him; only Koreans made very good tea.
“Some of the people who helped you escape want to talk to you,” said Thera. “You may have information that could help save lives.”
“I do,” said Ch’o. “I have much information.”
“Will you speak to them?”
“Yes.”
“They should be here shortly.”
Ch’o spent two hours simply talking about his background, telling the CIA debriefer and the others where he had gone to school, what he had studied, the ministries he had served. Thera and Rankin listened, and occasionally the translator explained particular words and phrases, but for the most part, only Jimenez and Ch’o spoke.
Both grew slightly impatient as the conversation continued. Ch’o wanted to talk about the toxic wastes; Jimenez wanted to find out just how valuable the scientist really might be. Neither man, though, felt he could change the course of the interview, and so they plodded on, concentrating on Ch’o’s schooling and research interests until a chief petty officer came in and said it was almost time for lunch.
“Let’s all freshen up and get something to eat,” suggested Thera. “And then find a more comfortable place to talk.”
“What is ‘freshen up’?” asked Ch’o.
“Take a break,” she told him.
“Yes, very good.”
“We could all have lunch together,” suggested Jimenez.
“I think the doctor needs a break,” said Thera. “Let’s get some air and move around a bit.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” said Rankin.
Jimenez didn’t agree, but arguing in front of the subject was an even worse idea, so he got up without saying anything else.
A half hour later, the psychologist and translator met Ch’o at his cabin, and they went for a walk on the flight deck. Thera, Rankin, and Jimenez met in Rankin’s cabin to discuss what to do next.
“Definitely an important scientist,” said Jimenez. “But how important? We’re going to have to bring in experts to talk to him, people who can understand the technical stuff and know the history of the bomb program. I don’t have the background to question him; he lost me on his dissertation.”
“Yeah,” said Rankin.
“How long are we staying on this ship? I’d like to get someplace more comfortable, flexible.”
Rankin shrugged. Corrigan had told him they were “on hold” until the bosses figured it out.
“Where does he go after this?” Thera asked.
“Back to the States,” said Jimenez. “First to a military base where we can keep him secure, then maybe set him up in an apartment when he’s feeling comfortable. Your people should be working on the logistics right now.”
Jimenez took a gulp of his coffee. “Next thing we do this afternoon, we find out if he has family in North Korea. Who they are, where, etc.”
“Why?” said Rankin. “We’re not going to be able to protect them if he does.”
Jimenez grinned. “He doesn’t know that.”
“He’s not stupid,” said Thera.
“I didn’t say he was. It’s leverage.”
“You can’t lie to him like that.”
Jimenez rolled his eyes.
“You have to ask him about the pollution,” said Thera. “He’s worried about people dying.”
“We’ll get to that,” said Jimenez.
“When?”
“This is a long process. I have to build up a rapport. You know? I’ve done this before.”
“I’m just telling you what he’s concerned about.”
“Don’t tell me my job, all right?” said Jimenez. “Just because you shook your bootie at him doesn’t mean you’re his friend, right?”
Without thinking, Thera delivered a perfect roundhouse to Jimenez’s jaw. It caught him completely by surprise; he flew into the nearby bulkhead and tumbled to the deck.
Rankin sprung over and grabbed her, dragging her outside. Thera, slightly stunned by the intensity of her own anger, didn’t resist.
“All right, settle down,” Rankin told her. “Settle down.”
“I don’t have to take that.”
“Yeah.” Rankin didn’t like Jimenez either. “But easy. All right?”
Jimenez, blood dripping from the side of his mouth, came to the door of the cabin.
“What the fuck was that for?”
“For being an asshole,” Thera told him.
“Well you turned him. That’s all I meant.”
“I didn’t
“You were out of line,” Rankin told Jimenez.
“Look, either you let me do my job, or get somebody else.”
“You can do your job. Just don’t be a jerk about it.” Rankin looked at Thera, who looked like she was about to unload another haymaker. “Let’s get some air up top.”
Regret mixed with anger as Thera walked down the corridor. They took a turn and found themselves on the hangar deck. Mechanics were looking over a Harrier Jumpjet a few yards away.
“I’m sorry I hit him,” said Thera.
“He deserved to be hit.”
Thera felt her arms shaking. She was still wound up from the mission, too wound up.
“Let’s go up and have a cigarette,” suggested Rankin. “If I can remember how the hell to get up there.”
“It’s back through here,” she told him, leading the way.
How had she become so attached to Ch’o, worried about him? She shouldn’t be. He was just… Well, he was just a defector with information that might be useful.
When you were on a mission, you had to remember things were black and white, good and evil. She was on the good guys’ side. He was on the evil side. Even if he was useful, at the end of the day, he was still on the wrong team.
Except she didn’t feel that way. She could see the other North Koreans like that, the ones who would have arrested her or shot her or whatever. The guard who’d smoked with her, the officious jerk in South Korea — they were all on the other team; she didn’t feel any sympathy for them. But the scientist was different.
Why? Because he’d been nice to her?
Because he was concerned about innocent people being harmed.
“Look, maybe we should let Jimenez do his thing by himself,” said Rankin as they reached the fresh air. “We were just sitting there anyway. Like bumps on a log. We listen to what the shrink says, and if he thinks Ch’o’s cool, then we let Jimenez take it.”
“You’re right,” said Thera abruptly. “I’d like to get the hell out of here anyway.”
20
“So, who do you think would use a bug like that?” Ferguson asked the professor.
Wan scowled and turned it over.
“Very new. Two years old, design,” said the spy buff. “Not government, though.”
