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.”
He put the phone down and nudged Reel with his hand.
She opened her eyes. “Are we being deployed?”
“I’m not sure. What I do know is that we are being summoned to the White House.”
“Again? Cassion already patted us on the head. What more does he have to do?”
“It’s not Cassion who wants us.”
“What?” she said, unfolding her long legs and sitting up in the chair.
“The request came from the First Lady. We’re to meet her in the private quarters at the White House in”—he checked his watch—“one hour.”
“What could she want with us?”
“No clue. But I guess we’ll find out.”
They presented themselves at the White House at the time specified and were escorted to the first family’s private quarters on the second floor after leaving their weapons behind with the Secret Service.
As they rode the elevator up, Reel whispered to Robie, “Ever been up here?”
He shook his head. “You?”
“Hell no.”
They were led into a large sitting area with flowers displayed in large vases. Eleanor Cassion rose from a settee and greeted them. The attendant who had brought them here quietly left.
Eleanor motioned for them to sit on a large couch while she sat across from them. She was dressed in slacks, a short jacket with a white blouse underneath, and two-inch pumps. Her hair was swept back in a ponytail. Around her neck was a silver necklace with a Saint Christopher medal dangling from it.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you here today,” she began.
Robie said, “We were surprised.”
“The fact is, well, you both made quite an impression on our son, Tommy. In fact, I think he’s been researching you both.”
“Not much to find,” said Reel. “We don’t do Facebook.”