Despite a more wiry appearance from years of cross-country running and track & field in high school and college, I was a Ranger. Beyond just the tab on my uniform from Ranger School, I'd earned my scroll leading my MI platoon on detached duty with the RRC.
After his brief phone conversation, Bishop turned back to me. "The major will see you now."
I tossed down the copy of Stars and Stripes Korea I hadn't read a page from. Stood. Tucked my tan beret under my arm. Gave the back of Bishop's plaque a quick rub. Rapped once on the major's door.
"Enter."
I pushed open the office door. Long breath. Time to face the cold waves.
Bishop made a brushing motion toward the doorway. Head held straight, I marched in.
Halted two steps from the front of the CO's desk. Stood at rigid attention. Saluted with a crisp forearm motion. "Sir, Lieutenant Harper reports. Rangers lead the way!"
The CO leaned back in his office chair and waved vaguely in the direction of his upper body. "All the way. At ease, Lieutenant."
I completed my salute. Took up a position closer to parade rest.
Stared at the wall above his head.
My peripheral vision picked up an ROK daewi, equivalent to our rank of captain. He perched on a metal folding chair. Back rigid.
We hadn't met, but I recognized him as the leader of the security unit assigned to protect the research facility. The lab we'd just submitted a report criticizing the security of.
Bad news travels fast.
Major Williams didn't let me get on the board before he tossed me to the sharks. "One of our esteemed allies, Captain Rhee Yun-seok, is here to provide feedback on your vulnerability report."
Rhee stood, back straight. Clasped his arms behind him. Leaned forward, his forehead inches from my shoulder.
I was at least a foot taller than Rhee. Fixed my face in a firm line. Tried to look intimidated.
He circled me like a buzzard. "Hop'ung. That for your libelous report. Not worthy of use as toilet paper. You do not show our true capabilities. You do not consider the completed retraining. You ignore the technology upgrades our scientists performed."
I lifted my chin. Did I really have to stand here and listen to this? "Sir, that's all covered in the report. For example, the upgrades from the lab's scientists violate the security principle of separation of duties. Allowing the scientists administrative access to the security systems to upgrade them violates risk management principles."
"Do not interrupt, Lieutenant Harper. You are new to our country. You know nothing of our culture, of our history. You are ignorant of how our advanced technology works.
"Ignorant of the trust we place in our science staff.
"No, each copy of this report must be burned and the task of analyzing security at the lab reassigned to another officer. One who will pay the proper respect."
All that work to prove the retinal scanner vulnerability? They weren't even going to let me defend my security analysis?
I appealed to the CO, "Major, surely you've read my report yourself. Even a single compromised guard at the lab can simply open the loading dock and bypass all the security measures in the front office.
"The lab doesn't even schedule tests of their data backup systems.
"If you'll allow me to lead my Red Team to infiltrate the lab, I believe I can establish the vulnerabilities outlined in the report exist, sir."
Major Williams glanced down at his laptop screen. "Request denied, Harper. We're here to work with our Korean allies, not insult them. This is their country, after all."
Knew it'd be on the edge of insubordination, but had to try one more time.
"Sir, I know I'm new to the ROK, but I intended no insult. I've already successfully validated one of the vulnerabilities in my report. If you'll just allow me . . ."
Williams held up his hand like a stop sign. "I've allowed you enough already. I'll have Bishop remove your report from the system. You're to be relieved of any further duties with this command.
"Present yourself to the Company Clerk first thing Monday morning, with bags packed. He'll have orders for your return to Benning.
"Dismissed."
Relieved? That's a career killer! "But, sir, my analysis is accurate."
William's nostrils flared. "You have a lot to learn about teamwork and about our host country. Dismissed, I said."
I clenched my jaw. "Yes, sir." There was no way to fight it.
Total wipe out.
Rhee gave a crisp nod, apparently satisfied.
This proved I didn't fit into the RRC. So much for the Army as my new family.
With no career and no way to impress anyone further, I turned precisely on my heel with my tiny bit of remaining pride and marched away.
Chapter Seven: Peripheral Intelligence
Jin-sun's Mother despised the barbarian half-breed, Toby Howell. He always spoke so presumptuously to her, for one so young, as if he were her equal, or even her superior.
Instead, he appeared barely a decade older than her son, Kwon Jin-sun.
The American Embassy's disrespectful staff had forced her to suffer through thirty minutes of waiting outside.
Once she'd finally satisfied the office workers that she had an appointment with Officer Howell, a junior clerk had led her into a small office with a large interior window that overlooked their immigration directorate's cubicles.
No outside window to provide a view of even the parking lot, let alone the nearby museum grounds, so Toby wasn't an important man.
The young refugee officer lazed behind his dull metal desk. He wore a charcoal workday suit, but his Korean black hair and American complexion would be in more harmony with a gray suit.
Something light, similar in tone to the walls of the cubicles outside. His tie was not at all suitable for a government official, garishly bright blue silk.
Americans. No harmony with nature, but what could you expect from a person whose mother married a foreign soldier and fled Korea after the war?
The office itself was worse.
Harsh black-bordered frames on the wall. Steel floor cabinets stacked with bureaucracy-filled cardboard boxes on top. A white laptop computer with a grimy keyboard.
No earth, except for the thick dust on desk and shelves. No water. Not even a single plant.
The industrial carpet had an odd black and tan flecked pattern to it. Probably to hide dirt so they didn't need to vacuum.
They obviously didn't think much of her, to bring her into this office.
Experience taught her how difficult it was to fit into a new culture, especially when forced. At least Officer Howell wasn't of Japanese descent. That would've been the ultimate insult.
Jin-sun's Mother would endure what she must to acquire their refugee visas and thus assure her son's success at an American university. After an incredible amount of work, which she'd ensured he invested, her son had applied to and been admitted by Harvard Business School's MBA program, conditional on a difficult to get visa.
Her son would need his Mother to continue to drive him forward. Unable to accompany him if he only obtained a student visa, she'd hatched a plan to get them refugee status. This was possible because she'd fled from the North to the South.
He was a good son, even a brilliant son, who learned quickly, but could be impulsive at times. She'd taken care of that. His GMAT and his English test scores, required for admission, were flawless.
He'd grown up without a Father, with no other close relatives in reach besides her. That was already enough of a disadvantage. She wouldn't let a little humiliation in front of this American half-blood block a better life for Jin-sun.
Her only son would become part of the world's global elite in business.
Jin-sun's Mother put her arms close to her waist. Pressed her red chima skirt closer to her hidden baji pants. Bowed to the seated refugee officer.
She wasn't so old that she could no longer bend at the waist.
Besides, her woven r
amie cloth hanbok was designed to flow for comfort. The four foot deep blue ribbon tied in a wide knot the center of her jeogori jacket fell forward and almost touched the ground.
Just a nod in return from Officer Howell. The usual foreign rudeness. "Please, sit down."
She flipped her chima forward a little and settled into a modern metal chair in front of his desk.
Thin cold steel. Typical.
Looked up at the consul. Kept a hopeful expression on her face.
Hiding her feelings from officials came as second nature. There are skills you don't lose.
He shuffled thick papers into a folder. "I'm recording this interview so I don't have to slow you down to take notes while we talk. I'll get it transcribed later."
Flipped a black rocker switch built into the desk, then intoned formally, "Toby Howell, interviewing Yeo Min-jung about refugee visas for her and her natural child, Kwon Jin-sun."
She nodded as if she cared about his process. She just wanted to get her son to America. She'd undergo another dozen interviews if it would make that happen. "Happy to be recorded by machine."
"I'm sorry about your husband. Really, it would help the application for a refugee exception if you'd start at the beginning and tell in detail about how you came from the North to the South.
"Not many North Koreans end up traveling to the United States. Less than a hundred each year, in fact."
"Of course. Strange to think we escaped from our own country. Now I try to do it again. We married for several years, but just moved from husband's parents' farmhouse into apartment in town. On top floor near stairs. Usually had at least part of roof to ourselves.
"Party Secretary lived below us. Too lazy to climb two extra flight of stairs. Barely made it up stoop of own apartment."
"Is this all relevant? We're really just looking for why you crossed the border."
"You said start at beginning. This beginning." She took pride in her careful English to the half-American. He wouldn't be able to look down on her.
He sighed. "Go on."
Living on the other side of the border, he didn't realize about not having to live with her husband's parents and his baby brother in a one room farmhouse.
"The small apartments new. Radiator in bedroom even work, not just stove in kitchen, but wallpaper pasted the month before fell off walls in small chunks. Bad glue. Was downstairs to help Party Committee Secretary rehang his wallpaper while husband rested between shifts at yoke factory.
"He trained as mechanical engineer. Was promoted to department supervisor, which when the Party Secretary assigned us apartment."
"I'm sorry, yoke factory?"
"Yes, for oxen. They pull plows and wagons. Otherwise, people must pull for themselves. Government loaned yokes out to farmers in rotation when time to plant or harvest.
"No one think to use valuable machinery for such a purpose, like they do here in South."
"And your husband grew up on his parent's farm, so he understood how these yokes worked, huh?"
"Spent most of his time taking care of equipment they used to produce yokes, but did once suggest how could use less wood making yoke, but would remain strong enough to pull proper loads. Party studied if improvements work or not when we left.
"Of course, once we left, they throw away as fruit of traitor. Odd to think of other people thinking of us as traitor. Didn't think of ourselves that way.
"Just wanted to survive. Have child."
"I think we're off track again."
"After came back from re-papering Party Secretary's apartment, brought extra scraps. Thought husband be happy, but instead seemed upset.
"Tried to act normal, but could tell by way he huff as he sat. How turned away to sleep that night. Something upset him. Tried to explain needed to stay on good terms with Party Secretary, especially after promotion, but that didn't seem problem."
"What was his name?"
"Husband?"
"The Party Secretary."
"Secretary Meon Lon-chun."
Officer Howell seemed to find that important. Actually scribbled notes rather than just relying on the recording. "Go on."
"Next morning, on weekend, I helped him get dressed. Ready for day in volunteer labor battalion.
"Husband admitted he found my radio, between mattress and wall where hidden. Learned guitar in school. Told him I missed guitar. Liked music on radio from South.
"That our first fight after marriage. Out on farm, radio been fine, but he thought too risky where we lived.
"Suppose now, must admit he right in our fight, even if didn't lead only to bad. Life balanced that way.
"Wish he here for me apologize. Don't think I ever did, for fight."
Officer Howell looked toward the door. These half-breeds had no ability to concentrate on important matters.
"Shouldn't have told husband. If had listened to neighbor, might been fine."
"Told him what?"
Officer Howell's brain was impenetrable. Did she really need to spell it out?
She felt her cheeks heat up at the memory.
"Didn't need to worry about radio being found. Party Secretary gave radio last time forced himself on me.
"Gift to justify actions."
* * *
For once, Michelle wasn't going to spend her Friday evening diplomatically gulping rice soju and belting out karaoke with the local State Department losers.
Instead, she'd left work early.
Returned to the low-rise apartment the CIA comp'd her. The Station Chief probably listed it as a safe house on the books. Towed his local mistress up here before Michelle'd moved in.
His loss.
She planned to relax and forget about work completely, but even living on the sixth floor, she still unlocked more deadbolts than most.
Professional paranoia.
Kicked off her flats. Sat back in her balcony's deck furniture, the bare horizontal wooden slats pressing into her shoulders. Stretching her feet up onto the blue steel railing overlooking Seoul, she didn't worry about her pencil skirt.
A little cold never bothered her. Besides, she wore thick enough stockings.
With no one around, she could afford to let go a little.
Drop her everyday pretenses.
She tuned out the K-pop which blasted from a nearby apartment. Ignored the mix of pickled cabbage kimchee and winter sewage rising on the updrafts.
At least the cool breeze took her wrinkled neighbor's weird floral vaping fumes away.
Even with official cover as a defense attaché and the attendant diplomatic immunity, she'd never become used to always having to put up a front. Wondering who might watch her with ill intent.
Ensuring she made just the right amount of eye contact, but not too much.
Especially in Korea, where no one considered it rude to stare at obvious foreigners in public.
She sighed.
How was she supposed to know who paid too much attention to her when both the locals and the soldiers she liaised with constantly ogled her?
When even taking the subway subjected her to constant physical contact with handsy Korean pretty-boys?
Easy to pass intelligence off covertly in the thick crowds, but otherwise a field officer's nightmare location.
At least sitting on her apartment balcony, only her neighbors could see her. They didn't come outside except to tend their balcony of herbs during the day.
Safe here, she'd be able to watch dusk overcome the skyline, leaving random apartment building window lights and gleaming office buildings reflecting the setting sun.
Seeing the lit spiked tower rise above Namsan mountain. Could finally get away from work for a while.
So of course, her mobile phone rang. She glanced at the phone's screen, but the number was blank. The symbol indicated a secure call. Encrypted.
She did the time zone math in her head. Late afternoon here in Korea, a Langley resident was calling her in the middle of the night there.
A bad sign.
She dropped her feet to the harsh balcony floor. "Seoul."
CIA Assistant Director Edward Metcalf's deep bass voice echoed in her head, "With your promotion to uncovered control, we're looking for faster results."
She'd only met him once in person, during a meet and greet before she flew out. Her immediate boss, the Chief of Station here, reported to him back in Langley. This was the first time he'd called her directly since their video conversation in San Diego.
"I have two potential resources on the hook. One gives me access to the Ranger's technical and intelligence side. The other to details of their combat mission planning and after action reviews. They're at odds right now, so I can play them against each other."
She really did have the start of two good relationships going. Was even a little attracted to both men, albeit for different reasons. Not exactly a tough duty, despite her potentially conflicting loyalties. Anyway, Sam should look out himself.
He was just being dumb, otherwise.
"The clock is ticking. The enemy's pieces are moving. Your competition has a new high-level source in the DPRK government. Very promising.
"You need to be more aggressive on this. Track down if the Rangers have any plans on the other side of the DMZ which could impact our efforts."
A good relationship with power in Washington would certainly help Michelle become the youngest Chief of Station anyone had ever heard of. She needed to demonstrate her value to his team.
With this personal interest in her work, she had to deliver.
She quenched her natural rebellion. "My source has access to that. I could use additional details on a local. Captain Rhee Yun-seok, ROK Army, assigned to head one of their security details."
Information exchange with Washington was potentially a two-way street.
"Run it our way. The desired crisis is larger than your mission. You just need to guide them in the right direction at the right times. Don't make us regret choosing you."
She crossed her legs. "I'll make sure you have no regrets, afterward."
"Remember, the easiest way to figure out a puzzle is to start with the whole picture and then cut it into pieces. Then solve it.
Techno Ranger Page 8