Reload

by David McCaleb

  Ko smiled. Soo Jin isn’t sad, he thought. Those are tears of pain. She’s just chipped a knuckle beating that mean boy in primary school, the one who always took my rice. She had sucked on it and a little pink oozed slowly from scraped skin.

  And neither that boy, nor his gang, had ever threatened Ko again.

  Chapter 36 – Karen

  Red’s eyes cracked open. He lay upon a thin, black, rock-hard mattress, still in his boots and Cordura suit. As he tried to sit up, his stomach burned in objection. An antique ship’s clock perched on a narrow shelf across the cramped, pale gray room.

  Shit. Stuck in this beast’s bowels again. Must’ve fallen asleep.

  A white blanket covered his legs and torso. Someone had covered him. Where was the rest of his team? He’d accompanied the sister to sick bay, nothing more than a closet even on this nuclear submarine. He recalled lying in a rack across from hers, but that was the last memory.

  Retracting a hand to lift the covering and inspect his belly, his arm was clamped in place. Had they strapped him down? Submarines didn’t pitch like boats.

  A gurney had been pulled next to his bed, abutting it. The pale complexion of the sister contained a deathly green hue. Dead? Horror cinched his chest as he remembered Lori. Had he lost Sergio’s sister, too?

  An almond eye cracked open. The iris black as onyx. Her cheek twitched and seemed to warm to a more healthy pink. Thank goodness! Not a corpse. A sheet cascaded over her frail body like a blanket of hoar frost. Thin black hair stuck out at awkward angles and a white powder like confectioners’ sugar topped it. Must be a delousing agent.

  He tried to withdraw his hand again, but both eyes shot open. Fingers squeezed his wrist. It was she who held his arm. He smiled, but her eyes remained wide, pleading. Finally, her lips drew back in a grin, revealing three chipped teeth.

  With much effort he managed to sit up, knives in his gut. A corpsman in blue pixilated fatigues burst into the compartment. Dark skinned, shaved head. Features similar to Marksman, except for some extra weight around the middle.

  He gazed at Red. “Stay down, Major. You’ve got a cracked rib and multiple deep contusions. I gotta get you wrapped up.” One of his cheek nubs was a patch of pink shaped like a clover. He pointed a blue nitrile-gloved finger at the sister. “Think you can get this lady to eat something?”

  The skin on the sister’s forehead furrowed as she peered suspiciously at the man. Maybe she’d never seen dark skin before. “Eat? That her first priority?” Red asked.

  He pulled a Nature Valley protein bar from his pocket and held it to him. From a miniature side table bolted to the wall the corpsman lifted a plastic cup filled with amber liquid. “Just need to get calories in her. Best thing right now. I couldn’t find a vein. Too dehydrated. She fights me like a cat. If you can’t get something in her, I’m going to sedate her to find an artery. I’d rather not, in her condition. Need to get at least four of these glasses in her.”

  What about her brother? “Sergio. He OK?” The sister’s eyes widened. He knew she couldn’t understand English, but his words must have come out frantic.

  “Who?”

  “The other one. The Korean soldier.”

  The medic pushed the glass into his hands. “Oh. He should be OK. Just came from him. Lacerated kidney. He’s patched up for now. I put a couple quarts of plasma and blood back in him and he was purring like an angry commie. Got him sedated, strapped down, and guarded. Should be stable till we get you guys off-loaded in a few hours.”

  But Lori... He hunched over till elbows rested upon knees. His eyes burned and the glass shook in his hand, rippling the surface. A single bubble floated atop the fluid, glistening a rainbow’s purple like an oily swell, then popped.

  Bony fingers wrapped around his hand, steadying the tremor. The sister was sitting up, white powder floating down upon bare shoulders. She took the cup and lifted it to his lips.

  * * * *

  Red stepped down from a concrete curb, away from the Det’s matching cold exterior. Frigid, humid night air stung his windpipe, though it was a welcome difference from the numbing heat inside the building. The team was there, catching some much-needed sleep prior to debrief, but he had an unpleasant task to complete before he allowed himself rest. The kids would be excited to see him, but there was no way to soften the news he was bringing.

  He opened the door to his black Ford Explorer and shut himself in. Closing his eyes, he heaved a sigh. They burned with the lids shut, so he lifted the center console and fumbled through pink hair bows, a Fireman Small CD, and DVDs of green elephants playing a piano. Spying the eye drops, he squeezed a few in each one till the salty fluid ran down his chin.

  The port at Chŏngjin hadn’t been closed, though two MQ-9 Reapers had been prepped with four Hellfires each, circling twenty miles offshore just in case. The exit hadn’t necessitated being squeezed into a cuttlefish holding tank, but the cramped Ohio-class submarine had been almost as bad. He didn’t care how big the captain thought it was. The ship hadn’t spoken to him on the return voyage, so he’d figured he must’ve dreamt it on the way out. Though as Red placed a hand on its steel bulkhead again, the beast seemed sated with its new cargo.

  The sister had screamed hysterically any time Red tried to leave, so he’d slept next to her. She was a reminder he’d been able to help someone, and a short-term excuse to keep from talking with others.

  Red replaced the small bottle in the console, dropping it onto a pair of Lori’s sunglasses, black with silver along the arms. His questions still had no answers. Had she been the mole? Or had she just been doing her job like she claimed and another division of the CIA had mistaken her for the traitor? The organization was so compartmentalized, it was possible one hand didn’t know what the other was doing.

  A whisper came from the back seat. He turned, but it was empty. The space inside the truck seemed to shrink, to press upon him. He was pulled back to the confined interior of the submarine, as if asleep, and the leviathan was speaking to him again. It drew him into its steely consciousness, water slipping past its smooth, acoustic-tiled hull. Above and around, frigid liquid pressed on his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. If he opened a hatch, the reality of Lori’s death would come spilling in and drown him.

  A horn sounded and Red flinched. He glanced to the road beyond the parking lot and a hand stretched from the window of a white sedan, waving at a passing vehicle. Had he fallen asleep? He checked his watch. If so, it hadn’t been for more than a minute.

  Maybe Carter would have some answers by now. He considered giving him a call, then decided to wait till after the sun broke the horizon. He pulled out of the parking lot and accelerated toward the interstate.

  * * * *

  Past Gloucester on Route 17 a single blue pickup flashed past going the opposite direction. Red watched the vehicle in the rearview until its taillights disappeared around a corner. On either side of the road grew tall pines straight as fence posts. Another mile and the trees gave way to deep green fields, a rolling sea of winter wheat. A breeze stirred it like the marsh grass back near Songpyong harbor. The flowing emerald blanket appeared as vigorous as in spring, but its life was frozen, lying dormant in the hard soil until a warm sky could infuse it with vigor once again.

  To the east, a narrow slice of sun pierced the horizon, blazing the underside of high clouds in purple. Early morning rays spilled through the window and warmed his cheek.

  He eased off the accelerator and pulled onto a shoulder of dry grass. For a moment, he studied the deep hues. They lightened to pink, then washed to white as the sun continued its course. Sergio’s emaciated sister burst to mind, lying atop a crisp-sheeted hospital bed, face now bright and alive. Her adjustment to freedom would take years, even a lifetime, but Red had made a difference in her life.

  He accelerated onto the road and the tires thumped in rhythm over pavement seams until he reac
hed a sign in brilliant red and yellow, a Spanish flag with Colina de Arroyo across the middle. Creek Bluff, the development where Julie, Lori’s sister, lived. He drove past an empty gatehouse and after a couple of blocks pulled gently to the shallow curb in front of 6924 Candleflower Lane. The Cape Cod was painted a cheery yellow, not the screaming hue of the Spanish flag, but the subtle shade of a beach bungalow. The grass in the front yard stood as bright as the wheat field, despite both neighbors’ lawns lying flat and brown.

  As Red stepped from the truck, Nick’s blond head bounced behind the front window as he jumped, wide eyes barely above the sill, fingers pointing outside. A second later the boy had opened the front door and all three kids spilled onto the lawn, pajama pants flapping with the flash of legs. Penny pushed her younger brothers aside as she trotted with a limp, her fractured shin still splinted. Her hair was neatly woven in a single braid like a horse’s tail, so tight her eyes were pulled back as if in surprise. Just like Lori had used to tie it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and jumped, swinging on it like a maypole, lighting on his back, giggling. Nick and Jackson collided against his legs so hard he nearly stumbled. His throat burned as he considered how, and when, he’d break the news of Lori’s death. Better wait.

  He eased Penny down and hugged the three of them. Nick’s hair smelled of baby shampoo. Jackson patted his beard with sticky citrus fingers. “Julie give you an orange?” The kid consumed at least two every day. “I’ll have to teach you how to peel them without making orange juice.”

  Jackson stuck a finger in his mouth and yanked it out with a pop. “Mommy peeled it for me.”

  Lori had always prepared a bag of the fruit before dropping the kids off for an extended stay. Red stood and grasped his son’s hand. He’d pushed this moment out of his thoughts the entire return trip. They’d only been in the submarine six hours, then a C-17 from Yokota Air Base to Langley, nonstop with two aerial refuelings. But now that the moment was here, he still couldn’t think of a gentle way to break the news. He’d want to have—

  “Thank goodness you’re here,” Julie called from the front door. Red glanced up, and two women stood on the front porch. Julie and Lori. He stared; then the deep bruises in his abdomen where she’d shot him seared in pain. He hunched over, not believing the image. How could it be? Had it not been Lori in the warehouse?

  She stepped down low stairs onto plush grass and limped his direction. “Kids, inside!” she called. “Don’t want you guys catching cold.”

  Julie waved toward the door. “Come on. Finish your breakfast.” All three children released Red’s hands and legs and trotted away.

  Lori stepped close. “So glad you’re here. Work called and there’s some sort of emergency. They’re sending a car to pick me up. Julie’s about worn out.”

  Red straightened, but his gut burned all the more. His ears filled with the roaring of a conch shell. He leaned against the hood of the Explorer and studied Lori’s face. Same tiny beauty mark below the corner of her mouth. Even so, how?

  “You’re pale. You not sleep much?” She wrapped her arms around him and drew him into a hug. Her breasts pressed against him. “I don’t like an empty bed.”

  Her hand stroked his thigh.

  It is her.

  “You OK?” she asked. “Not saying much.”

  His throat burned. The image of a charred corpse covered in liquid fire flashed to mind. The stench of seared hair and flesh filled his nostrils. “I just...I wasn’t...”

  The cold bit his eyes. They were tearing.

  She smiled. “You’re sweet. I’m glad to see you, too. But you smell like a sewer. Don’t they have showers at the Det?” A white Chevy Suburban slid to a halt behind them. “Gotta go. We’ll get caught up later.” She pressed her lips against his and slapped his chest directly atop a swollen lump. It burned all the way to his spine. “Tag—you’re it. Take care of the kids. I’ll be back this afternoon. I want dinner and a clean husband. I’ll bring dessert.” She squeezed his elbow and stepped toward the vehicle.

  “What’s going on? Why do you have to leave?” His mind was a muddy sponge. It was all he could think to ask.

  Her smile dropped and even the cold nubs of her cheeks washed to pale. She glanced at the vehicle, then bent to his ear. “Stacy called early this morning. Something went wrong. I was supposed to go on a drop two days ago, but with my leg being shot she sent another agent. Karen. Remember her? The one whose ass you grabbed last month at the Christmas party thinking it was me.” Lori wiped fingers beneath her eyes. “She’s missed the last four check-ins. We’re assuming the worst.”

  Chapter 37 – Never Forget

  The SUV’s tires hummed as Red accelerated down the washboard gravel drive toward the stables. Lori sat in the passenger seat and lifted a yellow travel mug with a smiley face to her lips. Steam poured from the vent. Behind her, Penny unfastened her seat belt and stood. She hopped, blond curls bouncing.

  Lori turned. “I know you’re excited, Penny, but sit back down. Stay buckled till we stop. And don’t jump on your hurt leg.”

  Penny stretched her neck toward the window as she clicked her belt. Early morning rays lit the tops of trees across the field like torches. First light seemed to cast a golden hue on everything.

  Red scanned the edges of the field, but all the deer must have sought the shelter of the forest by now. “You sure Penny’s up to riding already?”

  Lori’s calf jittered. Her voice, usually groggy with sleep so early, was crisp and bright. “We’re not riding. Not till Penny’s out of that boot. We’ll just lunge the horse to give her some exercise. Let her know we haven’t forgotten her.”

  She lifted the cup to her lips again and the happy face tipped up. Her own smile returned as she wrapped her hands around the warm mug. It had been three days since his return, but relief still flooded his chest every time he gazed at her. Marksman had been right. She wasn’t the enemy. Red was home. Lori was alive. And except for an occasional wince and limp, her attitude had proven brighter than ever. Even more, her libido was about to wear him out. Many more nights like the last few and he’d have to get a prescription to keep up.

  He’d allowed himself to distrust her earlier, his own wife. No longer. Doubt is always crouching at your door, waiting to pounce the minute you open it. Trust is a decision. And you always trust your team.

  Red glanced at Lori’s jiggling leg. I’ll not forget again.

  “I want ice cream!” shouted Jackson, sitting high in his booster seat. “You promised last time but Penny fell off the horse.”

  At least kids never forgot a promise. And ice cream was made from milk. And milk went on cereal, which was good for breakfast. So ice cream wasn’t far off. “We’ll get some while the ladies do their horse duty.”

  The Explorer slid to a halt next to a maroon four-wheel-drive pickup with wheels the size of a Stryker troop transport. The tires were rimmed in knobby lugs like a balled fist, and damp mud was arced across the side of the vehicle and splashed against a black horse trailer hitched behind it. Lori and Penny hopped out.

  Nick pointed toward the pasture. “I wanna feed the horsey again. Then ice cream.”

  Red followed the boys as they trotted toward the fence. The scent of water and manure greeted him. A thin fog hung over the mud and sparse grass of the corral. It glowed like a cloud of gold dust as the rising sun’s rays struck it. It’d be burned off in minutes. Two brown horses walked toward them with necks bobbing. One lifted its head and nipped the hindquarters of the other. Red’s phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen. Carter was calling. He lifted the device to his ear. Two beeps indicated the connection had been secured. “It’s Saturday morning. You always this needy?”

  The detective’s tone was gravelly. “Where are you?”

  Red leaned on a wood railing. The boys yanked grass stalks from a muddy ditch bank. “At the stables. What’s going on?�
��

  “You tell Lori yet?”

  Give it a rest. “No. And I’m not going to. CIA requested the op. It went through proper channels. We got the green light and pulled it off like clockwork. It’s a shame Karen was killed, but it’s obvious one part of the CIA didn’t know what the other was doing. I’m just glad Lori wasn’t the one caught in the middle.”

  “So you still don’t trust her?”

  Carter can be such an irritating, cynical prick. “I trust her. But I’m not ready for the sorry-but-we-killed-your-friend conversation. Let CIA figure things out themselves. It’s their own bad news. Let them deliver it. Lori doesn’t need to know it was my team. Plus, we don’t know the whole story. Maybe Karen was the mole after all.” Jackson lifted a handful of grass on a flat palm. A gray horse with brown splotches ambled over and lowered its neck over the fence. Its lips opened and vacuumed up the snack. “I need to go. Why’d you call?”

  “Jamison did some more digging on Marksman’s laptop. Like we suspected, Mossad was doing their own investigation on an intelligence leak. Looks like it also involved misuse of funds. Lots of inferences their leak is linked to one in the CIA. Pretty high up, all things considered.”

  “That’s not anything new. Lori told us her team was looking into a fintel leak themselves. Probably the same mole.”

  Carter grunted. “Or, maybe Lori’s the leak. She may be off your list of suspects, but not mine.”

  How’d I pick this guy as a friend? “Does it cause physical pain to be as skeptical as you? Remember what Jamison showed us first? That document called Lori the asset. She’s who Marksman was protecting. If she was leaking info on Mossad, he’d have taken her out instead.”

  “Which got me thinking. Other than Lori, who else do we know has ties with Mossad?”

  Red pushed off the fence post and walked toward the boys. Where was this conversation going? “I’m sure CIA has lots of ties with them.”