“What I know,” began Robie, “is that DD Marks told us to stand down and gave us time off. And I, for one, can use it. I’m too old for the Burner Box crap they pulled. And you’re not that much younger than me.”
“In dog years I’m far older,” pointed out Reel. “And that’s what I feel like, a dog. An old, washed-up dog.”
Robie finished cutting the vegetables and then began to sauté them in a heated pan that was on the cooktop. He took a sip of wine and glanced toward the window where outside the rain was bucketing down.
“General Pak said don’t let them hurt his family.”
Reel nodded. “Right. In North Korea it’s guilt by association. The labor camps over there are all based on that. If Mom and Dad get arrested and sent there, so do the kids. That way they cleanse the generations of ‘undesirables’ or whatever bullshit term they use.”
“I know that. But I checked Pak out. His wife is dead. He’s over seventy, so I assume his parents are probably dead. And he has no kids.”
“Brothers and sisters?”
“Not that I could find. The briefing said he was an only child.”
Reel drank her wine down and poured another glass. “I don’t know, Robie. That is odd. Speaking of family, what about Julie?”
“She’s not my family.”
“Close as you’ve got, I’m thinking.”
“I haven’t talked to her since before we left for the Burner Box.”
“Time off, like you said. You should hook up with her.”
“And why do you care?”
“I like to live vicariously through people more normal than I. Which is basically everyone on the planet, present company excluded.”
Robie checked his watch. “How about we invite her for dinner? You watch the food, I go get her.”
“You’re serious?”
“Why not? She really seemed to like you.”
Reel took a sip of her wine and studied him. “You think?”
“Actually, I know. She told me she thought you were cool.”
Reel considered this and then glanced at the cooking food. “I suck in the kitchen. How about you call and I go get her while you play domesticated?”
Robie smiled and tossed her his car keys. “You’re on.”
Julie was available and Reel picked her up outside her town house in Robie’s car.
She slipped into the passenger seat and looked at Reel. “So you guys survived wherever it was you went?”
“Actually the jury’s still out on that.”
Julie put on her seat belt as Reel drove off fast. “Any fresh wounds?” she asked.
Reel said, “Only on the inside.”
“Those hurt the worst.”
“Believe me, I know.”
“So how is Robie?”
“He’s glad to be back,” replied Reel.
“I’ve been watching the news for any global catastrophe so I might find out where you were.”
“And?”
Julie shrugged. “And none seemed to match you two.” She gazed out the windshield at the pouring rain. “You and Robie seem tight.”
“We are. Or as tight as someone can be with him.”
“Do you have anyone else you’re tight with?” asked Julie.
“Used to. Not anymore.”
“Because they’re not around anymore?” asked Julie.
“Something like that.”
“Robie really respects you. I can tell.”
“I would imagine there aren’t many who he does respect,” replied Reel.
“I bet you’re the same.”
“We trained together, Robie and me,” said Reel. “He was the best, Julie. I always thought I was, but I have to admit, he’s better.”
“Why?”
“The intangibles. On the big stuff we’re equal. Even he would agree with that. It’s the small stuff, though, where I fall behind. Sometimes I let my emotions get the better of me.”
“That only means you’re human. I wish Robie would let that happen to him more often. He keeps it all inside.”
“Which is exactly what we’re trained to do,” Reel pointed out.
“A job isn’t everything, is it? It’s not your whole life.”
“Some jobs are. Our jobs are; at least mine used to be.”
“And now?” asked Julie.
Reel glanced at her as she steered the car through the wet streets and over a bridge into D.C.
“Maybe I’m starting a transition phase.”
“Into another job, or retiring?”
“Retiring? How old do you think I am?” Reel chuckled, but Julie’s expression remained serious.
“Robie told me you don’t retire from the sort of work you two do.”