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The crisis was over. But not the tension. Tombstone was as angry as he could imagine being, though he kept his voice cool and emotionless as he told Snowball to open a channel to Tango One-three. "Homeplate, this is Hunt Leader. Target has come right to one-five-five. Looks like he doesn't want to play anymore."

"Copy, Hunt Leader," a Hawkeye radio officer replied. "Be advised that Starfire Flight is enroute, ETA fifteen mikes. Homeplate says to tell you 'Well done.'"

Well done, Wayne's hotdog stunt could have killed them all. He would have to have words with that boy, once they were back on board the Jeff.

DAY THREE

CHAPTER 10

0445 hours (1445 hours EST)
The White House Situation Room

"This may be the first good news we've got on this," the President said. He looked up from the report, stamped CRITIC at top and bottom. "The Russians backed down?"

Admiral Grimes grinned without humor. "I'd say, Mr. President, that they got the crap scared out of them when one of our pilots pulled… shall we say… an unorthodox maneuver."

"And there's been no further attempt to probe our forces?"

Marlowe folded his hands on the teakwood table. "You can bet they're watching closely, Mr. President. Three of their reconnaissance satellites have shifted to new orbits to give them better coverage of the Sea of Japan. But there are no indications that they want a direct confrontation."

The president's eyes shifted to the others at the table. He grinned at the Secretary of State. "Keep that in mind when you talk to the PRC Ambassador, Jim. It looks like it'll be just us and North Korea, with the PRC as go-betweens. Simplifies things, doesn't it?"

"Yes, sir." The secretary scowled. "We shouldn't feel too confident about Soviet motives, though, Mr. President. They've still not responded to our advances."

"Agreed." The President moved his gaze to a new face at the table. Dr. Lee Ann Chu, Assistant Secretary of State for East Asian and Pacific Affairs, was seated across from Schellenberg. She was an attractive, older woman ― in her fifties, he guessed. She'd been put in charge of the team studying the political impact of U.S. military action on America's allies in the Far East. "Dr. Chu? I understand you have a preliminary report."

She hesitated, looking first at Schellenberg. There was some unstated struggle there, the President noted.

"Lee Ann's report isn't quite ready yet, Mr. President," the Secretary said. "Her assessment team is still considering the matter."

"Dr. Chu?" the President said gently. "We don't need a formal report. Just tell me what you think. How will our allies react to military intervention in the area?"

Slowly, Dr. Chu removed her glasses, folding them carefully and placing them on the table before her. She met the President's eyes directly. "Mr. President, you can expect the normal round of anti-U.S. condemnations. With the exception of the Republic of Korea, you will find no support, no practical help in this matter at all. On the whole, however, and in the long run, our image will not suffer badly."

Chu went on to discuss each nation in turn, beginning with Japan, pointing out that Tokyo had been pursuing a far more independent course of late and that the Japanese resented South Korea's economic competition. She spoke for ten minutes with authority and conviction. There were no surprises in what she had to say. It was exactly what the President had expected to hear.

He detected, though, that she was holding back, that there was something her boss might be suppressing.

"Thank you, Doctor," he said as she finished. "Is there anything else?"

She hesitated, looking uncertain.

"That will be all, Lee Ann," Schellenberg said. "Thank you."

"A moment, please," the President said, not certain how far he could push. "Dr. Chu, you've discussed the reactions of our friends in the area if we attack. What about those of our enemies?"

"Mr. President-" Schellenberg began.

"My question was addressed to Dr. Chu," the President said brusquely. "Doctor?"

She seemed to reach some inner decision. "Mr. President, the question might better be phrased, 'What will happen if we do not attack?'"

"And?"

"The expression 'loss of face' is dated, Mr. President. Its use has certain… racist overtones. And yet I must remind you that it is still a valid psychological concept throughout much of the Orient. If you back down before the North Koreans now, you, Mr. President, will have lost face, before your friends and enemies alike. I urge you-"

Schellenberg interrupted. "What Dr. Chu means, Mr. President, is that an aggressive stance may help us bull through this thing in the short term. But we're going to have to be very careful navigating this minefield for some time to come, and-"

"Since when did I need an interpreter for straight English, Jim?"

"Sorry, Mr. President. The Doctor is new to her job, and-"

"Save it." The President looked from Chu to Schellenberg and back again, scowling. It was clear enough now. Chu's report had held the wrong twist and Schellenberg had been trying to suppress it.

God. Did North Korea's dictator have the same problems with his own advisors, or did he enjoy the luxury of ordering them shot when the infighting got too vicious?

"Dr. Chu, I've already decided that a strong approach is necessary. We have to tell these people we mean business." He looked down the table at Caldwell. "General, as of this moment, I am authorizing a full go-ahead for Winged Talon."

The General nodded. "Yes, Mr. President."

"We'll keep the 82nd and the rest on alert, use them if we have to. But I think a measured response is called for."

"I'll give the necessary orders, Mr. President."

"Excellent." The President looked at his Chief of Staff. "George? We're going to have to prepare a statement for the press. I want Joe brought in on this."

"Yes, Mr. President."

Joseph Collins, the White House Press Secretary, had been kept busy for the past twenty-four hours, ever since the story about Chimera's seizure had broken in the press. Until now his task had been restricted to damage control ― denying reports of U.S. military intervention in Korea and insisting that the President was following events in the Far East with grave concern.

The President knew that he would have to start bracing for the storm which would follow any decision he made, and the sooner the White House press corps was brought in on things, the better.

He turned back to face Schellenberg, reading the professional hurt in the man's face. There was another problem, bad feelings that would have to be nipped early. "Jim, you still have an appointment with the Chinese ambassador this afternoon?"

"Yes, sir." He glanced at his watch. "Forty-five minutes."

"Good. Keep it." He smiled, turning on the charm which had stood him in good stead in more than one campaign. "You can win them over, get them to talk to us if anyone can. If you can open channels to the PDRK, then Winged Talon is off. You have my word on it." He turned his gaze on the others. "Meanwhile, we keep our powder dry and watch out for mine-fields. We take those steps necessary to resolve this crisis and get our people back. If they won't talk to us, Winged Talon is on. Agreed?" Briefly, his eyes met the eyes of each of the other people in the room. There was no dissent.

George Hall stirred in his seat. "Mr. President, there remains the problem of the location of our people over there. An indiscriminate strike at North Korean military installations could kill our own people."