by Alex Ryan
“What is the worst case?”
“A little more than that.”
“What is the best case?”
“A little less than that.”
“What is the most likely case?”
“That.”
“Is this man, Ceasar Castillo, in custody?”
“No, Mr. President, there are two problems. He’s a Mexican national residing in Mexico, and also we believe the people involved are possibly Middle Eastern terrorists. We have reports that he has met this man in Chicago,” the deputy director displayed a picture of Hasan. “Nassir Al-Hasan, a Moroccan national with ties to Abu Nidal, who is believed to have expertise in bioterrorism. We also have credible reports that Mr. Castillo’s fight crew is Middle Eastern. You see, Mr. Castillo is the only link we have right now to the missing anthrax material and the aircraft, both of which appear to have disappeared.”
“Is the Mexican government cooperating?”
“Yes, but detaining Castillo may be problematic. I’m afraid we may not be able to do that through channels. Also we need to have a solid plan for addressing the threat should we be unable to locate the plane or contents.”
“General Marks, is the Air Force ready to deploy jets along the border to intercept incoming threats?”
“Excuse me, Mr. President, sorry, I was on the telephone, but yes, I am coordinating that right now, as we speak.”
“Gentlemen,” the deputy director said. “Before we get ahead of ourselves, I want to introduce you to Ernest Carver, he’s our expert on the subject.”
Carver took the floor. “Thank you, Mr. Deputy Director. Mr. President. Now, understand that we are dealing with a very tenacious spore, one that is hard to destroy, and one that spreads easy. The problem here is that if the aircraft is shot down, even in the middle of an unpopulated desert, it could have the effect of spreading the spores over a huge region, creating a massive biological hazard for years to come.”
“What is the best way to destroy this material?” The president asked.
“Well sir, the best way is heat. If it were on the ground, we would incinerate it in a large pit with tens of thousands of gallons of gasoline or jet fuel. If it were in the air, there is only one reliable way of ensuring the required heat is delivered to the spores before they are allowed to dissipate. And that is to employ a nuclear warhead.”
There was a noisy commotion in the briefing room. “General Marks? Does the Air Force have this capability?”
Marks adjusted his tie. “Yes sir. We can employ an AIR-2 Genie missile, which is a guided air to air missile equipped with a nuclear warhead, capable of being launched from an F-104 Starfighter.”
“General Marks, assemble the number of F-104 aircraft you deem sufficient. The use of nuclear weapons is authorized.”
“Mr. Melton?”
“Yes Mr. President?”
“Ensure the FAA has full lockdown on all aircraft entering through ADIZ in the region of Mexico. There will be no clearances issued without positive verification.”
“On it sir.”
“Director?”
“Yes sir?”
“You are authorized all means, through channels are otherwise, to find and stop these individuals.”
“Understood sir.”
The windshield wipers beat furiously against the windows of the motor pool sedan as it peeled off the DC beltway and headed back to agency headquarters. The deputy director was squinting through the streaks in the glass trying to get his bearings.
“You okay to drive sir?” Agent Kirsten Maples asked. Ernest Carver was in the back seat reading through a stack of briefs.
“I’m alright. It seems like we’re back to square one.” The deputy director grumbled.
“In what respect?”
“Castillo. El Rey. We need to get him, but we can’t.”
“Well, we can’t, but...”
“I like the way you’re thinking. You heard the president. The man authorized nukes for god’s sake! Just the same, tell them to make it look like some sort of internal squabble. A cartel turf war or something. You ready to head back to LA?”
“More than. The weather is a whole lot nicer than this.”
“This guy you’re working with, Muse, I don’t get it, he seems like some clean kid from a Podunk town with no experience or qualifications whatsoever, how is he an asset?”
“Just take my word for it. His talent bears no semblance to his history.”
The deputy director pulled down his glasses and looked Maples in to the eye. “He’s one of those, isn’t he?”
“I hear O’Malley’s has corned beef and cabbage on special for lunch. Just a thought.”
“Alright, already forgotten. I’ll let you deal with it.”
“Thank you.”
The thickly built staff sergeant looked like exactly that in his studded jeans, cowboy boots, and plaid shirt. Give him a little more hair, he’d look like a cowboy. Shave all of his hair off, and he’d still look like a cowboy. Put a high and tight on him, and he’d look like an Army staff sergeant wearing cowboy clothes. You can take the boy out of Montana, but you can’t take Montana out of the boy; even when you stick him in Korea right near the demilitarized zone.
The twang of the country music played as a small group of soldiers in similar garb attempted to demonstrate to their Korean girlfriends how to perform line dancing. The girls probably picked up on it a lot quicker than the boys had.
Styvar wasn’t happy about being sent there from Fort Lewis, but the look on his face as the Korean girl to his side clung to him said he was lying.
“Good to see you, Sarge,” Rex said as he drank a tall mug of Korean beer.
“You know, I could get court martialed just for talking to you.” Styvar replied. “I heard about what happened to you in battalion.”
“Look, two things – one, I’m not me anymore, and two, I didn’t do it, I swear.”
“I heard the rumors. Mueller and Starr are fuckin’ pukes.”
“What do you believe?”
“Ain’t my place. Look, I’m not in battalion anymore. They shipped me out. They shipped a lot of us out. A lot of our buddies are in Germany, beefing up the mech forces. Even guys from here. I’m actually lucky to be in a straight leg unit without goddamn tanks, what do they call those things...”
“Yeah, they’re giving the mech units Bradleys I hear.”
“Tanks are goddamn death traps.”
“Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. I met a Korean girl back in the States, and to make a long story short, I’m back here to meet up with her.”
“You lucky dog.”
“You think you could help me?”
“Well, not me personally, but Candy might be able to.” The girl smiled.
“Candy? Seriously?”
“Trust me, you wouldn’t want to try to pronounce her real name.” The girl frowned.
The cab entered the Bulgwang-Dong district, and wound its way to the red brick two story condos. ‘Candy’ got out of the cab, went to the gate, and pushed a button, and a beeping sound emitted. A few seconds later a voice appeared and there was a brief exchange in Korean. Two minutes later So-Young walked out the gate.
Rex got out of the cab, pulled the box out of the trunk, and carried it to her. “This is your stuff, from the States.”
“Thank you. Can you help carry it to my place?”
“Sure.”
“Hey Dahl!” A voice sounded from the cab. “I’m sorry, I mean Rex or whatever you’re calling yourself these days,” Styvar stammered.
“Yeah?”
“You’re on your own, buddy, can you find your way back?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
“Good seeing ya.” The cab drove off.
So-Young guided him through a maze of brick pavers and garden under the cover of canopies and trees, and in to the modern looking brick apartment house building. “This is my parent’s place. They are not here right now. You can come in, but you
can’t stay long. They will be back. This is my room.”
Never mind that the girl is drop dead gorgeous, and had the power to arouse a dead man. There was something about being in her own personal space, the space where she grew up, the space where her parents raised her, that sort of killed the moment, not that there was much of a moment generated to be killed in the first place.
The place reeked of cooking oil and fish sauce. So-Young just stared out at the window. She did not bother to open the box. “I didn’t know you would come.”
“I wasn’t sure if I should or not. But I told you I would bring you your stuff.” Rex replied.
“The things I left behind weren’t important enough for you to come all this way to deliver them.”
“I know.”
“Then you should not have come.”
Rex put his arms around So-Young. She felt different. She felt cold. She felt neutral. She felt distant. The connection wasn’t there.
So-Young turned around. “Please, have a seat.” Rex kneeled down and sat on the mattress, which lay directly on the floor, and sat cross-legged. So-Young sat beside him, and held his hand. “I felt something very special when I was with you. I felt, things flowing. I felt things I was not supposed to feel for a stranger. But I think that we met at a time when we needed each other, but only for that short period of time.”
“I see. Tell me something?”
“What?”
Rex ripped the tape open on the box, and pulled out the horse figurines. “Tell me about these, why did you leave them?”
“Why did I leave them? Why did I leave everything that is in that box back in America, is the real question that you should ask. Everything I left, I left because it represented something that I could not bring home. Like those horses. I love horses. I will never have a horse here in Korea. I had to leave them. I did not want the memory.”
“But you can’t erase the memory.”
“And these clothes. You do not recognize them?”
“Not really.”
“Those were the clothes I was wearing when I was with you.”
“Including the under...”
“I felt shame. I felt dirty. I felt like doing things that I knew I could only ever do with you for one night. I see clearly that they interested you. I understand why. I didn’t leave them for you. But now you know, if you must.”
“Okay. Okay. I will leave you now then.”
“Wait. Stay for just a little bit.” A tear ran down So-Young’s face. Rex dried it with his sleeve. “I wish it could be you.”
“What?”
“Just kiss me. I want to know what it would have been like.”
Whatever residual anxiety that may have been held, whether festered by guilt, strangeness of surroundings, inappropriateness or perceived risk, seemed to have abandoned itself giving way to intense physical passion. It was like they entered another world, a surreal world where nothing existed except swirling mist intertwining as bodies moved in rhythm. Eventually, weeks, if not months, if not years of built-up kinetic energy came grinding to lull.
“My parents will be back soon. You have to go.” So-Young said.
“What do they do?” Rex asked.
“They are retired. But, for the last week, they have been busy, making arrangements.”
“I see. Okay, I guess I’m supposed to ask. Arrangements for what?”
“My marriage to Gyeong. It is tomorrow afternoon.”
“What!?”
“Shhhhh. Don’t yell.”
“We go through all this and now you tell me that?”
“If you were unhappy to go through all this, you certainly did not show it.”
“Well, true.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“You don’t understand Gyeong. You don’t understand men like him. He is a good man, but has other women. I will be his wife, not his lover. I do not feel bad about what we did. It was my turn. I may not get another turn for the rest of my life.”
“So you just, have resigned yourself?”
“Yes, if you want to put it that way. In Korean society, you marry for honor of family, not love. At least, that’s how it seems sometimes. I know my family disagrees. They claim this system works better than the Western system. I think they are right.”
Maybe they are right, Rex thought, as he wandered through the garden of climbing vines and red brick pavers, passing by a short, elderly couple on the way through the gate of the complex. They eyed him suspiciously, wondering what an American would be doing in this part of the city, much less in this particular housing complex. But those towers they are planning, they will market them to foreigners. Get used to it.
The taxi driver was a woman. She was fairly young, no-nonsense. You didn’t find many female taxi drivers in Korea. But she spoke passable English. And she was willing to satisfy Rex’s paid whim, even though it was against company policy.
Rex sat in the front passenger’s seat of the small Hyundai sedan, pouring himself a glass of champagne in to a plastic cup. It was cold outside, and there was a slight drizzle as the wedding procession slowly crawled down the street past them. He went through a whole bottle, sitting there, while the ceremony went on in the temple, and started on the second as the bride and groom stood proudly on the elevated platform of the trailer adorned with elaborate hanging cloth fixtures. It looked like a scene out of Disneyland. So-Young looked stunning, but somewhat disinterested. She couldn’t see him. She didn’t know he was there, sitting in the cab, watching, but she could feel him. She could feel his eyes. His gaze. Then she spotted the lone white cab parked in the middle of the otherwise empty block fronting the park. The occupants weren’t visible. But she knew.
The driver looked at Rex. “I know why you are here. You wouldn’t tell me, you refuse to talk about it, but I know. I do not think this is a healthy way for you to let her go.”
“On the contrary, it’s the only way I know how, without getting destructive. Do you know where I am headed next?”
“I hope to a hotel to get some sleep.”
“No, that’s what airplanes are for. I am headed to the airport. My plane leaves tonight.”
“I sense, that if the girl was not the subject of this wedding ceremony, your life would be far more frustrating.”
“You know, you are absolutely and completely correct.”
Rex raised a glass at the passing Gyeong, who could neither see him nor would he know him from Adam. “Your watch, pal, she’s on your watch now.”
“He is your pal?”
“No, it’s just a figure of speech. In our culture, well in my culture anyway, we refer to other men as ‘dude’ or ‘buddy’, unless they happen to be, say, a boyfriend or a husband of a girl we are interested in, in which case we refer to him as ‘pal,’ which is like ‘dude’ or ‘buddy’ but more condescending.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t try. Let’s go.”
Rex reported to the Redondo Beach apartment to receive his mail and get his messages. There was just one message from Simon. ‘Report ASAP when you get back.’
Will Lattimore was in the conference room leaving through file folder. Simon emerged from his office as Rex walked through the door. “Meet me in the conference room, will you?” Simon asked.
It was a little bit awkward. Rex wished Lattimore would have just stayed in his element. When Rex paid him and his tac ops group a visit in Lancaster, Lattimore felt Rex was intruding on his turf. Now the table is turned. Lattimore was in LA, Rex felt it was Lattimore that was intruding on his turf.
“How you doing, kid?” Lattimore said, not taking his eyes off the file.
“I’m fine,” Rex replied, having absolutely no idea what was in store.
Simon walked in. “I trust you gentlemen have met?”
“That’s right.” Lattimore said. Rex nodded.
“Well, we’re back on the Castillo case. William, I trust you have been able
to get up to speed?”
“I’m caught up on the background, but I have not received the specific mission.” Lattimore replied.
Simon sat down on the table. “Here’s the basic deal. The CIA has pretty much taken over the lead on finding the location of the missing biological warfare agents and the delivery aircraft, but they need some help. The Mexican government is both cooperating and not cooperating at the same time. They won’t allow the United States to apprehend Castillo nor are they willing to do it themselves. In a wink/nod discussion with senior Mexican officials, it appears that if Castillo managed to be grabbed in a manner that looked, on the surface at least, like it was cartel related, they would be willing to look the other way.
“That’s where we come in. Rex, now I know that this has been your baby so far and trust me, you have been stellar, but tac ops has the lead on this. It’s basically a search and grab mission, and we need to capture and detain Ceasar Castillo, and interrogate him in an effort to determine the whereabouts of the items in question, as well as any details on their plans. Rex, you need to be available for support, and to aid in the interrogation. The three of you will work out a detailed strategy for accomplishing the mission.”
Both Rex and Lattimore looked at Simon with surprised expressions. “What do you mean by three of us?” They both replied in unison.
“Oh, sorry, yes there is one development. The lead CIA investigative agent will be on the team. Agent Maples.”
“Did someone call my name?” Kirsten Maples walked in the door, escorted by Carly. She took a seat next to Rex.
“Glad you could make it, Agent Maples.” Simon replied, looking at the non-existent watch on his left hand, signifying his annoyance.
“Sorry I’m late. Flight schedules are running behind. Long story.”
“William, this is Agent Kirsten Maples from the CIA. Kirsten, this is Will Lattimore, commander of our own tactical operations team.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Lattimore said, in the most disapproving tone he could muster.
Kirsten could feel Lattimore’s eyes scanning her body, stripping off clothes, layer by layer, until he could start the motions of world repopulation. She scooted her chair deliberately towards Rex. This was off to a bad start.