Red Phoenix Burning

Chapter 2 — Fog of War

Commander Rick Jenkins was a troubled man. “Any change, Chief?” he asked as he poked his head into the ESM bay.

The intelligence specialist shook his head and pointed at the nearly empty screen in front of him. He was just as bewildered as his captain. “No, sir. The airwaves are damn near empty. No radio. No TV. No long-haul communications. I’m not even seeing the harbor coastal surveillance radar. It’s like everyone at the Wonsan naval complex decided to take the day off.”

“What about the air base?” pressed Jenkins.

“Nada, sir. But it still could be a little early for them. They mostly have MiG-19 and MiG-21 fighters stationed there, and those old birds don’t usually fly at night.”

“I’ve never seen it this quiet, Chief, ever,” Jenkins said, remembering previous surveillance missions. “Even during national holidays, the North Koreans always have their coastal surveillance radars up, and they keep their patrols out and about. We haven’t seen a single patrol boat sortie in the last eighteen hours. That’s just not right.”

“Beats me, Skipper. I’ve never seen anything like this either. It’s possible the naval base could be using landlines, but that only lets them communicate with the head shed at Toejo Dong. It won’t help with any of their local tactical units. And that doesn’t explain the radars, or the lack of them.”

“Total EMCON?” Jenkins suggested out loud. The only reason he could see for such a drastic move would be as a possible precursor to hostilities. The very thought sent shivers down his spine.

“It’s a possibility, sir. But I’ll let you know the moment I see anything.”

Jenkins walked slowly back to the command workstation, mumbling under his breath. His executive officer, Lieutenant Commander Joshua Wallace, was watching the feed from the raised BVS-1 photonics mast on the port vertical large-screen display when he heard his captain grunt.

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Nothing, Josh. Just thinking how damn peculiar this whole situation is, that’s all.”

“Well, things are getting stranger with each passing minute, Skipper. We’re about an hour from sunrise and none of the fishing vessels have left port yet. For a country that routinely teeters on the edge of famine, not sending your fishing boats to sea means something very not good is happening.”

Jenkins ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. What the hell was going on? He knew the North Koreans were a strange people, but the complete absence of activity from one of their larger ports was weird even for them. Pulling up the geoplot display on the command workstation, he noted over a dozen contacts that his sonar techs had identified as fishing trawlers — all of them were far behind them.

“Everything else seems more or less normal,” remarked Wallace pointing toward the screen on his left, where the upper half of the Wonsan skyline was cast in the greenish hue of the infrared display. All looked quiet and serene. “We could try and get a little closer if you’d like, Skipper. The main naval facility is tucked away in the back of the bay. And we don’t have the best vantage point from out here.”

Both men turned and looked down at the digital chart on the navigation display. Since the BVS-1 mast also had the ability to receive GPS signals, their submarine’s exact position was constantly being updated. Wallace ran his finger along the fifty-meter line. “We could run right up along here without crossing over into North Korean territorial waters and still have some decent water beneath us.”

Jenkins nodded his approval. Their mission was to keep an eye on the DPRK’s East Sea Fleet, and he had the authority to walk right up to the Conventional Twelve-Mile Limit if he believed he needed to do so. “Very well, XO. Bring her around to course three three zero. We’ll close on the coast up to, but not across, the CTML.”

“Come about to course three three zero and close the coast to the CTML, but not across, aye, sir,” replied Wallace.

As Hawaii turned to the northwest, she began to inch closer to the coastline. Jenkins also brought his boat shallower, putting another few feet of mast out of the water. He wasn’t too concerned about being detected. There were no active radars nearby and the soon-to-be rising sun would be behind him. The early morning glare would be more than adequate to hide the exposed masts from any snooping eyes.

As the submarine drew nearer to the coast, the large flat-panel display began to show more and more of the city. An eerie greenish pulsating glow suddenly appeared on the screen. Its center was close to where the naval base was located. Both Jenkins and Wallace leaned forward as they tried to make out what they were looking at. It was bright green on the low-light display.

“Is that a fire?” Jenkins wondered.

“Possibly,” Wallace said slowly. “But if it is, it’s a damn big one.”

Their concentration was abruptly broken by the squawk of the ship’s intercom. “CAPTAIN TO ESM BAY.”

Jenkins pivoted and skirted around the fire control consoles and jumped to the ESM bay. “What do you have, Chief?”

“Once we got a clear line of sight, we started to pick up some short-range tactical radios, Skipper, probably army shortwave sets. Petty Officer Johnson has been trying to make out what they’re saying.”

A deep frown of confusion popped on Jenkins’ face. “The transmissions aren’t encrypted?”

“No, sir. They’re in the clear.”

The captain shifted his gaze to the young cryptologic technician; he seemed lost in concentration, listening intently to the Korean-language chatter a dozen miles away. “What are they saying, Petty Officer Johnson?” Jenkins asked quietly.

“It’s very jumbled, sir,” Johnson responded. “The voices are rather excited, and very intense — shouting actually. It’s tough to be sure, but I think this major just ordered his men to fire on the naval base headquarters building.”

The sailor’s report stunned Jenkins. He paused briefly, struggling to maintain his composure, then looked the petty officer square in the face. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that a North Korean army officer ordered his men to fire at the base headquarters? That he’s ordering his troops to shoot at their own countrymen?”

Johnson swallowed hard, but answered firmly. “Yes, sir. I’m pretty sure that’s what he said.”

Before Jenkins could press the young CT further, he heard his XO behind him shout out, “My God! Skipper, you better get out here and see this!”

Jenkins bolted back to the command workstation just in time to see several bright flashes on the large-screen display. Moments later, another set of flashes flared up — they were explosions, possibly RPG or even mortar fire. Johnson had been right. The North Koreans were fighting each other.

“Holy shit,” whispered Jenkins in disbelief.

“What the devil is going on, Skipper?”

“I have absolutely no idea, XO,” Jenkins replied more firmly. “But that doesn’t matter right now. I want you to prepare an OPREP-3 Pinnacle message ASAP. The whole chain of command needs to know that North Korea is flushing itself down the toilet.”

The sudden deep yawn caught Brigadier General Tony Christopher by surprise. Oh Lord, he thought, it was much too early in the morning to be staring at so many flat-panel displays.

Awakened by the US Forces Korea senior watch officer immediately after Eighth Army raised the alert, he had rushed over to the Seventh Air Force’s Air Operations Center while his boss jumped into a waiting staff car and headed for Seoul.

Tony frowned. He hadn’t even been back in country a month before the North Koreans started playing their usual games again. He should have expected it though; the Korean peninsula just didn’t seem to like him very much.

The first time he’d been stationed here, he’d found himself dragged into a full-scale war. Of course, he could have said the same thing about Iraq. Then again, he hadn’t been shot down during the two conflicts he flew in the Middle East. Now it looked like the North Koreans were getting feisty again, and Tony wondered just how bad things would get this time. He was glad Ann was still back in the States.

“Looks like you could use some coffee, General,” announced a staff sergeant as he placed a steaming mug on the table next to Tony.

“Absolutely! Thanks,” replied Tony gratefully, grabbing the mug and taking a cautious sip. “Ah, and a fine brew it is.”

“Glad you like it, sir,” the noncom said, smiling. “We go through a lot of the elixir of consciousness around here. It’s not exactly exciting watching a UAV video feed for hours on end.”

“I can imagine,” grunted Tony as he took another drink. As a fighter pilot, he shared the dislike of unmanned aerial vehicles held by all true aviators. He couldn’t argue that they weren’t effective and useful, but the idea of “flying” from a ground-based station was anathema. Where was the exhilaration, the joy, the sheer fun you experienced when you climbed into a high-performance aircraft and roared skyward? By comparison, a slow, klutzy, unfeeling UAV, with a limited field of view, was a very poor substitute.

“The remaining Reapers should be in position soon, General,” said the staff sergeant as he handed Tony a remote control. “You can use this remote to walk through the video feeds. The UAV’s position and altitude will be in the upper right-hand corner of the display, the heading scale will be top center, the target’s location…”

“I think I got it, Staff Sergeant, thank you,” Tony interrupted curtly. He’d spent ample time becoming familiar with the MQ-9 Block 5 Reaper. He even had some stick time, if one could call it that, so he was well-versed in the unmanned aerial vehicle’s capabilities.

The airman nodded and beat a hasty retreat. It was never a good thing to get caught patronizing a general officer.

Tony smiled slightly. That minor incident should make his life a little easier in the future. As the brand-new vice commander of the Seventh Air Force, he fully expected to be put to the test by its officers and enlisted personnel, if only to see if the rumors they’d all heard about him were true. Being the air force’s only living triple ace with seventeen combat kills had definite disadvantages, the chief of which being that everyone would want to see if he really was that good. Politely nixing the good staff sergeant should help a little in that regard.

As Tony continued slurping his coffee, he began thumbing through the live video stream from the six Reaper UAVs spread out along the DMZ. Fitted with a multispectral optical and infrared sensor package and a high-resolution multimode radar, the Reaper was truly an eye in the sky. Flying at thirty thousand feet, it could peer far beyond the North Korean border. Although the MQ-9s could be armed with an assortment of precision-guided munitions, for this mission all of them were unarmed. Without the extra weight of the ordnance, each Reaper could stay on station for twelve hours. Right now, information was far more valuable than bombs.

The initial sweeps were along the DMZ and just inside the border. Everything looked quiet—a little too quiet, Tony thought. The North Korean garrison buildings were visible, but there weren’t very many people moving about. And there were few, if any, guards and no patrols. This is just bizarre, Tony said to himself.

“Sir! You’ll definitely want to take a look at the video from Merlin Two Seven. It’s the MQ-9 covering the east coast corridor,” called out one of the sensor operators.

“Understood,” Tony replied. He switched over to the proper channel. But as soon as the image came up on the screen, his curiosity became confusion.

“What the hell?” he muttered, half to himself.

“Yes, sir,” spoke up the sensor operator. “That column of vehicles is heading north along Asian Highway 6, away from the DMZ. At their current speed, they’ll be in Wonsan a couple of hours after dawn. I… I can’t explain it, General.”

“General Christopher,” interrupted the senior watch officer, “we’re getting similar data from the other Reapers. Merlin Three Two has an armored column heading north on Reunification Highway. It looks like they’re moving toward Pyongyang.”

Tony launched out of his chair, a sudden surge of adrenaline relieving his weariness. “Major, I want a full accounting of DPRK units withdrawing from the DMZ. Get extra bodies in here if you need to, but I need to know which units are bugging out and where they’re going. Move!”

“Yes, sir!” The major began issuing a rapid series of orders to his Reaper teams while reaching for the phone.

Marching through the video feeds, Tony saw that four of the six UAVs showed similar scenes with North Korean army units heading north along major highways. Even around Panmunjom, the site of the earlier incident, troops were moving away from the DMZ. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, even though he couldn’t begin to explain what was happening. All he knew was the KPA was conducting a large-scale withdrawal from the DMZ. It was unprecedented, and unexplainable, and therefore unnerving.

Fifteen minutes later, the watch team provided a very rough sketch of what was going on along the DMZ. It wasn’t precise, but the data was good enough for Tony to order an alert sent out to all Combined Forces Command units.

He moved over to a video teleconference — capable computer, inserted his common access card, and logged into the secure computer network. Pulling up his address menu, he located the chief of staff, US Forces Korea, and hit the “Video Call” button. Tony waited impatiently while the connecting icon spun on the screen and the sound of a ringing phone filled the cubicle. After what seemed like an inordinate amount of time, the ringing suddenly stopped. A text box popped up on the monitor.

“Oh, for the love of…” Tony growled. He reached over, grabbed the handset for the secure line, and aggressively started punching buttons. The phone rang twice before a female voice answered.

“US Forces Korea Headquarters. Chief of Staff’s office. How may I help you, sir or ma’am?”

“This is Brigadier General Christopher at Seventh Air Force. I need to speak with Major General O’Rourke immediately.”

“Yes, sir!” exclaimed the woman. “Stand by while I put you through.”

Seconds later, a tired voice came on the line. “Hey Tony, what can I do for you?”

“Dan, we have a major situation developing on the DMZ. Multiple UAVs are showing elements of the KPA First, Second, and Fifth Corps withdrawing from the DMZ and heading north. I’ve issued an alert based on this information to all CFC units.”

The initial response to Tony’s report was dead silence. When O’Rourke finally spoke again, his voice was tense. “Please repeat your last message.”

Tony grinned. He couldn’t blame the other man for wanting to hear it again. If he hadn’t seen the UAV video with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it either.

“We have multiple Mike Quebec Niner eyes on target,” Tony said patiently, emphasizing every word. “They’re showing elements of the First, Second, and Fifth Forward Army Corps on the move. These units are heading north, I repeat, heading north, away from the DMZ. I’ve ordered an alert sent to all CFC units.”

“The NKs are pulling back from the DMZ? That doesn’t make any sense,” O’Rourke said flatly.

Tony shrugged. “I hear you, Dan, but that doesn’t change the facts. The North Koreans are abandoning their positions along the DMZ in droves.”

“Okay, okay, can you send me some video clips? I need to get this to General Fascione ASAP!”

“I’ve already got the Sixth Intel Squadron watch team putting together a representative collection,” replied Tony. “I was going to walk you through a couple of shots on the video link but I couldn’t get through to your account.”

An exasperated sigh came from the other end of the phone line. “Yeah, my computer’s been disconnected. The headquarters element is moving from Yongsan Garrison to Camp Humphreys this week and this whole place is completely FUBAR. Have the Sixth IS send the clips to the USFK watch officer and he’ll get them uploaded for the bigwigs. They should be convening here in about an hour.”

“Will do.” Tony hesitated for just a second. “But, look, please do me a favor and tell my boss before he sees the videos in the conference room, okay? Blindsiding a superior isn’t my normal operating procedure, and I really don’t want to do that to General Carter with less than a month on the job — it could make for a strained relationship.”

“No problem,” O’Rourke assured him.

“Thanks, Dan,” Tony replied. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a set of waving arms trying to get his attention. At the other end of the room, the Sixth IS major pointed to his watch and then held up five fingers. Tony nodded and gave the man the “okay” sign. “You’ll have the video clips in about five minutes.”

“Great. That’ll do just fine, thanks,” O’Rourke said. Then, in a lower voice, he asked, “Look, do you have any wild ass theories as to why they’re moving away from the DMZ?”

Tony sighed and shook his head. “This withdrawal goes against everything I thought I knew about North Korea. It just doesn’t make any sense. But if you want wild speculation, I can come up with two possible scenarios. Either we are seeing one of the best fake-out maneuvers in history, or something has gone seriously wrong inside the DPRK. Neither of those bode well for our long-term health and well-being.”

The USFK conference room was filled to capacity and then some. The twelve leather chairs surrounding the main table were occupied by either an American or a Republic of Korea general officer. The more junior staff officers were bunched together in four rows of seats at the back of the room or lined up against the walls. All watched with rapt attention as Brigadier General George Olsen, the USFK intelligence officer, or J2, narrated the video clips sent up from Osan.

“In this clip, you can see elements of the Fifth Corps heading north toward Wonsan along Asian Highway 6. Based on rough estimates of column length, we’re looking at brigade-size units. Those vehicles are also packed in pretty close to each other, and they’re moving damned fast, considering it was still dark when this video was shot. Whatever the North Koreans are up to, they are in one hell of a hurry.”

“What types of vehicles were seen heading north?” General Ji Sang-hoon, chief of the ROK Air Force, asked.

“In this clip, sir, all the vehicles appear to be two-and-a-half-ton utility trucks, basically troop carriers. The majority of the other videos show the same thing,” Olsen told him. “But we’ve seen tanks, Chinese Type 69s, Russian T-62s or the North Korean Chonma-ho variants, in battalion strength, in two other clips. That’s on the order of sixty tanks on the road, and they’re heading toward Pyongyang.”

“That would suggest division-level redeployment, wouldn’t it, George?” observed Lieutenant General Robert Tracy, commander of the US Eighth Army.

Olsen nodded. “That’s our current assessment. Based on some very rough OOB accounting, we’re estimating that between five and seven regular infantry divisions are currently on the move. This represents about one-third to one-half the regular strength of the three Forward Army corps along the DMZ. And I must remind you that this only takes into account what we’re able to see. The true extent of the North Korean redeployment could be even larger.”

A low murmur broke out as the men and women crowding the room began talking with their neighbors. The J2 waited until the noise had settled down before wrapping up his presentation. “Are there any other questions?”

“Just the most important one, George,” chimed in General Thomas Fascione, commander of the Combined Forces Command, and Commander, US Forces Korea. “Why?”

Olsen shrugged. “To be honest, sir, we don’t know. The best theory we can come up with, based largely on the UAV footage, the incident at the Joint Security Area late last night, and the complete shutdown of North Korean radio and TV, is that there may have been a coup.”

Speaking through a translator, the ROK Army Chief of Staff, General Yeon Min-soo, strongly disagreed. “Are you suggesting, General Olsen, that the North would dramatically reduce its combat strength on the DMZ to deal with a coup attempt? Surely the Pyongyang Defense Command and the KPA Third Corps are more than capable of dealing with such a situation!”

The American intelligence officer nodded. “That’s true, sir. Those units should have been quite capable of dealing with a coup attempt.” He paused briefly. “But what we are suggesting is that the coup was successful.”

For a brief moment, there was dead silence. But then the room erupted as officers reacted to Olsen’s statement. Voices rose as individuals either agreed with him, or flatly dismissed the possibility as absurd. Many of the South Koreans were visibly shocked by the notion of a sudden regime change in Pyongyang. Only General Park Joon-ho, the Deputy Commander of the ROK-US Combined Forces Command, remained calm.

“Gentlemen, ladies!” a deep voice roared. “Quiet!”

Broad-shouldered and bull-necked, Fascione still looked more like the West Point linebacker he had been than the clear-eyed strategist who had pacified two die-hard provinces in Iraq. He was taller than anyone else in the room. He also outranked them all.

The noise subsided almost immediately. Fascione turned back toward his intel chief and said, “That’s one hell of a hypothesis, George. If that’s true, we may be facing a possible civil war in North Korea.”

Olsen looked very uncomfortable. He knew he had gone way out on a limb. “Yes, sir, I realize that is the logical conclusion of our analysis.”

“General Olsen,” interrupted Ji. “By your own admission, your order of battle analysis on these withdrawing units is very rough. And you also said the redeployment could be even greater, correct?”

“Yes, sir, that’s an accurate summation,” the J2 agreed slowly.

The ROK Air Force commander smiled thinly. “Then is it not just as possible that we are only looking on the dark side of things, and that the situation is not as grave as your worst-case scenario suggests? Is there any other information that bolsters this… theory… of yours?”

Before Olsen could reply, Rear Admiral Gabriel Waleski, commander of the US Navy units stationed in South Korea, raised his hand. “General Fascione, if I may?”

“Go ahead, Gabe.”

Waleski nodded his thanks and looked around the crowded conference room. “When I arrived at Yongsan Garrison this morning, I was handed an urgent message from one of our submarines patrolling off the North Korean coast, near Wonsan. The commanding officer reports intercepting verbal orders given by a North Korean army officer for his troops to attack their own naval base headquarters. The submarine also observed multiple explosions near the base. It would appear that North Korean military units are, in fact, fighting each other — at least at Wonsan.”

Ji was momentarily surprised by Waleski’s report, but he regained his composure quickly and bowed slightly. “Admiral, I would very much like to read this report. Would it be possible for your government to release it to us?”

Waleski nodded. “Absolutely. I’ve already been given permission by my CNO to share this report with our ROK counterparts. Admiral Ban will have a copy before he leaves.”

Pleased by Waleski’s gracious response, Ji bowed again, silently expressing his thanks.

“Anyone else have any last questions before I give you your running orders?” Fascione asked.

“Yes, sir, I do,” Tracy replied. The Eighth Army commander turned to face the South Korean general who was Fascione’s deputy. “General Park, is there any new information from the defector that our people rescued at Panmunjom?”

Park’s expression remained stoic as most of the assembled officers looked at him with amazement. This was the first they’d heard that someone had actually survived the slaughtered convoy as it attempted to flee the DPRK.

“Unfortunately, General Tracy,” the South Korean said slowly, “the young woman was very badly injured. She had suffered multiple gunshot wounds. Our National Intelligence Service agents only had a few moments with her before she went in for surgery. To my understanding, she is still in the operating room.”

“Did the NIS agents get anything, sir?” Tracy’s voice had a bit of an edge to it.

Park shrugged. “They were only able to obtain her identity, along with the identities of those traveling with her. Her name is Lee Ji-young. She is the daughter of senior politburo member Lee Ye-jun.”

It was the Americans’ turn to be astonished. Fascione and Olsen, however, looked more annoyed.

“That’s not an insignificant detail, General,” Fascione responded tightly. “And one that should have been made known earlier.”

Park shrugged again, apologetically this time. “Forgive me, but at the time the significance wasn’t obvious.” He looked at the Americans. “It is not exactly a rare event when a high-ranking Communist Party official defects.”

“I grant your point, sir,” Tracy countered. “But my chief of the headquarters battalion was the guy who pulled this Lee Ji-young out of that car. And it was only one of seven cars that attempted to run the checkpoint, which is unusual. Colonel Little also specifically reported that woman was lucid when he carried her across the Bridge of No Return. And he stated that she said something like ‘the burning has begun’ before passing out.”

Park’s face hardened. Clearly, he did not appreciate where this conversation was going. “I was unaware of her reported statement, General Tracy. But now that I know of it, I would agree that it supports our J2’s theory.”

“Particularly since Lee Ye-jun was a staunch supporter of the Kim family,” Olsen said flatly.

Fascione abruptly intervened. From the look on his face, the USFK commander was not inclined to see the disagreement descend into bickering.

“Let’s get beyond this, people,” he snapped. “Our two governments are going to be breathing down our necks in the very near future. General Park and I need your best assessments, pronto. Is that clear?”

Heads nodded all around the room.

“Good.” Fascione ticked off what he wanted. “First, is Kim Jong-un still alive? Second, if he’s dead, who the hell is running things in Pyongyang? Or are various contenders for the throne still duking it out? Third, who controls the DPRK’s nuclear, chemical, and biological weapons?”

He turned to Olsen. “George, get with your ROK counterparts and put together a point paper that fleshes out your theory. Don’t give us the Encyclopedia Britannica version. Make it short and sweet, but highlight why you believe it’s likely that a North Korean civil war has started. Then answer those other questions I just rattled off.”

The J2 nodded somberly.

“And I want a draft on my desk in three hours,” Fascione ordered.

There were soft whistles from around the room. In the usual run of things at headquarters, just deciding who should be on the distribution list for a report like this often took longer.

“As of this moment, people, we are on a war footing,” said Fascione bluntly. He eyed them coldly. “And if you think I’m overreacting, I suggest you talk to Lieutenant Colonel Miller’s widow.”

That shut them up.

“The rest of you begin your planning on the working assumption that North Korea is imploding,” Fascione continued. “If so, what options do we have to deal with this mess?”

He looked around the room. “Don’t forget that we may have to worry about a lot more than the pure military side of this. If the DPRK falls apart, we’ll be facing a flood of refugees across the DMZ; in the tens or hundreds of thousands, possibly even in the millions. Where the hell will we put them? And how in God’s name will we feed and care for them?”

Fascione’s jaw tightened. For a moment, he looked his age. “We may be facing the most dangerous situation on the Korean Peninsula since the last war.” He stood up. “Only this time, those sons of bitches in Pyongyang have nukes. So we have to get this right.”

Pavel Ramonovich Telitsyn read the morning worldwide intelligence summary with great interest and concern. Initial reports indicated that something very wrong had occurred in North Korea, but they contained almost nothing beyond vague references to fighting on the outskirts of the capital, and the complete lack of national level broadcasting. He sighed. It was useless. As the Asian Department chief for Directorate S of the Foreign Intelligence Service, he knew his superiors were going to be demanding more. And soon.

He was right.

Deputy Director Alexei Fedorovich Malikov arrived in Telitsyn’s office fifteen minutes later. He looked agitated and worried.

“Good morning, sir,” greeted Telitsyn. “Please, sit down. May I offer you a cup of fresh tea?”

“You may,” Malikov nodded, glowering. “I could use something fit to drink. That lukewarm bilge water they serve in the main conference room is hardly satisfying.”

Telitsyn fought down a laugh. His superior’s naval past tended to slip out whenever he was annoyed. “I take it the morning staff meeting was more arduous than normal,” Telitsyn observed.

“That, my dear Pavel, would be a gross understatement.”

“North Korea?”

“Of course!” Malikov snapped. “What else could it be?” The deputy director took the tea offered him by the younger man. He sighed. “I’m sure you saw that pathetic report from our embassy in Pyongyang?”

“Yes, sir,” Telitsyn replied. Shrugging, he added, “It was lacking in depth and specifics.”

“Polite, Pavel. Very polite. It was a worthless piece of shit!” Malikov said bluntly. “We need reliable information on exactly what the devil is happening there. The president and the premier are deeply concerned. Which means the director is seriously disturbed, and that means I’m greatly troubled. Which means you should be practically pissing in your pants.”

Telitsyn waited patiently. The deputy director might be bad-tempered, especially after a night spent reliving old memories with former shipmates and a bottle of vodka apiece, but he was no fool.

“Very well,” Malikov said finally. He eyed his subordinate. “Do you still have that pet North Korean on a leash?”

“Cho Ho-jin? Yes, he is still operational,” Telitsyn answered hesitantly. He was not sure he liked where this was going. Cho was one of his best deep-cover agents — an agent Telitysn had groomed ever since the renegade North Korean stumbled into Vladivostok as a starving teenager more than twenty years before. Ruthless, cunning, and highly intelligent, Cho was too useful to risk lightly.

“Well?”

“He’s done very good work for us recently,” Telitsyn said. “His reports on those new North Korean missile silos near the frontier were most informative—”

“And you don’t want me or some other damned bureaucratic fool interfering with him, eh?”

There was no way to answer that question honestly, Telitsyn knew. Not and keep his post.

Malikov nodded, as though he’d read his subordinate’s mind. “Unfortunately, your wishes do not count in this matter, Pavel Ramonovich. Nor do mine, frankly. Our masters want accurate answers from inside North Korea. Our task is to supply those answers. Understand?”

Slowly, reluctantly, Telitsyn nodded.

“Good! Then contact this agent of yours. Tell him to get his skinny yellow ass to Pyongyang and find out what the hell is going on.”