General Namgung had still not made up his mind which pilot to choose when he arrived at the small airstrip south of Kusŏng. This was uncharacteristic; throughout his career he had decided most important matters literally in seconds. Now, as his most important moment neared, he found it impossible to pick its agent.
Perhaps he needed to look each man in the eye, to feel his grip. Perhaps it was the human connection that he lacked, the spark that would set everything in motion.
It was already in motion, moving across the country. There was grumbling, questions from P’yŏngyang, from the Great Leader himself. The Southerners were slow to react, obviously thinking it was some sort of bluff, but that was just as well.
Several generals had refused to follow his orders, and Namgung knew he might not be able to trust all of the units near the capital. But he had never counted on one hundred percent support in any event. Once the attack was launched, the reactions from the Americans and from the Chinese would propel events. His position would carry him.
Namgung’s car stopped in front of a small concrete building. Next to the building, concealed by a large camouflaged net, was a ramp that led to an underground aircraft shelter.
Nearly all of North Korea’s air force facilities had underground concrete hangars. This one, however, was unique in that it was occupied by a single plane, a MiG-29 the country had acquired within the past few months, partly with money made available by Park. The aircraft, an improved version of the already formidable fighter-bomber, combined the latest Russian and Western technologies, and was considered superior even by the Americans to all but a handful of fighters. Small and fast, it could avoid the most powerful radars until it was too close to its target to be stopped.
Strapped to its belly was a nuclear device built with the billionaire’s help. Park had supplied the plutonium; North Korean scientists working for Namgung had done everything else.
“General, everything is in order,” said Lee, saluting as the general approached. “The fuel truck will arrive within ninety minutes, as soon as the satellite passes.”
“Very good,” said Namgung. “Where are the pilots?”
“Practicing with the simulator, as you ordered. Should I get them?”
Namgung turned back toward the airfield, looking at the dark sky. Clouds obscured the moon. It was perfect.
“Let them practice a little longer,” he said.