4.
THE SAS
Moon and Jang were in the hotel lobby waiting for Choi when he returned, and were anxious to hear about his day.
“Come to my room.” Choi invited them. “I am equally keen to know what further you learnt at Culham. By the way, what time are we having dinner this evening?”
“Nothing formal has been arranged,” replied Moon, as they made their way across the lobby to the lift, “but we are to have an informal farewell lunch tomorrow when we return from Culham, before we leave for the airport.”
“Good. So we have a free evening. I shall need to write notes ready for preparing my report when we return home. Since I was not at Culham today, perhaps you would be good enough to draft the report on that aspect of our visit,” he suggested to Jang Nam.
“Of course,” Nam replied. “I shall also make some notes myself this evening, perhaps after we have had dinner together. It was another most interesting day, don’t you agree, Pak, but I really doubt if we shall learn anything new if we return there tomorrow.”
“I agree,” said Moon. “In fact they more or less told us that there was nothing further they could show us that we had not already seen, but that we were welcome to return if we wished.”
“In that case,” suggested Choi, “Perhaps I could go on my own to catch up on some of the briefing you had during this morning’s tour. I shall then know better how to meld our two reports together.”
“I agree,” said Jang Nam, and Moon nodded.
“You and I” said Nam to Moon, “could have a leisurely tour of this lovely city together, before meeting everybody again for our farewell lunch.”
Again, Moon nodded. He did not like the thought of his charges splitting up once again, but he could not be in two places at once, and he was sure his superiors would realise that if ever it became know that Choi had twice been out on his own. Three times, actually, although Moon Pak did not know about Choi’s first outing on his own.
“We should tell them of our change of plan,” said Choi. “How can we do that? Is there anyway of contacting Mr. Cooper?”
“He said he would look in this evening, perhaps for a drink in the bar, especially to see if there was anything further we needed, so we can tell him then.”
“Excellent. In that case, I suggest we freshen up a bit, and meet again downstairs in the bar before dinner.”
Lee Cooper was already there, nursing a warm beer.
He was greeted like a long lost friend. He offered them a drink – they chose wine – but insisted that he would not join them for dinner.
“No, this is a free evening for you to do what you like before you return home tomorrow. I simply came to see if there was anything I could do for you.”
“You are most kind,” said Pak. “In fact, we were hoping to see you this evening because we wish to change our plans for tomorrow.”
“In what way?”
“You were not at Culham today, but they suggested there was nothing much new for them to show us tomorrow,” reported Pak. “However, Dr.Choi was not there, so we thought that he could perhaps go alone tomorrow to catch up on what he missed, while we started drafting our report, and if time permits, have a quiet tour of this lovely city.”
“That’s not a problem at all. I will tell Culham that Dr. Choi will be on his own.”
“That’s most kind of you,” said Choi. “In our country, I fear such a last minute change of plans would not be acceptable.”
Cooper immediately realised that he had work to do this evening.
“If you would like,” he suggested, “I could arrange for you to have a car and an official guide for your tour of Oxford.”
“Kind of you, but no thank you. We are in the centre of Oxford and so can easily walk. There are maps and guide books in the hotel lobby, so we shall be able to get around without any difficulty,” said Nam.
“In that case, if there is nothing further I can do for you this evening, Dr. Choi, I shall get on to my colleagues to tell them that only you will be visiting them at Culham in the morning.”
Cooper took his leave, but did not immediately contact Culham. He got on to Paul Sheppard from Aldermaston instead.
“Your lucky day, tomorrow,” he announced.
“It’s my day off,” replied Sheppard.
“Not any more it isn’t. You’ve got Choi to yourself at Culham tomorrow if you want him. The other two have decided they’ve had enough, but Choi wants to catch up, as he wasn’t there today.”
“Or perhaps he just wants a day with us on his own,” said Sheppard thoughtfully.
“You decide,” said Cooper. “I must tell John Williams at Culham.”
“Tell him I’ll be there,” said Sheppard. “Will you go?”
“Of course. It could be our last chance to persuade the man to stay here.”
“We’ll be lucky!”
“I think you’re right, but we can’t give up yet.”
“I’ll get on to Martin Davis as well, and get him there.”
“By the way,” said Cooper, “Although I wasn’t invited to attend, I gather you guys had a meeting earlier and drew up some sort of contingency plan if the man decides to go home – as he will.”
“Can’t keep anything secret from you lot, can we.”
“That’s why we’re here.”
***
Kang Soo and Park Yon were both in the SAS Barracks in Hereford when the call came. Like all Special Forces personnel not actually engaged on operations, they were getting bored with the constant training to which they were subjected, although even that was better than doing nothing at all.
It seems this operation could just be a bit different from others they had been involved in recently, in Kandahar and Iraq. This time, they were going ‘home’, and would be operating largely on their own, although they had been told that there was likely to be some limited support already in place, if they could make contact.
They were briefed in the air, on the Special Forces standby helicopter which had been scrambled to take them from Hereford to Oxford.
Without being told, they were acutely away of the special dangers involved in a clandestine operation in such a hostile environment. They knew what their fate was likely to be at the hands of the fanatical dictatorship if they were caught or betrayed.
There was apparently no rush for them to get to North Korea, but an urgent need for them to familiarise themselves their target, who was due to return to Pyongyang later tomorrow. He was one of three visitors, who had been given the VIP treatment by the UK. They were handed photographs of the man they were interested in so that they could recognise him both in Oxford and at Heathrow tomorrow and later in Korea itself, but the pictures were to be handed in as soon as the North Korean delegation had left. To be caught with those in their possession would be certain death.
They felt more exposed in Oxford than they probably would do in Korea, where they would meld more easily into the background, but so far as they could tell their target, Dr. Choi Shin had not spotted them as he strolled with his driver from the car park. If he had, he took no notice.
***
There was a lot going on.
Len Ellis and his team in the camper van at the back of the car park at The Old Bank Hotel, were busy downloading the material from their various ‘taps’ around the hotel, and getting it to people who could transfer it onto a computer.
Another team was doing the same with various recordings made by Cooper and others who had been in conversation with Dr. Choi.
All that material went to a team of translators, analysts and researchers who would pick the meat from the bones, and provide some sort of intelligent background briefing which summarised what had been going on and what was now known about the Korean nuclear scientists and their work.
And it was still going on. The visitors hadn’t returned to North Korea yet, and there would be more material to be dealt with in this way before they did so. But it was essential for everyone in the country who was in any way involved to have a broad picture of what was being said, to assess attitudes, and to get an idea of the sort of information that could be within their grasp if they played their cards right.
Briefing material like this, and a proper analysis of it, was a vital ingredient in the decision making process now beginning. Those involved needed to be able to interpret what had been said by the Korean visitors, so as to be able to make sensible decisions about what they should do next.
In particular, Professor John Williams, Culham’s Director, and Paul Sheppard from Aldermaston, needed to get a feel for how best to deal with Dr. Choi during their final meeting with him. An accurate analysis of all that had been said, inferred and hinted at would help them determine how to deal with the nuclear scientist during his remaining few hours in the UK.
A typed summary would be with them in the morning, as well as being on the desks of others who were directly interested and who could also influence future events.
Choi’s morning visit to Culham proved to be of mutual benefit, both to him and the small UK delegation looking after him. Although nuclear fusion was not his particular field of interest, the science and the mathematics which went into the research being carried out was of great interest. He learnt a lot, and said so.
By the same token, the UK scientists with him learnt a lot about Choi and his work, not least from the questions he asked, which revealed gaps in his knowledge, but also from many of the comments he made. Many of these were no doubt un-guarded because his two colleagues were not with him, but he nevertheless seemed at ease and confident in the company of fellow scientists. International barriers appeared to have fallen away, as often they do when politics are removed from scientific research.
Based on the briefing they had received that morning, summarising all that had been learnt about Choi from this week’s visit and from earlier intelligence reports, Williams and Sheppard had agreed that they would not in any way pressurise Choi during his morning at Culham. They needed him to be totally relaxed, and to be made to feel ‘at home’ within the UK’s nuclear scientific community.
It had also been agreed between them, rather reluctantly it has to be said, that Lee Cooper would drive him back to Oxford on his own: just the two of them in the car, without even an official driver. Choi was now well used to Cooper, who had been the first to greet the Korean delegation on its arrival, and they got on well together, each relaxed in the other’s company.
The drive back to the Hotel for their farewell lunch would probably be the last chance to turn Choi and perhaps persuade him to stay.
Choi sat silent for a while in the passenger seat at the front of the car, deep in thought.
“You know,” he said eventually, “I have so enjoyed my visit here, I feel relaxed for the first time in many years. I have not felt spied upon or under threat, which are things one gets used to feeling in my country; a constant fear of the authorities, and what they might do next.”
He sighed.
“I am almost not looking forward to returning home,” he said.
“Stay, then.”
Cooper could hardly believe what he was hearing.
Choi looked across to Cooper.
“No, no, no, I cannot. I must not. I am sure you understand.”
“Of course I do,” replied Cooper, sympathetically. “But if ever you should change your mind, you only have to get word to us. If ever you feel that the work you are doing really does pose an imminent threat to world peace and a catastrophic nuclear conflict, then we may be able to prevent that if we know what it is your work involves.”
“If I’m honest, I already do believe that,” replied Choi.
He sat thoughtfully for a moment.
“How would I get word to you? How would it ever be possible for us to keep in touch? If ever I felt strongly enough, how would I manage to get technical information to you? All this seems impossible.”
“Dr. Choi, my friend,” replied Cooper, “if that is what you want, then we shall arrange it.”
“If you can do that, my friend, without in any way endangering your people or mine,” Choi paused for thought. “Then do it.”
“Consider it done,” replied Cooper. “I shall arrange for one of our people to make contact with you after your return. It may be some time after your return, but you will know. And we shall wait until you are ready, if ever you should decide to help us in any way.”
“I shall also be helping my own people if I do, and possibly many millions of others.”
“You must be careful,” insisted Cooper.
“So must your people,” replied Choi. “My country is not a safe place for its own citizens, let alone strangers.”
“We know where you work.”
“My real work is at the Yongbyon Nuclear Scientific Research Centre, which is about 90km north of Pyongyang. I have an apartment near there. But I work more and more on detachment at the Punggye-ri nuclear test site, where I also have accommodation, although it is somewhat austere. That is where my research is carried out, with Chinese ‘colleagues’, if I may call them that.”
“We shall find you, wherever you are.”
Choi looked across at Cooper.
“You are so confident,” he said. “Quietly confident – no fuss.”
They were nearing the Hotel in Central Oxford.
“I’ll drop you off at the door, and then find somewhere to park the car,” said Cooper.
“If I may, I’ll come with you, and walk back with you. I shall enjoy my last moments of freedom. Three days of freedom!” he exclaimed. “I did not even feel so relaxed in America.”
He looked across at Lee Cooper.
“You know, I almost feared I would be kidnapped and kept here for questioning.”
“The thought had crossed our mind, if I’m honest, but we do not do that sort of thing in this country, however desperate we may be to get hold of information.”
“The authorities in my country would not have thought twice about it,” responded Choi sadly. “They have developed barbaric ways for making people talk.”
“That is not the way we do things,” responded Cooper. “You are free to return home, or you are free to stay here if you wish. It’s your decision.”
“I cannot imagine living in such freedom and in such a civilised country compared with my own. But I shall not stay. I know you understand the reasons,” he said.
Cooper nodded.
“I know what you are thinking,” Choi said. “But I shall not stay.”
Cooper felt almost guilty as he switched off his recorder.
***
Jack Salisbury, Head of the Joint Intelligence Organisation, wasn’t at all sure about this. He had read the briefs thoroughly – twice in fact – but wasn’t at all sure that what was being proposed was the best thing to do.
Not sure at all.
Suddenly, it was his decision, so he had to be sure. There was no one else to ask – no one that mattered, anyway. He certainly wasn’t about to approach Ministers or civil servants who didn’t understand these things, or even his ultimate boss, the Cabinet Secretary. He was a civil servant with too much else to worry about, and who was prone to ‘consult wider’. That was the last thing Salisbury wanted. The fewer the people who knew about this, the better. In the old days, there would have been the Head of the Joint Intelligence Committee, and the Head of Intelligence Analysis, to offer a view.
But now he held all three jobs.
So it was his decision.
“I hope you haven’t told your Permanent Secretary,” he said to General Pearson- Jones, who was at the meeting he had called.
“Not yet, but it had crossed my mind,” replied the General.
“Don’t then.”
“We may need to tell more people when we have decided what to do,” said Sir Geoffrey Sefton, Head of MI6, who was also there, “but for the time being, the fewer the people who know about this, the better.”
“Absolutely,” said Salisbury.
He scratched his balding head, as if for inspiration.
“There seems to be no doubt whatsoever that we need as much information as we can get about this collaborative project between the North Koreans and the Chinese. So far, we have picked up very little, apart from satellite images of increased activity. We now have, however, in this country, the one man who could tell us everything, and who, um, on the face of it, seems half prepared to talk.”
“But not to stay,” Sefton reminded him.
“Exactly.”
Salisbury leant back in his chair, eyes closed.
“This may seem to be, er, shall we say, perverse,” said Salisbury, almost apologetically, “but I believe the option of forcing Dr. Choi to stay, which I understand your people favoured,” he glowered at Pearson-Jones, “to be quite the wrong option.”
“I agree it could be counter-productive,” admitted the General, “but it is – was – an option.”
“I gather you also discussed sending Special Forces after him?”
“They are on stand-by.”
“With what object in view?” asked Salisbury
“Our thinking was that once Choi had returned to his own oppressive environment, he may become even more inclined to get away from it and to join us. Our chaps would have been there to aid his defection and return.”
“Your men who are on stand-by,” quizzed Salisbury. “Are they nuclear scientists or diplomats or trained negotiators, or, um, I mean no offence, just simply soldiers?”
“They are both fluent Korean speakers, one himself a defector; but only soldiers.”
“But they do know what Choi looks like?”
“Certainly they do. They have photographs, they have watched video footage of him, and they have seen him in the flesh in Oxford,” the General looked at his watch, “and now at Heathrow.”
Salisbury shook his head, and turned to ‘C’.
“I don’t know about you, Geoffrey, but my view is that Choi could well be of more use to us within Korea, rather than out of it.”
“My view exactly. If he stayed here we would undoubtedly learn a lot about the work so far carried out, and perhaps about future plans, but then we would learn nothing further. He would soon be out of touch and out of date.”
“Quite so,” agreed Jack Salisbury. “And it would all be from memory. Not much in the way of figures, or data in any great detail, no plans, no technical drawings, etc. etc.”
Salisbury clasped his hands behind his head.
“If, on the other hand, he can be persuaded to help us from within, shall we say, he can keep us up to date with progress as well.”
“And he has already indicated that he might well be prepared to help us, as you out it, ‘from within’,” said ‘C’. “He asked my chap Lee Cooper how he could get word to us if he needed to, as you will have seen from the briefing.”
“And Cooper said that contact could be arranged.”
Salisbury shuffled his papers.
“Ah!” he said. “Here it is. ‘If that is what you want, then we shall arrange it’ is what Cooper said.”
“And Choi said, ‘Then do it.’
Jack Salisbury stood up, stretched, and looked at his feet in thought.
“Good man, your Cooper?”
“Excellent,” replied Geoffrey Sefton. “He quickly developed a good rapport with Choi, to the extent that they almost became friends.”
“Pity we can’t send him into North Korea then, really.”
Salisbury grinned.
“But I understand that you already have a small band of – shall we say – ‘helpers’ in the country?” he asked Sefton.
“Some. Loosely organised, but in touch.”
“With one another and with us?”
“Yes.”
Salisbury ambled across to look out of his Cabinet Office window at the night-time lights of Whitehall. After a moment, he turned to face the other two men.
“Here’s what I suggest then, General.”
Pearson-Jones knew that this was no suggestion – it was a decision.
“If you agree, of course, Geoffrey.”
‘There you are’, thought Pearson-Jones. ‘A decision to be agreed, not a suggestion.’
“What I suggest,” he repeated, “is that you send in your chaps at some time – no great rush – when they are fully trained and briefed. I suggest that you, Geoffrey, and your man Cooper, do the briefing. Their mission,” he turned to the Head of Defence Intelligence, “will NOT be to persuade the man to return here as a defector. It will be to make the contact promised by Cooper, and to keep in touch discretely. If he should decide to return, they will be there to facilitate those arrangements. Similarly, if he wishes simply to pass on information in some form or other, they will be able to put him in touch with others who can act as a conduit between him and us.”
He turned to Sir Geoffrey Sefton.
“They will also need to be in contact with your group already over there. I leave that to you to arrange. In the event that such a person should be needed, do you have – how shall I put this? - an agent, shall we say, who can speak their language and who would be able to collect any – um – briefing material.”
“Yes. I do. As it happens, one of my best men is a Far East specialist, and fluent in the Korean language.”
“Available?”
“In a few weeks, perhaps.”
“Name?”
“Maurice Northcot.”
“Where is he now?”
“Officially, in Warsaw.”
“Unofficially?”
“Jakarta.”
“In that case, I also suggest that he is present at the briefing with our two – er – soldiers.”
Head of MI6 nodded.
“And is my suggestion acceptable to you, General?”
“An excellent idea, if I may say so. I believe, though, that the men’s Commanding Officer should also be present.”
Salisbury grinned. He turned to ‘C’.
“And your Head of Section 7, too. What’s his name again – James Piper?”
Sir Geoffrey Sefton nodded.
“Agreed, then. Get on with it, good luck, and keep me in touch. We need what Choi has to offer, so let’s go and get it.”
***
As the meeting broke up, Salisbury turned to Sefton.
“A moment, if you would. Something else I wanted to discuss with you, if you can spare the time.”
He turned to the others as they left.
“A different topic,” he assured them, with a smile.
As the door closed behind them, he looked at Sefton.
“Perhaps not quite true,” he said. “Same topic, but a different approach.”
He walked across to his bookcase.
“Scotch?” he asked, taking out the decanter and two glasses.
He poured two generous helpings.
“Good malt, this,” he commented. “You need more than one sip, especially at this time of night.”
He returned to his desk, and sat down heavily, with a sigh, before raising his glass in salute.
“Brave chaps, those in the SAS,” he said. “But this is not exactly what they’re trained to do.”
He savoured the Scotch.
“More the sort of thing your chaps do, Geoffrey. It’s the sort of thing they’re good at.”
Sefton nodded, and Salisbury leant forward.
“Brave chaps,” he repeated, “but they will fail.”
Sefton nodded again. “I’m afraid you’re right.”
“So let’s talk about plan ‘B’.”
He sipped his malt whiskey.
“You already have people on the ground? In North Korea?” he asked, seeking confirmation.
“We do. Not many, but a start.”
“Any one working over there – in that country above all others – is also brave. Who are they?”
“Mostly local people who are disaffected. One or two of our own, who we have inserted.”
“Inserted! But not in the dark by dinghy launched from a submarine, I would guess, which is what the Army will probably do.”
“No. We can be more subtle than that.”
Salisbury leant back and looked at the ceiling.
“I wonder now, y’ know, if we should stop them going.”
“To be blunt,” said Sefton, “I would rather risk new people than my existing network, fragile though it is.”
“If they are caught? The new chaps?”
“At best, death by firing squad.”
“Newly arrived chaps would probably be at most risk, do you think?”
“Probably.”
“Would it make much difference if they were civilians, rather than military?”
“Probably not, except in terms of regime’s propaganda machine. What had you in mind?”
“Perhaps leaving the Army and joining the Foreign Office as diplomats. Temporarily, that is – until they got back.”
“Spies are spies.”
“True.”
“Frankly, Jack, I would rather not risk my organisation already in place.”
“What is their role?”
“Watchers and listeners, couriers, people smugglers.”
“Across the border?”
Sefton nodded.
“So they could help any new chaps get out when the time came?”
“Yes.”
“Without submarines or drama of that sort.”
Sir Geoffrey Sefton nodded again.
After another sip of his Scotch, Jack Salisbury said,
“Right. We’ll let them go, and hope for the best, for their sakes. We promised Choi we would keep in touch, so let them at least do that if only to build confidence. But Choi is not going to come back here with the information which we so desperately need, so we shall have to go and get it and bring it back ourselves.”
He turned to the Head of MI6. “And that means your people, Geoffrey, so let’s talk about plan ‘B’.”