A Generation Ends
SPEED 010 — Kim Il-sung Dead — Announced to party members and the people in the name of the Central Committee of the Workers' Party and others. — At 2 a.m. on June 26, from myocardial infarction. Funeral on July 7. — Kim Jong-il effectively succeeds to power. "Finally, a generation has ended."
Waiting for his flight to Korea at San Francisco International Airport, Yoo Jae-won muttered as he read the newspaper. The papers he held were not American editions but Korean dailies airlifted in on the 26th. Every front page carried the same massive headline: Kim Il-sung Dead. Most were printed in white on black; a few far-right papers had chosen red backgrounds instead. President Kim's summit visit to the North had not erased overnight the deep reservoir of emotion Koreans still felt toward their northern neighbor.
"I wonder which road Kim Jong-il will choose."
The news was big enough that even American outlets had broken into regular programming with urgent bulletins. In Korea the reaction was nothing short of pandemonium. Upon receiving the report at dawn, President Kim had placed the entire military on high alert and convened the National Security Council. Soldiers on leave had been recalled, training canceled, and contingency plans activated. Everyone had known Kim Il-sung was living on borrowed time; the real question was what kind of man his successor, Kim Jong-il, truly was. Because the heir had remained so carefully veiled, even U.S. media outlets had yet to reach any firm conclusions.
Yoo Jae-won knew the reclusive dictator's true nature, yet the dramatic improvement in inter-Korean relations gave him cautious hope for positive change. Still, Kim Il-sung's death had forced the cancellation of one item on his Korea itinerary: a late-night debate on the side effects of video games. Under the circumstances, a leisurely discussion about gaming was obviously impossible. The topic had been replaced by an analysis of North Korea's sudden upheaval and its likely trajectory. Jae-won thought it would have been nice to record the session and air it later, but the era was not yet flexible enough for such arrangements.
He had not canceled his trip entirely, however, because he still had business in Korea. He planned to visit Jeju Island, attend TG Mobile's pilot-service launch, and unveil the Tiffany Phone among other scheduled events. He expected the canceled debate program would be rescheduled once the shock of Kim Il-sung's death subsided.
"Chairman, it's time to board."
"Yes, let's go."
At Kim Dae-seok's words, Yoo Jae-won folded the newspaper and rose from his seat.
"It's hot."
That was Yoo Jae-won's first impression upon landing in Korea after a flight of more than ten hours. Unlike San Francisco's cool climate, even in June Korea radiated heat. The summer of 1994 would later be remembered as one of the hottest on record, an early taste of the extreme weather that would plague the early twenty-first century. Fortunately, following Jae-won's instructions, air conditioners had already been installed in his residence, all ID Group facilities, schools under the ID Foundation, and every organization the foundation supported. The units were Daewoo Electronics models built under Carrier license—ranging from small window units to full central systems depending on the location.
Interestingly, the entire order had been placed through the Daewoo Electronics dealership in Yeoju. The dealership's owner had changed the previous year; the new proprietor had once worked as a door-to-door saleswoman alongside Jae-won's mother, Kim Mal-sook. The two women had been something like rivals in their younger days, but the rivalry had evaporated once ID Group was founded. Only goodwill remained, which was why the dealership had gone out of its way to help. Had the purchase been made with corporate funds, Jae-won would have solicited multiple bids, but because the money was coming from his own pocket he had requested only Daewoo's quote. Even a single bid of several hundred billion won had earned the group a substantial discount. The dealership owner had still turned a healthy profit, and her commission had been generous. It was hardly surprising that Yeoju's Daewoo dealership had topped the national sales ranking the month the massive order was placed.
The house in Deokjin-ri had been air-conditioned long ago. Jae-won looked forward to reaching it and letting the cool air wash away his fatigue.
"Welcome back to Korea, Chairman!"
"Ah, Chief of Staff! You must be busy—I'm sorry to trouble you."
Once again, Choi Kang-wook was waiting at the arrivals gate. The sight of the familiar face eased the heat for a moment, though it also brought a twinge of guilt; new lines had appeared around Choi's eyes. Managing the Korean operations in Jae-won's absence was clearly taking its toll, especially with difficult legislation and relentless media attacks to fend off. Jae-won had told him not to come, yet here he was again.
"No matter what you say, it can't be helped. Without your magic wand, our company simply doesn't run."
Magic wand? For an instant Jae-won wondered whether Choi had somehow guessed his secret. But no—Choi was simply describing the way every project Jae-won touched seemed to succeed spectacularly. In Choi's eyes, it looked as though Jae-won merely waved a wand and miracles followed.
"Well then, this way."
Walking shoulder to shoulder with Choi, Jae-won left the terminal. The familiar angular Grandeur limousine—Jeon Myeong-heon's gift—waited at the curb. Time had begun to show on the vehicle; newer cars on the road were increasingly aerodynamic, making the old sedan look dated by comparison. Yet it had been meticulously maintained, its paint gleaming with a stately, old-world charm.
Once more Jae-won and Choi took the rear seat while Kim Dae-seok rode up front. Two escort vehicles bracketed the limousine fore and aft as the convoy pulled away. Choi nodded approvingly at the increased security detail, assuming the heightened alert was due to Kim Il-sung's death. In truth, the extra protection had nothing to do with domestic tensions. The Rootkit in Pyongyang had been feeding back an unusual volume of search queries related to Yoo Jae-won. Those queries revealed Kim Jong-il's personal interest, and given the nature of the regime, even an unspoken directive from the top could easily prompt dangerous action from subordinates. Jae-won preferred over-preparation to unpleasant surprises.
"What do you think will happen in the North?" Choi asked carefully once the car was moving.
"So that's why you came out after all."
Jae-won smiled, having expected the question. Choi's expression remained grave. For people of this era, Kim Il-sung's death was an enormous shock. Jae-won had lived through the near-unification period; Choi had known only confrontation.
"This is purely my own view, but I don't think anything will happen."
"Nothing at all?"
"No. The war that many fear—and that some even hope for—won't occur. North Korea will be unable to project external influence while Kim Jong-il consolidates power. Once he stabilizes his regime, however, we will need to stay vigilant."
"Vigilant?"
"Having completed the hereditary succession, he'll want to demonstrate his presence. That usually means military provocations—limited ones, perhaps, but enough to raise tensions."
Choi's mouth fell open. That was not the answer he had hoped to hear. ID Group had no immediate plans involving the North, yet one project was already underway at Jae-won's direction: a telecommunications venture. A joint venture with a Chinese partner was being prepared to enter North Korea's communications sector. Choi had been tasked with locating a suitable Chinese firm and was currently in talks with Dongfang Telecom Cable in Yanbian. The sudden mention of provocations startled him.
More importantly, Choi had personally witnessed that every prediction Jae-won made eventually came true. In reality, Kim Jong-il would dispatch armed agents in both 1995 and 1996. The 1995 incident occurred in Buyeo; the 1996 submarine infiltration was foiled in Gangneung. The Gangneung operation had been especially large, involving one of the North's few Shark-class submarines and a twenty-six-man infiltration team. Large-scale provocations against the South had become almost ritualistic whenever a hereditary succession was completed in Pyongyang—an unspoken rite of passage for the new ruler.
"A limited provocation?" Choi exclaimed. "With inter-Korean relations this good, would they really risk creating a confrontation?"
"Exactly. We've just held a summit, and U.S.–North talks are in progress. Things might be different this time."
Jae-won had no ready reassurance. The summit was a variable that rendered his previous forecasts unreliable. While the outlook was far more positive than before, he refused to make premature assumptions.
"This time?" Choi echoed, puzzled.
Jae-won realized his slip at once. His mind raced. Having seen events through the mid-twenty-first century, the phrase had come naturally, but it was anachronistic now.
"Remember the Panmunjom axe murder incident," he said quickly. "It happened right after Kim Jong-il began handling practical affairs. He wanted to assert himself, and when the Americans tried to trim the poplar tree at Panmunjom, he ordered a show of force. That's how it escalated."
Both Choi and Kim Dae-seok were visibly surprised; they remembered the 1976 incident vividly. On August 18 of that year, while U.S. personnel were trimming a poplar that obstructed observation from a North Korean checkpoint, North Korean soldiers suddenly attacked, killing two American officers. The United States responded with overwhelming force: the Seventh Fleet entered the Yellow Sea, B-52 bombers and F-111s were deployed, and Marine reinforcements were requested. When the tree-trimming operation resumed, the North Koreans abandoned their post and fled rather than confront the massive display of power.
"Good heavens. There was such a backstory?" Choi's eyes sparkled with interest.
"Yes. While supporting the East Asia Strategy Institute I've heard various accounts. That's how I learned of it."
The East Asia Strategy Institute was a pro-Korea think tank aimed at American political circles, operating under the ID Foundation. In practice it functioned more as a patronage network, funding prominent politicians and academics to promote Korea. Its focus on Democratic figures such as Clinton and Al Gore had produced solid results. Though the institute was primarily a lobbying vehicle and not equipped to gather high-level intelligence, it served as a convenient explanation for Choi.
"So what should our group's North Korea strategy be?"
"Simple. We watch and see how Kim Jong-il behaves."
ID Group had no urgent need to rush into North Korean business. Mirae Group was already scrambling to develop Mount Kumgang, and numerous small and medium enterprises were eyeing the Kaesong special economic zone. ID Group's telecommunications project, however, required actual revenue from North Korean customers. Given the North's Third World income levels, the risk of installing expensive infrastructure and receiving nothing in return was high. Moreover, while current relations looked promising, any sudden return to provocations or nuclear development would render the investment worthless. Caution, therefore, was the rational conclusion.
The car phone—actually Kim Dae-seok's Tiffany Phone—rang.
"Hello? Yes, this is Kim Dae-seok. Yes, yes! I'll put him on right away!"
After a rapid exchange, Kim Dae-seok turned and offered the phone to Jae-won.
"It's Prime Minister Jeon Myeong-heon."
"Grandfather?"
The caller ID displayed Jeon Myeong-heon's name in clear characters.
"Hello?"
Several questions immediately surfaced in Jae-won's mind, but he answered the call first.