The Target

Chapter 63

The train rolled along through the mid-Atlantic region. Min and Chung-Cha sat together in one of the train cars. Min was asleep. She had been so excited in New York that she had barely slept. Minutes after getting on the train, she had passed out.

Chung-Cha looked out the window as the train raced across a bridge over a river. She had no idea it was the Delaware River. She did not know what Delaware was, nor did she care. In a mission like this, one had to focus on what was important and rid oneself of all that was not important.

She dropped her gaze to Min. She moved a strand of hair from the girl’s face. Min’s skin was now clear of wounds. Her teeth were being repaired. She had gained weight. Her lessons were coming along nicely, but she had many years of work ahead of her before she would catch up to others her age.

Yet she could have a nice future. She could.

Chung-Cha looked away and studied the two passengers diagonally across from her. One man, one woman. Both Asian. They looked like a married couple, perhaps on holiday. They were not dressed as businesspeople like most of the passengers on the train.

But they were not married and they were not on holiday. They had already signaled her. They were her contacts. They would be getting off the train with her and Min at the last stop.

Washington, D.C.

The home of the American president. And his family.

When they pulled into Union Station, Chung-Cha woke Min. They left the train, and Chung-Cha steered Min until they were following in the wake of the young couple. They rode an escalator up to the parking garage and climbed into the back of a black SUV. The man drove and the woman sat next to him, while Chung-Cha and Min rode in the back.

“Where are we going?” Min asked in a whisper.

Chung-Cha shook her head once and Min lapsed into silence and stared fearfully ahead.

They drove to Springfield, Virginia, to a town house in a vast sea of them. As they pulled into a parking space in front of an end unit, Min looked out the truck window and saw children playing in a yard two units down. They looked up at her. One girl about Min’s age held a ball. The other, a boy about seven, was calling to his sister to throw it to him. The girl did and then waved at Min. Min started to wave back, but then quickly looked away when Chung-cha said something to her.

They went into the house carrying their small suitcases.

The town house’s interior was spacious, far larger than Chung-Cha’s apartment, but it was barely furnished. They were shown to their room upstairs and set down their bags. The man and woman ignored Min but showed Chung-Cha the respect her position entailed.

“We brought the girl toys,” said the woman. “They are in the basement. She can use them while we speak.”

Chung-Cha led Min to the basement, a large, mostly empty room. There was a stuffed bear, a book that Chung-Cha knew the girl could not read but that had pictures, and a large red ball.

“I have some work to do upstairs, Min. You will stay and play with these things, all right?”

“How long will you be gone?” Min said uncertainly.

“I will just be upstairs.”

“Can I stay with you?”

Chung-Cha said firmly, “I will just be upstairs. You will stay here and play.”

Chung-Cha left the girl there, but as she walked up the stairs she could feel Min’s gaze burning into her. And she felt a pang of guilt that was not easily swept away.

They met in the kitchen that was situated on the main floor at the rear of the town house. By now two more people had joined them, both men and both North Korean. One of them was the groundskeeper at the White House. They sat at the table, where pictures and files were laid out for Chung-Cha.

“There is a local team in place,” the groundskeeper, whose name was Bae, informed her. “And it will be ready to go at a moment’s notice, Comrade Yie. And it is an honor to have such an esteemed servant of the Supreme Leader here to assist us.”

Chung-Cha looked at him over the file she was holding. Buried shallowly in his compliment was a complication.

Assist?

“Thank you, Comrade. It will most certainly take a team to accomplish this goal. I am grateful to have someone such as yourself behind me.”

Bae’s cocksure look quickly faded.

She could not blame him for trying such a thing. But she was relieved that he had backed down. Otherwise he was a liability and would have to be treated as such. There was no room for error here. The Americans were too good at what they did. It was said they caught every electronic message sent around the world from every phone or computer. Chung-Cha had even heard that they had invented some device that could read one’s mind. She hoped that was not the case, or they might have already lost this fight.

The others guided Chung-Cha through the files and pictures over the next several hours. Chung-Cha’s mind occasionally would drift to Min downstairs playing with her toys. But then it would snap back and focus on the matter at hand.

She studied the pictures of the three people: mother, daughter, and son. They were innocent, of course, but then not innocent because they were related to the American president, who was her enemy.

Then she was shown two other pictures.

Bae said, “This was taken outside of Bukchang.”

The enhanced photo showed a man hanging on to the skid of a chopper. The image had been blown up such that his face was fairly clear despite the darkness.

“This scum killed our brethren at Bukchang,” said Bae. “He stole the filth Pak’s family from us. We are told he was wounded in his escape. And that the guards nearly brought the enemy’s helicopter down with their gallant rifles.”

Chung-Cha peered down at the image of Will Robie. Her immediate thought was that he was a capable man. Hanging on to the skid of a chopper fleeing enemy fire was not easy.

She was shown another photo. It was of a woman walking through an airport.

“In China,” explained Bae. “Shortly before the attack on Bukchang. We believe she is an American agent. We believe that she arrived with the other man. There was a report of one being a female. And I saw these two together at the White House after Bukchang was attacked.”

Chung-Cha stared at the picture of Jessica Reel. She was tall and lean and in her hardened physique Chung-Cha saw much strength.

“I understand there was a traitor with them?” she said.

Bae nodded. “He talked with one of the guards. He was North Korean. He was undoubtedly brought with them for his language skills and perhaps knowledge of Bukchang.”

“He might have been a prisoner there,” said Chung-Cha. “Some have escaped and fled to America.”

Bae spit on the floor. “Filth!”

Chung-Cha looked at him. “And why am I being shown these people?”

Bae looked at the others and then back at her. “They must be killed too.”

“But not by me?”

“That remains to be seen, Comrade Yie.”

“I cannot be in two places at the same time.”

“We will see,” said Bae. “We will see. But whatever the course, I will be behind you all the way, Comrade Yie.”

The two locked gazes until Chung-Cha again stared Bae down. As he looked aside, Chung-Cha returned to the files, but her mind was a long way away.