He met his first wife at a Workers’ Party meeting when they were both still teenagers, but she had died on her twenty-second birthday while giving birth to a stillborn child. In that instant Hwang went from family man to bachelor, and it affected him greatly. He focused wholly on his career for the next twenty years, until finally meeting a young nurse at a copper mine in Ryanggang Province. Min-ho and So-ra were married a year later.
His intelligence, calm demeanor, and work ethic all made him a standout, and over the next two decades he rose through the ranks to the top echelon of the organization, finding himself the director of the coal and copper mining sectors of his company by age fifty.
When the rare earth mineral deposits were discovered at Chongju in Pyongan-bukto Province, many of the highest members of the company switched their focus to working with the Chinese on this new natural resource. Hwang, by contrast, remained focused on the nation’s established mining operations, and by keeping his head down and concentrating on coal and copper, when the smoke cleared after the Chongju/China debacle, Hwang was virtually the only top-level executive in the organization left standing. He was ordered to take the reins of the organization when the director was imprisoned, and though it was the proudest moment in his life as well as the lives of his wife, children, and elderly parents, he would have much rather remained focused on coal and copper.
Nevertheless, now he was in charge, and he could no longer save himself by staying away from the rare earth mine. In fact, it had become eighty percent of his work. Since the Chinese were still partnering with North Korea at the copper mines and the zinc mines and the tungsten mine and the near-dormant gold mines, he felt certain no issue at any of those locations would get him thrown into Kangdong reeducation camp, so he knew his time was best spent concerning himself with the mining sector that, if not exploited in the next year and a half, would result in his being tossed into the back of an armored truck and rolled to Kangdong.
Hwang was father to a boy of nine and a girl of eight, and he considered himself a family man, but like all men in North Korea, his first allegiance was to the state and not his family, so this morning he rose before dawn and met his driver in front of his house in an elite neighborhood that overlooked the Taedong River. They drove silently together on the wide, empty boulevards. It was still dark, and in the capital city there were very few lighted streets, as electricity was in such short supply, but the large neon propaganda billboards on top of the tall apartment blocks and office buildings glowed dazzlingly, and bright spotlights ringed the large statues of Choi Ji-hoon that stood in the center of major intersections and traffic circles.
The drive took more than twenty minutes, and after another ten minutes walking through darkened corridors and climbing seven flights of stairs, Hwang Min-ho was hunched over a laptop on his desk with the day’s first cup of tea in his hand.
By the noon hour Hwang felt like this day would turn out like most every other—much work with little definite to show for it. Also like every other day he was getting nowhere in his attempts to advance the situation at Chongju. This morning he had suffered through a meeting with representatives of Korea General Machinery Trading Company, the state-owned manufacturer and importer of hydroelectric generators, and he had spent the better part of an hour both berating them for not fulfilling their promises from their last meeting and begging them to do a better job this time in their pledge to increase the electrical output to the mine. He’d received platitudes from the contingent, but little else.
Now he was prepping for an afternoon visit to Amroggang Development Banking Corporation a few blocks away. Hwang and his vice ministers were desperately trying to secure financing from abroad to purchase those few goods not enveloped by sanctions, and perhaps even find an overseas benefactor who would bankroll them outright. Hwang’s resources in country were limited, thanks to both the nation’s inefficiencies and the sanctions regime put upon them by the West, and he saw Amroggang Development as the thinnest and most fragile lifeline imaginable, but a lifeline nonetheless.
As he reached for the cup containing the dregs of his third tea of the day, his secretary’s slightly agitated voice squawked over the intercom.
“Director Hwang. Apologies, but there is a General Ri here to see you.”
Hwang cocked his head. He had no idea who this man was. He knew dozens of men named Ri, many of whom were military officers, but he wasn’t planning on talking to any of them today. “Does he have an appointment?” Unannounced visits among government executives were unheard of. Even at the lowest levels preparations would need to be made, and Hwang was director of the state-owned company that ran the largest industrial sector in the nation, so any meeting should have been on the agenda for days.
There was a pause, then almost a shriek from his secretary. “I am very sorry, sir, he is coming in!”
Hwang rose hurriedly as the door opened. There before him was a general in the green uniform of the Korean People’s Army, with an impressive chest full of medals. Hwang thought he remembered seeing him the week before, during his visit to Residence No. 55.
Hwang’s heart skipped a beat. He said, “Jeoneun chepodoemnikka?” Am I under arrest?
“Aniyo, dongmu.” No, comrade. “Apologies for coming unannounced.” He stepped up to Hwang’s desk and bowed. “General Ri Tae-jin of the RGB.”
Hwang bowed. “Foreign intelligence? What can I do for you?” He shrugged. “I’ve never even been out of the country.”
Ri smiled a little, but Hwang thought the man looked either tired or sad. “I am not here to hire you on as an agent. May I sit down?”
“I will call for some tea.”
“No. Let us just talk.” Ri took the chair in front of the desk, and Hwang sat slowly in his own chair. This brash general with the sad face seemed to have taken charge here in Hwang’s office. This was not the way meetings were held, and Hwang was utterly confused.
When both men were seated General Ri said, “I congratulate you on your recent appointment. I, too, only took the reins at RGB two weeks ago.”
“I extend to you my congratulations and best wishes, comrade. May you bring honor to the Dae Wonsu.”
“I am aware of your predicament,” Ri said abruptly.
Hwang looked around the room. “My predicament?”
“Yes. You have been given eighteen months to turn a slag pit in the mountains north of Chongju into the largest high-tech mineral mine in the world. The Chinese, the only business partner with the ability to make this happen, have been thrown out of the mine because the Dae Wonsu’s demand that they provide us with ICBMs was rejected out of hand. You cannot work with Western businesses in this endeavor in any legal sense because the nations with the technology and expertise we need have restrictions imposed on business travel and high-tech exports, and there is great risk that the crippling sanctions against our nation will only squeeze you tighter.”
Hwang just looked back at the man. It was all true, but it was not the Juche way to complain or to even bring up the hardships.
Ri continued, “You will not succeed, and you saw what happened to your predecessor, so you are aware of the ramifications of failure.”
Hwang puffed his chest out a little. “I am working diligently to ensure the mine reaches full output in the required time.”
“Work all you want. In fact, work up until the minute they drag you from behind that desk in chains. It will not happen without a lot of help.”
“What is it I can do for you, General?”
Somehow, the already stiff and stern-looking general managed to sit up even more erect. “You and I have something in common, Hwang. We both have a countdown clock in our heads. I have been ordered to secure for the DPRK both the hardware and the know-how to produce a successful and working ICBM. I have been given three years, so . . . twice as long as you. I would feel lucky if my task were not even more difficult than
yours.”
Hwang was both confused and nervous now. “What you are telling me is not in my normal purview. There are security concerns in telling this to—”
“I don’t care about that. You aren’t going to violate security. I’ve read every word of your personnel and intelligence file. You are no risk to anyone.”
“Yes. Of course not. Go on, please, General Ri.”
“We have something else in common. A wife who is good, and two children who rely on us. If the only result of my failure would be my own demise, it would be a small worry.”
Hwang said, “My own life is not important. I live to bring strength and prosperity to the Dae Wonsu.” It was official party doctrine. Communist ideology and personality cult.
And General Ri did not disagree with it, but he did deflect it. “Well, Hwang, if we succeed, we will both bring strength and prosperity to the Dae Wonsu and save our families. Certainly you agree that would be a suitable outcome.”
Hwang just nodded.
“You have a year and a half to produce, process, and market rare earth metal. I have three years to acquire an operational ICBM.” He smiled thinly. “As it stands now, we will both fail. Which means I will live exactly one and a half years longer than you.”
Hwang shrugged. “If I fail, I fail. There are things worse than being shot by firing squad.”
Ri leapt to his feet, a wild look in his eyes. “You are right about that! And I have seen those worse things. They fed my predecessor, General Gang, to starving dogs. It took him two minutes and forty seconds before he stopped resisting and they ripped out his throat. Which means that for two minutes and thirty-nine seconds he saw and felt and knew his fate. I have executed hundreds of men in my career. I will oversee an execution tomorrow morning, in fact. But what happened to General Gang was truly a horror no man should ever endure.”
Hwang’s face blanched.
“And that’s not all. His family paid for his failure with their lives.”
Hwang knew the families of traitors were often put to death. It wasn’t a hidden practice. On the contrary, the military wanted it to be known that the ramifications for defying the state extended past the life of the culprit. It was a way to encourage families to inform on members who were a threat to the society as a whole.
Ri continued, “Fail Choi as spectacularly as Gang did, and you will suffer the same fate. I might even be ordered to witness your fate. And you should hope I am there, because while the dogs are ripping your flesh, you will have the small comfort of knowing I will be there in the pen eighteen months after you.”
“Are you just here to commiserate with me?”
“No. I am telling you all this so you know that the two of us need one another.”
“What are you proposing?”
Ri smiled at Hwang. “I am proposing a partnership between our organizations. Between ourselves, in fact.”
“A partnership? I do not understand.”
“Your efforts are doomed to fail without outside help. I can get you that help. That which you need is all outside our borders, and I am the man who can go out and get it, and bring it back. You need foreign partnership. Not from China, but someone else. Someone who can acquire the goods and know-how and get them here, and someone who can take the metal and sell it quietly on the world market.”
“What do you want in return?”
“Twenty percent.”
“Twenty percent of what?”
“Twenty percent of everything. Direct into the coffers of the Ministry of Intelligence. Within one year this will triple my budget. With such monies I will be able to attain the technology we need.”
Hwang cracked a smile. “The Chinese say the mine is worth twelve trillion U.S. dollars. You think I have authority to divert twenty percent of twelve trillion dollars?”
“I think you can figure out a way if it keeps you out of the labor camps and your children alive. I have access to a network of international bank accounts. I can help you divert payments. And twelve trillion will be over the life of the mine. I only need to use the promise of your mine to generate foreign investment, which I can use for my ICBM operation.”
“You are going to buy a missile?”
“No. I am going to buy a missile industry.”
The smile on Hwang’s face returned. “You don’t lack for confidence.”
“It is not confidence. It is inspiration.” Ri leaned forward. “Nothing so inspiring as watching your predecessor being eaten alive by hunger-crazed animals.”
Hwang cringed. Then said, “Just tell me what you want, Ri.”
“No. You tell me what you want. And I will make it happen. I will use as much of my budget on this project as necessary, I’ll shut down desks, departments, stations, and move resources, I will task foreign operatives, I will devote all my energies into this operation.”
“Operation? I’m sorry, Ri. I don’t understand what you think you can do to help me mine and process rare earth minerals in Chongju.”
“Let me give you some examples of what I can do. I can bribe UN officials to loosen sanctions on banks and trade, I will hire armies of Western spies to infiltrate rare earth facilities all over the globe to learn that which you need to know. I will make deals with mining companies abroad to bring them on board in a clandestine fashion to help you with their expertise. I will offer secret employment contracts to chemists, geologists, engineers . . . you hand-pick the people you want and I will go out and get them, at gunpoint if necessary. I will organize deliveries of the goods you need and see that they make it past sanctions and embargo enforcement ships in the Yellow Sea. I will work with allies in Russia who can hack the computer systems of relevant industry to help you with blueprints. I will fund public relations initiatives around the world to make sure the market is accepting of your product once it’s ready to export.”
Hwang had never heard anything like this in his life. Of course his office had made requests for information from foreign intelligence, but what Ri was offering was on a scale exponentially larger than anything he had ever considered. Ri was outlining just exactly all the things he needed to create a successful mining and processing operation at Chongju. “Incredible,” he said. “If you can do this, we have a chance.”
“So, you agree?”
What did he have to lose? “I agree.”
Ri said, “I need to establish partnerships outside of our nation, to create the conduits necessary to make this happen. If you had any suggestions for companies or personalities I should seek out to join us in our endeavor, I would like to hear them.”
Hwang nodded instantly. “One name comes to mind. You get him involved as a benefactor, and you and I might just make this happen.”
The intelligence chief raised his eyebrows. “Tell me.”
“Óscar Roblas de Mota.”
Ri nodded thoughtfully. He knew all about this man. “Óscar Roblas. Why, yes. Of course.”
13
Present day
The small house on Jayhawk Street in Annandale, Virginia, showed its first signs of life most mornings at six. Forty-three-year-old Annette Brawley tapped the alarm clock, rolled up into a sitting position on her bed, and flipped on a light that shone through the curtains, out across the tiny yard and into the narrow street. She spent a few moments sitting on her bed, rubbing her eyes and dealing with the frustration that today was only Tuesday, and then she stood on tired legs.
As soon as she was up she made her bed. It was an old habit from her days in the Army, more than eight years removed now, and the process was especially quick and straightforward because no one slept with her, so she needed to remake only her side.
She then entered her kitchen and hit the button on the coffeepot, and grabbed a carton of eggs from the fridge. She pulled two cereal bowls out of the cupboard—this was about the time her head cleared enough f
or her to shut off her body’s autopilot and actually think about what she was doing.
She fixed breakfast for two, then at six-fifteen on the nose she walked down the narrow hall to the back of the house, took a narrow flight of stairs up, and then knocked on the door at the top of the landing. After knocking she opened the door, because she knew knocking was only a formality and no one would answer, and she would therefore need to use more active measures to accomplish this daily task.
Stephanie Brawley was sixteen, and she liked getting up in the morning even less than her mom did. She also didn’t like her mom very much, so she was doubly surly each and every time she awoke to a hoarse and tired female voice.
“Time to get up, Steph. I made you some eggs.”
“I hate you,” Stephanie croaked.
“I know, honey,” Annette calmly replied, wiping sleep from her eyes as she turned away. “I made you some cereal, too.”
“Turn off the light!”
Annette left her daughter’s room with the light on. She was subjected to a litany of insults as she retreated back downstairs to her coffee cup. Getting yelled at each morning had become part of her daily routine. She didn’t like it, it saddened and depressed her, but she did her best to keep a bit of perspective. Annette herself had lived with her mom after her parents divorced, and she’d been no great joy to be around during her teenage years.
No, she’d probably been rough on her mother, and now as Stephanie berated her each morning, she tried to tell herself this phase was just the payback of karma and it would pass soon enough.
Annette had lived alone since her husband died in 2007. He was in the Pennsylvania National Guard, serving in Afghanistan as a staff sergeant working as an intelligence analyst at his battalion headquarters in Nangarhar Province. He was far from any combat, and Annette thought he must have had one of the safer military jobs in the country, but his armored Humvee ran over an explosively formed projectile and he died instantly.
Annette was Army intelligence herself at the time, in active duty and serving just west of her husband in Kabul. Eight-year-old Stephanie had been home in Pittsburgh with Annette’s mother, and it had been doubly hard on her that her own mother was not home at the time she heard about her father’s death.