The Target (16 page)

R
OBIE WENT INTO THE KITCHEN
and made a pot of coffee. He carried two cups back into the other room and handed one to Reel. The rain continued to pour down outside as he sat across from her and took a sip, letting the warmth of the beverage battle the chill in his bones.

“Your father?”

Reel nodded.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Okay.” He started to get up, but she said, “Wait. Just wait.”

Robie settled back in his chair as Reel took a drink and then clasped her hands around the cup. Robie could see that her hands were shaking slightly, something he had never witnessed in her before.

She didn’t say anything, so Robie said, “In the interest of full disclosure, DiCarlo told me some about your past. I know why you were in WITSEC. I know some things about your old man. And what he did.”

Without looking at him she said, “And my mother?”

Robie replied, “Yes.” He added, “I’m sorry, Jessica.”

She shrugged and sat back, almost burrowing into the cushion of the chair. She drank her coffee and they both listened to the rain.

“He wants to see me.”

“Your father?”

She nodded. “He’s dying, in prison, of course. He was supposed to be executed but he has terminal cancer.”

“And they can’t execute a dying inmate,” said Robie. “A bit ironic.”

“He wants to see me,” she said again.

“It doesn’t matter what
he
wants,” replied Robie. “The choice is yours, not his.” He leaned forward and tapped her knee. “I know that you understand that.”

She nodded again. “I understand that. The choice
is
mine.”

He cocked his head and studied her. “And it should be an easy choice.” He paused and added, “But it’s not?”

She let out a long breath that she seemed to have been holding in, because she gave a little gasp of discomfort. “Easy choices are among the most difficult of all,” she said in a husky voice.

“I take it you never got to face him back then?”

She shook her head, drank more coffee down, and retreated into a shell seemingly as thick as the armored hide of an Abrams tank.

“And you want that shot now, before it’s too late? Hence the easy becomes difficult.”

“It’s irrational.”

“Half the things people feel are irrational. It doesn’t make it easier to deal with. It actually makes it harder, because logic doesn’t come into it. That’s one of the downsides of being ‘merely’ human.”

Reel rubbed at one of her eyes. “He was an evil man. No conscience, Robie. His greatest thrill in life was to…was to hurt other people.”

“And he hurt you?”

“Yes.”

“And he killed your mother.”

A tear formed at the corner of Reel’s right eye. She flicked it away fiercely, even angrily, her hand moving like she was blocking a punishing blow about to be delivered against her.

She looked up at him, dry-eyed now. “He was the principal reason I do what I do.” She paused, seemed to consider her own statement, and added, “He’s the only reason I do what I do.”

“Normal people don’t grow up to do the sorts of jobs we do, Jessica,” said Robie.

They listened to the rain a bit more before Robie said, “So what are you going to do? Just let it go?”

“Is that what you think I should do?” she said quickly, seizing on his words.

“The only thing I’m sure of is that you’re the only one who can answer that question.”

“And if it were you, what would you do?” she asked pointedly.

“But I’m not you,” he said evenly.

“You’re not helping much.”

“I’m listening. I can’t make up your mind for you. Not that you’d let anyone do that anyway.”

“With this I might.”

He drank his coffee and said nothing in response. He watched her as she closed her eyes and took several long breaths. When she opened them she said, “Why do you think he wants to see me?”

Robie sat back and put his cup on the coffee table that sat between them. “He’s dying. Redemption? Say goodbye? Tell you to go to hell? All of the above?” He leaned forward. “I think the more important question is, what would you say to him?”

She looked at him and Robie suddenly saw a fragility that he had never thought could possibly dwell inside her.

She said, “There is no forgiveness. I don’t care if he is a dead man.”

“I can see that. But it doesn’t answer the question.”

“And if I don’t have an answer?”

“Then you don’t have an answer.”

“Then I shouldn’t go?”

He said nothing to this, just continued to watch her.

She said, “I feel like I’m back in the shrink session.”

“I don’t have the qualifications. But whatever you decide to do, you’ll have regrets either way, you know that, right?”

“No, I don’t know that,” she said sharply. In a softer voice she said, “Why do you say that?”

“Maybe you’re not the only one who’s tried to come to grips with their past.”

Her lips parted slightly. “You?”

“Again, I don’t matter in this discussion. Just know that one answer over the other does not equal a solution. It’s only a decision. And decisions have ramifications either way.”

“You actually sound very qualified to be a shrink.”

Robie shrugged. “You want more coffee?”

She shook her head but he rose and got another cup for himself. When he settled back down across from her she said, “So does it come down to a decision of lesser regrets, then?”

“It might very well. But that’s only one set of factors.”

“What’s the most important one? In your opinion?” she quickly added.

“Like I said before. If you have something you want to say to him, then okay. If you have nothing in your heart that you want this man to hear before he croaks, then…”

“But not forgiveness,” said Reel. “I can never forgive him.”

“No, not forgiveness. And you don’t have to make a decision now.”

“They told me he could die anytime.”

Robie took a swallow of coffee. “Not really your problem, Jessica.”

“Can I ask you something, Robie?”

“Yes.”

“If I decide to see him.” She stopped. It seemed she was searching for either the words or possibly the courage to go on.

“Just say it, Jessica.”

“If I decide to go, will you go with me?” She added in a rush, “Look, I know it’s stupid. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself and—”

He reached over and gripped her hand. “Yes, I’ll go with you.”

T
HE AIRPORT WAS SMALL AND
the car rental options stood at one. Robie got the car while Reel retrieved the hard-sided bag containing their weapons.

She handed Robie his pistol while she slid into the seat next to him. He holstered the weapon and said, “What are the gun laws like in Alabama?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m being serious.”

“Basically, in Alabama if you have a pulse you can have a gun, as many of them as you want.”

She thunked the door closed and Robie started the car. “Thanks for the clarification,” he said curtly.

“You’re welcome.”

The ride to the prison would take an hour. Reel had called ahead and they were on the visitors’ list.

He gave her a sideways glance. “You ready for this?”

“No.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“When I was a little girl.”

“Then he’s changed a lot. I mean physically.”

“I’ve changed a lot more. And not just physically.”

“Decided what you’re going to say yet?”

“Maybe.”

“I won’t ask any more questions.”

She reached over and gripped his arm. “I really appreciate you coming with me, Robie. It…it means a lot to me.”

“Well, we’ve been through a lot together. If we don’t watch each other’s six, who will?”

She smiled at this comment and sat back against the seat. “I haven’t been back to this part of the country for a long time.”

“DiCarlo said you were a teenager when you went undercover and busted that neo-Nazi gang. Pretty remarkable. And the CIA found out about it when you were in WITSEC and recruited you.”

Reel was silent for a few moments. “My father believed in all that shit too. White supremacy. There’re many things to love in this country. The skinheads are not one of them.”

“So your father was a skinhead too?”

“I’m not sure he was that specific, actually. He basically hated everybody.”

“So the gang you busted all went to prison?”

“Not all of them. The head guy, Leon Dikes, had a good lawyer and only spent a few years in prison. When I was in foster care the ‘dad’ was related to someone in Dikes’s hate group.”

“A guy like that is eligible to be a foster parent?” said Robie.

“It wasn’t like he advertised it, Robie. And it was a perfect way to get teens in there to basically be slaves to their cause. Cooking, cleaning, delivering messages, sewing their ugly uniforms, xeroxing their hate pamphlets. It was like being in prison. Every time I tried to get away they caught me, beat me, terrorized me. Dikes was the worst of them by far. I hated him even more than I hated my father.”

“But you finally turned the tables on them, Jessica. And brought it all down.”

“Not all of it, Robie. Not all of it.”

She looked down, her eyes closing and her face wrinkling in pain.

“You okay?”

She opened her eyes. “I’m fine. You want to pick up your speed? Let’s just get this over with.”

They left their guns in the rental and cleared the security checkpoint into the prison. The place looked like it had been built about a hundred years ago. Its outer walls were stained black and part of the front entrance was crumbling, with rebar exposed under the masonry. There was only one road in. The land was flat, leaving nowhere to hide.

Robie eyed the guard towers set on all sides. Inside, men in uniforms paced back and forth with long-range rifles in hand.

“Don’t see many escapes happening from here,” said Robie.

“Well, if my father had tried, they could have shot him. Saved us all a lot of grief.”

They were escorted not to a visitors’ area, but directly to the hospital ward.

When they reached the doorway Robie said, “Okay, we’re here. You sure you’re ready to do this?”

She took a deep breath but still shook slightly. “This is crazy. I’ve stared down scum five times worse than his ass.”

“Those scum weren’t your father.”

She marched into the ward with Robie in her wake. The entrance to the area the patients were in was blocked by a guard stand. Robie and Reel went through this checkpoint. Robie eyed the name tag on the guard’s shirt.

Albert.

Albert was a big man, he observed. And he looked meaner than he was big.

Albert eyed Reel with great interest. Robie saw her gaze sweep over Albert, but he knew she was merely sizing him up in case she had to kick his ass later.

Albert said, “What you want with old Earl?”

“Visit,” said Reel curtly.

“I know that. You’re on the list.”

“Okay,” said Reel. “I’m on the list.”

“You know Earl?”

“You said I’m on the list. Do I get to visit him or not? If I have to answer twenty questions with you, I’ll just turn around and go back to where I came from.”

“Hey, hey, just asking, lady. You can go on and see him. Fourth bed on the left.”

“Thanks,” said Reel as she breezed by him with Robie next to her.

“Asshole,” she said under her breath.

She took more steps, counting down beds until she reached the fourth on the left. Then she stopped and looked down, her face a mask of stone.

Earl Fontaine was obviously expecting her. He was sitting up in his bed, his hair washed and neatly combed and his face shaved.

“Hello there, baby girl,” he said. “My, my, how you done grown. Is that really you, Sally?”

C
HUNG-CHA WAS FINISHING HER
first cup of morning tea when there came a knock on her door. She rose, padded across the room, and looked through the peephole. She opened the door and stepped back.

Three men walked past her and into the room of her apartment. Two were in uniform. One wore a black tunic and slacks of the same color.

Chung-Cha closed the door behind her and joined them in the center of the tiny room.

“Good morning, Comrade Yie,” said the man in the tunic.

Chung-Cha nodded slightly and waited. Her gaze darted to the uniforms and she counted the stars on their shoulders. As many as General Pak had possessed.

She indicated chairs for them to take and they all sat down. She offered tea but this was declined.

“Pak,” said the black tunic.

“Yes?” replied Chung-Cha.

“He is dead. Apparently he killed himself while in France. At least that is what preliminary reports are saying.”

“He was feeling great guilt,” said one of the generals. “For his treachery.”

The other general shook his head. “It is difficult to believe. His family is an honored one.”

“No longer,” said the black tunic, who was a direct representative of the Supreme Leader. “His family is dishonored and will be appropriately punished. Indeed, that punishment is being meted out as we speak.”

Chung-Cha knew this meant they were being sent to the labor camps. She did not know any of Pak’s family, but she felt empathy for them nonetheless. She knew this order would include even young children. And what possible culpability could they have?

Three generations. The cleansing must happen.

But then she remembered something.

“What family does he have?” asked Chung-Cha. “I understand that his wife was dead and that he had no children.”

“He has an adopted daughter and son. It was not well known. He adopted them later in life. They are both grown.”

“But if they are adopted there is no traitor blood issue,” said Chung-Cha.

The black tunic seemed to swell with indignation. “That is no concern of yours. He was a traitor, which means
they
are traitors. They will be appropriately dealt with.”

“Which camp?” asked Chung-Cha, before she could stop herself.

The black tunic looked incredulous. “If I were you, Comrade, I would focus on things that concern you. I am well aware of your past. Do not give me occasion to revisit it.”

Chung-Cha bowed her head. “I apologize for my foolishness. I will never again speak of it. You are right, it is no concern of mine.”

“I’m glad that you understand that,” said the black tunic, though his eyes remained suspicious.

“I was sad to have to report General Pak’s treachery to you,” said Chung-Cha. “But it was imperative that you knew. An enemy of the state is an enemy of the state, regardless of his exalted position.”

Her underlying intent was probably missed by the three men. She was not of exalted position. She had never been of exalted position. And yet she was loyal. To a point. And she would never go back to the camps.

“Precisely,” said the black tunic. “You have done well, Comrade Yie. You will be appropriately rewarded.”

Chung-Cha wondered if this meant another electric rice cooker. Or perhaps another set of tires for her car. Actually, she would prefer a South Korean–made Kia. She had heard such things were possible if the Supreme Leader willed them to happen.

“Thank you.”

“But there is yet another dilemma.”

She inclined her head. She had wondered from the moment they had knocked on her thin door and entered her humble apartment what it was they actually wanted of her. They did not have to come here to thank her. They were busy, important men. To come merely to thank her was out of the question.

That could only mean one thing.

The black tunic said, “We require your services, Comrade Yie, for a very delicate mission.”

“Yes?” she said inquiringly.

“General Pak was not alone at his death.”

She sat there, her hands in her lap, and waited for what he would say next.

“We believe that two American agents were with him at the end.”

“Did they kill him? Was it not suicide?”

One general exclaimed, “We are not sure. We cannot be sure of that. They could have made it look like Pak took his own life. They are as cunning as they are evil. You know that.”

Chung-Cha nodded and said, “Yes. I know this.”

There was no other possible response a North Korean could make to such a statement and hope to live or remain free.

“Pak must have known we would discover his treachery,” said the same general. “That is why he immediately fled to France on the pretext of a health issue.”

“Why France?” asked Chung-Cha.

The black tunic shrugged. “He had been there before. It was a quirk of his personality that he seemed to like French things. He did not always appreciate the glory and beauty that is his own country.”

One of the generals said, “While the man you killed, this Lloyd Carson, was British, we believe he was secretly working with the Americans. We had tracked General Pak to the cottage where he died and had it under observation. We were about to take him when those two agents showed up. They had surveillance cameras up, but our people were able to avoid them. A single shot was fired. Then, very soon, people came and cleansed the area—more Americans. They were obviously behind all of this, the evil devils.”

“And what is the delicate mission you wish me to perform?” she asked.

The generals looked at each other and then both turned to the black tunic. He, it seemed, had been chosen to deliver the instruction.

“We believe that the cowardly Americans sought to actually kill our Supreme Leader and replace him with the traitorous General Pak. We cannot allow that to stand without a response. A very forceful response. It is imperative.”

“And what shape will this forceful response take?” asked Chung-Cha.

“An eye for an eye, Comrade Yie.”

She blinked. “You wish the death of the American president?”

Now the black tunic blinked as well. “No. We must humbly admit to ourselves that such a goal is unrealistic. He is too well guarded. But there is another target that will deliver our response just as forcefully.”

“And what is that?”

“He has a wife and two children. They must pay the price for their husband and father’s evil work. They must die, because they are just as guilty as he is.”

Chung-Cha looked at the two generals and found their features impassive. She looked back at the black tunic.

“You wish me to travel to America and kill them?” she asked.

“You must do so all at one time, while they are together, as they frequently are. We cannot eliminate them singly, because the survivors will be forewarned.”

“And when I do so and the Americans retaliate?”

“They are a weak bully. They have nuclear weapons? Well, so do we. And unlike them we have the courage to use them. They have much to lose. We have relatively little. And because of that, they will turn tail and run away like the cowards they are. You must understand, Comrade Yie, that we desire this confrontation. After all that has come before, we will prove to the world once and for all which country is mightier. The Supreme Leader is adamant on that point.”

Chung-Cha attempted to process all of this. Once she did she could see a result that did not mirror the man’s words at all. She could see her country literally wiped off the face of the earth. But it was not her place to question such things.

She said, “If this is to be accomplished a plan must be put into place, intelligence gathered, useful people recruited.”

The black tunic smiled. “All of what you say is true. And we have begun all of this. We will not strike right away. But when we do, the world will never forget.” He added in a patronizing tone, “And I know that you are honored beyond words, Comrade Yie, that you have been chosen by the Supreme Leader for such an important mission. I know that if you die in carrying it out, you will die with a heart full of pride that the Supreme Leader had such confidence in you. I cannot imagine a greater feeling when the end appears.”

Chung-Cha nodded, but what she really knew was that if she were to die for her country, she would not be thinking any of those things.

It was easy enough for the black tunic and the generals to send her out on what seemed a suicide mission. But then to expect her to gladly give her life for a mission that might well lead to the destruction of her homeland, well, that was asking too much.

The black tunic said, “We will be in touch as things develop. And I will convey to the Supreme Leader your heartfelt thanks at being selected to fight on behalf of your country.”

Chung-Cha respectfully nodded again but said nothing.

After the men left she went to her window and watched them pile into a small military van parked at the curb and speed off.

Once they were out of sight she glanced toward the sky and saw a storm approaching from the direction of the Taedong.

It could not be any darker than her current thoughts.

She turned away from the window and went to finish her now-cold tea.