19 - Epilogue

Ernesto Heinemann’s cell phone buzzed. He always kept it face down on his desk. That way, should he be extraordinary busy (which he always was), he could legitimately say he hadn’t seen the call. But this was the special buzz he had programmed into his phone just under two weeks earlier. He turned the phone over. ‘Carl’ was listed as the caller. Heinemann took a deep breath, and pushed answer. “Hello, Carl.”

“Hello, Mister Secretary General. I have good news.”

Not one for social niceties, Heinemann thought. “Indeed? I trust this means that the North Korean situation has been remedied?”

“Yes,” Carl said. 

“And the proof?”

“It is simple enough,” Carl responded. “Call the President of South Korea. You have heard of Hanawon I assume?”

“Naturally.” Heinemann, like most politicians concerned with affairs on the Korean Peninsula, knew of the facility that took in, and counseled defectors from the North. 

“South Korea’s President will confirm that yesterday Hanawon received fifty-one defectors from the North. They are the scientific and military teams concerned with the bomb plot, along with their immediate families. No doubt an initial debrief will be available by the end of the week. It will, I am sure, detail the plot’s operation and give information on their extraction. The tunnel from the North to the South was destroyed at 11:44 AM Korean Standard Time yesterday. That can be confirmed by seismic data from the Korean Institute for Geoscience and Mineral Resources.”

“Were there any casualties?” Heinemann asked. Casualties would be a problem. The North was going to have a hard enough time admitting that their plot had been foiled. If lives had been lost in the process that would increase the political pressure and could invoke demands for accountability or, worse, retribution.

“There were,” Carl said, “complications.”

Heinemann knew all about complications. “How many?”

“Two adults confirmed dead, both security agents. One was killed by the team’s military leader. The other died when the bomb’s tunnel was destroyed. And possibly the spouse of an army Captain; she had to be left behind. I predict she has a low chance of survival at the hands of the Security Services.”

“Hmmm,” Heinemann said. If the North Koreans killed one of their own then that was on them. Two dead, especially when they could be classed as combatants, was a price he could afford. He too didn’t like the wife’s chances. “Well, it could have been worse.”

“Sadly, I am afraid there was another death,” Carl said.

Here it comes, Heinemann thought. “Go on.”

“A baby girl was killed by her mother, rather than allow her to be transported to the South.”

Heinemann stared out of the window at the city. He wanted to respond, but the hardened political shell he had constructed around himself with exacting precision and personal sacrifice only allowed itself a hair’s breadth crack of exposed sympathy. “Damn,” he said. “Was the mother the one left behind then?”

“No,” said Carl. “She was forcibly relocated along with the husband of the woman left behind.”

“Forcibly? At gunpoint?”

“No, through a more sensitive method. No harm came to them I can assure you. The mother is grieving of course. The husband of the woman left behind is angry and upset, as you can imagine.”

“And the bomb itself?” Heinemann asked.

“Destroyed.”

Heinemann’s mouth twitched. “I need you to do better than that. You’ve given me two of the three parts: the people, and the tunnel. But the fate of the bomb is something that must be known. It’s too big a loose end to leave flapping about.”

Carl didn’t say anything for long enough that Heinemann was about to take the phone from his ear and check that they were still connected. Just as he was about to flinch, Carl spoke.

“Very well. However you must understand that my methods are extreme by your standards. You may find what I will tell you quite unbelievable. However I deem it worth the price.”

The ‘price’, Heinemann thought. How expensive will this be?

Carl said, “You will need to contact NASA.”

“NASA? Why?” 

“The bomb was ejected from Earth on a solar trajectory at 4:10 AM Coordinated Universal Time yesterday. NASA recorded an object leaving Earth orbit at that time. According to my information they are already trying to figure out what it was, and have it filed initially as a UFO. I believe they have passed the data on to the relevant United States Air Force unit for investigation. The bomb will reach the sun’s corona on Friday and be destroyed. Unfortunately no monitoring system on Earth is capable of recording that event, so you will have to take my word for it.”

Heinemann considered this. Evidence of an object leaving the planet at the exact time specified was pretty good, although he’d have liked to have seen satellite imagery to back it up. But all in all it was a fairly conclusive case. “Well then,” he said, “you mentioned the price. When you contacted me originally, you extracted a pledge of assistance if you needed it.”

“Indeed,” Carl said. “However the situation has changed. The derailment of the North Korean plot had an unintended consequence, and not a good one. I must now upgrade the ‘if’ to a ‘definitely’.”

Heinemann sighed. “Very well,” he said. 

“Your sigh indicates reluctant agreement,” Carl said. “However I should warn you in advance that I calculate that the level of assistance needed will be enormous. Needless to say, I expect you to keep your word.”

“And if I don’t?” Heinemann said, although half in jest. He was known to be a man of his word, and a person as well informed as Carl would doubtless know that. 

“I would imagine your dealings with the Brazilian organization would prove interesting reading to the right-wing American press. I have detailed files, if you wish to see them?”

“No,” Heinemann said. “I believe we have a clear understanding. Based on your ability to quietly negate a threat which I would have said would require an invasion to settle, I imagine that anything you need from me will have great consequence in the world.” He put his feet up on his desk. “Actually if I am being honest, I welcome it. The world needs, as the Americans say, a kick in the pants. Perhaps you are the one that is going to supply the boot?”

“An interesting metaphor,” Carl said. “Possibly half accurate. Your world certainly would benefit from a shake up. However whatever form it comes in, it will not be my doing I can assure you of that.”

Your world? Heinemann thought. “Who are you, really?”

“Just an observer, you might say,” Carl replied. “One with a vested interest in making sure that matters do not get out of hand.”

“You wouldn’t call the North Korean plot ‘out of hand’?”

Carl chuckled. “I would classify it as one voice in a chorus. Impossible to identify when everyone is singing, but easy to hear if sung at the wrong time.”

“You’re speaking in riddles,” Heinemann said. “Can’t you speak plainly?”

“I would have thought that you, as an experienced politician, would consider plain speaking as rather course.”

“Well,” Heinemann said, “I do admit that I have an affinity for political discourse. All career politicians do. However I’m also not overly fond of cryptic statements either. If there’s some serious s**t going to go down, I would like to be ahead of the game.”

“Tsk,” Carl said. “Language, Mister Secretary General.”

“I think that you should probably call me Ernesto at this Point.”

“Ernesto it is then,” Carl said with a laugh. “Please believe me, I do not know what is going to happen. However, events have transpired that lead me to conclude the worst. I will be preparing my resources, you being one of them. When you are contacted it will most likely not be by me, but you will know the person was sent by me.”

“How?” 

“They will know my name, and of the events that have transpired since we met. Also they will know of our pact. You will be in no doubt of their legitimacy, I can assure you.”

“Well then,” Heinemann said. “There is nothing it seems I can do but wait. This is also something I have had much practice at, although I am still learning.”

“Patience is an art,” Carl said. “Take stock whilst you can Ernesto. When the time comes, I predict you will need to act fast, and with conviction. It is time to strengthen your alliances, and mend bridges. I believe the United Nations may finally fulfill the destiny enshrined at its creation. You may be the first Secretary General of a true unity of nations. If I might make a suggestion?”

“Of course,” Heinemann said.

“North Korea has been stung by their plot’s failure. However its root cause remains. They are suffering, and unable to find a political solution to bring them relief. The South still bears hope of reunification. Bringing these separated siblings to the negotiating table would show the world that there is hope. If two countries as separate in ideology as North and South Korea can talk to each other, with a view to making life better for one at the expense of the other, then there is a way forward for anyone.”

“And I can be the mechanism,” Heinemann mused.

“Indeed,” Carl replied. “Isn’t this the foundation of your job? Consider Israel and Palestine, Russia and Ukraine, China and Taiwan. Many problems divide them, but one thing binds them.”

“And that is?” 

“Oh Ernesto,” Carl chuckled. “You don’t need me to tell you. You don’t even want me to tell you. Because you already know, and you know that I know that you know. The process of bringing the Koreans to the table will allow you to open doors of discussion with many other countries. The very act of trying to unify them will bring huge political benefits. Take heart from these words: the promise of tomorrow is built on the wisdom of today. Goodbye.”

The line went dead. Heinemann took his feet off the table, and placed the phone were the imprint of his right heel was fading from the leather inlay. He grinned to himself, then picked up his desk phone and dialed his senior secretary. “Put a call through to the President of South Korea. Then…” He thought for a second. What was the English expression? ‘In for a penny, in for a pound’ wasn’t it?

“Sir?” his senior secretary said.

“Then, I need to speak to North Korea’s permanent representative to the UN.” He replaced the handset, swiveled his chair, leaned back, put his hands behind his head, and looked out of the window at the skyline of New York City. 

Finally, his job was getting interesting.