board the
Grasp II
pretending to be North Korean?”

“Because Captain Ryu asked me to go on a secret mission.”

“Who is Captain Ryu?”

“He was my commander during the mission. He called himself Mr. Lee on the ship.”

“What did Captain Ryu tell you about the mission when he asked you to volunteer?”

“That we would strike a major blow against our enemy to the north.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

Ban nodded and looked down. He typed energetically as Jones took over the questioning. “When did he first tell you that you would be impersonating North Korean military officers?”

“Two days before we came to America. He said we would have documents showing that we were—” he struggled for the right word “not military. Businessmen. We would also have secret papers saying we were North Korean soldiers.”

“Did you find it strange?”

“I do not understand.”

Jones leaned back and steepled his long white fingers. “Well, Lieutenant Young, weren’t you curious why you would be going to America pretending to be North Korean soldiers pretending to be civilian businessmen?”

“I—” Kim coughed and then paused for several seconds to recover his breath and decide how to answer. “I trusted Captain Ryu.”

“It did not occur to you that Captain Ryu might be planning to commit some outrageous act and make it look like North Korea was responsible?”

“He did not tell us the plan until we were on the ship. Then I knew.”

“What did he say?”

“He said we would lift nuclear warheads from a sunken Soviet submarine. We would take them to America and explode them in San Francisco. He said we would do this on the same day America planned a test of the missile defense system in Hawaii. It would look like North Korea saying, ‘Your missile defense cannot stop us.’ ”

“Did he really think that a warhead that had been underwater for twenty years would still work?”

“They were sealed in a missile, but he knew the bombs would need very big repairs. We had two engineers with us who worked to fix them. Even if they could not make the full chain reaction, they could explode much radioactive material over San Francisco.”

Jones frowned. “But North Korea would deny any involvement.”

“Yes, that is what Captain Ryu thought also. North Korea would deny that they had done this, but there would be American witnesses who would say they saw North Koreans do it. Captain Ryu told us to make ‘mistakes’ in front of the Americans—to leave North Korean documents where they could be found. Also, the captain said that when the money for the ship was investigated, it would look like it came from North Korea.”

“I see. What did Captain Ryu think would happen next?”

“He said America would act the same way it acted after September 11. It would attack the terrorists’ country and change its government.”

Ban stopped typing and looked up. “He really wanted to start a war with North Korea?”

Kim nodded. “He said the South had lived in fear of the North for too long. He said our people should be reunited, like the Germans. Then—”

“But the cost of a war! The millions who would die!” Ban’s face was pale and his mouth quivered slightly. “The North would destroy Seoul in an hour!”

“He thought the Americans would destroy the North in half an hour. America would think the North had attacked with nuclear weapons, so America would attack back with nuclear weapons. Some people in the South might die, but mostly the North’s army. It would be destroyed before it could fight.”

Silence filled the room for half a minute, punctuated by an oath from Jones.

Finally, Jones cleared his throat. That seemed to break the spell for Ban, who started typing again. “Do you know whether Captain Ryu was acting on orders from anyone?”

Kim didn’t know, but it couldn’t hurt to push the blame as far up the ladder as possible. The more trouble he could make for the South Korean militarists, the better. “Chain of command is very important to Captain Ryu. He would not do a thing like this without orders.”

“Do you know who gave those orders?”

“For something this important, I am thinking the Blue House.”

Ban stared at him. “The Blue House? You believe this plan was approved by the President of South Korea himself? Why? What evidence do you have?”

“Starting a war is a very big decision. A soldier, even a general or admiral, could not make it by himself.”

Ban and Jones exchanged a look. “Thank you for your opinion, Lieutenant Young,” said Ban. “We will look into this further.” He nodded to the CIA agent.

“How much do you know about the company that owned the ship and dock facilities?” Jones asked.

“Very little. Captain Ryu worked with them.”

“Do you know whether the company was aware of Captain Ryu’s plans?”

“I don’t. The men on the ship did not know, but I think some guessed.”

Jones crossed his legs. “And the executives?”

“I don’t know. If the bombs went off in San Francisco, many of them would die, so I don’t think they knew.”

“Yes, that makes sense.”

“Captain Ryu once said he liked the company because they did not ask questions and knew what to do to people who did.”

Jones’s eyebrows went up. “I see.”

Ban leaned forward. “Let’s go back to your story. What did you do when you learned Captain Ryu’s plans?”

“While we were at sea, I could do little. I tried to help two crewmen send a message to the American navy, but they were caught.”

“Granger and Daniels?”

“Yes. They thought we were North Koreans, so Captain Ryu said they must be locked in a hold until we are in America. Then we let them escape after we exploded a bomb in San Francisco.”

A look of sudden understanding came over Ban’s face. “But you helped them escape early.”

“Yes.”

“And you gave them something?”

“Yes, a USB drive with files showing Captain Ryu’s plans and that the North was not attacking.” Another coughing fit interrupted him. “I am sorry. I must keep my speaking shorter.”

“I understand. We’ll let you rest soon. If Captain Ryu or the others discovered what you were doing, how would they respond?”

“To kill me.”

Ban nodded. “You risked much, Lieutenant Young.”

“I am a patriot, sir.”

“You are indeed.”

Jones stood up. “Well, we promised the doctor that we wouldn’t keep you for too long. We may come back.”

Ban put away his computer and stood. “Thank you, Lieutenant Young.” He bowed and Kim nodded in response.

Jones and Ban left and Kim lay back on his bed. He looked out the window at the blue sky outside. Perhaps he would not go to Guantanamo after all.

69

I
N SOME WAYS
, C
ONNOR
’
S LIFE HAD GONE BACK TO NORMAL IN THE WEEKS
since a nurse wheeled him out of the hospital. Reporters no longer called every hour. The CIA and FBI had questioned him to their hearts’ content. He was back at work, and he even had a new false claims case that Max liked.

But there were big differences too. The biggest was that he now worked for the Law Offices of Connor Norman. After a wave of positive press coverage turned him back into an asset, Doyle & Brown’s ExComm had dispatched Tom Concannon to try to lure Connor back to the firm. Did he want a corner office? An increased share of firm profits? How about a written guarantee that he would never be asked to take a case that made him uncomfortable?

Connor had turned Tom down as diplomatically as possible. He had no desire to burn a bridge with a powerful firm like D&B but also no desire to walk back over it. A few months ago, he couldn’t have imagined leaving the firm. Now he couldn’t imagine going back, no matter what they offered him. The easy alliance between profit and principle that had characterized his career at the firm could never be rebuilt—at least not at Doyle & Brown. As he told Bill Fisher and Tom at Slanted Door, he had made a choice. And he did not regret it.

Not all the changes were positive. Connor’s left leg was still in a walking cast that wouldn’t come off for weeks. Worse, the
White Knight
was still on the bottom of the San Francisco Bay and would cost hundreds of thousands of dollars to repair once it was raised. But those were both temporary problems, and he couldn’t let them distract him from the task at hand.

He focused himself on the meeting that had just started. He sat in his usual chair in conference room 11436 at DOJ, his foot resting on an empty chair. Max Volusca sat beside him with a tall stack of documents, questioning a hapless executive.

Today’s lucky CEO was Sanford “Sandy” Allen of Blue Sea Technology. At Connor’s suggestion, Allen had received a letter—not a subpoena—from Max inviting him to meet with DOJ about “irregularities in the bidding for the Golden Gate turbine project.” Blue Sea’s general counsel had written back that “Mr. Allen would be happy to discuss what he knows about Deep Seven Maritime Engineering.”

The general counsel was a former tugboat captain named Alex McDonnell who picked up a law degree in night school. Connor suspected he knew more about practical admiralty law than he did about responding to government investigations, but he had been perceptive enough to look uncomfortable when he discovered Connor, a court reporter, and a videographer waiting in the conference room. And he had looked downright disturbed when Max put Allen under oath. Allen, however, seemed not to notice that anything was amiss.

The DAG wasted no time. “Thanks for coming in today, Mr. Allen. I’ll get right to the point. As you know, we’re investigating allegations of fraud in the Golden Gate turbine project.”