S
HE’S BACK HOME AND SAFE,”
Robie pointed out.
He and Reel were sitting outside at a café in D.C. having an early breakfast.
“By a miracle, Robie.”
“Miracles happen by chance. This didn’t.”
She put her coffee down and stared at him. “You know what I mean. You know how many things could have gone wrong. Any one of them could have cratered the mission and Julie would be dead.”
“But she’s not dead.”
Reel put her shades on, sat back, and stared off.
“And Earl?” he said.
She smiled grimly. “Back on death row and talking to himself. They don’t expect him to last a week.”
Robie’s phone buzzed. He looked at it and then sat up straighter.
“Blue Man.”
“At least it’s not Evan Tucker. I couldn’t take him, not today.”
“He wants us to come in.”
“Something up, you think?”
“He doesn’t usually call to chitchat.”
Reel rose and threw her cup of coffee into a trash can. “Then let’s not keep the man waiting.”
“Rumblings,” said Blue Man. “But distinct ones.”
They were seated in Blue Man’s office at Langley. The skies had darkened on the ride over and rain was starting to fall.
Reel and Robie glanced at each other.
Reel said, “Distinct how?”
“We have numerous contacts in South Korea, China, and Taiwan. These contacts in turn have a smaller number of resources planted in North Korea, mostly in Pyongyang.”
“And adding them all up, what do these rumblings say?” asked Robie.
“That the North Koreans are planning something.”
“Retaliation, you mean,” said Reel.
“I doubt it’s anything else,” said Blue Man. “The North Koreans are not known for either their tact or their compassion.”
“But they can keep secrets,” Robie pointed out. “Do we have any clue what form this retaliation might take?”
“It seems clear that they have discovered the level of Pak’s actions. And now his family has disappeared.”
“I didn’t think he had any family,” said Reel.
“So they’ve either been killed or sent to the labor camps,” said Robie with a resigned sigh.
Blue Man nodded. “Appears to be the case.”
Robie added, “If so, they’re beyond help.”
“I would have to agree with that. Any attempt to free them would create an international incident that we cannot afford at present.”
“He said to protect his family,” observed Reel quietly. “Well, we failed him on that.”
“We were talking retaliation?” said Robie quickly, noting Reel’s depressed look.
Blue Man nodded and opened a file on his desk. “It’s why I called you two in really. Now the DCI—”
“Is he still in denial?” Reel interrupted.
“Apparently so. Head in the sand, hoping the other shoe does not drop.”
“Great plan,” said Reel with disgust.
“Perhaps. But options are limited.”
“Surely we can take some defensive measures,” said Robie.
“We can and are,” replied Blue Man. “We feel that since our target was at the highest level in North Korea, any retaliatory action on their part will be aimed at the same level here.”
Robie looked doubtful. “The president? They have to realize they can’t get close to him.”
“The Secret Service has been made aware of the need for heightened protection, although the president already enjoys the best protection in the world.”
“So if not the president, what then?” asked Reel.
“The vice president? The Speaker of the House? A prominent cabinet secretary? A Supreme Court justice perhaps? Maybe even a dirty bomb in a populous area. And the target would be largely symbolic and the message would be, ‘We can get to your leaders or people anytime we want.’ It would definitely be a blow to this country should they succeed.”
“But what’s the endgame on this?” asked Robie.
“After they strike back Pyongyang may release to the world whatever evidence they have about a plot led by this country to assassinate their leader.”
“The world won’t believe the North Koreans. They hardly have credibility,” Robie pointed out.
“But in this case they would be telling the truth, wouldn’t they? And we don’t know what they might have discovered. From Pak. Or from Lloyd Carson. The DCI doesn’t think there is anything there. But his judgment has not been infallible.”
“Quite the opposite,” said Reel icily.
Robie said, “You didn’t call us in here to tell us to do nothing.”
“No, I wanted to warn you,” said Blue Man.
“About what?” asked Reel.
“At the cottage where you saw Pak kill himself?”
“Yeah?” said Robie warily.
“You may have been seen.”
“That’s impossible,” said Reel. “We didn’t see anyone and our surveillance cameras showed no activity.”
“Nevertheless, the rumblings we’re hearing indicate you may have been seen. And if so, you may become targets as well.”
Robie looked over at Reel. “Well, it won’t be the first time. Although I think I’d take the neo-Nazis over the North Koreans.”
P
RESIDENT TOM CASSION SAT AT
the breakfast table in his family’s private quarters in the White House. He’d already been given his daily briefing and was fortifying himself with an extra cup of coffee before truly beginning his day, which was mapped out to the minute.
He looked across the table at his wife, Eleanor, or Ellie, as he and her closest friends called her.
“I saw your schedule for the next couple of days,” he said, folding up a copy of the
Washington Post
and setting it next to his largely uneaten breakfast. “Pretty busy.”
She looked over her teacup at him. “Right. And I saw yours. Pretty empty. What a slacker.”
He smiled resignedly. “It’s not that bad.”
She glanced at all the food left on his plate. “You haven’t been eating lately, Tom.”
“Stomach’s been a little unsettled. Just under the weather.”
“Go see the doctor, then. You have your own private one.”
He nodded. “I will,” he said, vaguely staring off.
“When do you get back?” she said.
“Four stops. Seattle, San Francisco, Houston, and Miami. Air Force One wheels down tomorrow afternoon at two.”
“Sort of like the campaign.”
“Not nearly as busy. How many times did we travel to eight or ten cities in a single day?”
“Too many times,” she said dryly.
“And these days politicians never stop campaigning. With the changes in the laws any amount of money can be thrown into the ring. You have to make certain you get your share of it, because the other side certainly will take up any slack.”
She said, “I miss the days of printing our own campaign flyers and collecting checks in a coffee can at backyard barbecues.”
“Sometimes I do too.”
He ran his gaze over Eleanor as she went back to studying her schedule for the day. She was still young, forty-six, four years younger than he was. They had two kids, Claire and Tommy Junior. Claire was fifteen going on forty. She had adapted extremely well to the life they now had. She’d made many friends at school and was active and popular at Sidwell Friends, and a very good student. Tommy was still very much a little boy who had at first loved living in the White House but had quickly grown to hate it. Neither the president nor his wife really knew what to do about it, and their son’s unhappiness was weighing heavily on both of them.
Eleanor’s voice broke through these thoughts. “The kids have a week off from school soon. I was thinking about taking them out of town. Maybe Nantucket. The Donovans have offered the house again.”
He gaped at her. “Nantucket? At this time of year? It’ll be cold and rainy.”
“Actually, the average high is nearly seventy degrees and the average low is over fifty. And long-range weather forecasts say precipitation levels will be well below average, although the skies will probably be overcast. The Atlantic Ocean helps moderate the climate. It’ll be warmer there than in Boston.”
“As usual, I see you’ve done your homework, Ellie,” said the president grudgingly.
She smiled. “And the tourists are all gone. It will be private and we can regroup as a family. Toasty fires, curling up with a good book. Playing board games. Taking walks together on the beach. Just recharging. Getting to spend time with the kids.”
“You mean spending time with
Tommy
. Claire is doing just fine.”
“I mean as a family,” she said firmly. “And while I know your schedule is packed, it would be wonderful if you could come for at least a day.”
The president looked at her strangely. Their lives were all governed by phone-book-thick itineraries with travel mapped out well in advance.
“Is this on the schedule? I didn’t see it.”
“No, I just was thinking about doing it.”
“Well, I seriously doubt I’ll be able to come for even a day. My schedule is packed for the next two months. And besides, the voters don’t like presidents to just pop off to vacations. You’ll have to check with the Secret Service. They’ll need time to prepare. It might be too difficult on such short notice.”
“I’ve already got them working on it.”
“Okay, hope it works out. But I think you’re overreacting to Tommy’s issues. He just needs more time to settle in, that’s all.” He picked up his newspaper.
Eleanor sighed, started to say something, and then returned to her tea and schedule, looking over notes for a speech she was set to deliver after a tour of the White House she was giving to a group of senators’ spouses.
The president did not seem to notice his wife’s disappointment. His stomach was unsettled for one simple reason.
Guilt. Massive, unrelenting guilt.
He had given his word to General Pak that he would carry through on all that they had planned. He had said this to Pak face-to-face. And now the man was dead. The president had actually sent agents out to kill him, but Pak had taken his own life. And had told the agents to be sure to tell him, “Go to hell.” If the positions had been reversed the president would have done the same thing. He had betrayed the man, pure and simple. And now he had been told that Pak’s adopted children had probably been sent to the labor camps, most likely for the rest of their lives.
I betrayed the man. I killed the man. I’m guilty of murder.
“Dad? Dad?”
The president shook his head and glanced around.
His daughter, Claire, had come down to breakfast. “I wanted you to look at the term paper I did for American Gov class.”
“You think I know anything about government?” he said, attempting a weak smile.
“No, but Mom is obviously busy,” she retorted with a broad smile.
He laughed while Eleanor looked on, amused. Then he continued to proudly watch as his daughter dug into her breakfast while scanning notes for what looked like her math class.
He watched warily as his son shuffled into the room wearing his school uniform. The boy had gone from a public school to one of the most elite institutions in the country. The transition had not been without some hiccups.
“Hey, big guy,” said the president. “Sleep okay?”
“I’m not a big guy. I’m the smallest kid in my class. Even the girls are taller than me.”
Claire put her spoonful of cereal down and cracked, “And smarter too.”
“Shut up!” exclaimed Tommy.
“Claire!” said her mother sharply. “Leave it alone.”
Claire smiled triumphantly and returned to her notes.
The president said, “Tommy, I’m six-two. Your mother is five-nine. You’re going to be tall. Simple matter of genetics. I bet in a couple of years you’ll shoot right past your sister. You just have to be patient.”
Claire snorted and Tommy scowled.
“And we have three more years in this place,” said Tommy. “Whoopee.”
“
Seven
more when Dad wins reelection,” pointed out Claire gleefully. “Right, Dad?”
The president was staring at his son and didn’t answer her.
Eleanor quickly rose, did an inspection of Tommy’s appearance, and went into full-scale mom mode, tidying his hair, tucking in his shirt, redoing his tie, and smoothing down his collar.
“You’re running a little late,” she said. “Better hurry with your breakfast.”
Tommy plopped down and stared glumly at his plate.
Eleanor glanced quickly at her husband, but he had returned to gazing off. She had resigned herself, after a bit of kicking and screaming, that so long as they were in this house and he held his office, he was mostly gone from them. The problems he had to deal with were too immense, the vitriol too intense, the stakes too high. She felt like a single mother. But she had lots of help, and she was well aware that there were many women who were truly single struggling to raise families with far fewer resources than she had. Still, it wasn’t easy. Family was hard, regardless of how much money one had.
But seeing his son had given the president something to think about.
Family.
He rose and dropped his napkin on his plate.
Eleanor looked up at him. “Are you okay?”
“Just forgot something I need to do before I fly out.”
He rushed off.
Eleanor turned her attention back to Tommy and coaxed him into eating a few bites of his breakfast. Then she watched her children head off with their Secret Service protection details. They would drop Tommy off first and then Claire. A Secret Service agent would remain in the classroom with them throughout the day.
As the mini-motorcade pulled off, Eleanor did not notice the group of tourists congregating near the side gate to the White House. The place where the first family would leave and enter the White House was very private and not really visible to the public.
Most of the public.
A man and a woman held up their cameras and were snapping pictures of everything they could see. They had sought positions that would give them the best view into this private area while the guards at this location were deliberately distracted by queries asked by others in their group.
As the motorcade turned onto the street, another member of the group took pictures of it, smiling and waving and looking excited as a tourist might. He kept snapping pictures of the motorcade until it disappeared from sight. Then the tail was taken up by a pair of sedans that were parked on Seventeenth Street. They worked in tandem, turning off and then coming back so as not to make the Secret Service grow suspicious.
Back at the White House, Eleanor had stopped to look at some plant beds being worked on by the grounds crew. As she stood there her secretary came up to her.
“Mrs. Cassion, I’m checking out the details for the trip to Nantucket for you. It’ll just be you and the children, correct?”
“Yes. I talked to the president this morning. It doesn’t look like he can make it.”
“The Secret Service is working on the logistics and they’ll have their preliminary report back later this week if that’s okay.”
Eleanor nodded and said, “I remember the day when we just jumped into the car with a couple of suitcases and our dog and drove off.”
The secretary laughed. “Wish those days were back?”
“Only every minute of my life. But I really think it’ll be good to get away. I only wish the president could join us.”
“The house you’ve picked looks beautiful.”
“Friends of ours. The Donovans. They’re letting us use it. Very old, very rustic. We can walk to the beach. And we can ride bikes to town. Roaring fires. Books to read, chats to have. Just…just being together.”
“Sounds idyllic.”
“I’m hoping. I’m hoping that…Tommy will like it.”
The secretary nodded knowingly. “It’s hard for kids. I don’t think I could do it.”
“Well, we have to figure out a way that allows Tommy to deal with it. We have no other choice.”
As the pair walked back inside a man in the uniform of the National Park Service rose from the planting bed he had been working on. Officially, he was from South Korea and had worked here for six years. In reality, he was North Korean and had been sent to the United States fifteen years ago with the sole task of being assigned to the White House in some capacity. Many occupations for him had been ruled out. But working the grounds had not. And after working far harder than anyone else around him, he had made it here.
He had been sending back regular reports to his government of any details here that seemed worthwhile. Not that much had been worthwhile, however.
Until now. Now he might have just hit the mother lode.