Point of Contact

“China and South Korea account for the vast majority of our imports and exports. A blockade would hardly be necessary,” Choi said. “But I would hate to lose our business with Pakistan and Iran.” Some of North Korea’s nuclear and missile technology came from them.

“Our submarines can break the back of any blockade,” the Korean People’s Army Navy admiral said. The KPAN had thirty-five submarines, many of them domestically built, and over seven hundred ships in total.

“I appreciate the gallantry, Admiral, but our subs are vastly outnumbered by their antisubmarine forces,” Choi said. He pulled out a Gitanes cigarette from a fresh blue pack and lit it. He was the only person allowed to smoke in the room. A lead-crystal Baccarat ashtray sat to one side, a gift from one of his young mistresses after her last trip to Brussels. He took a few drags, thinking. His eyes fixed on the oily smoke curling from the end of his cigarette, whisking away into the ceiling ducts by the powerful fans circulating the filtered air — a gift of the Ukrainian Communists decades ago. It gave him an idea. He turned to the foreign minister.

“What will the Russians do if we are blockaded?”

“Given their current status with the Americans, I’m certain they will gladly ignore the embargo if for no other reason than to frustrate President Ryan.”

“Contact your counterpart in Moscow. Confirm this, and find out precisely what items and services they might be willing to provide,” Choi said.

“Immediately, sir.”

Another minister spoke. “There is no question that we can survive an economic embargo. Our people are willing to make the necessary sacrifices for the sake of our country.”

Choi stubbed out his cigarette in the expensive ashtray in small, precise movements. “Agreed. We can survive their economic embargo. But I’m not interested in merely ‘surviving.’”

The paper in front of Choi caught his eye. He picked it up and read it. Another idea came to him. “We have the meeting confirmed, as well as the time and place. President Zhao, President Ryan, Prime Minister Hironaga, and President Yeo-jin will all be in attendance. Does this gathering of heads of state present us with an opportunity?”

Everyone in the room knew Choi was referring to the 1983 Rangoon bombing by North Korean agents. That attack killed several high-ranking South Korean cabinet officials, who had all gathered for a public event. Dozens of other innocent civilians died as well — collateral damage in the long march toward the Idea. The president of South Korea survived only because the bomb went off before his scheduled arrival.

The head of the Ministry of State Security’s foreign counterespionage cadre cleared his throat. “It would be nearly impossible to organize an assassination attempt on Chinese soil, especially in Beijing.”

“Nearly impossible, but not entirely impossible, correct?” Choi asked.

“Anything is possible if one has the will,” the MSS deputy, a cousin, said. “But a successful outcome would turn us into a pariah with our friends in the Chinese government.”

Choi turned to the general of the rocket forces. “What about a decisive blow from one of our missiles, smashing the summit?”

The general froze. Was he serious?

“Would it even be possible?” Choi demanded.

“Yes, it would be possible.”

The chairman shook his head. “But not probable. The Chinese air defenses are impermeable.”

“But our scientists are working tirelessly to defeat their systems,” a civilian offered.

Choi waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, of course. But that doesn’t help us now, does it?”

The man shook his head sheepishly. “No, sir.”

“Do we have any other options available to us? Something that would at least disrupt their planned summit?”

“Did you have something in mind, sir?” one of the generals asked.

Choi suggested, “Another nuclear test, perhaps.”

A civilian technocrat from the nuclear directorate answered. “We might be able to rush one forward, but we risk a failure by doing so, and that would damage our technical credibility in the international community. But if we succeeded it would only reinforce the concerns of the Americans and their lackeys.”

“Agreed.” Choi folded his hands, thinking.

The anonymous man in the rear of the room fought back a smile. The chairman was putting on quite a theatrical performance.

The room sat in silence. No one dared speak until prompted by the dictator.

“This is quite perplexing, isn’t it?” Choi finally said. “The capitalists aren’t stupid. They must surely have gone through a similar exercise as we are going through right now. Thanks to our valiant armed forces, they are deterred from significant military action. And another economic embargo won’t amount to much in the long run. They must know these things. So why have the summit? A failed summit is terrible propaganda. They must have a plan to destroy us. But how? What do they know that we don’t?”

The room waited for his answer.

“Do I have to do all the thinking? Our enemies are set to strangle us. Speak up!”