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“So I got your last report,” the director stated.
“Agent Chun-Hee is the epitome of thoroughness, I’m sure.” Ko knew the director could detect the bitterness behind the words. He knew better than anyone about Ko’s history with Chun-Hee.
He took a deep breath and ignored the remark. “Ko, I think it’s about time we pulled you out of there.”
Ko froze, and it took several seconds to stammer the expected reply. “I’m ready to go wherever the Dear Leader and the Party lead me next.”
“Of course you are.” The director didn’t sound convinced. “I assume if there’s any more information you glean, you will pass it on to us.”
Ko could almost taste the foreign cigarettes they gave to agents who returned home from successful stints over the border. “Naturally.”
On the other end of the line, the director cleared his throat. “Well, we’ll send word when we’re ready to bring you home.”
“Home?” The word sounded foreign on Ko’s tongue.
“That’s right. You’re coming back to Pyongyang,” he stated. “We’ll need you here soon.”
“It is an honor to serve,” Ko whispered and stared at the cell phone long after the director disconnected the call.
***
Juliette hadn’t entered Eve’s room in at least six months. She tapped gently. “It’s just me,” she called out.
The door creaked open an inch. One of Eve’s eyes peered through the crack. “Do you need something?”
Juliette fingered her eyeglasses back into place. “I’m really sorry to bother you right now, but do you mind if I come in for just a minute?”
Eve opened the door slowly and slid out of the way. Juliette bit her lip to hide her shock. Clothes were strewn across the floor and bed. Several dishes that had been missing from downstairs lay discarded in corners of the room. One blanket hung bunched up over some dirty laundry; the other dangled off the bed in a wrinkled mess. “I’m sorry about the clutter.” Eve gestured to the single chair covered in food wrappers. “I didn’t know you’d be coming.”
“This is your room.” The words were much more dignified than Juliette felt. She sat down carefully once Eve cleaned the junk off the seat. “You can do whatever you want with it.” As much as she tried to act naturally, Juliette found her head turning from side to side as she let her eyes sweep across the room like a panorama camera. Eve didn’t seem to know whether to sit or stand, so eventually Juliette motioned to the corner of the bed. “I’m actually here because Mr. Stern lost his watch. I was wondering if you happened to see it when you were cleaning up yesterday or today.”
“No, ma’am. Is there anywhere in particular you’d like me to go over and look?”
Juliette shook her head. “It’s probably in our room somewhere. He takes it off every night and puts it on his end table.”
“How long has it been missing?”
“Just since this morning.” Juliette continued to study Eve out of the corner of her eye. “I don’t think you’ve been in there since then, have you?”
“No, ma’am. I usually only clean your room on Mondays and Thursdays.”
“That’s what I thought.” Something in the far corner grabbed Juliette’s attention, and she had her answer. She knew exactly where the watch was, but she kept her face expressionless and forced herself to continue chatting for the sake of etiquette. “So, how are you and Mee-Kyong getting along?”
Juliette could tell by Eve’s face that the conversation would be short-lived.
***
Mee-Kyong bent over the table, her shoulders aching from the awkward angle. The kink in her neck made it feel like she was back in the fabric-cutting line at Camp 22. She slammed her pen down and let out an exasperated huff at the sound of approaching footsteps. Did Mrs. Stern seriously expect her to be done by now? She glared at the door.
“She got you copying?” It was Benjamin.
Mee-Kyong didn’t look up. “I’ve had a cramp in my wrist for the past hour.”
Benjamin went to the bookshelf, drawing his pointer finger across each title. “That’s normal. Most students complained.”
“Students?” Mee-Kyong leaned back in her chair and flexed her tired wrists.
“You know. Secret Seminary students ... The missionaries?” Benjamin turned away from the bookshelf for a moment. “You don’t know?”
“Guess not.” Mee-Kyong had always considered Benjamin either too quiet or too stupid to offer much by way of conversation, but she’d take just about any excuse right now for a break from her transcription work. “What’s so secret about them?”
Benjamin leaned forward slightly in her direction but remained planted by Mr. Stern’s theological library. “Last year, the Sterns took in other people like us.”
“Us?” Until then, Mee-Kyong had assumed Benjamin was one of Yanji’s countless Korean-Chinese citizens.
“Refugees.” Benjamin held her gaze, and for a moment, Mee-Kyong recognized something in his eyes, something she might have noticed sooner if she looked for it. Emptiness. Fear. She tucked her hair behind her ear. He folded his arms across his massive chest and leaned against the bookshelf. “Kept them here for almost a year. Gave them lessons. Then sent them across the border.”
“They did what?” Mee-Kyong knew her hosts were fanatics, but she didn’t think they were actually insane.
“Over the border. Smuggle Scripture, things like that.”
“So that’s what I’m doing here?” Mee-Kyong gestured toward her Bible and half-empty paper. “Do they really expect me to agree ...?”
Benjamin held up both palms. “Don’t worry. They were volunteers. All of them.”
“Who would actually want to go?” Mee-Kyong understood trading Bible-study sessions for room and board, but she couldn’t fathom stealing over the border like an undercover spy, armed with nothing but Western propaganda.
Benjamin fingered his chin as if tugging an imaginary beard and sat down across from her. “Because they believe.”
She narrowed her eyes at the security man, trying to read whatever mysteries were hidden in his expression. “You’re still here. Don’t you believe?”
Benjamin shrugged. “I believe.”
“But you didn’t cross the border?”
He put his elbow on the desk and leaned his cheek against his fist. Mee-Kyong gawked, wondering how much more difficult her life would have been if Pang had hands like that. Benjamin blinked once. “No.”
“Well, it sounds like you were the only one in your right mind, then,” she declared. He grimaced slightly, the corners of his eyes drawing into themselves. “I still can’t believe the Sterns just let them go,” Mee-Kyong continued. “Do they have any idea what happens to ...?”
“They know,” Benjamin mumbled.
“So they send them out without any guidance, any defense, any provisions ...”
“Gave them three months’ wages.”
“Three months’ wages?” Mee-Kyong fiddled with the pen in her hand, forcing her face to remain neutral. “And how long did you say their training lasted?”
“About a year. Don’t remember exactly.”
She pouted. A year of training. She had been doing that for the past several weeks at the Sterns’ anyway. What was wrong with more of the same? The work was tedious, but it paid well. She had never eaten so much before. She had a closet filled with clothes from the Sterns’ daughter and could take hot baths several times a day if she wanted to. For a year’s worth of food and shelter, plus a nice cash bonus at the end, she could put up with the Americans’ extremism. And then she’d be gone. She didn’t know where, but twelve months would give her plenty of time to come up with a fool-proof plan.
She pictured Pang’s expression right before he died. You didn’t think I could make it on my own, did you? You didn’t think I could survive if you weren’t there to watch out for me. She smiled to herself. If she could just stomach twelve months locked up in this house, sitting in this den and pretending to care about Mrs. Stern’s benign deity, she could leave here with enough money to start a new life. No more selling her body or her soul. No more living by someone else’s agenda or schedule. The next year would prove horrifically dull, but if Mee-Kyong could endure labor camps and the hotel district, she could put up with a little boredom.
She picked up the pen and glanced back at the Sterns’ Bible. The pen danced on the page.
***
Roger hated coming home so late, but his schedule probably wouldn’t change any time soon. Sales had increased steadily for the past eighteen months, but the number of employees and machinery remained constant. He hadn’t told Juliette yet, but he was toying with the idea of taking an entire month off in the spring so they could go back to the States and see Kennedy and some of their extended family on the East Coast. It would take a decent amount of planning, and Juliette would probably complain about leaving Mee-Kyong and their house staff, but their marriage could use some serious time away from Yanji.
He half expected Juliette to be asleep by the time he came in, but she was sitting up in bed reading when he swung their bedroom door open. She put her bookmark in place and looked up. “Hey, there.”
“Hey, yourself.” Roger loosened his tie and sat on the side of the bed to kick off his shoes. “You’re up late.”
“I was solving a little mystery.” Juliette’s smile hinted mischief as she laid her novel on the end table.
“And what mystery might that be?”
Juliette dangled Roger’s watch like a prize from one finger. He unbuttoned his shirt and grinned. He hated thinking their new guest was a thief, but until he had evidence otherwise, he couldn’t just dismiss his suspicions. “And where exactly did you find it, then, Mrs. Holmes? No, let me guess. In the kitchen with the butcher knife. Am I right?”
She chuckled. “No, it was in the trash downstairs.” Juliette told him about going to Eve’s room. “Her place was such a ridiculous mess — junk and candy wrappers all over.”
Roger couldn’t hide his amused smile and wondered how tidy their own room would be if Eve didn’t clean it up twice a week for them.
“I saw a Hershey’s wrapper over by her bed, and I remembered I had been eating a chocolate bar last night when you got up to take that phone call.”
Roger sat on the bed and let his mouth drop open in mock surprise. “A chocolate bar?” he gasped. “I thought you were on a diet!”
Juliette looked aside but continued to smile. “Well, I wanted you to keep thinking that, so when I heard you coming back in, I swept the wrapper off the nightstand into a little bag. I carried it out first thing in the morning and dumped it in the kitchen trash. And that’s where I found your watch.”
Roger let his fingers play up and down Juliette’s back. He loved the silky feel of her nightgown. “Sounds like it’s a closed case, then.” He wrapped his arms around his wife, but she tensed her muscles up and rolled over to face him. Roger sighed. “I’m sorry for thinking the worst about Mee-Kyong. You were right. She’s no thief.”
Juliette relaxed in Roger’s embrace.