Corrine sat down at her computer, checking her e-mail before leaving for an early-morning meeting at the Justice Department. The first note was from Slott, who’d posted it nearly two hours ago. It read simply:
Call me. First thing. Secure line.
She picked up the phone and dialed. As it connected, she braced herself, expecting he was still mad about her going around him.
Or actually Ferguson going around him, though she’d taken the blame.
“Slott.”
“It’s Corrine Alston, Dan. What’s up?”
“The South Koreans picked some interesting documents off a North Korean soldier who may have been trying to defect. They seem to indicate that a mobilization order has been issued, getting the country ready to invade the South.”
Slott continued, explaining that, if legitimate, the order would be hand delivered to units throughout the country. They would begin mobilizing within a few days.
“The order would seem to set the stage for an attack,” added Slott. “So far, nothing has happened.”
“All right.”
“I’m going to ask Ferguson to report on anything he might have heard when he comes back. I’ve asked Thera to meet him in Seoul to make sure he calls in. Being Ferguson, that’s not always something you can count on. I thought you’d want to know.”
“I do. Thank you,” said Corrine.
“There’s no new information on the computer disk. They’re still working on it. I checked this morning.”
The words sounded almost like they were a challenge, or maybe a question: Is there something else I should know?
“I see,” said Corrine. “If I hear anything myself, I’ll let you know.”
It was a lame reply. She thought maybe she should apologize or at least get him to admit he was mad, but he hung up before she could think of a way to say any of that.