Point of Contact

“I’m glad to hear that as well. She seemed quite upset when I spoke with her last night. She is a proud woman. I can hardly believe she came to apologize to you.”

Technically, she didn’t, Jack reminded himself. “She surprised me for sure.”

“My sister had made special plans for the two of you this morning, but she assumed you wouldn’t want to participate after the way you treated her last night.”

“I was caught off guard last night. After it was over, I told her I was an idiot.” Jack wanted to add, But I was an idiot only if I was wrong about her, and I’m pretty sure I’m not. But he thought better of it. “We’re more than happy to hang out with her this morning — I just have an appointment with Dr. Heng later this afternoon.”

“I’m sure you can keep it, and my sister will be delighted.”

Paul shifted, anxious. He whispered in Jack’s ear, “I’ve got work to do.”

Jack ignored him. “We couldn’t be more excited.”

Yong stood and extended his hand. “I’m glad we had this little chat today, gentlemen. It’s always good to clear the air.”

Jack shook his hand. “Just a few more days, Mr. Fairchild, and we’ll be out of your hair.”

“Hopefully an uneventful few days. If you’ll excuse me, I have a lot on my plate this morning,” Yong said with a dismissive wave.

Jack and Paul left, looking for Lian. Jack was beginning to think that Paul was right all along — maybe they should just sign off on the damn paper and get out. It seemed now like they were only spinning their wheels.

PYONGYANG, NORTH KOREA

Chairman Choi Ha-guk’s wide desk was empty except for an ashtray. Unlike his predecessor’s, the chairman’s office was spartan. Its only adornments were a plain couch, two chairs, industrial carpet, and bookshelves neatly stacked with technical books in three languages. He sat stiffly in his low-backed chair in a cloud of smoke across from Deputy Ri, the head of the General Services Administrative Directorate.

“Why hasn’t it happened yet?” A Gitanes cherry-tipped in the chairman’s yellowed fingers as he took another drag.

“I have every confidence in the Bulgarian. He’s proven himself utterly reliable in the past.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“There are unanticipated security measures to be overcome. But he assures me they will be overcome.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

“We’re running out of time.” Chairman Choi stabbed his butt out in the crowded ashtray. “You’re running out of time.”

“But there is still time, and the software my department has written is flawless.”

The chairman opened a desk drawer and pulled out a fresh pack of cigarettes. He slid his thumbnail beneath the cellophane wrapper, thinking. “I’m giving you direct command of any foreign RGB units you may have need of.”

“Director Kang will object, and I—”

The chairman cut him short with a raised finger. “This operation takes precedence over all others. I will inform Director Kang myself.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The chairman offered the blue pack to Ri. “Cigarette?”

Ri hid his surprise. He nodded and took one. “Thank you.”

The chairman slid his Zippo lighter across the desk. Ri lit up. They smoked in silence for a few moments, until a curt nod from the chairman ended the meeting.

40

SINGAPORE

Lian took Jack and Paul on a tour of her city, starting with historic Emerald Hill and its restored colonial splendor, then over to the colorful Arab Street in the Muslim quarter, featuring the gold-domed Masjid Sultan Mosque, hipster boutiques, and street art. When she noticed Paul’s limp getting worse, she waved off on a walking tour in the Cloud Forest and instead drove them around Orchard Road — Singapore’s version of Rodeo Drive.

They ended their brief tour at a hawker food center — a kind of mini mall for Singapore street food.

“Our national pastime is eating,” Lian explained, standing in front of one of dozens of stalls. “Food is one of our many national treasures, and hawker food is the most famous of all.”

Lian indulged in a bowl of spicy fish-head curry. Paul’s appetite wasn’t whetted by the black eyes and sharp teeth of the fish head swimming in red sauce, so he opted for a plate of chicken and rice at a different vendor, and Jack went a few stalls down to find a skewer of glistening chicken satay — spicier and sweeter than he’d had in his favorite Thai restaurant back in Alexandria.

They slurped and chewed as they sat together on a plastic picnic table, surrounded by the high-pitched babble of animated Singlish and a dozen Asian and European dialects in the food center crowded with tourists. Jack failed to notice a Bulgarian and a German standing far back in the milling crowd, their attention focused on Paul Brown.

“So you got everything put back in order at your place?” Lian had avoided the subject until now.

“Yes, but we’re still waiting to hear from that lieutenant about the identity of the anonymous caller,” Jack said. “I’m sure he knows how to trace a call.”