Fires of War (18 page)

When Neto Evora saw that Thera was alone, he came over and sat down beside her, asking how she was enjoying North Korea.

“It looks like the perfect place for a nuclear waste dump, doesn’t it?” said the scientist. “Deserted, cold, and desolate.”

“Actually, the countryside is very beautiful,” she said. “It looks almost like heaven.”

“Heaven? I don’t think so.”

“I don’t mean the government. Just the open fields.”

“If you are like me, a city boy, then you want excitement.”

“I guess I’m not like you,” said Thera.

Evora smirked. “Maybe we’ll chance a party this evening.”

“Here?”

“You never know.”

He got up. Thera watched him strut across the room, very full of himself. There was a thin line between confidence and conceit. Evora was far over the line.

Why hadn’t she realized that the other night?

Temporary insanity. And drinks.

She hadn’t actually gone to bed with him, so she deserved
some
credit.

Some people could push the line between conceit and confidence. Ferguson, for example. Fergie could push it very far. He exuded confidence but not really conceit—not in her opinion at least—maybe because he could back it up.

Not that he was perfect. He could be casually cruel and impish, like the way he loved baiting Rankin, even though he trusted him with his life.

He was nice to her. But maybe that meant he didn’t take her seriously.

Still hungry, Thera got up and went over to the food table.

“You should try the
bulgogi,”
said Dr. Ch’o, the scientist who had helped her out of the SUV earlier. “It is beef, marinated and grilled.”

“Thank you,” said Thera, holding her plate out for him to dish the food.

“My pleasure,” said the scientist, bowing his head slightly.

“You speak very good English,” said Thera. “Better than mine.”

“Oh, you are very good. What language do you speak as a native?”

“Greek.” Thera rolled off a few sentences about how she lived near Athens, then returned to English. “But everyone speaks English these days.”

“You have an American accent.”

“Yes, I have worked there. For the UN. A very interesting place.”

“Yes. I have never been myself. But I have been to Russia and Europe.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. Some years ago. When I received my degree.”

Another member of the inspection team asked Ch’o where he had been in Europe. Thera drifted away, then returned to her seat and finished eating. The beef was tasty, but a bit too spicy for her.

When she was done, she went outside to have a look around. Unwrapping her pack of cigarettes, she pounded the box end, then took one and put it into her mouth. She had just lit up when she saw Ch’o and another North Korean walking swiftly toward her, concerned looks on their faces.

Oh, crap, they don’t allow smoking here either, Thera thought to herself. I’m going to be arrested.

~ * ~

6

SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA

Ken Bo glared at Ferguson as he walked into his office, both hands on his desktop as if he were bracing himself against a gale. Ferguson pointed at him, smirked and sat down.

“How are ya?” said Ferguson. Bo had kept him waiting more than fifteen minutes in his outer office. Ferguson wouldn’t have minded so much if his assistant had had decent legs.

“Why did you pull a gun on one of my people the other day?” said Bo.

“I thought it was a cigarette lighter. He looked like he wanted a smoke.”

“I’ve heard about you, Ferguson.”

“Oh, good. You know why I’m here?”

“Slott told me,”

“Can we talk here?”

Ferguson glanced around. Generally offices in embassies were not used for very sensitive conversations, even though there was only a remote chance that they would be bugged or overheard.

Bo looked down at his desk, glancing around it as if looking for the answer. Suddenly he jumped into motion, leading the way out of the room.

Halfway down the hall he stuck his head into a door and called in to his deputy chief.

“Chris, I want you to hear this.”

“No,” said Ferguson. “Only you.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Take it up with the boss.”

“Hey, no problem,” said the deputy chief, backing away.

Bo shook his head and started walking again. Ferguson followed as the station chief went up two flights of stairs to a secure room within a room that had been built for sensitive discussions. There were no chairs or other furniture in the room—most likely to keep conversations short, Ferguson decided.

“What do you know?” asked Bo.

“Plutonium was detected at the Blessed Peak Nuclear Waste Processing Plant. An isotope that indicates there’s bomb fuel present. It looks like the South Koreans are building a nuke.”

“Impossible!”

“I wouldn’t say impossible.”

“Your data is wrong.”

Ferguson laughed. “You don’t even know what data I have.”

“It’s impossible. I’m sure it’s wrong. Or can be explained.”

“Yeah, probably you’re right.” Ferguson, realizing he was done, turned around.

“Where are you going?” Bo grabbed his arm.

“I have work to do.”

Bo glared at him. Ferguson glared back.

It didn’t take ESP to know what the station chief was thinking. A bomb project like this would have taken years to get to this point, and Bo had missed it. Good-bye job.

Ferguson hadn’t really been sold on the idea of working with the locals to begin with, but even if he had, Bo’s attitude warned him away. The station chief was looking at this as a threat to his job. He was going to be interested in covering his butt, not in finding out what was going on.

Not that he was surprised. Disappointed, maybe.

No, not even that. It was to be expected.

“Wait,” said Bo as Ferguson once more started for the door. “We can work together.”

“Don’t think so.”

“That’s all the information you have?”

Ferguson stopped and turned back around. “I don’t have much more, no. If you want the technical stuff, you’ll have to get it from Slott. I really don’t know it,” Ferguson said. “Listen, I need to use the secure communications center. If you don’t mind.”

“Bob— Can I call you Bob?”

“I
really
don’t know anything else. Honest.”

They stared at each other. Ferguson was so much taller than Bo that he thought he might get a crick in his neck if Bo didn’t blink soon.

“Well, keep us updated,” said Bo finally, looking away.

Ferguson didn’t feel like lying, so he simply shrugged as he left the room.

~ * ~

7

NORTH P’YŎNPAN PROVINCE, NORTH KOREA

Thera braced herself as the North Koreans approached. There was no sense hiding the cigarette; both men had clearly seen her.

“You must be away from the building,” said Ch’o. “I’m sorry, Miss.”

“It’s a nonsmoking area?”

Ch’o gave her a strange look. “No. The train car. We are demonstrating the train car. You are on the track.”

He pointed behind her. Thera turned and saw that one of the remote-controller train cars was heading slowly in her direction from the temporary waste-storage area.

The other Korean began speaking in a very excited voice, telling her that she would be run over if she did not get away from the embedded tracks.

“The trains have sensors,” said Ch’o, “but they do not always work. There have been close-call accidents. We do not trust them.”

“I’m sorry,” said Thera, stepping out of the way.

Ch’o and the other man stood by her side as the train car went slowly by. The rest of the inspection team had gathered inside the building and was watching the train as it made its way slowly toward the reception building’s door.

“I didn’t know there were accidents,” said Thera when the train passed. “The South Koreans have the same system. They didn’t mention accidents.”

Ch’o translated what she said for his colleague. Thera picked up some of the reply but not all of it.

“Very possibly our cousins have not been one hundred percent candid,” said Ch’o. “Assuming that we have the same system.”

“You do.”

Ch’o glanced at her cigarette.

“You smoke?”

“Bad habit, I know,” said Thera, dropping the butt on the ground. “Thank you for warning me.”

She touched the scientist’s arm. He turned light red.

“Very welcome, very welcome,” he said, leading the other man away.

~ * ~

he rest of the afternoon passed slowly, the tour a slow-motion replay of the one they’d had in South Korea. Finally, the site director led them to the administration building for refreshments: seltzer water and kimchi-style hors d’oeuvres. Thera took a few sips of the seltzer, then went outside, ostensibly to grab a smoke but really to get another glimpse of the area and make sure she could plant the tags tomorrow.

It looked like it would be easy There were no cameras covering the interior of the compound, and the guards stayed close to the buildings. Thera took a short walk, testing to see if she was being watched.

No.

Could she get the tags in exactly the same places she had in South Korea?

Probably. But was that important now? The baseline they’d been looking for was from a plant with no plutonium.

Thera swung around to head back toward the administration building. The door opened, and a number of team members came out, followed by three or four North Koreans, one of whom was Ch’o.

“Miss,” said Ch’o. “Oh, Miss?”

“Me?”

“You must try these,” said the scientist in English, bowing his head slightly and holding a small package out toward her. It was wrapped in brown paper.

Thera took it. Two other Korean officials nodded behind Ch’o, motioning for her to open the package.

She pulled the rough string and opened the paper. There was a pack of cigarettes inside. It was only about half full; obviously Ch’o had improvised the present.

The package had Marlboro’s color scheme, but the words were in Korean.

“Our own,” said Ch’o. “Try.”