He nodded while shifting his attention to the nighttime sky. The alabaster moon, tucked behind a bank of clouds, occasionally showed itself, lighting the coconut palms that dominated the tropical landscape. The temperature was in the mid-eighties, a pleasant change from the harsh Pittsburgh winter that Payne was used to facing in December.
As if reading his mind, Kia said, “The temperature here is remarkably consistent, averaging roughly eighty-two every month. Strangely, the nighttime temperature is three to five degrees warmer than the afternoon temperature. Mostly because of all the daytime rain.”
“A translator and a weather girl. It looks like the colonel found me a winner.”
“Actually, sir, I found Colonel Harrington.” The jeep squeaked to a halt as she stopped outside the airport command center. “I was born on a U.S. Army base near Seoul, so I know the language and people of South Korea better than most. I realized an old-school soldier like the colonel wouldn’t consider a woman for this job unless he was talked into it. So I called in every favor I possibly could for the opportunity to join your team.”
“You did what?”
“I called in several favors—”
“Hold up! Let me get this straight. You’re saying you’re not used to fieldwork.”
“No, sir. But—”
“Tell me, Choi, what are you used to doing?”
“Translating.”
“I know, but where?”
“Behind a desk.”
Payne groaned as he climbed out of the jeep and walked toward the building. It was bad enough that he was asked to run a mission with no prep time, but to assign him a rookie in such a critical role? What the hell was Harrington thinking? Her inexperience was going to cause a whole new set of problems.
“Sir,” she pleaded as she hustled after him, “I know this isn’t what you were expecting, but I promise I won’t let you down.”
“Glad to hear it, Choi. Because if you do, there’s a good chance we’ll all end up dead.”
6
Saturday, December 30
Jeju Island, South Korea
The seventy-mile boat ride across Jeju Strait was eerily silent, partially due to the trio’s jet lag and partially from a lack of camaraderie. Their flight to Japan had gone smoothly, as did their trip to the southern tip of the Korean Peninsula. Good weather, no red tape, few delays. Kia showed off her translating skills at the Tokyo airport, easily switching from Japanese to Korean. According to her file, she was able to speak seven languages and read three more, which was a remarkable feat—especially since Payne and Jones had worked with some Americans who could barely speak English. Still, one issue gnawed at them: how would Kia react under pressure? It was one thing to ask a stewardess for more honey-roasted nuts in a foreign language; it was quite another to lie to an armed guard who was one flick of his finger away from blowing off your head.
In the field, that was the skill that made a good translator.
Normally Payne and Jones, who had reputations for cracking jokes and encouraging levity on their squad, would be in the midst of playful banter, but neither of them was in a talkative mood. Payne occupied his time studying the approaching coast through binoculars, while Jones sat upright in the rear of the boat’s cabin, catching a nap. His body swayed to the rhythm of the pounding waves. Left and right, back and forth, up and down. Never opening his eyes and never appearing unsteady. It was a skill he had developed in the MANIACs—sleeping whenever and wherever he could.
Kia, on the other hand, was anxious. She had taken Dramamine before they shoved out to sea, and so far her stomach had cooperated. At least in terms of seasickness. Unfortunately, the medication did little to quell the anxiety that was raging in her gut. So much was riding on this mission, much more than she was willing to admit. If she screwed up ... hell, she didn’t even want to think about it. Dwelling on the possibilities would only make her more nauseous.
The trio’s silence continued until their boat approached the northern end of the island. Jones sensed their change in speed and opened his eyes. “Are we there yet?”
“Looks that way,” Payne said as he secured one of the ropes to the back of the boat. “My guess is that’s our welcoming party.”
An Asian-American soldier, wearing blue jeans and a thick sweater, met them at the dock with a midsize SUV. He didn’t salute and warned them about displaying any military behavior outside of the cave. Don’t use ranks. Don’t use names. And don’t tell anyone, including the soldiers who were guarding the site, why they were actually there. Only a select few—those inside the cave—knew what was going on, and it was imperative that things stayed that way.