Although Chung-Cha had been gone from this place for many years now, much of it had not changed at all. The huts where the prisoners lived were still made of mud with straw roofs. As she peered inside one she saw the boards with blankets on them representing a prisoner’s bed. There were forty of them in a room that was only about five hundred square feet in size. The huts were not heated and they were not clean, thus disease was rampant. She had heard the administrator say once when she was here that such widespread fatal epidemics saved them the price of bullets.
She stopped in front of one hut. She did so for a particular reason. This had been “her” hut, where she had lived for years. She glanced over at Doh and saw that he too remembered this.
“You have indeed risen far,” he said, his fake smile broadening across his tanned features.
He was a pureblood, she knew, a member of the very elite core group. His grandfather had been one of Kim Il Sung’s earliest and most ardent supporters. For that he and his family had been forever rewarded greatly. For the grandson it meant he got to play God with the lives of hundreds of thousands of his fellow citizens over the years, determining who got to live and, far more often, who died.
“I am still the only one,” she said back.
“Still,” he conceded snidely, “it must have seemed a miracle for you.”
“For you too,” she shot back.
He bowed again.
She waited for him to straighten before adding, “The Supreme Leader believes that this is a shame. He wants to know why more are not capable of being converted.”
This had been the other reward that Chung-Cha had requested and been given for her part in exposing the treachery of General Pak. The power to come here and make these sorts of inquiries. And she had been granted something else.
She looked expectantly at Doh, who had obviously not been anticipating this. She saw a vein in his temple begin to throb, and his hand shook as he raised it to his face to adjust his glasses.
“The Supreme Leader believes?” he said, his voice shaking. The guards with him took a few steps backward, as though to distance themselves from whatever repercussions might befall the man.
Chung-Cha reached into her pocket and produced the authorizing documents. Doh took them, adjusted his glasses again, and read through them before meekly handing them back.
“I understand. The Supreme Leader is wise beyond his years. It is an honor to do his bidding.”
“I’m sure. But let us get down to it. I was in the total control zone. I was not core, or wavering. I was in the hostile class, Comrade Doh. And now I am acknowledged as one of the most valuable assets we have. Perhaps there are other such assets here, but going to waste. The Supreme Leader does not like waste.”
“No, no, of course not. I…what would you have me do, Comrade Yie? Please, you have but to name it and it shall be done.”
Chung-Cha looked the man over. He was far smaller and weaker-looking than she remembered. To a little girl whose very life or death depended on the daily mood of this person and his underlings, he might as well have been a giant. Now, though, he was nothing to her.
“I want to look over some of the hostiles. The girls in particular.”
“Girls?” he repeated in a bewildered tone that matched his expression.
“Yes. The Supreme Leader understands quite clearly how useful females can be in certain areas of service. Much more so than males, who are more easily identified and targeted as potential enemies of other countries. Do you understand?”
He nodded quickly. “Yes, yes, of course, I can see that.”
Chung-Cha added, “And I want you to show me some of the more interesting prospects.”
He nodded again. “Yes, yes. I will take you myself.”
“I’m sure you will,” she said without smiling.
He did not seem to grasp the significance of what she had said. He was a cruel, cagey, and evil man; that she knew. But he was also petty, vain, and shallow. And such a person could never attain brilliance or even acuity no matter how hard he tried.
“And I will be sure to communicate your excellent level of cooperation.”
“Oh, thank you, Comrade Yie. Thank you, you have no idea what that means to me.”
“On the contrary, I have every idea.”
He looked a bit put off by this statement but regained his composure and said, “Um, by interesting you mean…?”
“By that, Comrade, I mean someone like me.”
Chapter
50
SHE HAD EXAMINED OVER A hundred children aged four to fourteen. They all looked alike in many respects: malnourished, filthy, and blank-eyed. She spoke a few words to each of them. Their answers, when they came, were halting, inelegant, and simple. None of this was their fault, she knew.