The Target by David Baldacci
He reached out and took her hand, squeezed it, felt the strength there as she gripped him back.
She said, “I didn’t want to leave you back there.”
“But you did it right by the book. You don’t leave the people we’re guarding without coverage.”
“But it’s still going to stick with me, Robie.”
“You need to let it go. I made the call. You did exactly what you were supposed to. And on top of it you had the foresight to save my ass. I owe you my life, Jess. But for you I’m gone. Forever.”
She grazed his cheek with her hand and then leaned over and kissed him there. She settled against him as he wrapped his arm around her.
He didn’t know if she was weeping. It was nearly impossible to tell with Jessica Reel. What was inside of her never seemed to truly make it to the outside.
So he just held her, as the big carrier made its way south where the free part of Korea would welcome them briefly before their journey home.
Chapter
59
CHUNG-CHA WATCHED AS MIN wrote out the symbols in the small lined notebook Chung-Cha had purchased for her. They were seated at the table by the window in Chung-Cha’s apartment. Min was dutifully inking the marks as best she could. Chung-Cha’s features did not betray what she was thinking.
At age ten Min could not really read and she could not really write. Her vocabulary was stunted, her breadth of thought constrained within the brutal limits of a concentration camp. She had seen more horrors than a soldier on a hellish battlefield. And for her, the war had been a decade long.
Min looked up after struggling with the alphabet. She searched Chung-Cha’s face for approval or disappointment.
Chung-Cha smiled and said, “We will continue to work on this each day. A little at a time.”
Min said, “I am not very smart.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because it is what they said back there.”
She did not refer to the place as Yodok, or Camp 15, or any of its myriad other names. She just called it “back there.”
“Back there, they lie, Min. That is all they do. To them you are nothing. Why bother with the truth for nothing?”
“Could you read, or write your letters, when you were free?”
“No. And they called me stupid too. Now I have this place. I have a car. I have a job. And…I have you.”
Min furrowed her brow as she thought about this. “What is it that you do?”
“I work for the Supreme Leader.”
“But you said you had never met him.”
“Most who serve him have never met him. He is a very important man. The most important of all. But we serve him well and he takes care of us like the father he is.”
Min nodded slowly. “But he doesn’t take care of people back there.”
“To him they are his enemies.”
“I did nothing to him,” Min pointed out.
“No, you didn’t. It is because of a philosophy.”
“What is that word?”
“It means an idea.”
“It was because of an idea that I was back there?”
Chung-Cha nodded and then worried that she was venturing into waters that would prove too deep for her. She looked at her watch. “It is time to eat.”
This remark always served to make Min forget whatever else she was thinking.
“I will help you. Can we have the white rice again?”
Chung-Cha nodded and Min walked to the little kitchen to begin her tasks.
As the pair worked away in the tiny space, Chung-Cha glanced out the window and saw the same man out there. He was always out there, or else someone just like him was. He worked, she believed, for the black tunic. The tunic had a name, but it was unimportant to Chung-Cha, and she had decided not to add it to her memory. The black tunic was a suspicious, paranoid man, which was one of the major reasons he had risen so high in the government. In some ways he was more influential than the capped and medaled generals with their tight, weathered faces where the potential for violence percolated just below the surface.
He was both her savior and her enemy, Chung-Cha knew. She would always tread cautiously around him. The approval for taking Min from Yodok had come through his good offices. But he could take Min away at any moment and for any reason. She was well aware of that.
For now, Min was with her. That was what mattered. That was all, really, that mattered.
She glanced at Min, who was very carefully cutting a small tomato into precise slices. Her lips were pursed in concentration and her hands, Chung-Cha noted, were rock-steady.
They reminded her of her own hands. But Chung-Cha was more likely to be holding a knife for the purpose of killing someone than for cutting up a tomato.
Chung-Cha said, “My mother’s name was Hea Woo.”
Min stopped slicing and looked at her, but Chung-Cha was still staring out the window.
“She was tall, taller than my father. His name was Kwan. Yie Kwan. Do you know what Kwan means?”
Min said, “Kwan means strong. Was he strong?”
“He once was, yes. Perhaps all fathers are strong in the eyes of their daughters. He was a teacher. He taught at a university. So did my mother.”
Min put down the knife. “But you said you could not read or write.”
“I went to Yodok when I was very young. I do not remember my life before. I grew up there. That is all I knew. There was nothing else before Yodok.”
“But didn’t your parents teach you when—”
“They taught me nothing,” said Chung-Cha sharply, as she closed the lid on the rice cooker and turned it on. She said more calmly, “They taught me nothing because it was forbidden. And by the time I could have learned…they could teach me nothing.”
“Did you have brothers or sisters?”
Chung-Cha started to answer, but then the image of the four hooded people tied to posts impacted her mind as suddenly as a rifle round.
Do you see the red circle drawn on their fronts? You will stick this knife inside the red circle…Do it now, or you will die here as an old woman.
Chung-Cha’s hand moved involuntarily. She was gripping not a knife but a teaspoon. Min watched as the spoon made thrusts in the air. Then Min gripped her hand and said, “Are you okay, Chung-Cha?” Her voice was fearful.
Chung-Cha looked down at her and put aside the spoon. She readily interpreted the fear Min held: Is my savior, the one person who stands between me and “back there,” going mad?
“Memories are sometimes as painful as wounds on the skin, Min. Do you see that?”
The girl nodded, the fear slowly receding from her eyes.
Chung-Cha said, “We cannot live without memories, but we cannot live within them either. Do you understand that?”
“I think that I do.”
“Good. Now finish with that tomato. When the rice is done we will have our meal.”
An hour later they set aside their bowls and utensils.
“Can I work on my writing now?” asked Min, and Chung-Cha nodded.
The girl rushed to get the tablet and the pen.
But before she returned there was a knock at the door.
They never summoned Chung-Cha by phone. They came and got her. She knew why this was. Just to show that they could do so at any time they wanted. And she would have to drop whatever it was she was doing and obey.
Min’s face scrunched up as Chung-Cha rose to answer the knock.
The men there were not in military uniforms. They were in sleek slacks and jackets with white shirts buttoned up to the neck. They were young, nearly as young as she was, and their angular features were smug.
“Yes?” she said.
One of the men said, “You will come with us, Comrade Yie. Your presence is required.”
She nodded and motioned to Min. “I will leave her with my landlord.”
“You do what you must, but you will hurry,” said the same one.
C
Min still held her tablet and pen. She looked up at Chung-Cha with wide, sad eyes.
Chung-Cha said to the landlord, “Can you work with her on her writing, please?”
The landlord looked down at Min and nodded. “My wife. She is good with that.”
Chung-Cha nodded, took Min by the hand, and squeezed it. “I will be back for you, Min.”
When the door closed behind Min the other man said sneeringly, “Your little bitch from Yodok, right? How can you stand the smell?”
Chung-Cha turned to the man and stared up at him. The look in her eyes caused the sneer to drain from his features. She could kill this man. She could kill them both with a teaspoon.
“Do you know what I am?” she said quietly.
“You are Yie Chung-Cha.”
“I did not ask if you knew my name. I asked if you know what I am.”
The man took a step back. “You…you are assigned—”
“I kill people who are enemies of this country, Comrade. That little bitch will one day do what I do now, for our country. For our Supreme Leader. Anyone who speaks ill of her I will treat as an enemy of this country.” She took a quick step forward, closing the distance between them by half. “Does that include you, Comrade? I need to know. So you will tell me. Now.”
These men were important, Chung-Cha knew. And what she was doing right now was very dangerous. But still, she had to do it. It was either that or her fury would cause her to kill them both.
“I am…not your enemy, Yie Chung-Cha,” the man said, his voice quavering.
She turned away from him, her disgust ill-concealed. “Then let us go to our meeting.”
She walked down the hall and the men hurried after her.
Chapter
60
IT WAS A DILAPIDATED GOVERNMENT building. The paint was cheap, the furnishings cheaper still. The bulbs overhead dimmed and brightened as the shaky electricity made its way through the corroded lines like blood through clogged arteries. The smell was sweat mixed with cigarettes. The packs of cigarettes available here carried the typical skulls and crossbones on them, but apparently no one in North Korea cared. They smoked. They died. What did it matter?
Chung-Cha stopped at the door indicated to her by one of the men who had come for her. The door was opened and she was ushered in. Then the two young men left her. She could hear their polished shoes tapping down the faded linoleum.
She turned to face the people in the room. There were three of them. Two men and one woman. The black tunic was one of the men. The general who had been Pak’s good friend was the other man. The woman looked familiar to Chung-Cha. She blinked rapidly when she remembered her.
“It has been a long time, Yie Chung-Cha,” she said, rising from her seat. Her hair was white now instead of black. And her face was creased with age and worry. But it had been many years. Time did that to all. There was no escaping it.
Chung-Cha did not answer her. All she could think of was the woman’s screaming at her all those years ago at Yodok.
You will stick this knife inside the red circle. You will then pull it out and stick it back in…Do it now, or you will die here as an old woman.
The woman resumed her seat and smiled at Chung-Cha. “My predictions of your rising far certainly came true. I can always tell. It was in your eyes, Chung-Cha. The eyes never lie. I saw that clearly enough at Yodok that day.” She paused. “And you follow orders. You always follow orders. The sign of a good comrade.”
Chung-Cha finally pulled her gaze from the woman and looked at the black tunic.
“You have summoned me?” she began.
“The Americans,” said the black tunic. “They have struck.”
“Struck how?” asked Chung-Cha as she took a seat directly opposite him. She did not look at the general. She did not look at the woman. She would not give either the satisfaction. She knew the black tunic was the de facto leader of this group. Her attention and perceived respect would flow only to him and to hell with the others.
“General Pak’s adopted son and daughter, Pak Du-Ho and Pak Eun Sun, have escaped from Bukchang. They have done so with the help of the Americans.”
“A man and a woman,” added the general.
The black tunic added, “It may be the same pair that was sent to kill General Pak in France. But we cannot be sure. We are attempting to obtain a positive identification.”
“Does it matter?” said the woman. “The Americans have legions of agents who do their evil bidding. The fact is, they came onto North Korean soil. They invaded this country and took from it two of our prisoners.”
The general nodded. “Yes, Rim Yun is right. They are barbarians. They killed many North Koreans. It is an act of war.”
“So we are going to war with the Americans?” asked Chung-Cha. Now she looked at all three, one at a time.
The black tunic said hesitantly, “Not precisely. They may want us to be so foolish. But we will counterattack in our way. In the way we had planned all along, Comrade.”
“The American president’s family?” said Chung-Cha.
Rim Yun said, “That is correct. We will kill them. You will kill them, Chung-Cha. Can you imagine the glory that the Supreme Leader will bestow upon you?”
“If I am alive,” pointed out Chung-Cha.
“There is far more glory in death than in living,” barked Rim Yun.
“I appreciate that fact one thousand times,” replied Chung-Cha. “So would you like to accompany me to America where we both can share such glory after our deaths? What a wonderful thing, as you said.”
The black tunic and the general said nothing. They glanced at each other and then at Rim Yun.
“You still have the defiant heart of Yodok in you, Chung-Cha,” said Rim Yun coldly.
“I have many things from Yodok inside me. And I remember them all. Quite clearly.”
The women locked gazes for a long moment before Rim Yun finally broke off and looked away.
She said in an oddly casual tone, “The administrator of Bukchang was shot this morning along with a half dozen guards for allowing this disgraceful escape to happen. I am sure that more will be shot as time goes on.”
“I am sure that he deserved it,” said Chung-Cha.
Rim Yun shot her a glance. “You killed the former administrator of Bukchang, did you not?”
“On orders, I did. He was corrupt. An enemy of this country.”
“Did you know that he was recently replaced with the administrator from Yodok? Comrade Doh? You knew Doh, did you not? He was at Yodok when you were there, is that not so?”
Chung-Cha had to work hard to keep the smile off her lips. “Comrade Doh was executed?”
“That is what I said.”
“I am sure that he deserved it,” she said again.
Rim Yun gave her a piercing look before turning away and saying, “We waste time. Tell her what is needed.”