“The aircraft is the most advanced available,” General Namgung told Park. “It can elude anything the South Koreans have. Or the Japanese, for that matter.”
“What about the Americans?” asked Li.
“The Americans, too,” said Namgung. He turned to his aide, Captain Ganji, who nodded quickly. “It does this partly by flying very low. And, of course, our spies have provided the radar profiles. We know just where the aircraft must go to avoid detection.”
Park studied the general. He was a good man, a warrior of solid intention and dependability. Like many North Koreans, he had many relatives in the South, and believed as Park believed, that the country must be reunited.
But he had a warrior’s hubris, a tendency to be overly optimistic. The MiG aircraft was formidable, but it was not invincible. They could not assume that it would triumph.
Park rose from his seat and walked to the french doors at the back of the cottage room. He studied his reflection in the glass, surprised to see that he looked much older than he felt. Then he pushed the glass door open, breathing the crisp air as he gazed at the waterfall to the left of the patio.
There was just enough moonlight to dapple the surface of the water with rippling white light. The sight was auspicious.
Before the division, this land had belonged to Park’s grandparents. Among their businesses was a pottery factory, one of the finest on the continent, with more than a hundred skilled craftsmen. The main lodge up the hill had been built with its profits as a retreat for the family. The cabin where he and Namgung were meeting had been used as servants’ quarters.
Much had changed in seventy years. The servants’ quarters would be considered a palace by all but the most high-ranking North Korean party member. Even Namgung admired it.
Partition was difficult for most Korean families, and compared to many, the Park family had managed very well. They had held on to a great deal of their wealth, partly because so much of it had been concentrated in the South. Park hated the Communist principles that the Russians had imposed on the first Korean leader, Kim Il Sung; they were nothing short of theft, even though Kim at times mixed in true Korean ideas to make them seem more logical.
The dictator’s attitude toward the people was, in many ways, more understandable. Park did not condone the police state, but it was natural that a strong leader would have to take a strong hand. History made this evident and not merely in Korea.
The dictator was irrelevant. As General Namgung himself had said a few minutes before, the government would soon collapse. The time was ripe to bring the Koreas together.
Park closed the door and turned back to his guests.
“I have studied the MiG,” said Park. “You’re surprised, General. You shouldn’t be. My companies were involved in projects to build other aircraft. It is a very admirable aircraft, but it will be vulnerable. All aircraft are.”
“On the ground, certainly,” said the general. He was not one to retreat. “Once in the air it can avoid radars by flying low. By the time it is perceived as a threat, it will have reached its launch point. The enemy has no defenses in that sector.”
Park looked at Li.
“We have a plan to make sure that it is not attacked,” said Li. “It involves a certain amount of risk, but no more than if it were to proceed as you propose.”