‘What about a partial withdrawal? You could retreat to the outskirts of Pyongyang, declare it a neutral city, and invite Pak to a constitutional conference to discuss the future of North Korea.’ Pauline was not at all sure that Pak would accept that as a basis for peace, but it was worth a try.
However, No was not going to give it a chance. ‘My generals would see that as an unnecessary surrender. And they’d be right.’
‘So you’re willing to risk nuclear annihilation.’
‘We all risk that every day, Madam President.’
‘Not like this, we don’t.’
‘In the next few seconds I have to speak to my people on television. Thank you for your call, and please excuse me.’ She hung up.
Pauline was momentarily stunned. Not many people hung up on the president of the United States.
After a moment she said: ‘Can we get South Korean TV on our screens, please? Try YTN, it’s the all-news cable channel.’
A newsreader appeared, speaking Korean, and after a pause real-time subtitles were shown at the bottom of the screen. Somewhere in the White House, Pauline realized, there was an interpreter who could do simultaneous translation from Korean to English and type the result on a keyboard.
The picture changed to an unsteady shot of a bomb-damaged city filmed from a vehicle, and the subtitles said South Korean forces have taken control of Pyongyang. A hysterically excited reporter was sitting on a moving tank, holding a microphone and shouting to camera. He was wearing a military helmet with a suit and tie. The subtitles dried up, perhaps because the interpreter could not make out what the reporter was saying; but commentary was superfluous anyway. Behind the reporter’s head Pauline could see a long line of military vehicles on what was evidently a main road into the city. It was a triumphal entry into the enemy capital.
Pauline said: ‘Hell, I bet Pak is watching this and burning up inside.’
The inhabitants of Pyongyang were staring from windows and open doors, and a few bold ones had the courage to wave, but they did not come out onto the streets to celebrate their liberation. They had lived their lives under one of the most repressive governments in the world, and they would wait until they were certain of its demise before they took the risk of showing their feelings.
The TV picture changed again, and Pauline saw the severe grey hairdo and lined face of President No. As always, she had beside her the South Korean flag, white with a red-and-blue taegeuk, the emblem of cosmic balance, surrounded by four equally symbolic trigrams. But now the blue-and-white Unification Flag stood on her other side. It was an unmistakable statement: she now ruled both halves of the country.
However, Pauline had been in President No’s office, and this was not it. No was in an underground bunker, Pauline guessed.
No began to speak, and the subtitles returned. ‘Our brave soldiers have taken possession of the city of Pyongyang,’ she said. ‘The artificial barrier that has divided Korea since 1945 is coming down. Soon we will be in reality what we have always been in our minds: one country.’
She’s doing well, Pauline thought, but let’s hear the specifics.
‘United Korea will be a free democratic country with close, friendly ties to both China and the US.’
Pauline commented: ‘Easier said than done.’
‘We will immediately set up an election organization secretariat. Meanwhile, the army of South Korea will act as a peacekeeping force.’
Bill Schneider suddenly stood up, staring at a screen, and said: ‘Oh, Jesus Christ, no!’
Everyone followed his gaze. Pauline saw a radar graphic showing a single missile launch. Bill said: ‘That’s North Korea!’
Pauline said: ‘Where did the missile originate?’
Bill still had his headset on, connected directly with the Pentagon. He said: ‘It took off from Yeongjeo-dong – the nuclear base.’
Pauline said: ‘Fuck, he’s done it. Pak has launched a nuclear missile.’
Bill said: ‘It’s only just above the clouds. The target is near.’
Pauline said: ‘Seoul, then, almost certainly. Put Seoul on the screens. Get some drones in the air.’
First she saw a satellite photo of the city, with the broad Han River snaking through it, crossed by more bridges than she could count. An invisible operator zoomed the photo until she could see traffic on the streets and the white lines painted on a football pitch. A moment later several other screens lit up, showing video that presumably came from traffic cameras and other surveillance in the city. It was mid-afternoon. Cars and buses and trucks were lined up at stop lights and on the narrow bridges.