Kary sniffed. “And of course, you had nothing to do with that.”
Cho ignored her. “I helped Gam put the kids to bed, and came to find you.”
“I wish I could have been in the surgery. Did they have to…”
Cho held out a hand. “I deliberately did not ask for details. The surgeon is looking forward to speaking with you tomorrow, and he will tell you everything, using words I would not understand. He was impressed. He thinks you are wasted as the camp’s ombudsman.”
Kary laughed and swept one arm around her. “And give up all this?” She added, “It’s a shock, coming from one small clinic, but we can do so much to help these people.”
“And I want to help. Which I won’t be able to do if I have to take that civics class you’re setting up.”
“It’s not all day, and they need it. You need it. The North Koreans have lived three generations surrounded by lies. Plus you can tell me how well it’s working.”
“So now I’m spying for you,” he smiled. “I suppose I can do that.”
She shook her head and gestured vigorously. “No, don’t even joke like that.”
He nodded. “My apologies. Force of habit.” Then his expression became serious. “I do need to speak with you about something else, but not here.”
Standing, Kary tossed the two writing pads on the desk, then reconsidered and retrieved them, along with the cell phone. “Lead on.”
Outside, the area was lit by overhead lights that reminded her of the streetlights back home. They followed a bare earth path that served as Main Street for the Backstop headquarters area, walking from one pool of light to the next.
Beyond one row of tents, they could see the Munsan camp proper. Over twelve thousand people were crammed in an area meant originally for eight. Even some distance from the camp, the many voices blended into a constant hum that might fade at night, but never went away.
It had cooled, although the air remained humid, so it was only warm instead of sweltering. Other Backstop personnel sat outside or walked and chatted. The serenity of it was still novel to Kary, removing a weight she didn’t know she’d been carrying.
Curiosity made her want to ask what he needed to talk about, but she trusted Cho to tell her when the time came.
The Munsan camp had been set up in what had been farmland, and the pair quickly came to the edge of what was bare earth and turned into cultivated crops. It was some sort of grain, but she couldn’t tell what type in the dark. Clouds blocked the moon and much of the starlight, and in the rural darkness, she could barely see his face.
He continued to walk, leading her along a two-lane road for some time, until she could see that they were truly alone.
“Do you still have the pistol?”
Surprised, she answered “Yes” automatically. While Cho had of course been searched after his arrest, she and the other refugees and their belongings had not been searched. “It’s in my footlocker in my quarters tent. It’s locked, of course.”
“Could I please have it?”
“What for?” It was a stupid question, and before Cho could answer, she quickly added, “Why do you need it? Do you think the Russians will try to kill you? Here?”
“No, not the Russians, or the South Korean NIS. This is not about espionage.” He sighed, and explained, “Walking around, I’ve seen some things in the camp that… concern me.”
He pointed back toward the camp. “All those people have been thrown together, and they are busy setting up a new society modeled after the only one they know. While you want to help, others want to prey on them. A lot of people left the North, all kinds, and some of them are undoubtedly criminals.”
“But why do this?” she asked. “Tell the South Korean authorities what you saw. It might put you in a better light.”
Cho disagreed. “If the authorities listen. And it’s only hints and suspicions, but I believe there are some in Munsan who were used to living off the work of others. Many will see this as a chance to make a fresh start. Others will keep to their old ways.”
Kary nodded, understanding. “This is a fresh start for you, isn’t it? You’ve done what you wanted. Cheon and her family and the others from Sinan are safe. I don’t know what ex-spies are supposed to do. Shouldn’t you be getting plastic surgery or new fingerprints or something?”
Cho laughed at the idea. “I don’t think that’s what happens. I wish I knew. I don’t know what the North will become, or what it’s like to live in the South. Besides, I don’t want to go anywhere. Here is where I’m needed the most.”
“Hey, that’s my line,” she responded.
“You’re a good teacher,” he replied. “I’ll stay and help you, as long as you’ll have me.”
Cho had said that with some feeling, and Kary thought about that as they turned around and headed back.
It took about fifteen minutes or so to reach the cluster of tents used by female personnel. It was roped off and clearly marked with signs in several different languages, all saying “No men after 2200!” Below that, somebody had written in marker “How about 2215?”
While Cho waited, she hurried to her tent. Two women, both army officers, were reading, while her fourth roommate was absent. Squatting down and unlocking the footlocker next to her bed, Kary rummaged under her few clothes and other possessions for the pistol. Wrapping it in a spare pair of scrub pants, she closed and locked the lid, then hurried out.
Even though she’d agreed to give him the weapon, she was still troubled. If someone was shot by Cho, that was her responsibility. Cho wasn’t a violent person, but she knew he was capable of shooting someone if he had to. And should she even have a weapon, or allow Cho to have it? She was sure the army would discourage civilians from having them, but she also believed that if she’d asked the colonel for permission, he might have allowed her to keep it — reluctantly — but certainly not a North Korean civilian, who had been a spy for the Russians.
It wasn’t a long trip back to where Cho was waiting, and her worries must have shown in her expression, because as she passed him the bundle, he asked, “Please, trust me.”
“I do,” she said, and her worries vanished.
Chapter 12 — Shock and Awe
Vice Admiral Gong Kyeong-pyo looked back at the dark silhouettes as his “armada” sailed in three long columns toward its objective. Never before had so many ships of the Korean People’s Army Navy sailed together in such a massive formation. He felt immense pride as more shadows became visible against the slowly brightening sky. Twilight was in full bloom, the eastern sky glowing a deep crimson. Dawn would peek over the horizon in another half hour, and then their attack would begin.
The admiral considered it a small piece of good fortune that all his ships were still together after their three-hour transit in the dark. It was the only good news he’d had for some time. Four days earlier, South Korean forces had bombed the submarine bases at Mayang-do and Chaho. Fourteen of the East Coast Fleet’s Type 033 Romeo-class submarines were either sunk or severely damaged, along with many of their infiltration midget submarines. The following day, the imperialist puppet’s ground troops seized the naval base at Changjon. What had initially started out as an internal revolution had now become a three-way fight — only the third party had much more weight to throw around. Both the General Staff and KWP factions’ strength had already been weakened, and would continue to do so with each passing day as the two sides engaged in vicious battles.