by Nick Svolos
Drummond got up to make some calls, and Kirk asked, “Assuming this checks out, what do you need?”
I had a little list prepared. “Well, all my gear’s stuck in Schadenfreude’s base. I have my passport, but nothing else, so I guess I need some ID. A laptop and a voice recorder, if you can swing it. Let’s see, what else? Oh, I want the names of the journalists GL has imprisoned. Call it a stretch goal, but I want to get them out. And finally, I need someone to drive my dad’s truck out to his place in Norco. I’ll give you the address.”
“Your dad’s truck? Why?”
“It’s parked downstairs. Did you know this place charges fifteen bucks an hour for parking? God knows how long I’ll be over there. I can’t afford that. Oh, yeah, here’s the ticket. I’ll need that validated.”
Kirk chuckled. “Alright, Mr. Conway. Suddenly I believe you. I don’t think a shape-shifting superspy would be worried about a parking tab.”
“It probably pays better than reporting. Besides, they get an expense account.”
***
Doughboy didn’t tell me what Protocol Seventy-Two actually was, but it certainly got the wheels turning. It only took an hour for the scientists at the LA Air Force Base to check out my story about the nanobots. While we waited, I didn’t have much to do other than watch Drummond and Kirk as they reported up their chains of command. After the presence of the nanobots was confirmed, they sent me off to a side room while they took a conference call with the President. Yeah, that one. As in: “Of the United States.” My mind boggled.
Eventually, I found myself whisked off to the airport in a limo, complete with a motorcycle cop escort, to a government jet where a replacement ID and the rest of the gear I requested was already waiting for me. They even got me a fresh set of press credentials from the Beacon. I wondered how they’d pulled that one off.
Assistant Secretary Kirk elected to accompany me. She explained that she and her assistants all had diplomatic immunity, so Glorious Leader wouldn’t mess with them. She figured she might be able to help out should things take a turn for the worse on the ground. I didn’t like it. We were still technically at war with these people. Having her and her team in-country added another variable that I’d have to worry about once I sprang The Angels. At least I didn’t have to worry about Drummond. To my delight, he had to remain behind. I wasn’t looking forward to the idea of being trapped with that guy for fourteen hours in a jet not much bigger than my apartment.
I’d say this for the State Department, they sure knew how to travel. It was going to be a long trip, but at least it was comfortable. I guess when you were doing things on the taxpayers’ dime, you didn’t have to cut corners.
After take-off, a flight attendant came around to take drink orders. I went ahead and ordered a scotch. While I waited, I unboxed the laptop and went to work on setting things up. I’d been putting this off for way too long. Fortunately, I keep most of my files in the cloud, and setting up the new machine wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. The plane had excellent WiFi.
Kirk dropped by while I was working. “So, how do you like the new computer, Mr. Conway?”
“It’s great. You wouldn’t believe the old relic I’ve been using. I think it’s made out of lead.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I hope you don’t mind, but there’s something I’ve been wondering about. You seem to be very close to The Angels.” She left the question unasked, but I got the drift.
“Wondering why a bunch of costumed vigilantes would let a guy like me hang around with them?”
“Something like that. I can tell you care about them. It was pretty obvious they care about you.”
I couldn’t say that it was because I was dating one of their people, so I decided to just play it off as a hack journalist who found a gold mine. “Well, it’s a little hard to explain. I mean, obviously, as a reporter, having access to them like I do pays off. I get the inside scoop and what-not. They give me access to their resources when I need them. They have a good commissary, so I can score a free meal when I’m over there. In return, I guess they see some benefit to having a guy like me to help them get their side of the story out. I use them, they use me. Works pretty well.”
She gave me a look. “You’re sticking to that story?”
“What, you don’t believe me?” I asked innocently.
“I’ve been in this business a while, Reuben. I can spot a cover story a mile away.”
I didn’t know exactly when we’d shifted to a first name basis, but I went along with it. “OK, what do you think the real story is, then, Janice?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. The one thing I do know is that journalists don’t typically argue tooth-and-nail to keep people they ‘just report on’ from walking into a trap. You were…passionate in your arguments. What’s more, they instantly believed you. I’ve never seen a room turn on me so fast. To tell the truth, I couldn’t believe they agreed to go after your little spiel.”
“They’re heroes. It’s what they do. Did you know they don’t get paid for what they do? Not even a stipend. Every penny that goes to The Angels goes to keeping the place running, community projects, helping fix up the stuff that gets wrecked when they get involved in something big. Sure, they can sleep and eat at the Tower for free, but most of them don’t. They all have day jobs. They don’t need to do what they do, but they all know that someone has to do it. So, they put on the costumes and go do stupid, dangerous stuff for the simple reason that they have the power to do it. They see it as their responsibility. Like I said, they’re heroes. For some reason, they consider me a friend. Not a sidekick, or an ally. A friend. It’s an honor. That’s the only way I can describe it.”
“That’s ... inspirational,” she said. “It explains a lot.”
“Yeah, they’re pretty amazing.”
“Not them. You.”
“Huh?”
“When you first refused to go to Pyongyang, I thought it was cowardice,” she explained. “Well-informed cowardice, but still, I thought you were chicken. But, here you are, with a crazy story about time travel, mad scientists and the end of the world, ready to throw yourself to the lions to save your friends. The only reward you’ve asked for is to get your parking validated. That’s not the sort of thing a coward would do, is it?”
“No, but it’s not like there’s a lot of options. Someone’s gotta do this, and it looks like it’s gotta be me.”
She nodded. “My point exactly. I think The Angels see you as one of them ... a hero.”
Geez, what was it with all this hero talk? My face felt hot. “I think you’re reading too much into it.”
“Really, Reuben? You’re about to do something stupid and dangerous simply because you know it needs to be done and you have the ability to do it. I believe you said it well. That’s what heroes do.”
***
The muted whine of hydraulics and deploying landing gear rattled through the plane, jolting me awake. The steward announced our final approach to Sunan International Airport, and I adjusted my watch to local time, 5:20 PM. Green fields flashed by outside my window and then we were on the ground, taxiing down the bumpy runway to the squat building that served as the airport’s only terminal. Attendants took my gear and we met a DPRK government representative at the gate who walked us over to customs. He was in a military uniform, but I had no idea what the rank insignia meant. He explained, through the translation service of one of Kirk’s staffers, that I would meet with Glorious Leader the next morning. Janice accompanied me through customs. Ambassadors didn’t have to go through the process, but I didn’t have their diplomatic immunity. I guess she wanted to stick with me to keep things from getting off track, and her presence certainly greased the wheels. Besides, I needed a translator. I could get by in Spanish, but I’d be lucky to order a beer in this country without kicking off an international incident.
Once we managed to get out of the airport, the military guy led us to a couple of cars that whisked us to the Yanggakdo Hotel
. A forty-story structure, it sat on an island in the middle of the Taedong river. Janice seemed a little disappointed at the choice of lodgings, explaining that it was a tourist hotel. It didn’t look that bad to me, at least from the outside, but then, I was accustomed to less luxurious accommodations. Even when the Beacon was footing the bill, I usually didn’t have the cash to cover much more than a Holiday Inn.
The room wasn’t that bad. It was warmer than I preferred, and there didn’t seem to be a thermostat, but the windows opened to let in the cool November air. Everything in the room was worn, the drapes and wallpaper were a bit faded, but at least it was all clean. I searched the room pretty carefully, wondering if Doughboy had already delivered the Force dose, but if he had, I couldn’t find it. To tell the truth, I had no idea how he was going to get the thing to me. He never explained that part of the plan. Maybe he didn’t know, either. I found that thought rather disconcerting.
I couldn’t leave the hotel without arranging a ‘guide’, but I was free to roam around within the property. Since travelers were pretty much trapped there, they had plenty of amenities to keep them busy, including several restaurants, a bowling alley, and a couple of bars, one of which served up a fairly decent locally-brewed ale. Fortunately, the bartender, like most of the hotel staff, spoke English. I wasn’t really tired, having slept for most of the trip over, so I had a couple more of the strong ales while watching a soccer match. Once it was over, I was buzzed enough to hopefully pass out, so I went back to my room, set my alarm and tried to get some sleep.
It didn’t work. Jet lag played hell with me most of the night, and I was actually relieved when the alarm finally went off. I showered, put on my suit, grabbed a couple of notebooks and the voice recorder, and took the long elevator ride down to meet Assistant Secretary Kirk and her entourage for breakfast. I found her at a table in the back of the restaurant, talking business with a couple of local government types when I arrived, so I went to the buffet table to give them time to finish up.
“Good morning, Mr. Conway. I hope you slept well,” she said when I finally joined her.
“Slept like a baby. Woke up crying every two hours,” I joked. “Seriously, I didn’t get much sleep at all. Probably shouldn’t have sacked out on the plane.”
“I should have warned you. People usually do better if they just stay awake for a full day until the local night time rolls around.”
“Don’t you find yourself all loopy when you’re dealing with diplomatic stuff? Seems like you’d need to be pretty sharp.”
She took a sip of her coffee. “Caffeine. The diplomat’s best friend.”
“I hear ya. So, what should I be expecting?”
“Well, you’ll be heading to the Ryongsong Residence. It’s a little north of the city. I’ve never been there, but I’m told it’s quite lovely. It’s supposed to be a great honor that Glorious Leader’s meeting with you in his primary residence, so you might want to be suitably impressed. We won’t be allowed to go with you. Apparently he wants to meet with you alone.” She paused to collect her thoughts. “Let’s see. Diplomat 101. Always address him as Glorious Leader, or ‘Your Excellency’. If he offers to shake hands, shake hands, but don’t grip harder than he does, although, in his case that won’t be a problem. If he bows instead, you should do the same. Laugh at his jokes, even if they aren’t funny.”
“I’m interviewing him, not dating him.”
“I’m just trying to keep you out of trouble, Reuben.”
“I know. Sorry. Sometimes I can’t resist.”
“This isn’t one of those times. Glorious Leader is trouble. I don’t know why he’s so adamant on being interviewed by you, and I’ll be honest, that worries me. He’s unpredictable. It seems like a lot of trouble to go through to add another journalist to his collection of prisoners, so he must be up to something. Oh, speaking of which.” She fished a piece of paper out of her portfolio and slid it over to me. It had five names on it.
“Ah, the imprisoned journalists,” I said as I examined the names. “Thanks. Are any of them actually spies?”
She shook her head. “No, but there are limits to what they tell me. As far as I know, they’re all legit. Would it matter if they were?”
“I’m a little ashamed to admit it, but yeah, it does. Spies know what they’re getting into, and I figure you guys would have worked out a swap for them by now. Journalists, on the other hand, well, nobody really looks out for us but us, you know? You’re not gonna trade a perfectly good spy for one of us. All we can do is dump bad press on GL’s regime, but it doesn’t work. We just get forgotten. If I can get them out, I gotta at least try. I owe it to them.”
“I understand. But I have to warn you, be careful how you ask. Things like this are delicate. If you ask for this before you ask for The Angels, it will look like you’re making escalating demands. If you do it after, it might be taken as a fallback position and you’ll lose your chance to free the team. Damn, I wish I could be there to help.”
“Don’t worry about it. I know why I’m here. The team’s the primary objective. Like I said, the reporters are a stretch goal.”
“Good. And, good luck. Your ride’s here.”
I looked up to see two men in DPRK army uniforms walking our way. I forced down a sudden urge to make a break for it and grab a cab to the airport. Instead, I took a last sip of my coffee, stood up and grinned down at Janice Kirk. “Thanks for the crash course in diplomacy. See ya on the other side.”
I wished I could have come up with a better exit line, but the fact was, I was just too damned scared to think of one.
XVI
I found Ryongsong Residence quite lovely, indeed, a fact that my English-speaking escorts reinforced several times during our short trip. What wasn’t so lovely was the sheer volume of military force surrounding the place. We stopped at several checkpoints along the way, with armed soldiers who carefully examined my credentials each time. According to my hosts, the place took up about six or seven square miles. What wasn’t covered with lush green hills and parkland, punctuated by a few mountains, was covered with anti-aircraft guns, tanks and drilling soldiers. I didn’t know what sort of threat they were worried about, but it made for one hell of a ‘Keep Off The Lawn’ sign.
Eventually, the driver parked and we got out, the two goons falling in on either side of me, and walked across a wide lawn to a magnificent mansion straight out of the pages of Better Lairs and Hideouts. I’m kidding. That magazine doesn’t actually exist, but after Dr. Schadenfreude’s base and now this, well, I was thinking maybe it should. There was probably a pretty big market for that sort of thing.
I didn’t know much about architectural styles, but this place kind of looked like the sort of home you’d expect a Miami drug kingpin to build. Set into a hillside, it had lots of big windows to drink in the amazing view, several patios, ornate marble columns surrounding long marble stairways, the whole nine yards. I was no judge, but for all its ostentatious display of wealth and power, I thought it looked pretty good.
At the top of the last flight of stairs stood His Excellency the Supreme Leader of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, in all his…glory. The man was about six feet tall, built like a natural, and dressed neck-to-toe in a crimson skinsuit with gold accents. From his shoulders, a four-foot gold cape flowed regally in the breeze. A red beret and domino mask completed the outfit. Glorious Leader stood in a classic power pose, with a wide stance and arms crossed, smiling benevolently down on us as we climbed the stairs.
All that cardio work paid off. The steps weren’t much of an issue for me, but the two goons were feeling it by the time we got to the top. I have to admit, I increased my pace a little, just to see them struggle to keep up. Yeah, it was a little childish, but I’d never made any pretense of being particularly mature. Besides, I didn’t want to show weakness before this guy.
Glorious Leader stuck out his hand and smiled. “Mr. Conway, I’m very glad to meet you. Thanks for coming.” His
English was perfect and his grip was firm but calibrated to normal human standards.
“Thank you for your invitation, Glorious Leader,” I answered diplomatically. “Your people have been most welcoming.”
“Glad to hear it. Come on in; I’m eager to get started. Say, would you like anything? My guy makes a Mimosa like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Some coffee would be great. I’m still adjusting to the time change.”
“You got it.” He nodded to a butler, who scurried off to do his master’s bidding. Glorious Leader led me over to an office situated off a luxurious sitting area. The interior walls were all done up in richly-stained redwood paneling, covered with photos of him with various heads-of-state. They were mostly leaders notable for their unfriendliness towards the United States, of course, but it was an impressive collection nonetheless. One of the photos showed GL shaking hands with a red-skinned man with a forehead big enough to sell advertising on.
“I didn’t realize you knew Philodox,” I commented. He was a Russian supervillain, a genius on a par with Dr. Schadenfreude. The two had something of a bitter rivalry going, always trying to outdo each other. It was a toss-up as to which one had the greater intellect. I wondered what he’d think about Schadenfreude’s latest scheme.
“Yeah, we met at a conference in Switzerland. Great guy. Plays a mean game of chess.” The dictator sat down in a comfortable armchair beneath a portrait of himself, waving me over to the chair next to him. An older man in a DPRK Army uniform, weighed down with medals, ribbons and pretty much every other form of military decoration imaginable took a seat across from us. “This is General Ahn, the Marshal of the Armies and my chief advisor. I hope you don’t mind if he joins us in these sessions. As you know, there’s a lot of tension surrounding recent events, and I can’t afford to be out of the loop should something come up. He’s my trusted aide, and we can speak freely around him.”
