He made some brief televised remarks, then got back to business, joining just-sworn-in Vice President Lee Alexander James, Defense Secretary Burt Trainor, and Lieutenant General Charlie Briggs for another secure videoconference. Together, they listened to a replay of the NSA intercept of Bennett’s call with the Israeli prime minister.
“What do you make of it, gentlemen?” Oaks asked his war council.
“I’d like to get my hands on that source,” Briggs said.
“Me too,” Trainor said, “but that’s not going to happen. The Israelis will never give up a mole inside a hostile government, and it doesn’t really matter. The question is, do we believe Doron? Do we trust him? Because if we do, we’re about to go to war with North Korea instead of China.”
“That’s a big assumption to make based on the reporting of one source,” James said. “What are we hearing from the ROK?”
“South Korea has nothing conclusive as of yet, but there is no doubt President Woo believes the North is about to attack,” the SecDef responded. “But think about it, sir. We really don’t have any proof that China’s involved in this thing. And Doron makes an important point: why would Beijing attack us? It doesn’t compute. They have everything to lose and nothing to gain. But Pyongyang is just crazy enough to try to pull off something like this. And I must remind you, Mr. President, that what Doron’s source is saying is consistent with everything I heard at the meeting of Asian-Pacific defense ministers I met with in Tokyo. The DPRK has canceled all military leaves. In recent weeks, they’ve been pre-positioning additional fuel, food, medicine, and other supplies to forward areas. We’ve been seeing increased activity around missile sites and air bases. That’s what President Woo is so worried about. Just before Mac’s speech at the convention — God rest his soul — you’ll recall that I sent a memo to Air Force One, laying out many of the specifics and suggesting several possible reasons for all this heightened activity.”
“Burt, how certain are you that North Korea is the enemy here, not China?”
The SecDef thought about that for a few moments and then said, “We obviously need to gather more evidence, Mr. President, but yes, I am beginning to think there is a credible case here that Pyongyang and not Beijing was responsible for these attacks and may very well be preparing to move against one of our most important Asian allies.”
“What about the source’s claim that the warheads that hit us used plutonium from Yongbyon?” the president asked. “How quickly can we verify or discredit that?”
“Mr. President, I’ve already dispatched four WC-135W Constant Phoenix jets, one over each city,” Briggs reported.
“English, General; I need English,” Oaks insisted.
“Sorry, sir,” Briggs said. “The Constant Phoenix is an atmospheric collection aircraft, a modified C-135. They operate out of the 45th Reconnaissance Squadron at Offutt Air Force Base in Nebraska, sir. Each plane has external devices that collect particulates from the atmosphere. A compressor system analyzes the air samples collected in holding spheres. They can detect radioactive clouds in real time. Bottom line, Mr. President, these guys are high-tech ‘sniffers.’”
“Like the ones we used over North Korea in ’06?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. President,” Briggs said. “The very same.”
Bobby Caulfield quietly entered the conference room and slipped the president a note: “Your wife just landed at Peterson. Will be here shortly.”
The president nodded and continued with Briggs.
“How soon will you have results?” he asked, the urgency in his voice unmistakable.
“Well, sir…” Briggs paused as he made some fast calculations. “It’s going to take a few days to collect everything. I’d say another week or so to analyze the data, at least, maybe two weeks. It depends on a lot of variables, sir.”
“Forget it, General,” the president said. “We don’t have two weeks. Tell the air force they’ve got two days. I need to know if the bombs that were used against us were plutonium, and if they were, did the plutonium come from either of the reactors at Yongbyon, North Korea? If not, then I need to know where it did come from. You got that?”
“Well, yes, sir, Mr. President,” Briggs stammered, “but I—”
“Two days, General,” the president said again. “Not a second more.”
47
Flashes of lightning lit up the rapidly darkening sky.
Bennett glanced at his watch. It was already noon. They still had at least another fifteen or twenty minutes to go. But there was nothing he could do. He reached into a cooler beside him, finding an icy bottle of water for himself and one for the man who had saved Erin’s life.
Dr. Kwamee gratefully accepted the bottle, took a long sip, and then turned up the air-conditioning another notch. As the rain increased, the windows were beginning to fog.
“So,” Bennett said after a long silence, “the Mossad?”
Dr. Kwamee shrugged. “I was grateful for all they did to extract my wife and me from Addis Ababa,” he replied. “Not just us, of course. There were more than eight thousand of us they came to rescue.”
There was a long pause.
“That was a long time ago,” Bennett said after a while.
“It was,” Kwamee agreed.
“Why stay with the Mossad? Why not do something else?”
The doctor shrugged again and increased the speed of the windshield wipers. The rain was coming down in torrents now. The roads were getting muddy.
“I’d grown up in Ethiopia, Mr. BennetT — Ethiopia and Sudan, really. Spent a few years in Eritrea, in grade school, as well. I knew what the radical Muslims were up to. I could see they were preparing for a jihad against Israel. I couldn’t just sit by. I wanted to do something… something to help.”
Bennett nodded and glanced back at the black SUV behind them. “How many men are on your team — total, that is?”
“Sorry, Mr. Bennett. I cannot say.”
Bennett turned, wiped the fog off his window, and peered into the storm. “This was a really beautiful country once.”
Looking back, he wished he and Erin had taken some time off, poked around a little, and gotten to learn more about this fascinating land and its warm, hospitable people. By remaining neutral — or trying to, anyway — during the lead-up to the War of Gog and Magog, Jordan had largely been spared the level of destruction that Lebanon and Syria had experienced. Still, the firestorm had consumed every mosque, every Islamic school, every military base, and most military vehicles. The collateral damage had not been insignificant, and it was going to take a long time to recover.
“Ever been here before?” Bennett asked.
“No,” Dr. Kwamee replied. “Before my training in Paris, I had never been outside of Africa before this — except to Mecca when I was a child.”
“Mecca?”
“Yes, when I was very young, my parents refused to admit they were Jews, except to each other. They pretended to be Muslims when I was growing up.”
“Did they come out of Ethiopia with you back in ’84?”
“No,” Dr. Kwamee said softly. “They were killed by a bomb in Dangila, on the border with Sudan.”
“Oh,” Bennett said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Can you imagine?” the doctor said, slowing the ambulance as he weaved through the increasingly water-filled potholes on Route 15. “Two Jews, killed by jihadists not because they were Jews but because they were pretending to be Muslims. They thought they’d be safer that way. They thought I’d be safer.”
“How old were you when they died?” Bennett asked as gently as he could.
“Fifteen.”
“Were you with them at the time?”