World war iii not how yo.., p.37
World War III: Not How you Imagined, page 37
Dr. O’Hara quickly began to think about her soon-to-happen brief from Laurent and wondered just how much more she’d learn than had been offered in the brief in common distribution about the Medal of Honor winner.
“Yes, sir. I actually have a meeting with him shortly. We’ll get on the interrogation immediately.”
“Call me the minute you have something meaningful.”
The doctor had little time to answer as the phone connection ended. As she sat in her office contemplating the new high-priority effort to reverse engineer the North Korean’s perverse thought process, Laurent knocked on her door.
“Just the person I needed to see,” said Dr. O’Hara.
Laurent made his way to the chair in front of her desk and lowered himself to sit in a fashion that revealed the tenderness of his injury. Dr. O’Hara noticed the sergeant’s discomfort and asked if he needed something to dull the edge of his pain.
“If I were just lying in bed, I might ask for something additional, but since I’m here to offer a total recall about a whirlwind of events, a little pain will serve to keep my mind clear. But thanks for the offer,” Laurent replied.
“I just got off the phone with the secretary of defense.”
“My condolences. He usually doesn’t call with invitations to slumber parties.”
“No—no sleepovers. He wants Kim ‘aggressively interrogated’ . . . and I use his exact words,” said the doctor.
Laurent’s mood visibly changed. “Ya know, I’ve been at this business for some time now, and I’ve seen some disturbing things, but that North Korean operates on a different plane. She’s amoral by birth, training, or both. And I’ve long ago learned that to remain a moral person while doing my job requires that there be a limit. The goal has always been to not become a monster in the process of killing monsters. It’s not an easy path to follow, but I’ve done it to my satisfaction to this point in time. I’m going to forewarn you that if we’re going to literally break her spirit to the point where she’ll give us meaningful information, we may have to go where we’ve never gone before. But for her it will be home turf. Believe it or not, she has the advantage over us,” Laurent explained.
“Yes, well, we’ll have to deal with our own behavior as the situation demands. What I want to do now is to learn about your history. Just give me a compressed rundown up to the point where you began preparation for the rescue operation on Yang-do Island. From that point on, I want every minute detail. I want to know who I’m working with.”
Laurent drew in a long deep breath. “Maybe I will take something to dull the edge.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE
“Interrogating an extremist is like trying to empty a re-circulating ocean” . . . “The Author”
MINDSCAPES
Kim un do felt nothing but contempt for her captors. They saved her life, provided creature comforts and healthy foods, and treated her a million times better than she’d have treated them… and she hated them for it.
Her mind had been irreversibly calibrated to loathe those who did not think as she did. She had no true friends, because she’d never known a relationship that wasn’t based upon leverage and deceit. Her only true allegiance was to the process of converting normal human beings into slaves that craved her unique form of ownership. And while she’d learned from those who came before her, her own style was innovative and powerful far beyond the techniques used in earlier years. Her techniques were brilliant, twisted, simple, but amazingly effective amongst a population born into a totalitarian social order that was a rich source of damaged souls.
As a result of her special style of retraining, she and others under her leadership, had created a cadre of automatons dispatched to the United States with no other purpose than to mimic normal life while waiting for a highly anticipated contact from their owner. The anticipatory pleasure experienced by the North Korean sleepers was the equivalent of sexual foreplay, and they walked through life in a state of psychological arousal—constantly yearning for the phone call, or email, that would produce the ultimate rush found in their completion of mission. They’d have no restraint in an instantaneous transition from polite shop owner, middle-school teacher, mechanic, airline pilot, or college professor, into that of a savage, bomb-wearing, machine-gun wielding psychopath.
So it was with the understanding that normal interrogation techniques would not work on Kim that Laurent and Dr. O’Hara approached the North Korean’s bedside. Still hooked to intravenous fluids and restrained to her hospital bed with hand and ankle cuffs, Kim was a captive audience.
When Dr. O’Hara first entered the room, the North Korean felt nothing at all. She did not care what the woman’s skill set was nor that she was a new face involved in her care. But when Laurent hobbled through the door, Dr. O’Hara noticed a narrowing of the North Korean’s eyes. Laurent had an impact.
He joined Dr. O’Hara at the foot of the bed where they stood for a moment looking at the worn-down North Korean. “How are you feeling?” asked Dr. O’Hara.
Kim felt no obligation to answer the pointless question and merely changed the direction of her gaze away from two people who she’d have loved to take through her own back-home style conversion process.
Dr. O’Hara looked at Laurent, giving him the agreed-upon freedom to question Kim in any fashion that made sense. The entire process was one of exploration—searching for an entrance into the psyche of a monster. But the protocol was not intended to be indulgent. Any action taken toward the North Korean would be taken because it was judged to be a possible avenue toward a solution.
“So… how’s this ‘taking over the world’ thing working out for you?” Laurent asked with just the right amount of sarcasm.
The Korean turned to face Laurent. “You too-tall monkey, do you think because I’m lying in this bed that my soldiers are not, as we speak, taking lives?”
Laurent, face expressionless, cocked his head a little to the right ‘Too tall monkey’, I have to admit, that’s a new one. I’ve been called many things, many names by children and childish adults, but never a too tall monkey. But to answer your question, Yes, I know they are, and that’s obviously why we must have a talk with you.”
“Talk all you want. You’ll both die sooner than I’ll speak of significant issues with you,” Kim said defiantly.
Dr. O’Hara walked to the head of the bed and leaned down to speak quietly into the North Korean’s ear.
Kim merely looked into the doctor’s eyes and smiled in a way that revealed she didn’t smile on a regular basis. It was a smile that had no soul, no hint that its origin was a healthy place—it was a twisted smile, a disingenuous effort to feign pleasure. The smile was all show and it was the chink in the armor they’d been looking for.
Dr. O’Hara returned to Laurent’s side and turned back toward Kim, “We’ll be back later. In the meantime, I’ll have you moved to a facility that’s more familiar to you and appropriate for our needs.”
As soon as Laurent and Dr. O’Hara were in the hallway and out of earshot of the North Korean, Laurent asked, “What did you say to her?”
“I told her that I was going to have our newspapers publish that she sang like a song bird, and that we’d publish her pictures in a way that made her look like she was pleading for her life.”
“I don’t know how she felt about you earlier, but she really doesn’t like you now,” Laurent said.
“Well, after your amazing brief to me—one which I’m still trying to wrap my mind around—I’m not going to feel overly guilty about anything that happens to that train wreck of a person. She’s truly beyond restoration, and honestly, I’m inspired to work with you. I’ll elevate my game in an effort to match yours,” Dr. O’Hara said, offering more than Laurent had expected.
“Well, then. I guess we’re both operating in the same mode,” replied Laurent.
CHAPTER NINETY
“Some people are just dumb as a fence post” . . . Unknown cowboy
PUBLIC OPINION
The Joint Chiefs had spent the better part of the morning briefing President Dawson in detail on the status of the war in Korea. The bottom line that the President took away from the briefing was that the Korean military was defeated materially, physically, and psychologically. The fight was out of them and they had nothing to fight with. Being the chair of the Joint Chiefs, General Johnson presented the recommendation that hostilities come to an end.
The message had been sent and received, not just by the North Koreans, but also by the world at large. No one, in the near future, would doubt the resolve and potential of the United States to wage war on a grand scale. And if the North Koreans were foolish enough to start something again, it would be very easy to pick up where they’d left off and send another even more comprehensive salvo of munitions to demonstrate that United States leadership had been momentarily and conditionally merciful.
“The world has seen our resolve, Madame President. They now need to see that even in the face of unprecedented homeland violence, we’re still a merciful power. They’re ready to see us back off,” said Secretary Gaybrewski.
The president had sat quietly during the entire presentation and was inspired by the restraint shown by men whose job it was to blow people away in vast quantities. She took her time, taking a sweeping view of the people in the Oval Office, and then spoke.
“Gentlemen, you’ve all performed admirably—tirelessly, during the past few months—and I know that I also speak for President Barton when I say that you have our highest praise and appreciation. I’m not against what you suggest, but I need your assurances that if we turn things off, we can turn them back on in a heartbeat if the North Koreans get crazy again. It means you’ll have to maintain forces at their highest alert status for a few weeks,” said the president, pausing for response.
“We can maintain what you ask, Madame President. I’d also ask that even though we’ll be terminating use of all manner of munitions, that congress continue to pass replacement legislation. We’ve used up a fair number of cruise missiles and need the inventory replenished—just in case,” General Johnson responded.
“I think that a mandatory request, given the circumstances, and I don’t think you’ll even meet with a speed bump,” President Dawson said.
There was a short pause while everybody allowed the decision to sink in. The pace had been breakneck for months, the responsibilities heavy, and to realize that those burdens would diminish and soon disappear was an adjustment that all in the room would have to deal with as a group and as individuals.
She looked toward the White House Chief of Staff. “Ron, I’ll need a statement to read to the American public that’s comprehensive. Let’s anticipate all of the questions and have answers contained within the statement. As soon as you know how long we’ll need, book the time with the networks and I’ll make the announcement. How soon can we be ready?” asked the president, hiding any emotion that she might have been experiencing.
“We can have the speech ready by morning; you can go over it and we’ll wordsmith it where needed. The major media players can begin advertising for a mid-evening broadcast. That’ll give most people time to get home from work and settle in to watch,” Vetters answered.
“Okay, make all that happen,” said the president while standing, indicating that the meeting was over.
As everyone picked up their notes and briefcases, President Dawson strode over to General Johnson. “General, can I get you to stick around for a minute?”
Surprised that the president used an interrogative as opposed to an imperative to gain more of his time, the general nodded his head and said,” Of course, Madame President.”
“General, last night Sam Gaybrewski called me with a request that’s rather unusual, but I fully understand the reasons behind it. And it will require your cooperation.”
“Yes, ma’am. How can I help?” General Johnson asked hoping, that it didn’t involve anything that rhymed with Watergate or Guantanamo.
“It seems that the interrogation of Kim is progressing well, but they need for her to believe that her homeland is about to be decimated—”
“That’s not much of a stretch, Madame President,” the general uncharacteristically interrupted.
Nodding her head in agreement, the president picked up where she’d left off.
“Her interrogators—one of whom is Sergeant Thomas Laurent—are asking that we create a phony press conference where we speak to the world about the potential use of nuclear weapons against the North Korean capital. It’ll be justified by the escalating violence here at home, and there will be some new science involved where the radioactive half-life is only a few days, as opposed to months or years. It would seem more believable—that’s their reasoning, anyway. The plan is to allow Kim un do to ‘accidentally’ see a television while I’m giving the speech—they have those details all worked out. But what I need from you and some of your fellow Joint Chiefs is to stand behind me on the set as I give the artificial speech. She may know your faces, so we can’t replace you all with actors, but there will be fake journalists trying to ask fake questions. If we do our part it’ll be one hundred percent convincing,” said the President.
“Yes, ma’am; it’ll look like the real thing,” agreed the general.
“Laurent and Dr. O’Hara will then threaten to spread the word on the streets that Kim Un Do spilled her guts. Their thinking being that between the belief that her homeland is going to be converted into a molten landscape and the idea of her eternal image being severely tainted, that she’ll provide the information needed in exchange for secrecy. It’s an elaborate ruse, but one that could lead to bringing this nonsense on our streets to a faster end,” explained the President.
“It seems worthwhile to me, ma’am,” said the general, adding, “That Laurent gets around, doesn’t he!”
“Stranger actions have produced meaningful results. History is full of examples of fakery working wonders, so I’m eager to give them the staged press conference… and yes, Laurent does get around,” agreed the president.
“Just let me know when and where and I’ll have all the same people that were here today ready to look drop-dead serious in your arranged press conference,” Johnson said to the president.
“It’ll be soon, General. Before the real thing tomorrow evening.”
CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
“Almost always, nothing is as it seems” . . . Unknown
THE RUSE
Even though the fake press conference was Plan A for the afternoon, Laurent and Dr. O’Hara held nothing back while trying to find a lever that would work against the North Korean. Kim had been programmed to think in one dimension, to admire her own rare abilities, and to be unwavering in her belief that the enemies of North Korea were all inferior specimens. Her arrogance had served her well… until that unthinkable moment when she found her facility invaded by Monarchs.
Kim had been on a roller-coaster ride over the past few weeks. Her capture and transport to North America had shaken her, but her subsequent escape and operational success on America’s streets had bolstered her diminished confidence. However, to then be wounded and recaptured by the same men who’d originally shanghaied her seemed like a providential event. Emotionally, she was beginning to entertain the idea that her experiences were all part of an elaborate program.” She was rattled.
In her chemically diminished and emotionalized state, her paranoia demanded that she consider the possibility that she too was now part of a larger and greater programming process. If she’d spent her entire career programming human beings to become obedient to their trainer, why would it not be possible for some far more knowledgeable and powerful programmer than herself to have arranged her capture in order that she could come lead the dormant Manchurian agents living amongst the Americans? Her paranoia-guided grandiosity was finding a way for her to simultaneously feel significant and paradoxically vulnerable.
She was unaware that she’d been drugged while healing from her physical wounds. Her intravenous feeding tube contained more than fluid replacements. For days, her body had slowly metabolized a powerful psychotropic recipe that had been highly successful when used against Middle-Eastern terrorists held in Guantanamo Bay. Her new way of contemplating her purpose was, in largest part, a function of the antagonist drug preventing the activation of dopamine—which provided emotional distance from her normal psychotic self. The drug had side effects that could include tremors and restlessness, but, the tell tale symptoms were readily countered by a mood stabilizer. The end result was a brain whose synaptic communications were slowed, creating a calmer, less intellectually acute, increasingly paranoid, and less combative enemy.
“You remember that she was also sedated while at The Institute,” Laurent reminded Dr. O’Hara.
“Yes, but there she’d merely been tranquillized with pills, which offered no more influence than those you’d give to someone not wanting to climb into an MRI. What she’s experiencing now is several orders of magnitude more powerful. She’s not the same person that came into Walter Reed a few days ago.”
‘Well, I’ll still keep a very close eye on that murdering bitch,” Laurent said, letting his real feelings come to the surface.
“That’s fine with me,” agreed the doctor.
After a few hours of continuous interrogation, where Kim had been shown bomb damage photos of countless North Korean venues, including Yang-do Island, all three participants were spent. With the staged Presidential news conference nearing, Dr. O’Hara decided to call it a day.
“Let’s put our guest to bed and grab a bite to eat,” suggested Dr. O’Hara.
“Sounds good to me. Anyway, I want to watch the president speak tonight,” Laurent said, planting the germ of knowledge in the rattled head of the North Korean.
