big dog had been shot.
Adnan stared in open wonder, watching each gripping moment unfold, completely unaware of the approach of a Navy SEAL, who tackled him and used a familiar-looking device to snip the wires sticking out of Adnan’s suicide vest.
Almost in the same instant, a single bullet killed the Waziristani and ended the hijacking.
Adnan, pinned to the floor with his vest stripped off and his hands cuffed behind his back, heard the old guy who’d been drinking Satan’s nectar talking again, speaking a sloppy language that the devout Muslim would never understand.
* * *
In a mountain fortress near Pyongyang—long hidden from Western eyes in the sky—Jae-hwa held the old Bakelite phone to his ear with one hand; his other rested on the world’s most powerful switch.
All the missile silos were open. All the rockets were ready to launch. Jae-hwa had watched them roll into position, moved by an army proud of its mission, prouder still of its Supreme Leader.
Now Jae-hwa waited to hear the most important words that would ever be spoken on this planet—an order only the Supreme Leader could give.
Jae-hwa’s ears soon thrilled to the man’s voice. The Supreme Leader spoke gravely, as appropriate for the command that must come. But the loyal soldier, who would have given his own life to spare the Supreme Leader so much as a bee sting or splinter, could scarcely believe what he heard:
“Do not fire the rockets. Every country in the world looks to us for guidance now. I command the world stage. Even men who think they are stronger than us are bowing to me. We do not wish to destroy the world when they know they must give us their full attention—and so much more.”
Yes, command the world stage. That is your due, Supreme Leader. Jae-hwa wanted to say this and so much more, but he remained silent until he was sure the Supreme Leader had finished speaking. Then Jae-hwa kept his words simple and humble, as he knew he should, thanking the Supreme Leader for his wisdom, and assuring him that every man, woman, and child would fill with gratitude for his most cherished words.
The Supreme Leader hung up. Jae-hwa took his hand from the shiny silver button, and his thoughts turned to the child in his home, the son who was the treasure of Jae-hwa’s life. He felt certain that his boy would sleep tonight—and many more nights to come—in a world no colder than the one he already knew.
EPILOGUE
The funerals came first. The two Joes—Joe Santoro and Joe English—had died trying to stop the North Korean assassins. Jenna attended both services, as did dozens of her fellow network employees. Genuine grief filled the faces of everyone in attendance. The men were well liked and deeply appreciated. Jenna contributed generously to funds for the families of both men.
Geoff Parks had survived. His dog, Kato, hit three times, also pulled through. Master and dog were both healing. Jenna looked forward to seeing the pair patrolling the studio after the first of the year, when they were expected to return to duty.
Jenna did not end up in a supermax, despite the vice president’s threats. To her surprise, her efforts to draw attention to the North Korean rockets were credited with sparking a huge surge in voting, which exit polls said proved decisive to President Reynolds’s reelection. Roger Lilton conceded the race early and eloquently.
Not only was potential imprisonment never mentioned again but Jenna, Dafoe, Forensia, and Sang-mi, along with her father, were even feted in a secret White House ceremony. The president cited their “valiant efforts to draw attention to the worst threat the world has ever known.”
Jenna also remained on the task force. When the group met again, Senator Higgens gave her a big boozy hug and offered her a substantial stipend to serve on the United States Energy Institute’s board of directors.
“But that would compromise my integrity,” Jenna said, genuinely aghast at the proposal.
“I tried,” Higgens replied with a weighty shrug, reminding Jenna that the energy industry, no matter how great its failings, never allowed itself to become mired in self-doubt, embarrassment, or remorse—not as long as profits flowed thick as crude.
North Korea proved as difficult to deal with as Big Oil and Big Coal. On election day, President Reynolds sent secret messages to the Supreme Leader telling the tyrant that he held him in the highest esteem for his wisdom, wit, and intellect—and by the way, would the Great One please keep the sulfates in