I
T LOOKS LIKE A BABY’S
bib,” observed Reel.
“Or a bikini bottom,” replied Robie.
They were in a private jet descending into the airport on Nantucket. Looking at the island from this altitude had prompted their respective descriptions.
“Mars, Venus,” said Reel wryly.
“Guess so.”
Eleanor Cassion and her children were riding up front with their protection detail. Special motorcade cars were being ferried over. If the president had been coming, the logistics would have been far more daunting.
“Settled in 1641, about forty-eight square miles of land and about fifty-eight more of water. Fifty thousand people during the summer, about a fifth of that during the rest of the year,” said Reel. “They call the island the ‘little gray lady of the sea’ when the place is fog-bound, which it apparently is a good deal of the time. But on that island is some of the most expensive land in the country. Highest point is Folger Hill, about one hundred and nine feet.”
Robie stared at her. “Aren’t you just the fount of information.”
“Google makes everybody a genius.”
The jet touched down and came to a stop. Reel and Robie grabbed their bags and headed for the exit.
Claire Cassion made a point of stepping directly in front of Robie in the aisle. Her mother and brother were just ahead of her. The Secret Service were already outside the plane making sure everything was okay before the family exited into the waiting SUV.
Claire had on skinny jeans, heels that made her much taller, and a Yale sweatshirt. She glanced back at Robie. “Enjoy the flight?”
“I enjoy every flight where the plane lands on its wheels.”
She laughed. “That’s really funny. Handsome
and
a sense of humor, pretty impressive.”
Reel turned her head so Claire would not see her rolling her eyes. But she did poke Robie hard in the back and whispered, “God, it must be great to be so popular with
children
.”
As they walked down the jet steps Claire tripped in her heels, but Robie caught her. She squeezed his arm, “Thanks, Mr. Robie.”
“Just make it Will.”
She flashed a toothy smile. “Okay, and you can make it Claire.”
Robie was expecting another poke from Reel, but it didn’t come. He glanced over and saw Tommy staring, not at him, but at Reel, while Eleanor was watching her daughter with a look of resigned exasperation.
As they stepped onto the tarmac they saw the three-SUV motorcade waiting. Robie said to Reel, “I think you have your own fan club.” His gaze led Reel’s over to Tommy as the boy climbed into the middle SUV. Tommy was still staring at her.
“Great,” said Reel wearily. “Just great.”
They rode in the rear vehicle behind the SUV carrying the Cassions. Two Secret Service agents rode with them.
One of them said, “Welcome aboard. Understand you guys are with our intelligence community.”
“State Department,” said Reel, hiding her smile.
“Yeah,” said the agent, grinning.
“Why Nantucket?” said Robie.
The agent shrugged. “First Lady went to school in Boston. Apparently she spent a lot of time here as a kid. Good memories.”
“And must be nice to get away from D.C.”
“Always nice to get away from that place,” agreed the agent. He added, “You two being here, anything we need to know? Threats?”
“The only reason we’re here,” said Robie, “is because the First Lady asked us to be.”
“I think she believes we can have a calming influence on her son,” added Reel.
The agent nodded. “He’s been having a rough time of it. Not easy for a kid.”
“No, it’s not,” said Reel.
“You think you can help him?” asked the agent. “He’s a good kid. Never gives us any problems, except when he gets in fights at school.”
“I don’t know if we can help him,” said Reel. “But we can try.”
“So you guys have experience with kids?”
Robie and Reel exchanged glances. Reel said, “We work in D.C., so we have lots of experience dealing with children.”
The agent laughed as the motorcade drove on.
The place where they were staying was within easy walking distance of the downtown area. There were two buildings: a large main house and a four-bedroom guest cottage. The Cassions and their staff would be in the main house. The protection detail was in the guesthouse. Robie and Reel were given rooms in the main house.
After she’d unpacked, Reel came into Robie’s bedroom, which was next to hers.
“Feeling privileged to be bunking with the Cassions?” she said as she perched on the bed.
Robie put the rest of his clothes away and said, “Jury’s still out on that.”
Reel looked out the window. “Never been here. Looks nice, if a little surreal. Like a Ralph Lauren ad.”
Robie joined her at the window and looked out over the grounds. “Secret Service will have its work cut out for it. Lots of access points and that’s a public thoroughfare right there. I bet they’d like more of a buffer.”
“You thinking they’re going to be attacked on dear old Nantucket?”
“Just saying.”
“It’s hard to turn it off, I guess.”
“It’s impossible to turn it off. Never look at the world any differently. Points of attack and counterattack.”
“Kind of sucks, doesn’t it?”
“Not if it keeps you alive it doesn’t.”
Someone knocked on the door.
“Want to guess who?” said Reel.
“Come on in,” said Robie.
The door opened and there stood Claire. Her smile faded when she saw Reel. “Will, my mom wanted to let you know that we’re all planning to go get some lunch and then take a walk on the beach. She’d really like
you
to come.” Claire did not look at Reel as she said this.
Reel put an arm around Robie’s shoulders. “Tell your mom we’d be delighted.”
Claire frowned and said, “Okay. Downstairs, five minutes.” Then she spun around on her heels and stalked off.
“I’d be careful, Jessica,” said Robie.
“Why?”
“Those are stilettos she’s wearing.”
At the restaurant Claire arranged things so she was sitting next to Robie while her brother and mom sat on either side of Reel.
She said to Robie, “Mom said you were, like, a hero.”
“That was very kind of your mother. But all I did was my job, no more, no less.”
She tapped him on the forearm. “I bet you have some great stories.”
Eleanor said, “None of which he can tell you, Claire, so don’t hound the poor man about them.”
“I don’t hound, Mom,” said Claire, frowning. “I’m just interested, that’s all.”
“You thinking about going into public service?” asked Robie.
“Yes. And it won’t be long. I’m practically in college.”
“You just started your sophomore year, so you really have three more years of high school,” her mother pointed out.
“Which will go by like that,” said Claire, snapping her fingers.
“I’m afraid you’re right about that,” said her mother with a sigh and a glance at Tommy. She tousled his hair. “We’re going to the beach after this, Tommy. You can add to your shell collection.”
Tommy glanced awkwardly at Reel. “That’s for kids, Mom.”
“I actually like collecting seashells,” said Reel.
Tommy immediately brightened. “I know a lot about them. I can show you stuff.”
“Sounds good.”
Eleanor gave Reel a grateful look and then they all turned to their menus.
The beach was deserted and rocky; it was low tide. Tendrils of sea foam and green algae coated the sand and the rocks. The day was overcast and the seas unstable. The breakers banged away, but far from where they walked.
Tommy and his mother had buckets in which they were collecting shells. Reel walked next to Tommy while Claire was glued to Robie. The protection detail, dressed in Windbreakers and jeans, formed a loose circle around them all.
“I’m really glad you came up here with us, Will,” said Claire.
“You’d probably like to be back home with your friends,” said Robie.
“Oh, no way,” she said. “My friends are okay, but they’re pretty immature. Especially the boys.”
“Yeah,” said Robie uncomfortably. He looked over at Reel for help, but she smiled and quickly looked away, focusing on Tommy and his bucket of shells.
Tommy held one up for her. “My dad said shells can come from thousands of miles away. This one might have started off near China or something and then ended up here. Pretty cool.”
“Pretty cool,” said Reel.
“Are you married?” Tommy asked.
“No.”
“Were you ever?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I mean, most women your age are married, aren’t they?”
“I don’t know, Tommy. Maybe they are.”
“Do you have kids?”
Reel looked past him, out to the ocean. “No, I don’t.”
Tommy looked disappointed. She added, “But I think I’d like to be a mother, one day. I guess I have to make up my mind before it’s too late. I’m not getting any younger.”
“Oh, you’ve got plenty of time,” said Tommy encouragingly. “And I bet you’d make a great mom.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that.”
Tommy bent down and snagged another shell and then pointed to a horseshoe crab scuttling away. “Creepy things.” He straightened and said, “Is what you do dangerous?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“My dad said you guys were heroes. Serving the country. That’s usually dangerous.”
“We try to make it as safe as possible,” said Reel diplomatically.
“Have you ever killed anybody?”
“Tommy!” called out his mother, who apparently had overheard this. “I’m sure Agent Reel would prefer to talk about other things.”
Tommy glanced up, looking embarrassed. “Sorry.”
“No need to be,” said Reel. “Asking questions is how you learn things. Can I ask you some?”
He looked at her nervously. “Like what?”
“Like what you like and don’t like, living where you do?”
“I don’t like any of it,” said Tommy fiercely.
“None of it, really?”
He hesitated. “Well, I mean, riding in Air Force One is pretty cool.”
“You’re one of the few kids to ever do that.”
“And the Secret Service guys are nice.”
“I’m sure.”
“I don’t like people saying stuff about my dad.”
“I wouldn’t either.”
“My sister thinks I’m a useless idiot.”
“Well, I’m afraid that would be the case regardless of where you live. It’s just this thing between big sisters and little brothers. When you’re older you’ll probably be really close.”
“I doubt it.”
“No, you will. Because what you’re experiencing right now is so unique, Tommy, and you and your sister will always share that experience. She may not let on, but I would imagine this has been hard for her too.”
“No it hasn’t! Everybody
loves
Claire.”
“Really, everybody?”
Tommy looked at the shells in his bucket. “Well, there are a few girls at her school that give her a hard time. And she says one teacher hates her because she doesn’t like Dad.”
“So not everybody loves her, then.”
“No.”
“Your mother obviously loves you a lot.”
“She’s always bossing me. Fixing my clothes, my hair. Checking my homework, telling me to do stuff.”
“Right. I guess it’d be a lot easier on you if she didn’t care.”
“What?”
“You know, she’s the First Lady. She can do pretty much anything she wants. She could have come up here by herself. Maybe go to the spa, get her hair and nails done. Eat out all the time. See old friends. But here she is bringing you here, collecting seashells with you on the beach. And I heard her say later there’s going to be a big Scrabble tournament.”
“I’m good at Scrabble. I almost beat my mom once.”
“Wow, that’s pretty impressive.”
Tommy looked over at his mom. To Reel he said, “Are you close to your mother?”
“She’s not alive anymore.”
Tommy looked shocked. “Oh, I’m sorry. And your dad?”
Reel pursed her lips and looked away. “He’s been gone from my life for a long time.”
“Were you ever close to him?”
“No. We didn’t have a good relationship at all, Tommy. Which I guess is why I envy people like you. Because you obviously have parents who love you very much. Not all kids do. In fact, too many don’t.”
Tommy stood there for a bit fingering a shell. “I think I’m going to show my mom this one. I think she’ll like it.”
“Good idea.”
Reel watched as he ran across the packed sand toward his mother.
Then she looked away, out to the ocean, as far as she could see.
When she turned back she looked upward toward the parking lot that bordered the beach.
A small, young Asian woman was walking hand in hand with a little girl about Tommy’s age. She could see that the little girl was watching them curiously, although the woman didn’t glance their way as they trudged along.
As Reel looked away she was thinking that life was quite odd. And families, in a way, were by far the most satisfying, and exasperating, parts of life.
W
HO ARE THEY?” ASKED MIN.
Chung-Cha glanced at the beach. “Just people. Tourists. They are picking up seashells like we did yesterday.”
“Why are all those men around them? And what are those things in their ears?”
“I don’t know,” said Chung-Cha. “Perhaps they have bad hearing and it helps them.”
In that one glance Chung-Cha had registered the fact that the two people who had been at Bukchang were also here. She did not know Robie’s or Reel’s names, but she wondered if they were here because the Americans had been warned about an attack against the first family. This was certainly a complication that needed to be addressed.
She pulled Min along as they left the parking lot. Chung-Cha sat on a bench and wrote out a note, folded it, and said to Min, “There is a man behind the counter in that store over there.” She pointed. “He is short and bald and Korean. You will give him this note.”
Min took the paper and looked down at it. “What does it say?”
“Just a note.”
“You know this man too? Like at the other place?”
“Yes. Now please go and give it to him. He may ask you to wait while he writes a reply. Go now.”
Min hurried across the street and into the shop. Chung-Cha could see the man through the window as Min walked up to the counter. There were no other customers in the shop. He had gotten this job very quickly, because after the summer season was over, many of the young people who performed these tasks went back to the mainland.
She watched as the man read the note and then wrote out a reply for Min to take back. He took a minute to put together some things for Min in a plastic bag, as though she had purchased them.
Min came back across the street with the bag in her hand. She gave Chung-Cha the note and they walked together back to their car. Chung-Cha sat in the driver’s seat and read the coded note twice over while Min sat looking at her.
“Something is wrong, Chung-Cha,” said Min as Chung-Cha folded up the note and put it in her pocket. “You do not look good.”
“I am fine, Min. Just fine.”
They drove back to the cottage in silence. When they got there Chung-Cha turned on the fireplace and made herself and Min some hot tea. They sat on the floor in front of the fire.
Finally Min said, “Why did you take me from Yodok?”
Chung-Cha kept her gaze on the flames. “Are you happy that I did so?”
“Yes. But why me?”
“Because you reminded me of…me.” She glanced at Min to find her gaze full upon her. “Many years before you were there, Min, I was also at that place. I was not born at Yodok, as you were, but I went there at such a young age that I cannot remember my life before Yodok.”
“Why did you go there?”
“I was sent there. Because my parents spoke out against our country’s leaders.”
“Why would they do that?” asked an astonished Min.
Chung-Cha started to shake her head and then said, “Because they once had courage.”
Min’s eyes widened, as though she could not believe what she had just heard. “Courage?” she asked.
Chung-Cha nodded. “It takes courage to speak your heart, when others do not want you to.”
Min thought about this as she sipped her tea. “I guess it does.”
“Like when you were defiant in the camp, Min. That took courage. You did not let the guards break you.”
Min nodded. “I hated the guards. I hated everyone there.”
“They made you hate everyone, even the ones who were like you. That is what they do, so the prisoners will not rise up against them. Instead, they would turn on each other. It makes the guards’ job much easier.”
Min nodded again. “Because people snitch on each other?”
“Yes,” said Chung-Cha. “Yes,” she said more emphatically.
“That boy on the beach?” began Min.
“What of him?”
“Do you think he would let me pick up shells with him?”
Chung-Cha froze at this suggestion. “I do not think that would be a good idea, Min,” she said slowly.
“Why not?”
“Just not a good idea. I will be back in just a few minutes.”
Chung-Cha went into her room and sat down in front of a small desk set against one wall. She took the note out and read through it once more.
The man had voiced his concerns about the presence of Robie and Reel with the first family. He had broached the idea of calling off the hit and waiting for another opportunity.
As the leader of this mission, Chung-Cha knew that the assassination plan would go forward. They would not get another opportunity like this one. After the Americans were dead a note was to be left behind, written in English, that would detail the crimes that America had committed, crimes that had resulted in the North Koreans taking their revenge on the first family. This, it was believed, would hit the American public very hard. If nothing else, the American media would report anything, whether it made the government or country look bad or not. Such would be unheard of in North Korea.
She glanced toward the door. Min was in there, no doubt wondering what was going on.
Chung-Cha rose and walked into the other room. Min was still sitting in front of the fire, her teacup empty. Chung-Cha sat beside her.
“Would you like me to teach you a few words of English?” asked Chung-Cha.
Min looked surprised but then nodded eagerly.
Chung-Cha faced her and in English said, “I am Min.” In Korean she added, “Now you say that.”
Min’s words came out garbled. But they kept working on it until the three words came out clear.
“Now say, ‘I am ten.’”
Min accomplished this after five tries.
“Now put them together. ‘I am Min. I am ten.’”
Min said this and waited for more from Chung-Cha, who apparently was deliberating with herself, her features perplexed.
“What next?” asked Min eagerly.
Chung-Cha seemed to reach a decision and faced Min again.
“Now say, ‘Will you help me?’”
Min mouthed the words first and then struggled through them. But they kept working on it until she could say them fluently.
“See, now you can speak English,” said Chung-Cha.
“What does that last part mean?” asked Min. “‘Will you help me?’”
“It is simply a nice greeting. If anything happens to me—” Chung-Cha realized at once that she had made a mistake.
Min’s face was instantly full of alarm. “What will happen to you?”
“Nothing, Min, nothing. But one never knows. So if something does, then those words will be good to say. Will you repeat it all again? I want to be sure you remember them.”
They went through the words many more times. And as Chung-Cha put Min to bed that night, she heard the little girl saying them over and over.
“I am Min. I am ten. Will you help me?”
Chung-Cha closed her door, rested her forehead on the wood, and felt her chest and throat constrict and tears well up in her eyes.
She said under her breath, “I am Yie Chung-Cha. I am young but old. Will you help me too?”