by Terry Toler
The Director was a good guy, but he did things by the book. He was willing to stick his neck on the line for an officer if he had all the facts. In this instance, he had almost no facts. I couldn’t blame him. This was my fault. They didn’t know what I knew. They didn’t even know for certain that the request had come from me.
If they could see me now. I had my fingers on Gi Man Pok’s computer. No one in Langley would believe that was possible. All they had to do was agree to the million, and they were inside a North Korean cyber lab’s computer system. They’d pay ten times that amount if they had that information.
The imagined conversation back in the United States raged in his head.
“Deny the request!” I could hear Director Grant say, the words rattling around in my mind. “Halee got himself in this mess! Let him get himself out of it.” The Director’s decision would be final. That’s probably how it went down. I was sure it pained Brad to do it, but he had followed his boss’s instructions and denied the transaction.
Now I was in deep you know what. My mother taught me to never say the words out loud even if I was thinking them.
I surveyed my options again. Again . . . because I’d spent the last ten minutes thinking about this very scenario. What would I do if the request was denied? I hadn’t come up with a good solution then, and I didn’t have one now. I saw Pok walking back toward his office where I sat in front of his computer agonizing over what to do.
I had to come up with something fast or I’d be led out of that building in handcuffs in a few minutes. Or worse, I’d find myself in a gunfight with twelve soldiers with Type 88 assault rifles.
I wasn’t armed.
You’re always armed, Halee, I heard Curly remind me in my head.
It’s not the same. They have assault weapons and I don’t.
I didn’t have time for it, but the conversation raged on, nevertheless.
I did the math. Each assault rifle had at least thirty rounds in it if they were modified. Maybe as much as a hundred and fifty rounds. Eighteen hundred bullets to my none. I liked their odds better than my own.
I told you to abort the mission, I heard Curly say.
How did that help me?
Pok walked back into his office. He had taken a restroom break.
“Is something wrong?” he asked as I didn’t get the look of exasperation off my face fast enough.
“The transaction was denied,” I said. “I did some digging and any transaction over a 100K, requires passcode verification. His password is encrypted. It’s going to take me some time to break the code.”
Pok crossed his arms and put on a fake smile of disgust. “Why am I not surprised?”
“It’s a minor setback,” I said, seeing all my efforts flying out the window.
“I didn’t believe you could do it anyway, and I was right.” Pok said it with an increased pitch in voice, obviously sharing my frustration. He nervously tapped his fingers on the table, which increased my nervousness, if that was possible.
“Look,” I countered. “I’ve been thinking about it. We shouldn’t have been trying to take out a million the first time anyway.”
Pok rolled his eyes and clenched his fist.
I needed to defuse the situation and fast. “Hear me out,” I said. “If we steal a million, it will send all kinds of red flags through the system. They’ll know they’ve been hacked.”
“Yeah. So. What’s your point?”
“Don’t you want to steal more than a million? The fund is worth 150 billion dollars.” I was sure to stress the billion. “Once I know how to get the passwords on these accounts, we can take a lot more money at once.”
I could see the wheels spinning in his mind. The argument might be winning the day.
“I proved to you that I could get in the system,” I argued. “You yourself admitted that you’ve been trying to do it for several years. With no success. I was able to do it. That should mean something.”
My voice was higher pitched now as I spoke with increased urgency.
Pok shook his head. “No! No! You’ve proven nothing. The only proof is money in the bank. You want to prove yourself? I want to see money in my account. If you can’t do that, I’ll have you arrested. I was a fool for ever trusting you to begin with.”
“Look at this,” I said, turning the computer screen toward him. Robert Adams' account was still on the screen along with the red letters, the transaction request cannot be processed at this time. I clicked out of that. I didn’t need for either of us to be reminded of that failure.
The screen flickered and we were back to Robert Adams fake overview page. I clicked on the documents tab. “Look at his statements. He has multiple $9800.00 transactions.” I had gone into that page and put those transactions in while Pok was away and while I was waiting on Brad’s approval of the million. For this very contingency.
“He’s avoiding the ten-thousand-dollar disclosure limit,” Pok said.
I wasn’t sure if Pok would know that, but he did. Banks were required to report all transactions over ten thousand dollars to the IRS. Many people got around that by doing multiple transactions under the ten thousand dollars to avoid scrutiny. Robert Adams didn’t exist and neither did the transactions, but Pok didn’t know that.
“Right,” Pok said. “So, what’s your point?”
At least we were still talking. As long as there weren’t guns pointed at me, I still had a ray of hope of getting out of this situation alive.
I hesitated. Unsure if my plan would work. My idea was to send another transaction request through. For $9,800.00. It would require Brad’s approval back in Virginia. I had no idea if he would give it. If he didn’t approve it, all hell was going to break loose in the lab. Maybe I could escape before the soldiers came after me. If not, I’d have to fight my way out.
Time for me to decide.
“I’ll make the request for $9800.00,” I blurted out, before I had finalized the decision in my head. “That won’t require a passcode. That’s better, anyway. Robert Adams probably won’t notice the transaction. Neither will FCI. No one will know we breached his data. Then we can access as many accounts as we want. All at once. We’ll steal billions before they know what happened.”
I studied Pok for a long moment to see if the argument was winning the day.
“I like the idea,” he finally said. “Make it happen. Let me know when it goes through. I’ll check my account. If the money’s there, we’re in business. If it’s not . . .”
“It will be there,” I said assuredly, although deep down I wasn’t confident at all.
Pok left the room as I began frantically typing on the keyboard. A few minutes later, Pok was back and so was Combover guy along with a couple of his armed friends. I looked up from my work and gave Pok a glare of disapproval. He ignored it.
The request was ready. I hit send.
Combover guy was grinning through his rotten and stained teeth. I tried not to give away my disdain for him. A jolt of panic went through my body when I realized that the safety on his gun was no longer off and his finger was locked on the trigger. Someone had obviously pointed it out to the idiot.
I looked back at the request and said a prayer. Then silently sent a plea to my handler.
Brad don’t let me down.
***
CIA Headquarters
Langley, Virginia
Brad couldn’t take his eyes off the computer screen. He was staring at the Kryptonite software program which was pulled up on his computer. If Alex made another request, he wanted it to come directly to him. His emotions fluctuated between anger and fear. Anger that Alex seemingly went off the reservation and did something as stupid as go into North Korea with no backup, no coordination, and no advanced planning. Fear that his life was in grave danger.
It was the most irresponsible thing he’d ever seen an officer of the CIA do.
He looked at his reflection on the computer screen. What he saw on his face gave away one of hi
s many conflicting emotions. The look surprised him. What he saw was a smile and bright eyes. He was beaming with pride that Alex had been successful.
It was the most amazing feat he’d ever seen an officer of the CIA do.
Infiltrating a North Korean cyber lab, with no backup, no coordination, and no advanced planning was nothing short of miraculous. No one but Alex could’ve pulled something like that off. Well . . . maybe Alex’s girlfriend Jamie. But no one else that he could think of.
His officers were like his children. When they were on an operation, he had trouble sleeping at night, worrying about their safety. Even though Alex didn’t get his permission to go on the mission, that didn’t mean Brad didn’t care about the fact that he was in harm’s way.
If it had been up to him, he would’ve paid the million. An officer like Alex was worth ten times that. No. A hundred times. That was the point. Alex’s value to the Agency couldn’t be measured in monetary terms. But it wasn’t his decision. The Director probably made the right call under the circumstances. That didn’t make it any easier.
The hardest part was not knowing. The waiting. He might not ever hear from Alex again. If Alex was arrested, he’d disappear. They’d never know where they took him or what his fate was. The call to Jamie would be excruciating.
Don’t get ahead of yourself.
This was a constant battle for Brad. His imagination always ran wild when his officers were in danger. He tried to envision in his mind what they were going through and what they were thinking. If he put himself in their predicament, it would help him understand the situation better and maybe make a better decision. He’d been in the field for twelve years and had been shot at more times than he could remember. Even wounded more than once. Brad had done things without headquarters approval. Nothing like what Alex did, but still, he could relate.
His computer screen roared to life bringing him back to reality. A new transfer request had come in. On Kryptonite. From Alex.
$9,800.00.
That was brilliant! Clever. Alex never ceased to amaze him. He pictured what was going through Alex’s mind sitting in front of a similar computer in the North Korean lab. Alex had been forced to improvise. The North Koreans would have been furious that the million-dollar request was turned down. Alex probably made an argument that a million was too much anyway. He probably made up some excuse about needing a passcode or something.
Let’s start smaller, he heard Alex tell them.
Under the ten-thousand-dollar banking limit.
An ingenious plan.
“What should I do?” Brad said, not realizing he was talking to himself out loud.
The options were running through his mind. He should call the Director.
Brad shuddered, his entire body spasmed. The thought of waking up the Director again wasn’t a pleasant one. Grant was already worried about exposure to the Agency. A million dollars was a drop in the Agency’s thirty-billion-dollar budget, but still enough money that it would draw oversight scrutiny. An unauthorized mission into North Korea was a bigger problem than the money. If they approved the request at any amount, they became complicit in the scheme, even if they weren’t to begin with.
Brad understood the dilemma. The best thing for him to do was pass the decision off on the Director. Let him put his neck on the line. Brad picked up his cell phone and started to dial the number but stopped himself.
The amount was under ten thousand dollars. Well under his expenditure limit. Brad could make this decision on his own. He didn’t need the Director’s approval. Didn’t Grant always say for them to make the decisions themselves? That’s what he paid them for, the Director had drilled in them.
Brad looked at the screen, then at his phone, and then at his screen again.
“I’ll pay the $9,800 out of my own pocket if it comes to that,” Brad said.
The decision was made.
His hands hovered over the keyboard as he still hesitated.
What if it was a trick? A hacker. If this backfired, Brad would be in a world of deep trouble. Right now, it was Alex’s problem. Approving the request could be seen as going against the Director. Brad was only a few years away from getting his pension.
He began typing. None of that mattered. He wasn’t the one sitting in a North Korean lab with his life on the line. He wasn’t going to risk Alex’s life to protect his career.
Brad typed a few keystrokes and hit send.
Request Approved.
13
Bae couldn’t remember ever being this happy.
Since she announced out of the blue her inner desire to be a spy two days ago, there’d been a noticeable change in her father’s attitude toward her. An only child, Bae had always gotten the distinct impression that her dad was disappointed that she wasn’t a boy.
In North Korea, having sons who could serve the Party Centre in various capacities, especially the armed forces, garnered favor, and respect from the regime. While never spoken aloud, her father let his displeasure be known in other ways. Mostly, disinterest and absence. Bae couldn’t remember the last time they’d done anything as a family, or when her father had actually touched her with any hint of affection.
Her mother overcompensated by doting on her at every opportunity. Shopping was her primary feeble attempt at filling the void. Bae’s closet was full of designer clothes, shoes, and even costume jewelry. Most of which she never wore. She preferred faded jeans, sneakers, and a tee shirt. Her beautiful shoulder-length, shiny, jet-black hair was almost always pulled back in a ponytail, much to her mother’s displeasure.
Bae shunned makeup and hair care products even though she had a shelf full of them in her bathroom. Her mother had long since given up trying to paint her nails, brush each other’s hair, or play dress up. The numerous dolls and teddy bears—attempts by her mother to bring out Bae’s feminine side—were all stored in boxes in the attic, having not been touched in years.
She’d heard the term tomboy in school one time and thought the description fit her perfectly. Bae considered that she might be subconsciously trying to win her father’s approval by acting more like a boy and less like the prissy girl her mom wanted her to be.
In many ways, she wished she were more like her mother. Stunningly beautiful, her mom was feminine in every way. Having been brought up in North Korean royalty, she learned to be prim and proper, never unkempt, and always ladylike. Bae was taught manners but forgot them at inopportune times, especially at the dinner table which was where her mom insisted on a certain decorum.
She couldn’t force herself to meet her mom’s standards, even though she tried. To her mother’s credit, other than at the dinner table, she didn’t force it on her. But Bae could see the disappointment and disapproval written all over her mother’s face.
So really, she felt like she was letting down both of her parents. In a way, she never measured up to either of their standards as opposite as they were. Consequently, she always felt a sense of inadequacy which, now that she was a teenager, had turned into rebellion and resentment.
Her father wasn’t the only one who rued not having a boy. Bae would’ve given anything to have a brother. That way, her parents would at least have one child they were proud of.
All that miraculously changed when she dropped the bombshell at the dinner table that she wanted to be a spy. She heard her parents arguing about it later that night through the paper-thin walls of their bedroom.
“She’s just thirteen,” her mom argued. “She couldn’t possibly know what she wants to do when she grows up. Not yet.”
“They admit girls into spy school as young as fourteen,” her father said. “I talked to Colonel Chung-ho. He thinks Bae is a perfect candidate.”
A perfect candidate. A jolt of excitement shot through her like an electric current.
“Of course, he does,” her mom countered. “Bae is young and beautiful. They train these girls to be prostitutes and seduce foreigners so they can spy on them. They want to teach
her how to have sex with men,” her mom said, raising her voice.
Bae felt her face blush when she heard that part of the conversation, not fully comprehending what her mom meant. What is a prostitute? She knew what sex was. Girls at school were obsessed with boys, and she heard a lot of chatter about sex. Boys and trashy talk were of no interest to her, so she rarely participated in those conversations. But if that’s what she had to do to be a spy, then she’d do it. That’s how bad she wanted it.
“Not all girls become prostitutes,” her dad countered. “The regime has all kinds of spies. She might go to America. To college. She’ll be educated. Bae can travel the world.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“It’s an honor to die for our country,” her dad retorted. “Besides, Bae can take care of herself. She’s not your normal thirteen-year old. She’s special.”
She didn’t know what to think of the conversation. To hear her parents expressing so much concern for her and paying her so many compliments was stunning. Her mom said she was beautiful. Her dad said she was special. Where was this coming from? She didn’t think they cared about her at all.
The conversation went on for nearly an hour. Bae learned a lot through it. She’d have to leave home and wouldn’t return for several years—if ever. The school had living and training quarters at a secret location in the mountains. She’d be given a new name. Of all the things she heard, that was the only thing that bothered her because she liked her name.
One thing she did glean from the conversation was that a spy was highly prestigious and high ranking in North Korea. On the same level as Generals. Upon graduation, she would immediately move to the highest civilian rank. Her parents would be compensated with money and favors from the regime.
“I’m proud of Bae,” her dad said as the conversation came to an end.
That settled it in her mind. Those were words she never thought she’d hear.
Her dad was proud of her.
***
The next day, her father came home from work early and called Bae down from her room. “Bae, I have a surprise for you,” he said. Her mom was also summoned, and Bae found them together in the family room.