Page 262 of Never

‘We will immediately set up an election organization secretariat. Meanwhile, the army of South Korea will act as a peacekeeping force.’

Bill Schneider suddenly stood up, staring at a screen, and said: ‘Oh, Jesus Christ, no!’

Everyone followed his gaze. Pauline saw a radar graphic showing a single missile launch. Bill said: ‘That’s North Korea!’

Pauline said: ‘Where did the missile originate?’

Bill still had his headset on, connected directly with the Pentagon. He said: ‘It took off from Yeongjeo-dong – the nuclear base.’

Pauline said: ‘Fuck, he’s done it. Pak has launched a nuclear missile.’

Bill said: ‘It’s only just above the clouds. The target is near.’

Pauline said: ‘Seoul, then, almost certainly. Put Seoul on the screens. Get some drones in the air.’

First she saw a satellite photo of the city, with the broad Han River snaking through it, crossed by more bridges than she could count. An invisible operator zoomed the photo until she could see traffic on the streets and the white lines painted on a football pitch. A moment later several other screens lit up, showing video that presumably came from traffic cameras and other surveillance in the city. It was mid-afternoon. Cars and buses and trucks were lined up at stop lights and on the narrow bridges.

Ten million people lived here.

Bill said: ‘The distance is about two hundred and fifty miles, which is a two-minute journey, and the missile has been in the air about a minute, so I’d guess sixty seconds to go.’

There was nothing Pauline could do in sixty seconds.

She never saw the missile. She knew it had landed when all the screens showing Seoul whited out.

For several moments they all stared at blank screens. Then a new image appeared, presumably from a US military drone. Pauline knew it was of Seoul, because she recognized the W-shaped meander of the river; but nothing else was the same. In a central area a couple of miles across there was nothing: no buildings, no cars, no streets. The landscape seemed blank. The buildings had all been flattened, she realized, every single one; and the piled debris covered everything else, including bodies. It was ten times as bad as the worst hurricane, maybe a hundred times.

Beyond that central area, fires seemed to have broken out everywhere, some large and some small, fierce gasoline fires from roasted vehicles and random blazes in offices and stores. Cars were overturned and scattered like toys. Smoke and dust hid some of the damage.

There was always a camera somewhere, and now one of the back-room technicians found live video that looked as if it was being taken from a helicopter rising from one of the airports to the west of the city. Pauline saw that a few cars were still moving on the outskirts of Seoul, indicating survivors. There were injured people walking, some stumbling along sightless, presumably blinded by the flash; some bleeding, perhaps from flying glass; some unhurt and helping others.

Pauline was dazed. She had never thought to see such destruction.

She shook herself: it was up to her to do something about it.

She said: ‘Bill, raise the alert level to DEFCON 1. Nuclear war has begun.’

***

Tamara woke up in Tab’s bed, as she did most mornings now. She kissed him, got up, walked naked to the kitchen, switched on the coffee maker, then returned to the bedroom. She went to the window and looked out at the city of N’Djamena heating up rapidly under the desert sun.

She would not be looking at this view for many more mornings. She had won her transfer to Paris. Dexter had opposed it, but her record with the Abdul project made her a natural choice to manage agents infiltrating Arab-French Islamist groups, and Dexter had been overruled. She and Tab were going to move.

The apartment filled with the invigorating aroma of coffee. She turned on the TV. The main news was that the US had sunk a Chinese aircraft carrier.

‘Oh, fuck,’ she said. ‘Tab, wake up.’

She poured the coffee and they drank it in bed while watching. The ship, called theFujian, had been sunk in retaliation for the Chinese bombing of Japanese troops on the disputed Senkaku Islands, said the newsreader.

‘That won’t be the end of it,’ said Tab.

‘You bet your ass.’

They showered and dressed and had breakfast. Tab, who could get a delicious meal out of the contents of a nearly empty refrigerator, made scrambled eggs with grated parmesan cheese, chopped parsley and a sprinkle of paprika.

He put on a tropical-weight Italian blazer, she tied a cotton scarf around her head, and Tab was about to turn the news off when they were stopped by an even more shocking report. The North Korean rebels had dropped a nuclear bomb on Seoul, the capital of South Korea.

Tab said: ‘It’s nuclear war.’