“Rankin is aboard the Peleliu,” Corrigan told Corrine. “The bomb is secure.”
Corrine glanced at her watch. It was precisely 2:15 p.m.—a quarter past four in Korea. She punched the line to connect with Slott.
“Give Thera the go-ahead,” Slott said.
Corrine nodded to Corrigan.
“Why don’t you talk to the president this time?” Slott said. “I’m in the middle of something.”
“Sure,” said Corrine.
“Mr. President, Dan Slott asked me to tell you that the bomb is aboard the Peleliu. The First Team is en route to secure Park.”
“Well done, dear. We will give your people forty minutes to complete their task, and then I will call Yeop Hu in Seoul. After that, I will share what we know with the American public. It has been a difficult time,” added McCarthy, “and I expect a few more difficult moments ahead. But you have all done yeoman’s service. Yeoman’s service.”
“Jonathon, there’s one thing you should know about where some of the information came from on this,” said Corrine. “There was an e-mail that we think, that I think, came originally from Park or one of his people. It was sent to Senator Tewilliger. He gave it to me, and I gave it to the CIA.”
“Gordon was involved in this?”
“Indirectly. And probably unwittingly.”
“Well now,” said McCarthy, “isn’t that a fine, fine twist in the old bull’s tail.”
“Sir?” Corrine had never heard that expression before.
“Keep that information to yourself a spell, would you, dear?”
“Of course.”
“I would imagine it will come out at some point in the future,” added McCarthy. “At a much more strategic moment.”