Threat Level Black

Blitz wasn’t generally one to worry about the costs of things; the bean counters would always complain, in his opinion. But Congress would undoubtedly use the money issue to throw up roadblocks.

An issue for tomorrow. Right now he had to get the speech right. Blitz brought up his word processor and began preparing a few changes. He was just getting into the flow when Mozelle buzzed in

“You wanted to talk to Major Tyler in Korea?” she asked. “He’s on line three. It’s pretty late over there.”

“Thanks.”

Blitz turned around to the phone.

“ Tyler?” he asked after punching in the line.

“Dr. Blitz?”

“I heard you had a bit of trouble out there,” said Blitz.

“Yes, sir. No serious casualties. Pilot broke his leg, some concussions. That was the worst of it.”

“God was with you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What can you tell me about the UAVs?”

“Nothing beyond what was in the interim report,” said Tyler. “They look like mini-airplanes to me, or even something closer to spaceships. The radio control gear and the engines were missing. The design itself I guess was interesting, but I’m not an expert.”

“So you’re sure there were no engines?”

“Yes, sir. No engines there. Or the control apparatus they would need to fly.”

“Good,” said Blitz. He’d thought of having the President mention the weapons in his speech as an example of the North Korean threat-evidence that they were much more advanced than the intelligence community gave them credit for being-but now it seemed unwise. The project was obviously just another boondoggle. It would be interesting to see where the design had come from: Russia was the leading candidate, but it would be months if not years before it was tracked down.

“Tell me about North Korea. What’s the situation on the ground there?” asked Blitz. He listened as the Army major told him more or less what he had expected: The people for the most part were anxious and hungry. There were still bands of resisters, as his experience at the airfield attested. And there was a great deal of animosity between North and South, making for friction.

“Putting the two halves together won’t be easy,” Blitz said when Tyler finished.

“No, sir.”

“Has to be done, though.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you mind if I mention what you’ve told me to the President?”

“No, sir. I, uh, I’d be flattered.”

“He was asking about you,” said Blitz. “He knows you did a hell of a job.”

“Thank you.”

“You sound tired, Major. I’m sorry for interrupting your sleep.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I hope to see you soon,” added Blitz as he hung up.

Chapter 4

Howe spent all of the morning and a good deal of the afternoon recounting the kidnapping for investigators. They were spare with their own details, but it was clear from their questions that they connected it with the Korean operation, an attempt by the Korean he had rescued to tie up loose ends.

Howe asked one of the investigators-a DIA officer named Kowalski-point-blank why they’d bother. Kowalski blinked a few times and then shrugged.

A long queue of messages awaited him both at the motel and on his cell phone’s voice mail when he was finally done with the interviews. He sat in the motel lobby systematically listening and recording the numbers and callers on a pad. Before he decided who to call back, however, he phoned his mother for the second time that day, just to reassure her that he was all right.

“Jimmy called you,” she said, mentioning his friend. “He’s hoping you’re all right.”

“Yeah, he called my cell phone too,” he told her.

“Well, people worry.”

“I’m okay, Ma.” It occurred to Howe that he had been having some variation of this conversation for forty years.

“He has tickets for a football game.”

“NCAAs, Mom. It’s basketball. In New York. I already left a message telling him I can’t go.”

“He’s very excited.”

Howe laughed. “He’s always excited about something.”

“Just so you know.” His mother paused, changing the subject. “I’m going to bingo tonight with Gabby Thomas. I suppose my ears will be red for days.”

“I guess,” said Howe. He listened to his mother tell him something about the neighbors, then told her he had to get going.

“Well, of course you do. I will talk to you when I talk to you,” she said.

“Love you.”

He didn’t usually say that, and it took his mother a half-second to respond.

“I love you, too, Billy.”

Among the callers on his voice mail were three members of the NADT board, along with Delano, who was belatedly expressing surprise at the security snafu and sympathy about the “incident.” Howe decided that firing the vice president would be the first thing he did; one thing he didn’t need was a phony.

Howard McIntyre was the one person he wanted to talk to who hadn’t called. As Howe went through the cell menu to find his number, the cell phone rang; it was Alice.

“Hi,” he said.

“I wasn’t sure I’d get you,” she said. “I thought I’d just leave a message.”

“It’s me in the flesh,” he said. He winced, overly self-conscious but unable to do anything about it.

“Well…” she started.

“Well, what?”

“I, um…I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”