—
Right after takeoff at seven-fifteen a.m. Ryan sent down for his intelligence chief, who was just finishing an apple bran muffin and a cup of coffee in the senior staff meeting room while she worked on her iPad. She climbed the steps to the President’s office and found Ryan sitting behind his desk. He wore a dress shirt and a tie, but over that he wore his dark blue Air Force One flight jacket. He beckoned her over to a small rectangular conference table and grabbed a stack of papers from his desk. When he started to a chair opposite her, she reached out and pulled the chair around to her side of the table.
“Mind if we sit next to each other? I have to show you some things on my tablet.”
“As long as it doesn’t get back to Ed,” he joked.
Mary Pat laughed and they both sat down. More coffee was poured for them while they got settled.
Ryan asked, “Have you seen the reaction from the North Koreans about the interdiction of the Emerald Endeavor?”
Foley shook her head. “I missed it. I haven’t had a chance to turn on the TV.”
Ryan said, “Any guesses as to the wording?”
“I don’t know, something like ‘This illegal interdiction is an act of war perpetrated by America.’”
Ryan looked down at this morning’s Presidential Daily Brief, which contained an abbreviated transcript of the North Korean ambassador’s remarks from the evening before. He read it silently, then said, “Pretty good, Mary Pat.” He read from the transcript. “‘We regard this unlawful interception by the U.S. as an act of war.’”
Mary Pat waved away Ryan’s compliment. “Easy guess. It’s always the same with these guys.”
“So, what do we know about the material found? Definitely components to a missile?”
“Definitely. These tubes are the exact specs of a Dongfeng-3A. It is a Chinese single-stage medium-range nuclear ballistic missile.”
Ryan was confused. “Chinese? That doesn’t make sense. The Chinese could truck them over the border. Why would they sail them out into international waters where they could be interdicted?”
Foley replied, “The Chinese didn’t make them or deliver them.”
“But you just said—”
“These are knockoffs.”
Jack cocked his head. “Counterfeit?”
“Yes. They are exact reproductions of the tubes used for the fuselage of the DF-3A Chinese medium-range missiles. But these were made by a private aerospace company in France called Précision Aéro Toulouse.”
“That’s interesting. Why?”
“The theory we have is this: We all know the North Koreans are having problems fielding a long-range ICBM because their Taepodong-2, the closest one they have to being ready, keeps failing, either between first and second stage or between second- and third-stage separation. That means something could be wrong with the second stage they are using.”
“Right. Go on.”
Mary Pat slid her iPad along the table to where Jack could see it and she began scrolling through several photos and diagrams of missiles. Each picture was labeled and time-stamped and captioned, and Ryan saw some of the photos were from open-source intel, and others were from top-secret sources.
“The second stage they are using now is taken from their Rodong medium-range ballistic missile. Basically they just slapped a single-stage rocket into the middle of their three-stage rocket, and it’s not working out for them.”
“Imagine that.”
“Rocket science is tough,” Mary Pat said with a chuckle. “But what we know is the Chinese are doing something similar with their long-range missiles. They use their Dongfeng-3A single-stage rocket as the second stage of their long-range ICBM.”
“And the North Koreans want to use the Dongfeng on their Taepodong-2?”
“It appears so. Back in the early nineties the Chinese gave the North Koreans one Dongfeng-3A missile. They never deployed it, they just took it apart to cobble pieces together in their own equipment. Now that China has refused to give Choi the ICBM technology that he wants, we think they are using this French aerospace firm to build replicas of the Dongfeng-3A.”
“Off Chinese plans?” Ryan asked.
“We don’t think so. We think this company in France actually reengineered these missile components by using the tube of the one Dongfeng-3A in the North Koreans’ possession.”
Jack looked over the photos of the tubes pulled off the Emerald Endeavor. “Wow.”
Mary Pat said, “‘Wow’ is right. In order to reengineer these tubes, they would have had to have built proprietary tools and high-tech machines.”
Ryan said the obvious. “And that didn’t come cheap.”
“Not cheap at all. We’ve spent the past couple of days looking into this. Précision Aéro received a payment of seventeen million euros eight and a half months ago. That’s nearly twenty-five million U.S. dollars.”
Ryan sipped his coffee. “Should it bother us North Korea has twenty-five million U.S. to drop on a project as speculative as this?”
“It bothers me. We don’t know what all they expected for that payment, or what all Précision Aéro has already shipped them.”
“We need to find out. Have we talked with the French government?”
“No, and there’s a problem with doing that. We need to go carefully so they don’t know we are looking into the bank accounts of one of their companies. Anyway, I know what they will say. The deal wasn’t done with the North Koreans. It was with a shell company out of Luxembourg.”
Ryan sighed, looking again at the tubes taken from the Emerald Endeavor. “This equipment must violate international nonproliferation treaties.”
“That’s debatable.”
Ryan turned to Mary Pat, and she put her hands up quickly. “I’m not debating it. Of course the commerce in these kinds of ‘dual-use’ parts should be banned by international treaty, but companies make the argument that as long as it is not overtly going to end users who are going to make ICBMs, then it should be fair game. There are enough private satellite companies on earth today to where firms like Précision Aéro can dip their toe into weapons proliferation with plausible deniability.”
Ryan rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “I’ll call the French president and let him know what we know. I’ll play it like we got tipped off. He might not believe me, but he won’t be able to challenge me.”
Foley said, “The real issue here, Mr. President, is not the material we found on board the Emerald Endeavor. It is the fact North Korea had the hard currency to buy this material on the world market in the first place.”
“I can tell by that look on your face you know something.”
“I do. CIA has been working on North Korean banking practices for a while now, and this fits right in with this new information. We traced the payment to Précision Aéro back to a bank account in Dubai. There was thirteen million in the account even after the purchase.”
“What is North Korea doing with that kind of cash?”
“We have a theory, and this is why Jay and I weren’t able to meet with you yesterday. We’ve been working on this for three days solid, even before the Emerald Endeavor.”
Ryan leaned closer. “Tell me.”
“Mr. President, there is strong evidence North Korea has restarted production on their rare earth mineral mine at Chongju.”
Ryan just said, “Shit.”
Mary Pat continued, “Analysts at the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency say there are indications that the rare earth mine in the northwest of the nation is up and running again. Further, they think it is happening without Chinese help.”
Ryan said, “The Chinese were booted from that mine a few months back.”
“A year ago now, yes. Our contacts in China report no change in that relationship, so we find it curious the North Koreans are advancing with the
program there. Especially because there is evidence they are actually building up the capacity to process the rare earth ore into refined materials. That’s something light-years ahead of the current level of DPRK sophistication. Even the Chinese had planned on processing the ore at refineries in China.”
“Do the Chinese know the DPRK is going around them?”
“Virtually all of what we know about facts on the ground in North Korea comes from the Chinese, either intercepted communications, the odd HUMINT asset, or open sources. We see nothing about Chongju in any of these resources, so we feel the Chinese are in the dark on this, for now at least.”
Ryan asked, “Do you have the NGA images?”
Mary Pat had learned long ago to expect Ryan to ask to see primary intelligence. She began flipping pages on her tablet, displaying a series of overhead shots of a cluster of buildings.
“What do you think?” Mary Pat asked after a moment.
“I think I’m glad we’ve got analysts at NGA to decipher this for us. I see the strip mine, obviously, but all the tanks and buildings look like they could belong to just about any sort of factory.”
Mary Pat reached to the tablet computer and brought up another page. On it were two images. One was captioned “Chongju dam” and the other “LAMP.”
“The one on the left is the ore-processing facility in North Korea. We are calling it ‘Chongju dam’ because that is the closest named structure, it’s just north of Chongju and west of the mine. And the image here is of the LAMP rare earth–processing plant in Malaysia. Look at the oxidation tanks in both photos.”
Ryan looked them over and agreed the two installations were very similar.
Mary Pat said, “We learned from Chinese intercepts last year that Chongju could bring North Korea as much as twelve trillion dollars in hard assets in the next two to three decades. With that kind of a potential haul, it’s no big surprise they found someone new to help them build and run it.”
Ryan said, “And that someone new is paying them in hard currency for the opportunity. And that connects this to the missile tubes on the Emerald Endeavor.”
Foley nodded. “Right. The North Koreans are taking the offshore money they are getting for future mineral rights and they are using it to buy the ballistic missile technology they need to make their ICBMs operational, because the one thing they do not yet have is an ICBM that can reach the continental United States.”
Ryan almost mumbled to himself. “A matter of time.”
“Yes. It is a cold fact of economics that if North Korea manages to earn just a fraction of the money we think they can earn from that rare earth mineral mine, then they will be able to buy the technology and expertise they need to threaten us.”
Ryan said, “So often in diplomacy, there is a tendency to oversimplify things. Most situations are not the zero-sum games people make them out to be. But this is one such case. Success for North Korea means failure for us. We stop the mining and we stop the spigot of cash that’s fueling their missile program.”
“Exactly. But as long as North Korea has access to banks where they can transact with shell companies for hard currency, we won’t be able to stop them.”
Jack looked out the porthole next to him. They were just off the coast of Maine, heading northeast. The Atlantic looked impossibly blue below. “We’re not going to fire cruise missiles into North Korea to destroy a strip mine. We just have to find out who in the West is bankrolling them and how they are doing it.”
“The ‘how’ is no problem. CIA has compiled a list of thirty banks in ten nations where we have found North Korean offshore accounts.”
“Where are they?”
She looked down at her iPad and found a file, then opened it and read aloud. “Hong Kong, Vanuatu, Brunei, Singapore, Mexico, Switzerland, Malta, Belize, Nicaragua, and the Cayman Islands.”
“Not necessarily places we can apply direct pressure to get the assets frozen.”
“Not at all.”
Frustrated, Ryan said, “What about identifying who is working with North Korea on the mine?”
“Easier said than done, Mr. President. This transaction with Précision Aéro is a dead end. It won’t lead back to the actual mining partners. It only leads to a shell company, which I’m sure was set up by the North Koreans to procure overseas equipment for their missile program.”
Jack turned and looked at his DNI with a grave face. “Mary Pat, I do hate to sound like a broken record, but you know what I’m going to say.”
“You want me to get you more information.”
He nodded. “However you can. A North Korea with an ICBM that can reach the U.S. is a game changer. Not just in Asia, but in the entire planet. We can’t punish the North for violating sanctions because we are already doing that. I might be able to push the UN for a new round of sanctions that will squeeze their accounts in those offshore banks, but that’s a long shot, and it won’t happen overnight. But if you can find out who is helping them with their rare earth mine, I will go after them with a vengeance, and that will, at least, slow down their new source of income.”
Mary Pat saw the task before her as nearly impossible, but she had her assignment from her superior. “Yes, Mr. President.”
19
Lieutenant General Ri Tae-jin flew via helicopter to the Kangdong Airport, just northeast of Pyongyang. With him were eight subordinates and a security detail of eight more, most of whom were flying in a follow-on helo.
The two Russian-made Mi-8s touched down at noon, and Ri stepped out moments later only to climb into the back of a waiting Mercedes limousine. The bulk of his entourage boarded military vehicles and they set off for their destination.
Kangdong was a suburb of sprawling Pyongyang, only thirty miles from Choi Li-hung Square, the center of the capital city, but Choi Ji-hoon had a second palatial residence here, and when he was at Kangdong-gun, anyone who was summoned had to make the two-hour drive on poor roads. Unless, of course, they were high-ranking government or military personnel, at which point they could simply fly.
The North Korean state had an official policy of Songun, which meant “military first.” It was government doctrine that the Chosun Inmingun was fed first, fed best, housed and outfitted using the pick of the nation’s resources. Most party officials reached their status via their military careers, and many high-ranking government department heads were still Chosun Inmingun.
High-ranking military personnel had access to helicopters, and when they drove on the roads they could order the roads blocked from ordinary civilians.
Songun made the military the elite social class of the nation.
Ri’s flight was only ten minutes, and his limo ride was only twenty more, and this brought him through the checkpoints on the grounds of the luxury mansion and to the front door.
He was brought in to a small banquet hall by a half-dozen men of Section Five of the Party Central Committee Guidance Department. They were Choi’s close protection detail, and they treated Ri with politeness, but no real deference. His body was wanded and he was seated at a small table and brought tea.
Here he waited one hour and twenty-three minutes.
He made no complaints, and displayed no show of frustration, because Section Five stood at parade rest around the room, and they kept their eyes on him.
Finally Choi walked in, and Ri immediately stood and fought off the natural desire to wince.
The Dae Wonsu’s Mao jacket was half open, and his eyes were bloodshot. Choi’s hair was cut too short to show dishevelment, but Ri could see creases on the young man’s face that gave clues the man had been lying on a bed moments before. His fleshy cheeks were pinker than usual as well.
Ri realized almost instantly that the Dae Wonsu was drunk. He’d seen his nation’s leader in various levels of inebriation before. Festive galas were thrown with some regularity, mostly at Ryongsong, a
nd Ri was occasionally ordered to attend. Choi had the habit of arriving late, but always with a drink in his hand, and it was usually abundantly clear he had begun his revelry hours before. He’d never fallen over or passed out like many other officials during the festivities, but it was par for the course to see him slumped and sullen at his grand table while the party continued around him.
No, Ri wasn’t surprised to see his leader drinking and affected by it, but he was disheartened, because he knew why he was here, and a drunk Dae Wonsu was only going to make this conversation more volatile.
The Americans had foiled his attempt to bring in precision-crafted second-stage tubes from France. Ri still had time to make it happen before the clock ran out on Choi’s arbitrary timetable, and with more money coming in from Óscar Roblas than Ri knew what do to with he had other opportunities to get the tubes, but he worried Choi would lose confidence in him and sack him right here and now.
The lieutenant general knew good and well the Dae Wonsu wouldn’t have to keep to his end of their three-year deal—he could change his mind on a whim and throw him to the dogs at any time.
Choi sat down at the table while giving Ri a distracted nod, and then, after the long protocol of deep and obligatory bows, Ri sat back down.
Choi swirled the dark brandy around in his glass for a moment; he seemed to be concentrating on the spiraling movement of the liquid. The general thought his leader would say something slurred and nonsensical, but when he spoke his voice was clear, and his words were lucid and biting.
“Another shipment has been interdicted, towed to port in Inchon. How far back does this put us?”
Ri kept his chin up. He’d been summoned to this meeting first thing this morning, which meant he’d had all day to prepare. “It was unfortunate. The American warship USS Freedom is making things difficult for us in acquiring the larger items we need. Smaller equipment can travel by aircraft, and we have utilized this method with good results. It is only on the sea where we are still having problems.”
“The problem is America,” Choi said.