by Bobby Akart
NORAD 41332 had just traveled over Australia, travelling toward the north and China.
“As you can see, in the time it took me to introduce this screen to you, the satellite has now traveled hundreds of miles and is currently over Mongolia.”
“What is the second line to the left of Australia?” asked Secretary Gregg.
“Sir, the line overlaid on the map represents its projected trajectory. After NORAD 41332 passed over the Arctic, it will travel across the western hemisphere and eventually return to the line of trajectory indicated, in the Indian Ocean just west of Australia.”
“Thank you, Colonel. Does the projected trajectory ever deviate?”
“Rarely, sir,” she replied. “After the initial launch in 2016, the trajectory remained the same until July 27, 2017, when the Iranians launched its most advanced satellite to date aboard the Simorgh rocket. This satellite carried the same technology as the North Korean KMS-4, which sent alarm bells throughout the world.”
Secretary Gregg stood and walked up to the monitor. NORAD 41332 had crossed over Russia and approached the Arctic Circle. “Iranian state television called the rocket Phoenix, and the satellite was determined to be a near-clone of the DPRKs launch of eighteen months earlier. As was typical, we denounced the launch and even claimed the rocket had suffered a catastrophic failure and blew up.”
“That’s correct, sir,” interjected Colonel Sterling as she turned on another monitor and revealed a second satellite being tracked. “The Iranians, like Kim Jong-un, immediately issued threats and warnings. They said if their interests were ever violated, they’d issue a proper answer to the United States.”
The Iranian satellite was tracking a much westerly orbit of the Earth. As NORAD 41332 passed over Greenland, the Iranian satellite travelled in a southerly direction over Canada.
“Colonel, are you suggesting that these satellites are capable of carrying nuclear warheads?” asked the chairman of the Joint Chiefs.
“Sir, the technology was there in 2016,” replied Colonel Sterling. “We have now confirmed that the Iranians adjusted the trajectory of their satellite to match the geosynchronous orbit of NORAD 41332. The two have adopted an identical geostationary orbit twenty-seven-hundred miles apart.”
“Explain the difference, please,” Secretary Gregg requested.
“Geosynchronous follows the direction of the Earth’s rotation. Geostationary adds an additional element that assures a satellite returns to the same point in the sky at the same time each day.”
“Why is this significant?” asked the chairman of the JCS.
Secretary Gregg didn’t need to ask. He now understood where this briefing was going. He returned to his seat with a grim look on his face.
“Sir, with the adjusted flight path, the Iranian satellite will pass over America’s West Coast at the precise time NORAD 41332 passes over the major population centers on our East Coast.”
The room grew quiet at the implications of this revelation.
The chairman of the Joint Chiefs asked a follow-up question. “At what altitude will they pass?”
“Roughly one thousand miles above the Earth’s surface, sir. The worst-case scenario for an EMP detonation would be around two hundred fifty to three hundred miles above the Earth’s surface. A three-hundred-mile altitude would create an EMP impact radius of nearly fifteen hundred miles. The lower the detonation altitude, the smaller the radius, but the impact would be felt by all electronic devices.”
“Colonel, why do you think the Iranians and North Koreans have timed their trajectories in what appears to be a perfectly choreographed orbit?” asked Secretary Gregg.
“Our working theory, sir, is that they want to time their satellites to be over Northern California and our population centers in the northeast, including New York and Washington, at the same time.”
“A simultaneous attack would damage us from coast to coast, would it not?” asked Secretary Gregg.
“Yes, sir, depending on altitude and location of the detonation.”
“How often does this perfect alignment occur?” asked the chairman of the JCS.
The colonel hesitated and returned to her seat. As she sat, she looked at both men directly. “Every day, sir. At multiple times every single day.”
Secretary Gregg took a moment and closed his eyes, assessing the threat from above to America’s soft underbelly below. Every day, at the given moment, the United States could be attacked from the sky without warning or ability to defend itself. He leaned back in his chair and stared toward the ceiling.
Then he glanced at the monitors. The North Korean satellite, now labeled NORAD 41332, hovered ominously over St. Louis, Missouri, the heartland of America.
Chapter 40
November 14
Central Luxury Mansion
Ryongsong Residence
Pyongyang, North Korea
In the early 1980s, the Korean People’s Army constructed a fortified compound to be the primary residence of then-ruler Kim Il-sung. When Kim Jong-un succeeded his father as supreme leader, he adopted the Ryongsong Residence, also referred to as the Central Luxury Mansion, as his main residence.
The complex was far more than his primary residence. Above ground, the buildings were protected by numerous military units stationed with a broad array of weaponry. Multiple layers of electric fencing, minefields, and security checkpoints deterred any type of ground assault of the residence.
Aerial assaults would likely fail as well. Beneath the Ryongsong Residence, an underground wartime headquarters existed. The cavernous space was protected with walls reinforced by iron rods and concrete coated in lead to protect the headquarters from nuclear attack. A myriad of secured tunnels ran to an underground train station, which stretched to various points in the North Korean countryside. Pedestrian tunnels led to large houses, beautiful gardens, and man-made lakes within the secured perimeter.
One of these residences, Changgyong Residence, was home to his beloved sister and new member of the politburo, Kim Yo-jong. She had been instrumental in convincing her brother to become a man of the people by making more public appearances, from his early interaction with American NBA basketball star Dennis Rodman to frequent appearances at fairground attractions, state-run factories, and of course, high-profile displays of North Korea’s military might.
He’d just completed an official state visit from the Chinese ambassador, who carried a message from Beijing. Officially, he was advised the Americans had threatened retaliation if he followed through with his scheduled missile launch the next day. Unofficially, both men agreed that the Americans were just posturing, as they always had for decades. The entire world knew they would not undertake a first strike unless the DPRK attacked the U.S. or one of its protected allies first.
Kim’s sister sat in on the meeting but remained quiet throughout. She knew her position was to remain stoic, standing by her brother in public, but capable of speaking freely to him in private. The two descended into the war room below the Ryongsong Residence together and stopped in an opulent parlor to have tea before they continued with their day.
He’d just instructed his military leaders to reach out to their back-channel liaisons in Japan and South Korea to be prepared for military drills to be conducted by the DPRK’s military. These conversations routinely occurred behind the scenes to avoid his actions being mistaken for military provocation.
The United States had just flown several B-1B bomber missions along the edge of North Korean waters as a show of force. Kim Jong-un was concerned because his radar units had failed to pick up the bombers until they were a hundred miles away from his coastline. He went into a rage with his generals, who immediately snatched up two radar operators and hauled them to another room.
The actions by the U.S. military were similar to the attempts to provoke Kim five years ago when they flew multiple B-1B missions over the South Korean half of the peninsula below the 38th parallel. The veiled threats didn’t stop the scheduled
missile test then, nor would it stop the one scheduled for tomorrow.
“Sister, they are a weak bully,” started Kim as he calmly sipped his tea and settled into a chair. He continued to gain weight, resulting in the removal of all couches from areas he frequented. He’d suffered an embarrassing moment the year before when he’d settled into a couch on the residential level and was unable to get off it without help.
He continued to make his point. “Do they have nuclear weapons? Yes, but so do we. Unlike them, I have the courage and strength given to me by our father to use them.”
“Dear Leader, my brother, they have much to lose,” said Kim Yo-jong, referring to her brother as Dear Leader as a show of respect. “We may be smaller in size, but we are bigger in heart. That is why they cower at your shows of force and run away like the mice they are.”
“Yes, sister, you do understand. What the Americans do not understand is that we desire this confrontation. We want to prove to the world once and for all which country is mightier.”
“Indeed, Dear Leader, I know this. I also know that the only words from our comrades in Beijing and Moscow that are expected to be abided by are don’t shoot first. It is a smart political move, and only one which someone of your patience can observe.”
Kim Jong-un reached for an Ovomaltine biscuit cookie from a plate adjacent to his chair. He dipped it into his tea, as he’d learned to do in those two years in Switzerland with his sister. The brand outside of Switzerland was usually called Ovaltine, the powdery drink mix many Swiss and American kids grew up on. The Swiss division of Ovomaltine made a crunchy biscuit, which was frequently dipped in milk or hot tea.
Kim Jong-un cherished the memories of Switzerland with his sister and had ordered thousands of cases of the product to be available to him in each of his residences and work spaces. Calories, obviously, were not a consideration.
“Sister, we will not strike right away unless provoked. But when we do, the world will never forget. We will cement our position in history and gain the respect of leaders that has eluded our country for decades.”
Kim Yo-jong sipped the hot tea and peered over her cup as her brother spoke. She smiled as she admired his spirit and resourcefulness.
“You deserve this, my brother. Dear Leader, I know your day in the spotlight will come!”
Chapter 41
November 14
Central Luxury Mansion
Ryongsong Residence
Pyongyang, North Korea
Following their tea time together, Kim Jong-un and his sister entered the war room, where his generals stood awaiting his orders. The technology available to the DPRK was advanced, although perhaps a year or two behind that of the United States.
Unit 180, Kim Jong-un’s online army consisting of six thousand of the country’s best cyber warriors, had mastered the ability to infiltrate the U.S. Departments of State and Defense for more than a decade. What they couldn’t learn from hacking the Americans, they were easily capable of obtaining from its allies—Japan and South Korea.
The world once laughed at the DPRK’s ability to engage in cyber warfare, but that all changed in 2014, the day of the SONY Pictures cyber intrusion. When Kim Jong-un learned of SONY Pictures’ new film project The Interview, a comedy that shed the Dear Leader in a bad light, Unit 180 deployed a malware known as Shamoon Wiper to erase Sony’s IT infrastructure.
In addition, the hackers of Unit 180, who cleverly called themselves the Guardians of Peace, or GOP, began leaking confidential emails of top Sony executives, A-list Hollywood stars, and their agents. The contents of these emails threw the media into a frenzy, and Sony demanded action be taken against the DPRK.
Within the next several years, Unit 180 stole millions from banks, brought the National Health Service of Great Britain to its knees, and infiltrated the details of top-secret military planning exchanged between South Korea and the Pentagon.
But their high-profile hacks paled in comparison to the amount of proprietary software and design they stole from international companies every day, including from their closest ally—China. These products and technologies were reverse engineered by North Korean scientists and internet technology specialists before being incorporated for the benefit of the Korean People’s Army.
Kim’s war room closely monitored the United States as it escalated its forces in the region. When the third carrier strike group entered the Sea of Japan, his generals sounded alarms, which placed their military apparatus on its highest alert.
Today, the military loaded two Stormpetrel antiship cruise missiles on a newly-placed-into-service Wonsan guided-missile patrol boat. The vessels were ordered to patrol North Korea’s east coast along the edge of its territorial waters.
The Wonsans were intended to be highly visible to the Americans. They would be closely monitored and, hopefully, distract them while Kim released his newest weapon, one that was far more stealthy than the Wonsan patrol boats.
“Sister, today is a momentous one for us as well,” started Kim Jong-un as he approached his always eager group of generals, most of whom were in their seventies. Impeccably dressed, the men always awaited every word out of Dear Leader’s mouth, and stood with pen in hand to jot down every directive. “This is our greatest naval achievement, sister, the Pukkuksong-1 submarine, codename KN-11. This underwater demon carries an advanced nuclear warhead that can reach America’s West Coast, Hawaii or Guam. But I will use it to punish Seoul for their alliance with the Americans. If they attack us, we will attack Seoul as the first step in reunifying the Korean Peninsula under our rule.”
“Dear Leader, this is a magnificent achievement by you and your generals,” started his sister, much to the delight of the generals, who appreciated being recognized. Her brother didn’t praise his military leaders. Their father had told him it was a sign of weakness. “It is a shame that reunification can’t be achieved without loss of life to our distant cousins.”
“Yes, sister, but that has been their choice,” he quickly replied in a tone that shut down the conversation. This moment was about achievements, not the shortcomings of his regime’s policies. He turned to his generals and gestured for them to proceed.
“Dear Leader,” one of the generals began to explain, “the KN-11 is diesel powered and will therefore leave a footprint for the Americans to track as it drops to its lowest depth. To mask and confuse their devices, we will also launch three Sang-O II submarines with it in a cluster formation. Initially, it will appear as one or two vessels being launched. Then we will split into two groups. Once the KN-11 is at its lowest depth, we will divide into three distinct paths leading away from your great achievement’s location.”
Kim Jong-un stood a little taller and smiled. He had learned the art of deterrence over the years from his father. When it was his turn to lead the regime, he’d mastered a level of political prowess to go along with his nature’s military might.
While the entire world was singularly focused on his nuclear proliferation, he was building a massive ground force together with a respectable navy. With the addition of Russian technology, he’d transformed his Air Force from one using outdated MIG-21 and MIG-23 technology to the more modern and capable MIG-35Ds, a dual-seat fighter with advanced avionics and weapons systems capable of competing with any American aircraft.
His father, Kim Jong-iL, had sought to reunify the Korean Peninsula, a goal which would satisfy his people and establish a legacy for Kim Jong-un’s regime. After his father’s death in 2011, he knew the world expected this to be his goal. However short he might be in stature, Kim Jong-un’s lofty goals would make him a giant among men.
Chapter 42
November 14
The Situation Room
The White House
Washington, DC
The weight of the world weighed upon President Harman as she sat in the end seat of the conference table of the Situation Room. The Situation Room was born out of frustration on the part of President John Kennedy after the B
ay of Pigs debacle in Cuba. President Kennedy was angered by the conflicting advice and information coming in to him from the various agencies that comprised the nation’s defense departments. During the Truman presidency, a bowling alley had been built on the lower level of the West Wing, but it was ordered to be removed and replaced with the Situation Room by President Kennedy.
Initially, before the age of electronics, President Kennedy required at least one Central Intelligence analyst remain in the Situation Room at all times. The analyst would work a twenty-hour shift and sleep on a cot during the night.
Other presidents, like Nixon and Ford, never used the Situation Room. In most cases, a visit from the president was a formal undertaking, happening only on rare occasions. President George H.W. Bush, a former CIA head, would frequently call and ask if he could stop by and say hello.
When there had been a foreign policy failure, such as when the shoe bomber boarded a flight on Christmas Day in 2009, the Situation Room became a forum for a tongue-lashing of top-level intelligence and national security personnel. Today, it was the scene of a tense standoff between the world’s major superpower and a gnat that had been flying in out of America’s ears for decades.
President Harman was joined by Chief of Staff Acton, her national security advisor, and the head of the CIA. Defense Secretary Gregg was unable to attend so that he could continue to monitor the scheduled war games with the South Koreans.
“Gentlemen, how certain is your intelligence regarding this launch?” asked the president as she twirled a pen through her fingers. She continued to stare at the satellite feeds provided by the Pentagon, which focused on her carrier groups positioning themselves in the Sea of Japan and the missile launch site in Kusong. “This could either be a momentous occasion where our final attempts at diplomacy work, or it could be the start of world war three. Either way, I wanna be in the room when it happens.”
