"I want to see her."

"Not-- now," Norbom said, and looked at his watch. "I'm having our dinner brought over. We can talk for a while."

Donald looked into his friend's steel-gray eyes. Set in the craggy face of the fifty-two-year-old Base Commander, those eyes inspired trust, and Donald had always been quick to give it to him. If Norbom didn't want him to see his wife's body yet, Donald would defer. Only he had to see her soon, let her soul guide him, tell him that what he was planning was the right thing to do.

"All right," Donald said softly. "We'll talk. How well do you know General Hong-koo?"

Norbom's brow knit. "That's an odd question. I met him once at the DMZ meeting in 1988."

"Any firsthand impressions?"

"Sure. He's arrogant, blunt, emotional, and trustworthy in his own misguided way. If he says he's going to shoot at you, he will. Now I don't know him as well as General Schneider does, but I don't stare at him and his men across the DMZ every day, or listen to the loud North Korean folk songs they boom across the border in the middle of the night, or watch to see how many inches or feet he adds to his flagpole so it'll always be taller than ours."

Donald began filling his pipe. "Don't we send headbanger music back at him and raise our own flagpole?"

"Only when he does it first"-- Norbom allowed himself a little smile-- "you pinko sympathizer. Why do you ask?"

Donald noticed the framed photograph of Diane on the General's desk and glanced away. It took him a moment to collect himself.

"I want to meet with him, Howard."

"Out of the question. It's difficult enough for General Schneider to see him--"

"He's a soldier, I'm a diplomat. That may make a difference. In any case, I'll worry about contacting him. I need your help to get to the DMZ."

Norbom sat back. "Christ, Greg. What did Mike Rodgers do, give you a transfusion from his own right arm? What are you going to do, just walk across Checkpoint Charlie? Tie a note to a brick?"

"I'll use a radio, I think."

"Radio! Schneider wouldn't let you near one-- that'd be his ass. Besides, even if you could see him, Hong-koo's the most militant nutcase they've got. Pyongyang sent him there as a signal to Seoul: go to the reunification talks with deep pockets and a giving heart, or you'll be staring across a rifle at him. If anyone would have come up with a rogue operation like this, it's Hong-koo."

"What if he didn't, Howard? What if North Korea didn't do this?" Donald held the unlighted pipe in his right hand and bent closer. "As crazy as he is, he's proud and honorable. He wouldn't want to take credit or blame for any operation that wasn't his."

"You think he's going to tell you?"

"Maybe not with words, but I've spent my lifetime watching people and listening to exactly what they have to say. If I can talk to him, I'll know if he's involved."