The Target Read online

  “No.”

  “Your mother obviously loves you a lot.”

  “She’s always bossing me. Fixing my clothes, my hair. Checking my homework, telling me to do stuff.”

  “Right. I guess it’d be a lot easier on you if she didn’t care.”

  “What?”

  “You know, she’s the First Lady. She can do pretty much anything she wants. She could have come up here by herself. Maybe go to the spa, get her hair and nails done. Eat out all the time. See old friends. But here she is bringing you here, collecting seashells with you on the beach. And I heard her say later there’s going to be a big Scrabble tournament.”

  “I’m good at Scrabble. I almost beat my mom once.”

  “Wow, that’s pretty impressive.”

  Tommy looked over at his mom. To Reel he said, “Are you close to your mother?”

  “She’s not alive anymore.”

  Tommy looked shocked. “Oh, I’m sorry. And your dad?”

  Reel pursed her lips and looked away. “He’s been gone from my life for a long time.”

  “Were you ever close to him?”

  “No. We didn’t have a good relationship at all, Tommy. Which I guess is why I envy people like you. Because you obviously have parents who love you very much. Not all kids do. In fact, too many don’t.”

  Tommy stood there for a bit fingering a shell. “I think I’m going to show my mom this one. I think she’ll like it.”

  “Good idea.”

  Reel watched as he ran across the packed sand toward his mother.

  Then she looked away, out to the ocean, as far as she could see.

  When she turned back she looked upward toward the parking lot that bordered the beach.

  A small, young Asian woman was walking hand in hand with a little girl about Tommy’s age. She could see that the little girl was watching them curiously, although the woman didn’t glance their way as they trudged along.

  As Reel looked away she was thinking that life was quite odd. And families, in a way, were by far the most satisfying, and exasperating, parts of life.

  Chapter

  69

  WHO ARE THEY?” ASKED MIN.

  Chung-Cha glanced at the beach. “Just people. Tourists. They are picking up seashells like we did yesterday.”

  “Why are all those men around them? And what are those things in their ears?”

  “I don’t know,” said Chung-Cha. “Perhaps they have bad hearing and it helps them.”

  In that one glance Chung-Cha had registered the fact that the two people who had been at Bukchang were also here. She did not know Robie’s or Reel’s names, but she wondered if they were here because the Americans had been warned about an attack against the first family. This was certainly a complication that needed to be addressed.

  She pulled Min along as they left the parking lot. Chung-Cha sat on a bench and wrote out a note, folded it, and said to Min, “There is a man behind the counter in that store over there.” She pointed. “He is short and bald and Korean. You will give him this note.”

  Min took the paper and looked down at it. “What does it say?”

  “Just a note.”

  “You know this man too? Like at the other place?”

  “Yes. Now please go and give it to him. He may ask you to wait while he writes a reply. Go now.”

  Min hurried across the street and into the shop. Chung-Cha could see the man through the window as Min walked up to the counter. There were no other customers in the shop. He had gotten this job very quickly, because after the summer season was over, many of the young people who performed these tasks went back to the mainland.

  She watched as the man read the note and then wrote out a reply for Min to take back. He took a minute to put together some things for Min in a plastic bag, as though she had purchased them.

  Min came back across the street with the bag in her hand. She gave Chung-Cha the note and they walked together back to their car. Chung-Cha sat in the driver’s seat and read the coded note twice over while Min sat looking at her.

  “Something is wrong, Chung-Cha,” said Min as Chung-Cha folded up the note and put it in her pocket. “You do not look good.”

  “I am fine, Min. Just fine.”

  They drove back to the cottage in silence. When they got there Chung-Cha turned on the fireplace and made herself and Min some hot tea. They sat on the floor in front of the fire.

  Finally Min said, “Why did you take me from Yodok?”

  Chung-Cha kept her gaze on the flames. “Are you happy that I did so?”

  “Yes. But why me?”

  “Because you reminded me of…me.” She glanced at Min to find her gaze full upon her. “Many years before you were there, Min, I was also at that place. I was not born at Yodok, as you were, but I went there at such a young age that I cannot remember my life before Yodok.”

  “Why did you go there?”

  “I was sent there. Because my parents spoke out against our country’s leaders.”

  “Why would they do that?” asked an astonished Min.

  Chung-Cha started to shake her head and then said, “Because they once had courage.”

  Min’s eyes widened, as though she could not believe what she had just heard. “Courage?” she asked.

  Chung-Cha nodded. “It takes courage to speak your heart, when others do not want you to.”

  Min thought about this as she sipped her tea. “I guess it does.”

  “Like when you were defiant in the camp, Min. That took courage. You did not let the guards break you.”

  Min nodded. “I hated the guards. I hated everyone there.”

  “They made you hate everyone, even the ones who were like you. That is what they do, so the prisoners will not rise up against them. Instead, they would turn on each other. It makes the guards’ job much easier.”

  Min nodded again. “Because people snitch on each other?”

  “Yes,” said Chung-Cha. “Yes,” she said more emphatically.

  “That boy on the beach?” began Min.

  “What of him?”

  “Do you think he would let me pick up shells with him?”

  Chung-Cha froze at this suggestion. “I do not think that would be a good idea, Min,” she said slowly.

  “Why not?”

  “Just not a good idea. I will be back in just a few minutes.”

  Chung-Cha went into her room and sat down in front of a small desk set against one wall. She took the note out and read through it once more.

  The man had voiced his concerns about the presence of Robie and Reel with the first family. He had broached the idea of calling off the hit and waiting for another opportunity.

  As the leader of this mission, Chung-Cha knew that the assassination plan would go forward. They would not get another opportunity like this one. After the Americans were dead a note was to be left behind, written in English, that would detail the crimes that America had committed, crimes that had resulted in the North Koreans taking their revenge on the first family. This, it was believed, would hit the American public very hard. If nothing else, the American media would report anything, whether it made the government or country look bad or not. Such would be unheard of in North Korea.

  She glanced toward the door. Min was in there, no doubt wondering what was going on.

  Chung-Cha rose and walked into the other room. Min was still sitting in front of the fire, her teacup empty. Chung-Cha sat beside her.

  “Would you like me to teach you a few words of English?” asked Chung-Cha.

  Min looked surprised but then nodded eagerly.

  Chung-Cha faced her and in English said, “I am Min.” In Korean she added, “Now you say that.”

  Min’s words came out garbled. But they kept working on it until the three words came out clear.

  “Now say, ‘I am ten.’”

  Min accomplished this after five tries.

  “Now put them together. ‘I am Min. I am ten.’”

 
Min said this and waited for more from Chung-Cha, who apparently was deliberating with herself, her features perplexed.

  “What next?” asked Min eagerly.

  Chung-Cha seemed to reach a decision and faced Min again.

  “Now say, ‘Will you help me?’”

  Min mouthed the words first and then struggled through them. But they kept working on it until she could say them fluently.

  “See, now you can speak English,” said Chung-Cha.

  “What does that last part mean?” asked Min. “‘Will you help me?’”

  “It is simply a nice greeting. If anything happens to me—” Chung-Cha realized at once that she had made a mistake.

  Min’s face was instantly full of alarm. “What will happen to you?”

  “Nothing, Min, nothing. But one never knows. So if something does, then those words will be good to say. Will you repeat it all again? I want to be sure you remember them.”

  They went through the words many more times. And as Chung-Cha put Min to bed that night, she heard the little girl saying them over and over.

  “I am Min. I am ten. Will you help me?”

  Chung-Cha closed her door, rested her forehead on the wood, and felt her chest and throat constrict and tears well up in her eyes.

  She said under her breath, “I am Yie Chung-Cha. I am young but old. Will you help me too?”

  Chapter

  70

  AFTER DINNER THAT NIGHT, ELEANOR Cassion met with Robie and Reel in the sitting room next to her bedroom.

  “I want to thank you,” she began.

  “For what?” asked Reel.

  “Whatever you said to Tommy really seemed to have made an impression. He told me this afternoon that he’s going to control his anger at school and work more on developing friends.”

  “He’s a really good kid, ma’am,” said Reel. “He’s just struggling with being part of the first family.”

  “I know this is only a small step and there will be challenges ahead, but it is something very positive, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Glad we could help,” said Reel.

  “I hope you’re enjoying yourselves. I don’t know where your last mission was, but I doubt it was as bucolic and relaxing as it is here.”

  “It was most definitely not,” said Robie.

  She looked at him. “Now, if my daughter gets to be too much for you, please let me know. She can be quite headstrong and believes that she’s already fully grown and knows everything.”

  “It’ll be fine, Mrs. Cassion,” said Robie. “She’s, well, she’s a very confident young woman.”

  “Yes, she is,” said Eleanor. “A little too confident, if you ask me.”

  A bit later Robie was strolling through the rear grounds of the property and stopped in front of a faded flowerbed that would soon be turned under. The air was brisk and he zipped up his jacket.

  He heard a door close behind him and turned around. Claire Cassion was advancing toward him. She had on another pair of skinny jeans and a long knitted sweater. In her front pocket he could see the outline of her smartphone. She had traded in the stilettos for clunky boots that were more suited to the wet grass. She gripped a mug of coffee with both hands as she walked up.

  “Nice night,” she said. She held the mug up to her face and then said, “Nothing like coffee on a crisp night in Nantucket.”

  “You like coffee?” said Robie.

  “My mother doesn’t like me to drink too much. But when I pull all-nighters studying, it helps. And when I go to college I’m sure it’ll be part of my diet.” She set the mug down on a table next to a swing and pulled out her phone. “Hey, would you mind taking a picture with me? I’d like to post it on my Facebook page.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” said Robie.

  “My mom won’t mind. Well, I’ll explain it to her.”

  “It’s not that. It’s just that my work for the government requires me, well, to remain in the background.”

  She put her phone away and her casual look and tone vanished. “Oh, I didn’t know that.”

  “It’s not something either I or Agent Reel can talk about.”

  She sat on the swing and motioned for him to sit next to her. Robie reluctantly did. She picked up her mug and looked over at a Secret Service agent who was patrolling the perimeter of the property. “Nothing like having armed guards with you all the time.”

  “But think of the stories you’ll have to tell. There really haven’t been that many presidents, or that many first daughters. You’re in pretty select company.”

  “I guess. It just doesn’t seem so, well, great right now.” She paused and studied him. “Have you known Agent Reel long?”

  “Pretty long. We trained together way back when.”

  “Is she good?”

  “She wouldn’t have lasted all these years if she wasn’t.”

  “Is she better than you?” Claire added playfully.

  Robie looked at her with a serious expression. “In some ways, yes, she is. She’s also saved my life. More than once.”

  Claire’s features turned serious again and she took a nervous sip of her coffee.

  He said, “So, you like your school?”

  “Yeah, I do. I’ve made some good friends.” She hesitated. “Mostly girls. The guys are—”

  “You said immature? Sorry, that may not change much even when they get older.”

  “It’s not so much that. But think about it. They have to come to the White House to pick me up for a date?”

  “I can imagine your father can be pretty intimidating for a young man.”

  “My dad’s a softie. It’s my mom who’s the tough one.”

  “I’m sure she’s just looking out for you.”

  “Yeah, well, sometimes she looks out too much.”

  “What about your brother?”

  “What about him?”

  “You two get along?”

  “He’s ten. I don’t have that much to do with him. He’s still just a kid, Will.”

  “He’s also going through a rough time. He ever try and talk to you about it?”

  “He would never come to me with something like that.”

  “Why?”

  “I mean, I’m almost six years older than he is. And he’s a boy. And I’m, well, I’m a woman.”

  “I guess there is sort of a big gap in age between the two of you.”

  Now Claire looked pained. “My mom, um, she had a miscarriage when I was about three.”