The Target(120)
They sat around an old table in what had once been the kitchen of the house, Chung-Cha observed, from the battered sink and rusty stove. They all spoke in swift, terse Korean, reporting what they had learned. The chief point was that a location for the attack had now been determined.
“They will be traveling to a place called Nantucket,” said one of the men to Chung-Cha. “Our comrade Bae overheard this.”
“He said nothing to me about it when we last met.”
“It needed to be confirmed. Now it has been.”
He showed her a map. “It is a small island just off the coast of their state of Massachusetts in the Atlantic Ocean. It is gotten to by plane or by ferry. They will be going there in two weeks. Just the wife and the two children with their guards and their staff. We know the house where they will be staying. It is near the small downtown area. It is old and historic and it provides for some opportunities.”
“Do you have a schedule of events for them?” asked Chung-Cha.
“A preliminary one obtained through various sources. We are working hard to firm it up.”
“We will need to get there before them,” said Chung-Cha. “To allay suspicion.”
“Undoubtedly. It is not the summer season when many tourists go. At that time the servant class comes from Africa and Russia and other eastern European countries to take care of the wealthy Americans who often have second homes there.”
“Second homes?” asked Chung-Cha.
“These rich Americans often have more than one home. They travel between them and enjoy the fruits of their greed and exploitation of the poor.”
“I see.”
“During this time of year those servant people are gone. Fortunately, there are Asians who work there now, and Hispanics. Americans, as you know, cannot tell a Chinese from a Japanese, much less where we come from. They are ignorant and superior that way, as you well know. The world revolves around them, the filth. We have two operatives there right now. They will lay the groundwork for us. We will have jobs on different parts of the island. Not all of us. Some will be kept in reserve, such as yourself, Chung-Cha. You will come out when the moment to strike is upon us.”
“And do we know when and where that moment is?”
“We will soon determine it,” said the man, “and every detail will be gone over until we will see it in our dreams.”
“How long will they be staying there?”
“It is a vacation of some sort for them. One week.”
“And the children and their school? Are you sure they will be at this Nantucket?”
“Yes.”
“And the president will not be coming?”
“He may, we cannot be sure that he will not. But we will know if he is. We will not strike when he is there. The security will be too tight. But for the others, while good, the strength is not nearly what it is when the president is there. He is important above all others. It is said the Secret Service will leave his wife and children behind in order to save his miserable life.”
Chung-Cha nodded at all this and then studied the maps in front of her.
“I see how we will be able to get there,” she said. “But after the mission is over, how do we escape from this little island in the ocean? Surely we cannot fly out or take the ferry to this”—she glanced quickly at a document—“this Massachusetts place.”
They all looked at each other and then at her.
The same man said, “We do not expect to live through this, Chung-Cha.”
She stared at him, her features impassive. She was, in truth, not surprised by this. It was a suicide mission. Her suicide. And she knew how she had come by it.
“Do you know Comrade Rim Yun?” she asked the man.
“I have that honor, yes.”
“And was it she who told you this was so?”
“Yes.”
Chung-Cha looked around at the others, who were all eyeing her both curiously and, in the case of two of them, with suspicion. “There is no greater honor than to serve our Supreme Leader,” she said. “And to die in his service,” she added.
She turned back to the documents. “Now, we have much work to do.”
But as they went over elements of the plan, Chung-Cha could really see only one thing in her mind.
Min.
Chapter
65
ROBIE’S PHONE RANG. HE WAS sitting in his apartment with Reel, who was curled up in a chair, her eyes closed, but he knew she wasn’t asleep. The rain was falling outside and it was chilly. Neither of them had anything to do, and though the break was nice, they were not wired to be idle.
“Yes?” said Robie into the phone. He sat up straighter. “Okay. When?” He nodded and said, “We’ll be there.”