Burke Hill and Jerry Chan took a Saturday morning flight out of Dulles International to San Francisco, where they would connect with a direct flight to Seoul. Adding up all the time zone changes, it would put them in Korea late on Sunday. That would give them time to get settled in before the reception at the U.S. Embassy Monday evening. The bulk of the business travelers, including congressmen, staffers and upper-level bureaucrats, didn't dawdle when it came to the dawning of a weekend. Most had managed to escape Washington the previous evening, so the plane was well shy of a full load. Thanks to Lori's efforts, Burke and Jerry acquired a three-seat row for themselves. They left the middle seat vacant to make room for briefcases, reading material and assorted paraphernalia after they were airborne.
Jerry looked around as the big jet poked its probing nose through a high, thin overcast. "What did you bring along to read?"
"A manual," Burke said, reaching into his briefcase.
Jerry frowned. "What kind of manual?"
"This." He held up a paperback spy novel by Tom Clancy.
Jerry laughed. "He's too high-tech for an old country boy like me. I go for the down-to-earth, blood-and-guts stuff." He reached into his carry-on bag and pulled out the latest Robert Ludlum thriller, a tome that would cost a fortune if sold by the pound.
"Let's hope we don't run into anything like either of them," Burke said, rumpling his forehead. "Did you have a chance to spend some time yesterday with your new office staff?"
"Yeah. I told them to be packed and on standby. I'll call as soon as we find a place to hang our hats."
The captain's voice interrupted with word that they had reached cruising altitude, and Burke relaxed, leaned back to sip his drink and reflect on the three staffers who would be joining them in Seoul. Brittany Pickerel had made a strong impression on him. She was drawn from Worldwide's research department, a talented young woman with experience in opinion polling and demographic analysis, the usual areas of interest for public relations practitioners. But she also possessed experience in other fields more suited to the Amber Group's interests. She had come to Worldwide via a short trip down the Baltimore-Washington Parkway from Fort George G. Meade, Maryland, where she had worked the past few years for the National Security Agency. NSA had sent her to school at the Defense Language Institute in Monterey, California, where she learned to read, write and speak Korean. Well versed in the art of subject research, she was skilled at locating the most arcane references.
A small girl in her late twenties, Brittany was rather soft-spoken, hardly the pushy type, but there was an intensity about her that made people stop and listen to what she had to say. "When she gives you a report or an analysis," one of the account supervisors had told Burke, "you're sure she knows what she's talking about." There was nothing wrong with the way she looked, short, dark hair, slightly upturned nose, dark eyes that might have been brown or black, it was hard to tell which. The only downside Burke heard about was her perfectionist penchant for correcting people's grammar and minor factual inaccuracies. It gave those who lacked complete confidence in themselves a sense that she was ridiculing them. Some men were turned off by her.
Duane Elliston would serve as account executive for the American Council for Business in Korea and Bartell Engineering, a firm in the final phase of work on the Taesong nuclear power plant. Burke respected Nate Hightower as much as any man he had ever known, but in this case he thought Nate was letting his relationship with an old friend cloud his judgement. But there could be only one man at the top, and Nate was the man. Burke had agreed to do his best to get along with Duane, and that was precisely what he intended to do. But he would keep a sharp eye on him. The eternal vigilance principle had served him well up to this point.
Although Duane's weird outlook was what immediately came to mind when Burke thought of him, he was aware that the ladies had a different impression. Duane was an average size young man with considerably better than average looks. He had a darkly handsome face that girls obviously found attractive, despite a bad habit of looking down his nose that some took for condescension and Burke thought pure snobbery.
The last member of the Seoul office staff was Travis Tolliver, though his co-workers usually called him "Mr. Tolerable." When anyone asked "how're you doing, Travis," his reply was always "tolerable." He was a media specialist, adept at handling both broadcast and print. A lanky, laconic Texan, he preferred cowboy boots and a Stetson, but he had reluctantly agreed to adopt a more traditional style in Seoul. He had put in several years on a Dallas daily newspaper before switching to television. After a stint in the newsroom, he had moved to the production side, getting Worldwide's attention with an award-winning documentary. He would be the lone Seoul staffer with no link to the Amber Group. He was also the only one married and would be accompanied by his wife, Zo. Where she got that name, Burke had no idea. He only knew she was a rather plain looking woman with long, brown hair and a reputation as a cook who could outdo some of the famous TV chefs. Travis said she was looking forward to learning the secrets to Korean cooking.
At San Francisco, crowds of travelers moved in both directions through the endless corridor that linked the concourses. As they rumbled along one section on the rubber tread of a moving walkway, Burke saw a young woman up ahead struggling to keep up with a large suitcase and a small boy and girl. The suitcase was not much of a problem. The boy was something else. He seemed unable to cope with the idea of standing still and letting the traveling tread do all the work. He could picture Lori in that position a few short years from now.
Burke and Jerry stopped in a coffee shop to kill some of the hour before the boarding call for their Seoul flight. Though they had already eaten lunch on Mountain Time, hungry passengers coming from other directions or making shorter flights were crowding into the restaurant. They found a corner table beside a row of windows overlooking the flight line. Both ordered coffee. At one side, they could see several large aircraft linked to telescoping jetways like huge winged insects hooked up for transfusions.
"There's a 747," Jerry said with a nod. "It's probably the beast we'll be on."
"Those things can gobble up a mess of people," Burke said.
Jerry chuckled. "A mess of people, huh? Now there's a good old East Tennessee expression. We had a neighbor, used to call her Aunt Mattie, was always coming over to ask Mom if she'd like a 'mess of beans' or a 'mess of corn.'"
"Know what you mean," Burke said. His face took on a thoughtful expression. "Speaking of messes, how do you figure the one we'll be facing in Seoul? You know the Koreans better than I do. Think we'll find a lot of antagonism?"
"No. That's not their style. The opposition will be very subtle. Instead of quickly killing an idea, they'll talk it to death."
"Yeah. I've heard doing business over there is a slow process."
"They like to drag things out. And they won't come right out and tell you 'no.' When they start saying 'let's study this a little further,' or maybe 'Keul-seh-yo,' which means 'we'll see,' that's the same as saying the answer is 'no.'"
"Is this going to cause us any problems with Duane Elliston? He can come on pretty strong."
"I don't think so."
"Why not?"
The waitress topped off their cups with hot coffee. "I had a little counseling session with Duane," Jerry said. "He says he can be as gentle as a butterfly landing on a rose."
Burke gave him a raised brow. "That I've got to see."
"We're more likely to have trouble with Travis," Jerry said. "He doesn't usually have a hell of a lot to say, but he's got a pretty short fuse. When he starts locking horns with some of those Korean media people, we could have some fireworks."