Kary headed back toward her office, at one end of the clinic. She would have to keep them all busy, somehow, because she knew that most of them would be like Moon — confused and afraid. And keeping them busy would help keep her busy, too, because she was also afraid. She thought about the chaos she’d witnessed in the past week and shuddered. She hated anything to do with politics, but knew instinctively that North Korea had been rebuilt to Kim’s design, with him as the keystone. How many would be crushed when it tumbled down?
The mission compound was surrounded by a low fence, more marker than a barrier, and she saw someone waiting by their front gate. It was normally left open, but since the coup attempt they’d been closing and locking it. It was a futile gesture, but they did it anyway.
Now Sergeant Choi Sung-min was waving to her, and she quickened her pace a little. Sergeant Choi was the neighborhood supervisor for the Ministry of Public Security. The ministry was responsible for traffic and catching criminals, but was also charged with searching for hints of disloyalty. They were ubiquitous and did their best to be omniscient. No occurrence was too small for their interest. Since the coup attempt, Choi had replaced his customary slate-gray patrol uniform with drab green fatigues, and carried a rifle slung over his shoulder.
In spite of the masters he served, Kary still thought of him as the local policeman. He’d caught petty criminals stealing from their gardens, and if the price of his service was a bag of vegetables or a bottle of pills, that was necessary but acceptable. He wasn’t greedy, and since they’d treated his children on more than one occasion, the sergeant had come to see their usefulness.
As she unlocked the gate and opened it for him, he said, “You should leave Korea.” She started to smile, because that was his customary greeting. When she’d first come to Sinan years ago, it had been a sincere, almost hostile sentiment. Even after Choi’s children had recovered from whooping cough, he had persisted, almost a pro forma exhortation. She finally realized that he probably had to file weekly reports on his progress in “convincing the foreigner to leave.” As long as he went through the motions, he could answer yes, and his superiors would be satisfied. And it was clear he didn’t want the mission to close, not as long as she met him with a small parcel of food or medicine.
This time, instead of a near-joke, she could see he was deadly serious. After he stepped inside and she closed and locked the gate, they began walking toward one side of the compound. “Kary Fowler-yang, you have to leave. Mayor Song ordered me to arrest you and your entire staff yesterday, but I managed to dissuade him.”
She was too shocked to reply immediately, and the sergeant explained, “Song-dongji received an urgent order from the party that special efforts were to be made to find and apprehend the foreign influences that were corrupting the country. There would be penalties for those who were lax.”
Kary didn’t try to protest her innocence. The word had no meaning here. “How did you talk him out of it?” By now they’d reached one end of the main clinic building. A canopy and a few old chairs offered rest and shade from the August sun.
Choi sat gratefully, unslinging his rifle and laying it across his knees. “I reminded him of the generous subsidy that your organization makes to the community. If your mission closed, those subsidies would stop. I also promised to redouble my surveillance of your subversive activities.”
She almost laughed, but caught herself in time. The sergeant had been joking, of course, but open laughter could be a dangerous thing. “I’m very grateful, of course.”
His face hardened. “But that was yesterday. The situation has now changed. There is no way to tell if your organization,”—Choi refused to say ‘Christian Friends’—”will be able to continue to provide support, for you, or him.”
She heard the implied question, and replied, “We’ve had no contact with home, or most of the other missions, since the fifteenth of August.” She was referring to the first attempt on Kim’s life, but officialdom had quickly prohibited the use of words like “coup” or “assassination,” as if they could define them out of existence. If the heinous deed needed to be referred to at all, it was by the date.
“We did receive a note from our clinic near Kaechon,” she said hopefully. “They’ve had some problems, but are coping and waiting for the crisis to pass.”
“Is that your plan?” Choi asked skeptically. His tone was kind, but it still sounded like a criticism. “Wait for it to go away?”
“What else can we do?” Kary protested. “People are still sick, and now we’re even treating trauma patients, like that robbery victim you brought us the other day.”
“I had to. The hospital will only treat soldiers and party officials now.” Choi made a face. “Bandits, of all things, robbing people in the fields as they work. It was the first time I’ve ever fired my weapon, other than the target range. One burst in the air, and they scattered like crows.”
“I’m glad you stopped them, but I’m glad you didn’t shoot them, either,” she added. “Maybe they’ll rethink their behavior.”
Choi shook his head. “Fowler-yang, they weren’t the first ones I’ve seen, and I hear reports of more all the time. And you can’t depend on the protection of the party or the army anymore.” He lowered his voice. “I watched the broadcast in the mayor’s office, along with many others.” Choi spoke even more softly, barely a whisper. “Song-dongji panicked, and others as well. He ordered our captain to mobilize the reserves, and form a militia for defense of the community. He had received word of army units mutinying. The Supreme Leader’s death will only make it worse.”
Reaching into a pocket of his fatigue pants, Choi showed Kary a small automatic pistol. “One of the bandits dropped this. It’s a Makarov, just like my service pistol. Nine shots.” He pulled the magazine out of the grip and locked the slide back, clearing the weapon. “Here.” He offered it to her.
“No, I can’t take it. I wouldn’t know how to use it. My Christian faith…”
“The people you’re responsible for don’t share your faith, and I hope you’re not planning to convert the bandits. Proselytizing without state permission is a serious offense.” He smiled.
“Most of them will turn and run if you show any teeth.” He paused for a moment, but could see she wasn’t convinced. “Think of it as a noisemaker.”
Reluctantly, she took the pistol and the magazine. Of course, he’d broken any number of laws in giving it to her, but that didn’t matter much now.
And actually, she’d lied to Choi. Her father, Blake Fowler, had several guns in their home, and had encouraged his children, including young Kary, to learn how to use them. That didn’t mean she liked them, and definitely didn’t want to shoot anyone. There was too much killing in North Korea already.
Choi showed her how to use the safety and load and unload the pistol. He sighed with relief. “This eases my mind somewhat. And don’t be afraid to put a few shots in the air. I or one of my men will come.”
Rhee and his team were on schedule, but just barely. They’d reached a good spot for their hide, where they could overlook the third and last regiment of the 425th Mechanized Corps. They’d successfully snooped one regiment near the abandoned antiaircraft battery, then snuck in closer to Chongju town to have a look at the corps’ headquarters, checked the second regiment’s cantonment at the same time, and arrived at their last planned lookout before dawn that morning.