The two men continued speculating as to North Korea’s motives, but several minutes later Colonel Michaels returned to CRCC with news that validated Kurtzman’s initial suspicions.
“Your cousin just contacted his business partners in Seoul,” Michaels explained once Tokaido got off the phone. “His family’s being held in North Korea along with three other friends of his. The North’s asking for ransom.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Changchon Rehabilitation Center, North Korea
Men and women, especially in the same family, were normally not allowed to share quarters at the concentration camp, but one of Lim Seung-Whan’s terms had been that he be allowed to be with his wife and daughter. After negotiating with Lieutenant Corporal Yulim and making the ransom call to his people in Seoul, Lim had been reunited with U-Pol and Na-Li in one of the barracks. His daughter had already fallen asleep on the straw-covered floorboards and Lim stroked her head as he spelled out the rest of the terms to his wife. U-Pol was exhausted, as well, but she forced herself to stay awake, looking for hope in her husband’s words.
“They wanted me to do a straight wire transfer of funds to an offshore bank account, but I refused,” Seung-Whan told her. “There was no leverage for me in doing that, so I told them it would have to be cash and that it would only be turned over once we were safely across the border.”
U-Pol nodded. “At Panmunjom?”
“Yes,” Seung-Whan told her. “The Joint Security Area. It will be our best chance of making sure nothing goes wrong.”
Seung-Whan saw the fatigue in his wife’s eyes so he quickly laid out the rest of the agreement he’d hammered out with Yulim. In addition to the cash ransom, the KPA would be allowed to keep Lim’s yacht. In exchange, Lim would say that he’d unwittingly ventured across the Northern Limit Line and concede that the North Koreans had been within their rights to seize the boat and take them into custody “for routine questioning.” Further, he would offer a public apology for having prompted the seizure and heightening tensions between the two countries. Instead of a ransom, the forfeiture of the boat and the cash payment would be referred to as a conciliatory gesture.
“No one is going to believe any of that,” U-Pol said. “At least, not on our side of the border.”
“I know that,” Seung-Whan said. “Everyone in Seoul will know it was kidnapping and that North Korea is just trying to save face as they line their pockets. Our stature will not be ruined.”
“I don’t care about our stature,” U-Pol said. She wiped back the tears welling in her eyes. “I just want this to be over with.”
“It will be,” Seung-Whan said. “Soon enough.”
“The others will be freed, too?” U-Pol said, glancing across the barracks at Ji Pho-Hwa and his son, Rha-Tyr, who were fast asleep on the floor along with the eighty other male prisoners crammed into the shabby barracks. Yulim had denied Seung-Whan’s request to allow Lhe-Kan to stay with her husband and son; she’d been forced to stay in one of the other barracks with the other women.
“Yes,” Seung-Whan assured his wife. “We’re all going home together and then we can start to put this all behind us.”
U-Pol smiled briefly, but when she looked around the barracks at the other prisoners, the smile faded.
“They won’t be so fortunate,” she whispered sadly.
“I feel for them, but there is only so much I can do,” Seung-Whan said. He reached out and wiped a tear from his wife’s cheek, then motioned to a spot on the floor next to their daughter. “Go ahead, get some sleep. It’s been a hard day.”
“What about you?” U-Pol asked.
“In a while,” he told her. He kissed the tip of his fingers, then pressed them to U-Pol’s lips. She reached up and clutched his hand, squeezing it tightly.
“I love you, Seung-Whan.”
“I love you, too,” he told her. “Now sleep.”
U-Pol eased down beside her daughter. Na-Li stirred slightly as her mother put an arm around her, then resumed her faint snoring. Within moments U-Pol was asleep, as well. Seung-Whan stared at them, feeling a renewed sense of shame for having placed them in this position. He vowed that he would spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to them. For now, however, he had to hope things would work out. There was still much to be done before he and his loved ones would truly be free again, and he knew there was always the possibility that things could go wrong.
Lim had never been a religious man, but as he looked past his family and tried to catch a glimpse of the night sky through the slats in the barracks wall, the Korean, for the first time since he was a child, found himself praying.