At five A.M., a shrill pentatonic reveille erupted from the 
North Koreans' brutish mediatrons. Their clave, which went by the name Sendero, 
was not far above sea level: a mile below the Hackworths' building in altitude, 
and twenty degrees warmer on the average day. But whenever the women's chorus 
chimed in with their armor-piercing refrain about the all-seeing beneficence of 
the Serene Leader, it felt as if they were right next door.