"Now you understand my call for the study of Japanese," Kwak continued. "We need people to exercise authority over the vassals in Tokyo. It also provides a small disinformation campaign, a softening up operation. The Japanese are fawning over us now. It should make it that much easier to press our demands."
"You don't really think you can get away with something like that?" Burke said, shaking his head. The man was out of his mind. This was the dawn of the twenty-first century, not 1905. The world was an entirely different place now. You couldn't jab an atomic warhead into somebody's back and say give me your money and your country. You'd be looking down the barrel of World War III.
"We shall, Mr. Hill. You can count on it."
"Call in your security people," Colonel Han told the president. "I'll take charge of them."
Chapter 70
"You'd better read this first," Burke said, handing over the White House envelope.
Kwak tore it open, unfolded the paper inside and stared with narrowed eyes at the letterhead, the signature and the embossed Seal of the United States of America. He looked up at Burke.
"So your President has appointed you a special ambassador."
"Yes, sir. I have diplomatic immunity. I should add that the President is aware of everything I have said this morning."
"Diplomats have been known to disappear, Mr. Hill," said the Colonel, his look colder than the snow and ice on the streets. "You never arrived here to present your credentials. We have people quite as capable as Hwang Sang-sol at handling your type of case."
"I'm sure you do. No doubt men like Ko Pong-hak, the goon who caused the ruckus at the American Embassy press party." Burke turned to the president. "There's one other thing you should know." He opened the Koryo Ilbo envelope, took out a proof of the front page of the next edition of the newspaper, along with several photographs, and laid them on the desk.
President Kwak glanced down the page, then looked up, eyes blazing, his face puffed out like a crimson cloud at sunset. "Damn you!" he shouted.
Colonel Han jumped up to look. He read the headlines about the president of the Republic being caught seducing a teenager, about his weekly tryst at the Jang Jung Gak kisaeng house. The story told how he would dine with Colonel Han and other close associates. Then they would leave him alone to relax, meditate on the problems of state and gain a fresh outlook for the days ahead. However, in actuality, a teenage girl would enter the room and perform various sex acts with the still vigorous, sexually at least, old philanderer. The newspaper showed a clear photograph of Kwak, stripped to his underwear, undressing the girl. Prints of other, more graphic, pictures lay on the president's desk.
"That story will never see the light of day," Colonel Han said. "I'll have that newspaper closed down so quick it will make their heads swim."
"If you'd prefer to see it on TV, we have the whole sorry affair on videotape." Burke glanced at his watch and glared back at the Colonel. "Unless I call Editor Kang Han-kyo in the next ten minutes, the presses will roll at Koryo Ilbo, and pre-positioned couriers will deliver copies of the story and photographs to every daily newspaper in the country, plus every foreign news outlet."
Han drew a pistol from beneath his coat and pointed it at Burke. "Make the damned call!"
"Sure. But Kang and I agreed on the exact wording I would use. If I say anything different, it means I'm being coerced. He's to go ahead with the story."
Han stood there like a smoking volcano on the verge of eruption. Burke wondered if after surviving the vicious assault by Hwang Sang-sol, he would now end up being a victim of this raging security officer. Then Kwak, who sat behind his desk breathing hard, his eyes blinking as if attempting to penetrate a fog, spoke softly.
"What will it take for you to make the proper call?"
Burke took two other sheets from his briefcase, one in English, the other in Korean. Each had a place for a signature at the bottom.
"You must sign these and follow through immediately with verbal instructions to the appropriate officials."
The president quickly scanned the document, which ordered the Minister of Defense to cancel the planned missile and atomic weapons test. He was instructed further to halt all operations involving the production of nuclear weapons and to enter into negotiations with American representatives on verifiable procedures for dismantling the Korean nuclear project. All officials involved were ordered to take immediate steps to comply fully with provisions of the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty and account for all fissionable material with the International Atomic Energy Agency.
Kwak's scarred face showed little emotion as he stared at the blank line at the bottom with his name printed beneath it, but his quickened breathing said volumes about the turmoil within. "And if I sign?"
"You have the President's word that everything we have discussed will remain completely secret, so long as you follow through with the provisions of the document."
Kwak had spent most of his life serving his country as a military leader. He had been highly successful. Except for the bombing incident in Rangoon perpetrated by that damnable Kim Il-sung, and Kwak had exacted a terrible retribution for that one, he had always been on the winning side.
But he knew that fate was a fickle master. All the glory and all the successful campaigns of the past meant nothing when you encountered an enemy who held all the high ground and had you outnumbered and outgunned. He had misread the Americans, thought them too soft to put up this kind of fight. They knew all about his past and how to use it as a rapier-like weapon, pricking him where he was most vulnerable.
All he had left was his pride, and that was the most important thing to him. He had wanted to be remembered as the man who had vindicated Korea against the Japanese. Now that was virtually impossible. If the Americans spread the story of his nuclear intentions, it would not only put Japan on the defensive, it would alienate the Republic of Korea with most of the remaining nations of the world. His plan had been to shock everyone by his audacity, to catch them completely off guard and freeze them into immobility. By the time they managed to recover, he would have grabbed off Japan with no more effort than a kid looting a candy store. His nuclear arsenal would have been growing rapidly, assuring that other members of the nuclear club would honor his membership with deference, offering pledges of non-interference in exchange for guarantees against a first strike.
"Five minutes to presstime, Mr. President," Burke Hill said.
Kwak had never waived the white flag, but he knew instinctively what he had to do now. He would not have his name blackened. He could not stand to have his proud and distinguished record of service laid waste before his eyes, like a fertile field of grain ravaged by birds and insects. He took a gold pen from its holder.
"No!" Colonel Han protested.
"I regret it, my friend." Kwak's voice took on a plaintive note. "But we have lost."
At that moment the intercom on his desk buzzed insistently. He had given instructions not to interrupt except in a dire emergency. He lifted the phone, listened a moment. His face began to glow with the beginnings of a smile.
"Maybe all is not lost," he said. "It appears our National Police have discovered the erring ways of one of their own. They have come to arrest Lieutenant Yun and rid us of his conspiring American friend. Send them in," he said into the phone.
Burke's mood plunged from euphoria to despair. He had known highs and lows in his time, but this was his first brush with victory instantly plunged into oblivion. What had happened? Had the top brass learned about their deceptive tactics at the kisaeng house, the slightly irregular tidying up operation last night at the Namyong Iron and Metal Company? After coming so close, was HANGOVER being cut down by the same people who had agreed to hush up the murder of Yun Yu-sop?