Her department had spent much time and money in developing her ability to attack superior numbers and come away victorious. It was a combination of original tactics, superlative fighting skills, and the ability to assess and take risks, often turning a disadvantage into an advantage. She had shown that when confronted with the administrator and the prison guards. She had turned the strengths of her opponents into weaknesses and she had never stopped moving or fighting. It was as if her mind and her body were a single unit.
She returned to her apartment tired, but satisfied that her skill level remained undiminished. She was aware that with the upcoming mission she would be pitted against the best security detail in the world. She knew that the U.S. Secret Service was widely regarded as invincible, all agents willing to die to protect whomever they were guarding. But they had lost protectees in the past, so they weren’t infallible. Still, it would probably be her greatest challenge.
She ate her rice and drank her tea and listened to country music on the iPod that the Supreme Leader had given her. She looked out the window for the man who had been there every day. He was still there. It was as though he didn’t care now if she knew he was there or not. That actually said a lot to her.
In North Korea it was said that alliances were as fragile as ice on a hot day.
She left her apartment and got into her car. It was ten years old but still serviceable. And it was hers. Until they took it away, which they could at any time. And depending on how the next mission turned out, that time might soon be coming.
She drove out of Pyongyang. She checked her rearview mirror and was not surprised to see a black sedan following her. She drove slowly, well under the speed limit. She was in no hurry. She had no intention of losing whoever was back there.
Her trip would take her roughly seventy miles northeast of the capital into a mountainous part of South Hamgyong province, bisected by the Ipsok River valley.
The official name of where she was heading was Kwan-li-so Number 15. But most people simply called it Yodok. It was a labor camp or concentration camp or penal colony; Chung-Cha did not care which term was used. It all amounted to the same thing.
People taking away the freedom of other people.
For years she had had another name for it: home.
Like other labor camps, Yodok was comprised of two parts: the total control zone from which prisoners were never released, and the revolutionary zone, where prisoners were punished, reeducated, and eventually released. The camp was about one hundred and fifty square miles in size and had about fifty thousand prisoners. Electric fences and over a thousand guards made sure that no one left of their own volition.
Chung-Cha did not believe there was corruption at Yodok. The guards there seemed to do their duty with barbaric joy. At least they had when she was there. And she was still the only prisoner from the total control zone ever voluntarily released. But that release had come with a heavy price, perhaps heavier than if she had tried to escape.
That was why she was here today, to relive this part of her life. Well, that was only partly true. It took special permission to do this, which she had requested and received. Those granting that permission understood her to be coming here to pay homage to those who had allowed her freedom, in exchange for her lifelong commitment to serve her country. At least that had been the original intent. Then she had convinced those more powerful than her that there should be another reason. And that she was the ideal person to implement this plan. She had had no guarantee that permission would be granted, but it had been. The necessary papers documenting this rode in her inner pocket. The august signatures on the papers would brook no opposition.
She parked near the gate and was met there by two guards and the administrator. Chung-Cha knew this man well. He had been the administrator when she was a prisoner there.
He bowed to her with respect and she returned the bow. Her gaze never left his face as they each straightened. In his burnt, wrinkled countenance she saw the one man she had dreamt of killing for most of her life. She knew that he knew this. But now he was powerless to harm her anymore. Yet there was the way his lip curled back, exposing one misshapen tooth, that made Chung-Cha understand quite clearly that he would dearly love to have her back here and in his power.
“It is an honor to have you here, Comrade Yie,” he said.
“The Supreme Leader sends his best wishes to you, Comrade Doh,” replied Chung-Cha, making the point of exactly where she was at this stage in her life.
Doh blinked rapidly behind his thick glasses and his smile was as false as his next words. “It does my heart good to see how far you have risen, Comrade Yie.”
He escorted her through the gate and into the prison compound.