At the Brink

At the Brink

By Damon Nomad

          Ha-Yoon "Hana" Lee stood at the podium in the lecture room full of graduate students. Her late afternoon Friday seminar series, Tensions on the Peninsula, was popular in the political science department. The petite associate professor had just turned thirty-two and she wasn't much older than some of the students in the room. But, they respected her and she maintained a professional decorum with them. She glanced up at the clock. "Time for one more quick discussion point; if someone has something they would like to throw out there."
          One of the men, a cocky doctoral student, leaned forward in his seat. "What did you think about Andrew Friedman's comment during the news briefing yesterday? He said we might be at the brink of a crisis if North Korea continues with these cruise missile tests."
          Hana tapped her fingers slowly on the podium. "Well, I'm not on a first-name basis with Mr. Friedman. I've never met the national security advisor, but I know some about his background and reputation. A brilliant political scientist and lawyer; I've read that he is a world-class chess player as well. I think it was a not-so-subtle warning to the Korean regime, that the administration is taking these latest provocations seriously. A chess move of sorts."
          A female doctoral candidate chipped in, "You believe the North Korean claim that the cruise missiles are nuclear-capable? These last tests show a range of nearly a thousand miles from a ship launch. They could strike deep into the US from international waters."
          Hana stepped away from the podium and picked up her coffee cup from the desk and took a sip. "I'm not a technical person and I don't have any information beyond what is out there in the public domain. There are a lot of open sources saying this missile platform is basically a Russian design; a design that is nuclear capable. The question you are really asking is whether or not they have actively gone nuclear with these cruise missiles." She shrugged, "I don't have an informed opinion on that point. We're out of time. Have a good weekend."
          ***
          Early Saturday evening, Hana sipped a glass of Chardonnay as she sat on a stool at the large counter between the kitchen and the small dining room. She lived in a comfortable, two-story townhouse just a few blocks from the eastern border of the Princeton University campus. She hopped up and walked through the den to the foyer when the doorbell rang.
          "Hey Emily, right on time." Emily Hunt was an associate professor of History, Roman Studies, and just a few years older than Hana. Hana gestured to the den. "I didn't have the energy to cook. I thought we would order from Bamboo Dragon; my treat."
          Emily smiled as she waved the bottle of wine she carried in a bag. "No problem; goes good with white wine."
          They moved into the den after dinner; Emily on the sofa and Hana on an easy chair with a coffee table between them. Emily poured a glass of wine and clicked on the TV remote for the national news. They both saw the tagline at the bottom of the screen. Tensions Spiral in Korea. They listened to the reporter, "Sources in the Pentagon have just confirmed that a US destroyer sank two North Korean warships in disputed waters just west of Inchon. They contradict North Korean claims that this was a first strike by ROK and US forces; the US says the North Korean ships fired missiles on a ROK warship first."
          Hana waved at the TV. "Turn it off, they won't have any real facts until the morning. It will just be a bunch of wild speculation." She took a drink of wine as she slouched back in her chair. "Been a crappy few weeks, all way round."
          Emily shrugged with a frown. "Hope you're not still stressing about breaking up with Alan. You deserve better."
          "You said he was sexy, smart, and sweet. S-cubed."
          "He is good-looking and smart; he can be sweet. He's also arrogant. What was it he said to you? Political Science is not science and should not even be considered an academic discipline." Emily shook her head. "Physicists are always slamming the liberal arts. He didn't respect what you do."
          Emily paused as she tapped a finger on her wine glass. "What did your mother say? Did you tell her?"
          "Yeah, I came clean when she called yesterday. She gave me that tone." Hana mocked her mother's nasal voice. 'Ha-Yoon you are going to be an old maid. We want grandchildren. Why don't you meet a man from a Korean family?' She smiled with a shrug. "You're right, Alan didn't respect me."
          ***
          Hana rolled over in bed and glanced at the alarm clock. Was that the doorbell? Must be dreaming. The sun wouldn't be up for another hour and a half. The mobile phone on the nightstand began to vibrate as she rolled back over. She didn't recognize the number.
          "Hello, this is Hana."
          The man's voice had an air of authority. "Ms. Ha-Yoon Lee. I'm special agent Grant, Federal Bureau of Investigation. I am at your front door. I need you to get dressed and come downstairs. Bring a coat. You will be gone for a while, bring what you need."
          "What? Do I need to call a lawyer?" She paused a moment. "Am I in trouble?"
          "Don't call anyone, we need you to come with us now. Do you understand me? Do we need to send an agent inside?"
          "No, but I'm going to take a shower, give me twenty minutes."
          ***
          Hana found three serious-looking individuals, two men, and a woman as she opened her front door. They each flashed their FBI credentials and barked their names out. The female agent moved in close to Hana. "Stay close to me; let's go."
          Two large black SUVs, with engines running, were halfway up on the sidewalk. Hana got in the rear seat with the female agent and one of the male agents. The male agent tapped the back of the driver's seat. "Let's go." Hana was pressed back in the seat as the vehicle accelerated onto the roadway.
          Hana could see that they were speeding toward Lake Carnegie and in less than ten minutes they raced into an open field near the lake. She could hardly believe her eyes; there was a large black helicopter in the field. "Am I under arrest? Where are you taking me?"
          The female agent pushed gently on Hana to get out. "You are in protective custody. Please get moving."
          The black Bell 407 helicopter flew fast and low. In less than an hour, Hanna could see they were flying toward the Washington Monument. The helicopter slowed down a bit as the White House came into view. Hanna's face was nearly touching the window as they landed within yards of the fence of the South Lawn of the White House. She walked between two FBI agents as they marched toward another dark black SUV. Two more square-jawed male special agents took custody of her; both from the United States Secret Service. She was dumbfounded and unable to ask any more questions.
          ***
          Hana was escorted into a basement conference room next door to the Situation Room as the sun rose on a crisp fall day. One secret service agent was posted just outside the door. She looked down at the badge hanging on the lanyard around her neck, a big red V, and West Wing Security Pass in bold black letters. Moments later Andrew Friedman came into the room; wearing an elegant business suit but no tie. "Professor Lee, sorry for the urgent and clandestine nature of your trip. My name is . . ."
          Hana stood up and nearly shouted as she interrupted, "Andrew Friedman National Security Advisor to the President." She flushed red with embarrassment. "I'm sorry sir." She felt bewildered. "I'm confused, what's going on?"
          Friedman smiled as he shuffled toward a corner. "Coffee, tea, juice?" He poured himself a cup of coffee.
          Hana sat back down. "Coffee, one teaspoon of sugar. Thank you."
          Friedman gave her a cup of coffee and sat down across the conference room table from Hana. He took a sip of his coffee. "Relax, Professor Lee. Take a few deep breaths; you're not in danger or trouble." He went quiet as he sipped his coffee.
          Hana took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. She opened her eyes and took a few sips of coffee. "Mr. Friedman sir, what is it you need from me?"
          "Have you been following the North Korean cruise missile testing and what happened last night off the coast of Inchon?"
          "I know what's in the media and open source literature about the cruise missiles. You must know I don't have a security clearance. I heard about the exchange between the ships but no details; has it gotten worse?"
          Friedman's expression sobered. "We fear they have grossly overreacted to last night's incident. President Larson has granted you Top-Secret access by Executive Order for matters related to this threat. A few analysts from the CIA and DIA will give you a briefing starting about an hour from now. They will give you a copy of the executive order and have you sign a briefing form, stating you will not disclose this information."
          Friedman leaned back in his seat. "Listen carefully to them, but the bottom line is we believe they have deployed several vessels disguised as fishing boats with these cruise missiles. They will be within striking distance of the US west coast by dinner time today." He paused a moment. "We believe they are nuclear-tipped missiles."
          Hana felt her heart pounding in her chest. "Why do you need me? I'm not a nuclear or military strategist." She pointed to herself. "I'm nobody."
          Friedman smiled with a nod. "Never say that about yourself. Your parents would not like that language." He stared at her with a hint of a grin. "I suspect they would not. You have a good reputation and you are building a name for yourself."
          "Thank you sir, but I'm just an associate professor. I haven't even published a book yet."
          "Your doctoral dissertation on decision-making in the Kim Regime and the current leader is a valuable open source reference at CIA and DIA. That is why you are here. We want you to use your framework to evaluate our response options and predict likely reactions from their side." He waved a finger at her. "The two years you spent living in South Korea, interviewing and learning from North Korean defectors gave your theoretical principles a solid basis in reality."
          Hana's lips curled into a small grin as she mumbled, "They use my dissertation." She caught herself and wiped the smile from her face. "I think I understand what you expect. You want me to prepare an analysis based on the briefing and options under consideration. How many pages and how much time do I have? I should give it to the intelligence analysts coming here?"
          Friedman smiled with a curt nod. "Close but not quite. I will be here with you to work on the format of a briefing paper and presentation. You will present it to President Larson and the National Security Council at two o'clock this afternoon."
          Hana's eyes went wide open as she gasped, her hands clutching the arms of the chair. She half expected him to laugh, like he was pranking her. "Me, brief the President and the NSC! You can't be serious."
          Friedman's expression showed that he was quite serious. "We are on a tight schedule and the President wants to hear directly from the most knowledgeable people. There will be a briefing summarizing an update on the response options, then thirty minutes from you."
          "Then what?"
          Friedman shrugged, "Like I said, things are moving fast. The President will have less than thirty minutes to make a decision." Friedman stood up. "Let's get these two computers powered up, the briefers will be here soon." He opened the door and gestured to the secret service agent. "Have someone from the kitchen come down, we are going to need to get some breakfast and get a lunch order."
          ***
          Hana stood up with a lump in her throat, next to Andrew Friedman in the Situation Room as President Larson came into the room. Larson took his seat, "Everyone, please sit." He looked toward Andrew Friedman. "US countermeasures summary first, right?"
          Friedman nodded in agreement. "Yes, Mr. President." He gestured to Hana. "Then Dr. Ha-Yoon Lee will present her assessment of likely North Korean responses to each countermeasure."
          The president nodded to Hana. "Thank you for rushing over from Princeton. It is much appreciated, Professor Lee."
          Hana's throat was dry but she quietly answered, "My pleasure Mr. President."


          ***
          Two weeks later, Hanna and Emily were relaxing in Hanna's den; drinking tea and watching the early evening news. The news was dominated by the situation in Korea now that things were calming down after several tense days; days when it looked like a war might break out. There was a clip from a press conference that had just wrapped up with President Larson at the podium.
          Larson spoke with a calm but serious tone, "We are satisfied with the overall direction; things could have taken a turn for the worse. I had excellent counsel and support from my national security team and the intelligence community." He paused for a moment, "There are a lot of heroes working behind the scenes in situations like this. For example, Professor Ha-Yoon Lee helped us during this difficult time. She made the trip to Washington DC from Princeton University in the early morning in service of her country. Her advice was critical to our success as well as the advice and work of many others inside my administration."
          Emily's hand froze with her teacup inches from her mouth. "Hana! You didn't say a word. What the heck." She put her cup down on the coffee table. "Come on, tell me. Details."
          Hana smiled with a shrug. "Sorry, need to know."
          Emily chuckled, "Yeah sure. You'd have to kill me." She pointed a finger at Hana. "Come on tell me what it was like."


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