At 7:42 p.m. Eastern, he signed a letter officially informing the Senate majority leader that he was naming Judge Sharon Summers as chief justice of the U.S. Supreme Court. At 7:45 p.m., he signed a letter officially informing the Speaker of the House and the Senate majority leader that he was naming General Michael B. Stephens as chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. At 7:47 p.m., he signed a letter naming the head of the Chicago Federal Reserve as the new chairman of the Fed, and a separate executive order requiring the Fed to shift all administrative functions from D.C. to Chicago until further notice. Another two dozen documents were waiting to be signed, but suddenly General Stephens had Admiral Arthurs from CINCPAC on the line.
“Mr. President, the targeting packages are being loaded into the cruise missiles and should be ready soon,” the general relayed. “Every bomber in Asia is fueled, on the runways, and ready to move on your command, sir.”
“Good,” James said. “Anything else?”
“President Woo has just arrived at Command Post Tango. He and General Garrett are reviewing final preparations. They would like to do a conference call as soon as possible.”
“Very well,” James said. “Get them on the line; then get me a number where I can reach Salvador Lucente before I go on the air.”
David Doron was fast asleep.
So was his wife. She’d drifted off hours ago, but the prime minister hadn’t come to bed until well after midnight, consumed as he was with the latest intel from the U.S., Asia, and Kurdistan, not to mention Salvador Lucente’s stunning call and surprising offer. Groggy and disoriented, he rolled over, fumbled for the receiver, and found his military secretary on the line.
“What is it?” he groaned, putting on his glasses and checking the clock.
“Sorry to wake you, sir, but Avi Zadok is on the line — says it’s urgent.”
It was never a good sign when the head of the Mossad was on the phone at 3:09 in the morning.
“Give me a moment,” Doron said, putting on his slippers and robe, “then put him through to my office.”
“Very good, sir.”
Doron breathed deeply, forced himself to his feet, and stumbled to his private study, just off the master bedroom. There he flipped on a small desk lamp, fired up his computer, slumped into his chair, and took the call.
“Avi?”
“Yes, Mr. Prime Minister, it’s me.”
“What have you got?”
“Several things, sir. Word is President Oaks is going to address the nation at 9 p.m. Eastern.”
“He’s going to talk about the shooting?” Doron asked, wondering why he’d bother to make a formal address on the topic.
“I’m sure he’ll touch on iT — he has to,” Zadok said, “but rumors are he’s going to declare war on Venezuela.”
“What? Avi, come on; that has to be wrong.”
“That’s my reaction,” Zadok said, “but the U.S. apparently is positioning two carrier battle groups off the eastern coast of Venezuela and is beginning an airlift of men and supplies to Panama and Guyana.”
“What do they know that we don’t?” Doron asked.
“Chuck Murray is hinting Caracas may be behind these attacks.”
“Have you talked to Trainor?”
“Just did.”
“And?”
“He’s being pretty tight-lipped,” Zadok said. “Off the record he agreed that something is cooking. They’ve got good intel. They’re getting ready to hit someone. But when I pushed him on Venezuela, he said he would call me back as soon as he had clearance to do so.”
“Where are they on China?” Doron asked.
“They’ve ruled China out,” Zadok confirmed. “Trainor said Lee James spoke to Premier Zhao less than an hour ago. He assured Zhao that the U.S. does not consider Beijing a suspect, and he urged the Chinese to stand down their forces.”
“Do you buy it?” Doron asked, fully awake now.
“You mean Venezuela?” Zadok clarified.
“Right.”
“No, sir, I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know,” Zadok said. “The China thing I can buy. I don’t think Beijing did it, and I don’t think Bill Oaks wants to start a nuclear war with someone who can shoot back all the way to Colorado Springs, especially when he doesn’t have to. But something about this Venezuela thing doesn’t seem right.”
“You think it’s a head fake?”
“Probably, sir.”
“So who’s the real target?”
“I’d have to think it’s Pyongyang.”
“Any word from the South Koreans?”
“They’re mobilizing as fast as they can,” Zadok said. “But it’s purely defensive. I don’t see any scenario in which they launch a preemptive strike.”
“But you still think the North is about to move?”
“I do, sir.”
“How soon?”
“If the invasion of the South doesn’t begin in forty-eight hours, I’d be stunned, Mr. Prime Minister.”
“What about our mole?”
“That’s the other thing I needed to talk to you about.”
“Why?”
“A communiqué just came in,” Zadok noted. “He thinks the Americans are about to strike Pyongyang, wants us to get him out now.”
“Do you agree with him?” Doron asked.
“I’m leaning that way, yes, sir,” Zadok said. “But there’s something else.”
“What?”
“Our source says Jon Bennett is in North Korea.”
Doron was stunned. “Bennett? Why? Where?”
“We’re not sure why. Our man’s still working on that. But he says Bennett was flown from Jordan to Beijing, taken by truck into North Korea, then flown by helicopter to Yodok.”
“Camp 15?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How is that possible?”
“It doesn’t make sense, I know,” Zadok replied. “But our man says he’s sure.”
“How does he know?”
“You won’t believe it,” Zadok said.
“Try me,” Doron said.
“Remember we sent him a message, asking him to get us more on Indira Rajiv?”
“Of course.”
“Well, guess who called his boss?”
“Indira Rajiv called the minister of public security?”
“That’s what he said, sir.”
“And she talked about Bennett?”
“Apparently.”
“What did she say?”
“I don’t know. He promised to send more, but only if we agree to get him out of the country. He thinks someone in the MPS is on to him.”
“Why?”
“His boss has launched two separate mole hunts in the last forty-eight hours.”
Doron was up now, pacing about his office. “Can we get him out?” he asked after a long silence.
“Our man? Probably. But we’ll have to move fast.”
“No, no, I mean Bennett,” Doron said, the urgency rising in his voice. “Can we get him out before the Americans launch?”
“It might already be too late, sir,” Zadok said. “The president’s speech begins in forty-two minutes. I suspect the air strikes will begin any moment.”
“Do it anyway,” Doron said. “I owe him.”
“Bennett?”
“Yes — do it now.”
“Sir, look, I know Jon is a dear friend to you, but we have an obligation to our asset in Pyongyang.”
“Then get them both out.”
“We can’t, sir,” Zadok said. “We don’t have enough men or equipment in place. Even if we did, there isn’t enough time.”
“Then get Bennett.”
Zadok protested, “Sir, we can’t just cut our man loose. We promised him we’d do everything we could to extract him when he asked. Now he’s asking, and I—”
But Doron cut him off. “Avi, I know what he gave us, and I’m grateful. Tell him we’re coming. Tell him whatever you need to keep him happy, and quiet. But I’m giving you a direct order: extract Jon Bennett, whatever it takes—now.”