"It is. In case you didn't notice, our audio is down. Maybe one of your men did it when they were checking the stage for explosives."

"If they did, we'll take away their bones."

There was a long silence.

"Their dog bones. We had the sniff squad out."

"That's great," said the coordinator. "One of them might have urinated on a wire."

"Political commentary," Hwan said. "I want you to stay on the line till you hear something."

Another long silence. Suddenly a faraway voice crackled through the phone.

"My God! K-Two--"

Hwan was alert. "Turn up your radio. I want to hear what he says."

The volume rose.

"K-One, what's wrong?" the coordinator asked.

"Sir-- K-Two is on the floor. His head's bleeding. He must have fallen."

"Check the console."

There was a tense silence. "The microphones are off. But we checked them. Why would he have done that?"

"Turn them back on--"

"All right."

Hwan's eyes narrowed. He squeezed the receiver tightly and was already starting out the door. "Tell him not to touch anything!" he shouted. "Someone may have gotten in there and--"

There was a flash, and the rest of his sentence was drowned out by a massive blast.

CHAPTER SIX

Tuesday, 4:04 A.M., the White House

The STU-3 secured phone on the nightstand rang. The console had a rectangular, lighted screen on top with an LED display giving the name and number of the person calling, and whether or not the line was secure.

Not quite awake, President Michael Lawrence didn't look at the screen as he reached for the receiver.

"Yes?"

"Mr. President, we have a situation."

The President climbed to an elbow. Now he looked at the screen: it was Steven Burkow, the National Security chief. Below his phone number, it said Confidential-- not Secret or Top Secret.

The President dug the palm of his free hand into his left eye. "What is it?" he asked as he rubbed his palm into the other eye and looked at the clock beside the phone.

"Sir, seven minutes ago there was an explosion in Seoul, outside the Palace."

"The celebration," he said knowingly. "How bad?"

"I just took a quick look at the video. There appears to have been hundreds of casualties, possibly several dozen deaths."

"Any of our people?"

"I don't know."

"Terrorism?"

"It appears to be. A sound truck was obliterated."

"Has anyone called to claim responsibility?"

"Kalt is on the phone with the KCIA right now. So far, no one."

The President was already on his feet. "Call Av, Mel, Greg, Ernie, and Paul and have them meet us in the Situation Room at five-fifteen. Was Libby there?"

"Not yet. She was en route from the Embassy-- wanted to be late for Duk's speech."

"Good girl. Get her on the phone; I'll take it downstairs. And call the Vice President in Pakistan and ask him to come back this afternoon."

Hanging up, the President tapped the intercom beside the phone and asked his valet to take out a black suit, red tie. Power clothes, in case he had to talk to the media and didn't have time to change.