Hiding Pandora

by Mercy Amare

  “So, if North Korea is after you, why did the CIA hide you in South Korea?” Winston asks. “I mean, why would they want you so close?”

  “They hid me there successfully for twelve years. I’m pretty sure that South Korea was the last place on earth they would’ve expected to find me,” I say. “I mean, I’ve been in Massachusetts three days, and they’ve already found me. I don’t understand how.”

  Just as the words leave my mouth, there is a buzzing noise, and the door opens up. My father walks in, and the door shuts behind him.

  “Appa!” I run over to him, throwing my arms around him. It’s been way too long since I’ve seen my dad. Four months to be exact. Not since I left South Korea.

  “Baby, I’m sorry,” he tells me. “Are you okay?”

  I back away from him. “I’m fine.”

  “I missed you so much,” he says.

  “Me, too.”

  “I wish we weren’t meeting under these circumstances,” he says. Dad looks behind me, and frowns, seeing Winston for the first time. “I’m guessing that this is the boy you were telling me about... Winston, is it?”

  “Yeah,” I answer, biting my lip. “Winston, this is my appa, Christopher Scott. Appa, this is Winston Graham.”

  “He’s your boyfriend?” Dad asks.

  “No,” I answer, shaking my head. “He’s... a friend.”

  I decide not to remind Dad that Winston is my sseomnam. I don’t think right now is a good time.

  “You know you’re involved now,” Dad says.

  “Yes, sir,” Winston says.

  “How much does he know?” Dad asks, turning his attention back to me.

  “Everything,” I answer, avoiding my dad’s gaze.

  “Everything?” he questions.

  “My name. My old cover in South Korea. That a group of terrorists from North Korea are after me. That you’re in the CIA,” I say, then take a breath before looking Dad in the eyes.

  “Fuck,” Dad says. “Layla, why would you do that? What am I supposed to do now?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tell him. It just kind of happened,” I say. “I mean, he figured a lot of it out on his own.”

  “This boy is Winston Graham. His father is the senator of Massachusetts. It’s not like we can just put him into hiding,” he says. “Now we are going to have to get the senator involved, which means exposing more people.”

  “Appa, joesonghabnida,” I say, apologizing to him. What else am I supposed to say? I screwed up in a very big way. But it’s not like I can do anything about it now.

  “No, I’m sorry,” Dad says. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I shouldn’t have expected you to keep such a big secret. You’ve kept it for twelve years, and after everything that happened in South Korea, I can’t blame you for wanting to share your burden with somebody. The situation is not ideal, but we will manage. The CIA has already contacted the senator, and he is on his way here now.”

  There is another buzzing noise, and the door opens. A blonde girl walks in.

  “Sir, the senator is here,” she says, in a very professional voice.

  “We’ll be right up,” Dad tells her, and she walks away, leaving the door open.

  “Oh, God,” I hear Winston say. “This isn’t going to be good.”

  I have to agree with him.

  The senator is going to hate me. I mean, I already knew he would hate me because I’m Korean, but he’s going to hate me even more because I put his son in danger. This is definitely not how I pictured meeting Winston’s dad.

  Winston walks over to me and grabs my hand. I look at him, and I know he’s doing it because he needs moral support, but so do I. This situation sucks. I hate that I put him in it.

  Dad looks at our intertwined hands and frowns.

  Thankfully, he doesn’t comment.

  “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get this over with.”

  My thoughts exactly.

  7 a.m.

  Torture training.

  As soon as we walk up the stairs, leading to the main level of the CIA headquarters, I spot a man with dark brown hair standing there, surrounded by a lot of people in suits. I’m guessing secret service.

  Winston lets go of my hand, and immediately I know this guy is his dad.

  Winston looks just like his dad, aside from his blond hair. The guy is tall, like Winston, and he has the same whiskey colored eyes. But it’s more than just his looks. It’s his facial expressions, and the way he stands. He oozes confidence, much like Winston. Except right now, Winston doesn’t look too confident. In fact, he looks afraid. Of course, I’d probably be afraid, too, if this man was my dad. Just looking at this guy makes me nervous.

  “Senator Graham,” Dad says, nodding at him.

  “What is going on?” the senator asks. “Why is my son at CIA headquarters instead of at school?”

  Another guy walks up beside us. I don’t recognize him, but he’s tall. Like, really tall. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s about 195 cm. He’s got dark hair and blue eyes. He’s hot, and looks way too young to be in the CIA. He only looks about eighteen or nineteen.

  “Winston is here because he is safe here,” the boy says.

  “Who are you?” the senator asks.

  “Damien Olsen,” he answers.

  “You don’t look old enough to be out of high school,” the senator says, then looks at me. “Who are you?”

  “Layla Scott,” I answer.

  “And you’re the reason my boy is in this situation?” he asks, not taking his eyes off me.

  I swallow hard.

  How can Winston stand to have this guy as a dad? He’s scary.

  “It’s not her fault,” Winston says, defending me.

  “It’s a little bit my fault,” I say, owning up to my mistake. “The CIA told me I would be safe here, and I believed them. Winston was with me when the terrorist group showed up at the school. I panicked. I know I should’ve left Winston at the school. He would’ve been safe there.”

  “Actually, we’re not so sure about that,” Damien says. “We assume that more will be coming to New Haven Academy to find your whereabouts.”

  “They will,” Dad confirms. “And from what Layla told me, Winston and she were close. It wouldn’t be hard for them to figure that out. Winston absolutely would not have been safe there.”

  “You are... close?” Senator Graham asks, looking between Winston and me.

  “Ne, sseom lada,” I say, trying not to let him see my fear.

  “What?” he asks, tilting his head.

  “Was I speaking Korean again?” I ask.

  Winston nods.

  “Joesonghabnida,” I say, bowing slightly.

  “She said sorry,” Winston says, translating for me.

  “Why aren’t you speaking English?” Senator Graham asks me.

  “She speaks Korean when she’s mad or nervous,” Winston asks for me.

  I nod, agreeing with him.

  Though, I really didn’t want to admit that I’m nervous to Winston’s dad.

  “So, you’re Korean?” the senator asks me.

  “Ne,” I answer. “I mean, yes.”

  “She’s American,” Dad clarifies. “I’m her father. Her mother was from Korea. She’s spent the last twelve years in South Korea. She was in hiding there. The group of terrorist found her, so we brought her back to America. We thought she’d be safe. I don’t understand how they found her.”

  “Right. And what about Winston? New Haven Academy is the best school in Massachusetts. What am I supposed to do now?” Senator Graham asks.

  “Actually, we think it’s best if we hide Winston,” Damien says.

  “No. Absolutely not,” Senator Graham says. “My boy is in his junior year of high school. Right now, his education is most important, especially if he is going to get into Harvard. I’m not going to let him throw that away. Especially not for some Asian girl.”

  “Quite frankly, sir, you don’t have a choice,” Damien sa
ys.

  “And one more racist remark towards my daughter, and I will make sure you never get elected again,” Dad threatens him. “I think you’re forgetting that you’re at CIA headquarters. I could easily ruin you.”

  “How could you ruin me?” the senator asks.

  “Three words,” Dad says. “Harvard. Junior year.”

  Senator Graham’s face goes white. “How do you know about that?”

  “When my daughter told me she was friends with Winston, I did some digging around,” he says.

  My face grows warm.

  Oh, my God. I am never going to get a boyfriend. My dad is going to do a background search on every guy I meet, and his extended family. I swear; nobody will ever be good enough for him.

  “My father and I don’t share the same views,” Winston tells my dad. “I mean, I don’t care that Layla is half Korean. I’m not racist.”

  “Winston!” his dad says, scolding him.

  “Let’s get back to the point,” Damien says, trying to calm everybody down. “Winston isn’t safe being Winston Graham. Honestly, at this point, we are not sure that Winston and Layla are safe anywhere. We’re going to put them into hiding at a special CIA location.”

  “And where am I supposed to say my son is?” the senator asks.

  “We are working out the details,” Damien says. “In a few days, you will be doing a press release, saying your son was accepted into a special boarding school. If anything, it will help your son get into Harvard.”

  “This terrorist group... what country is behind it?” Senator Graham asks.

  “North Korea,” Dad answers. “Officially, the group is not associated with the North Korean government. They are denying any association with the group.”

  “Why is North Korea after your daughter?” he asks.

  “That is private information,” Damien says. “And you, sir, are not in a place to know.”

  “Like hell, I’m not,” the senator says. “My son is officially involved. I deserve to know all the details.”

  “You don’t have security clearance,” Dad says. “And unless you want to be put through torture training, then you will never have clearance.”

  The senator curses.

  “I will do whatever it takes to protect my daughter. If you had any sense, you’d realize that I’m doing the same for your son.”

  Wait.

  My dad knows why they’re after me?

  Of course, he knows.

  Why can’t I know? It’s happening to me. I want to ask, but definitely not in front of the senator. My dad has a lot of explaining to do.

  And torture training? Seriously? My dad has had torture training?

  “Sir,” Damien says to the senator, “I promise you that we will do whatever it takes to protect your son. I will see to it myself.”

  “A teenager will be looking after the safety of my child,” Senator Graham says sarcastically. “Yes, that makes me feel so much better.”

  “Damien Olsen is one of our best agents,” Dad says, defending him. “His parents were both in the CIA, and they died when he was thirteen while on a mission. The CIA recruited him, and he trained seven days a week for four years. He’s been a field agent for two years now, and I would trust him with my life. Hell, I am trusting him with my life. I know that he will get Layla to safety.”

  My dad’s words warm my heart.

  Senator Graham still doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t have a say in the matter.

  Winston and I are going into hiding.

  9 a.m.

  Worse ways to die.

  My dad and I only have time for a quick goodbye before I am put on a private jet with Damien and Winston.

  I hate flying. I’ve only done it a handful of times in my life, and each time I always have anxiety. The worst was my flight from South Korea to America. I was in the air for such a long time, and I was feeling extremely claustrophobic on the small jet.

  Winston is sound asleep beside me. Neither of us slept well the night before, but I’m too wound up to sleep.

  “You a nervous flyer?” Damien asks me.

  I release my grip on my seat. “A bit, yeah.”

  “I used to be, too,” he says.

  “How did you get over it?” I ask.

  “Truthfully, I’m not over it,” he answers. “But there are worst ways to die than in a plane crash.”

  “Your parents... what happened to them?”

  “They were on an assignment in Iran and they were caught,” Damien answers. “They were tortured for seven days before they were beheaded.”

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him.

  The truth is I worry about my dad a lot. Something bad could easily happen to him. I don’t know what I would do without him. He’s the only parent I have left.

  “I know your mother was killed,” he says. “So you know how loss feels.”

  “At least I still have my dad,” I say. “So, that is why you joined the CIA?”

  “Yes,” Damien says. “I found my parent’s killers, and I took care of them.”

  “Is Damien Olsen your real name?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “No. I have a cover story, just like you. Though, what I just told you is the truth.”

  I nod, understanding. I know the CIA has their secrets, and I only know a few of them. Not enough to make me a target. Though, someday, I will join the CIA. I wonder if I will have to do torture training.

  “So, where are you taking us?” I ask.

  “I can’t answer that,” Damien says. “But you will be in America, somewhere underground. I am taking you to Agent Kim, and she will be taking you guys to the final location. I know that you worked closely with her this summer.”

  “Yes,” I say. “You won’t be coming with us?”

  “No. I have to get back to work. My job is to help your father. We are going to take this terrorist group down, once, and for all. I promise you, Layla, one day you will be safe,” he says with conviction, and I know he’s telling me the truth. Or, he thinks he’s telling the truth. He truly believes I will be safe one day. I hope he’s right.

  “Thank you,” I tell him.

  He grins, and I lean back in my seat. I feel better after talking to him.

  He’s right—there are much worse ways to die.

  3 p.m.

  Together.

  Damien dropped us off with Agent Kim somewhere in Washington State. From there, we got in a car. The windows in the back were blacked out, so I had no idea where we are going. We’ve been in the car for two hours now, and we are showing no signs of stopping.

  “I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” I tell Winston.

  “It’s not your fault,” he says. “I wanted to know. I was the one who pushed you.”

  “Yeah, but I knew better than to tell you. I could’ve gotten you killed.”

  “But I’m okay,” he says. “If I wasn’t here with you right now, you would be alone. I hate that you’re in this situation, but I’m glad I can be here with you.”

  “Do you still feel like you’re in a Bond movie?” I ask.

  He laughs. “Well, I definitely don’t feel like James Bond, right now. Somebody else is protecting us. If anything, your dad is James Bond.”

  “Don’t let him hear you say that. His ego is big enough.”

  Winston looks at me, with a big smile on his face. “To be honest, this is all kind of exciting to me. I like being here with you. I know that we only just met, but I’ve never felt like this before.”

  I feel my face grow warm. “I like you, too.”

  “You and I are in this together.”

  “Together,” I agree.

  Maybe being stuck in a secret underground facility won’t be so bad. At least Winston will be there. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t ask for a better “prison mate.” And who knows, maybe Damien is right, and this will all be over soon. Then I can finally have a normal life.

  Well, as normal as it can get for a CIA agent’s daught
er.

  Tuesday, September 24

  Damien Olsen.

  I step into the CIA headquarters early on Tuesday morning.

  I am not surprised to learn that I was right, the terrorists did come back to New Haven Academy. A kid is missing, though I’m sure he’s dead by now. I fear this is just the beginning. These terrorists won’t hesitate to kill everybody in that school.

  “Damien,” I hear my name, and look up at my superior, Christopher Scott. “We have a way for you to get into the school.”

  I perk up at this.

  We are working on getting a few agents into the school. We found out that one of the teachers at New Haven Academy has a past in the porn industry. It will be easy for one of us to fill that position. But it’s different for me. I’m only nineteen, and I need another way in. We don’t want to make it obvious, because that might scare the terrorist group away.

  “Preston Rivera’s daughter is attending New Haven Academy,” Christopher explains. “Jinger Rivera. Apparently, the kid that went missing came to her before he went missing, and we believe that she may be the next target. Conveniently, Preston Rivera came to us looking for a bodyguard for his kid. You are going to be her bodyguard. We are planting you in the school as a student. Only Preston and Jinger Rivera know that you’re really her bodyguard, and they don’t know that you’re a CIA agent. You already know your cover story. Your job is to get close to this Jinger girl and find out everything she knows about Brody’s disappearance.”

  “I can do that,” I say, confidently.

  “Jinger is sixteen years old. She’s had a pretty rough life, despite having a billionaire father. It might take her a while to trust you, but I know that this assignment will be easy for you,” he says.

  Babysitting a sixteen-year-old girl? It’s a piece of cake compared to some of the assignments I’ve been on.

  “You can count on me,” I tell him.

  Finally, I am going to bring this terrorist group down.

  Christopher Scott helped me take down the terrorists who killed my family, and now I am going to do the same for him. Besides that, his daughter, Layla Scott, deserves a normal life.