Ch.382Extra Episode – Same Day, Same Place, Different Deed (End)

The volunteers were scheduled to meet at the airport at 9 AM. Camilla, who left home at 8 AM, an hour earlier, struggled to move her heavy suitcase.

“Oh no! I think we’re going to be late, sis!”

“You should have woken up earlier.”

Unlike her sister’s urgent tone, her older sister remained completely unfazed.

The reason Camilla was banging her beloved Union Jack suitcase against the hallway railing was because she had been sprawled out in bed, completely oblivious to the breaking dawn.

Watching her disheveled sister with her messy hair hastily tied up, oblivious to her suitcase bumping into things, her older sister sighed deeply while loading luggage into the Uber.

“You always oversleep on travel days. What were you doing in the early morning?”

“Watching a movie. A movie…”

“What movie was it this time? 007? Kingsman?”

Camilla proudly exclaimed:

“Mission Impossible!”

“I wonder how someone so unprepared got into Cambridge. Sigh… Did you pack your passport and vaccination certificates?”

“Yes! Malaria, dengue fever, yellow fever—got them all!”

“Get in. If we leave now, we won’t miss the flight.”

The sisters, loaded with luggage, squeezed themselves into the taxi. After confirming his passengers had boarded through the rearview mirror, the driver adjusted his sunglasses and asked for their destination.

“Heathrow Airport, please.”

“Yes, understood.”

Behind his dark sunglasses, the middle-aged driver fell into contemplation. Being in a profession that exposed him to various types of people, he naturally assumed today’s passengers were university students.

Mid-May. Given London universities’ trimester system, the passengers were clearly students.

Judging by their age difference, the older sister had either already graduated or was attending graduate school. The younger one seemed to be studying at Cambridge.

Around this time of year, university students were typically busy traveling during their break. These passengers too were probably heading abroad for the holiday.

With this thought, the middle-aged driver steered toward Heathrow Airport and casually struck up a conversation with his chattering passengers.

“You’re university students, aren’t you? On break?”

“Ah, yes! I’m in university.”

“Seeing all that luggage, you must be going on a trip. I’m curious where to. Paris? Berlin?”

“No, actually. We’re not traveling—we’re going for medical volunteer work.”

“Ah, medical volunteering. That’s admirable. So where are you headed?”

The red-haired girl answered enthusiastically:

“Sudan!”

“Oh my. Isn’t that dangerous? I hear the Middle East is quite turbulent these days…”

Camilla smiled brightly.

“That’s right! It’s currently a civil war zone!”

Extra Episode – Same Day, Same Place, Different Business

“You’re bragging about that now?!”

“Ah, ow! That hurts, sis!”

Camilla tapped her sister’s hand as it pinched her cheek, tears welling in her eyes.

London Heathrow Airport bustled with thousands of visitors. The sight of two obviously privileged women bickering drew the attention of many passersby.

“There are things you can say and things you shouldn’t. Is war a child’s game? How could you say something like that?”

“I’m sowwy…”

“I swear, I can’t live like this.”

Her sister released Camilla’s cheek and scolded her severely.

“Don’t do that again. Have you forgotten how Father collapsed when you told your professor you were going to Afghanistan last time?”

“B-but that was because Father’s friend at the Home Office told him… It wasn’t the professor who said anything. He even wrote me a recommendation letter for my internship without telling Mom and Dad…”

Rowell’s parents had doted on their youngest daughter, born late after their eldest son and daughter.

Such parents had only severely reprimanded their daughter twice in her life.

Once when Camilla was caught having secretly applied for an intelligence agency internship program. And again when she accompanied her sister, who worked with Doctors Without Borders, to Afghanistan.

She didn’t know it at the time, but her father discovered both his second daughter’s acceptance into the intelligence agency internship and the two sisters’ purchase of plane tickets to Kabul thanks entirely to his “company” acquaintances.

‘Hey, congratulations. I heard your daughter got accepted.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Haven’t you heard? Camilla applied for an internship at my company. I saw her name on the acceptance list released by HR today. You didn’t know?’

‘What? My daughter got into that damned company!?’

‘By the way, your eldest daughter does medical volunteer work abroad, right? Doctors Without Borders, was it?’

‘Yes. I’d hoped she’d work somewhere comfortable after medical school, but somehow that’s how it turned out.’

‘Does your second daughter work there too, by any chance?’

‘Hmm? Camilla? No, she’s still in university.’

‘That’s strange… Then why is your daughter going to Afghanistan?’

‘…Where did you say she’s going?!’

To the Sandhurst graduate army officer and the law school graduate attorney, Camilla was the apple of their eye.

Her father, through his experience fighting the Taliban in Afghanistan, knew exactly what kind of neighborhood Afghanistan was. Hastily concluding his evening appointment and returning home, he collapsed in front of his two daughters who were searching for hotels in Kabul on their laptop.

Looking back now, it was quite a comical scene, but neither sister could laugh when reminiscing about that time, then or now.

That’s why they promised their parents they would return safely no matter what happened.

They would stay in hotels with armed security whenever possible. They would refrain from actions that might offend locals. They would understand at least the local language and customs before making contact with locals. And so on.

They wondered how their father, who claimed to have merely been stationed in Afghanistan, knew so much about the Middle East and Africa, but since it was an earnest request from their usually genial father, the two daughters could only promise to return safely without asking questions.

“But you promised Dad, remember? That we’d return safely. You haven’t forgotten, have you, Camilla?”

“Mmm… I know.”

“We’re not going there for fun. We’re going to save lives.”

“I know, I know.”

After checking in her suitcase, Camilla put her hands in her pockets and grumbled.

She had packed only the essentials as she’d learned from her previous volunteer work in Afghanistan and Syria.

She included light-colored clothes with good ventilation to prevent heatstroke, and ample emergency money for bribes to police or officials. Tips from seniors who graduated and now worked as contractors for intelligence agencies.

“…”

While taking in the London scenery she wouldn’t see for a while, her sister, who had passed through security, spoke with her passport and ticket in hand.

“First, we’ll meet up with other members in Paris. You remember Noah, right?”

“The emergency medicine specialist from Doctors Without Borders Paris? Of course.”

“Her mentor is also joining this mission. A Korean doctor named Choi. Have you heard of him?”

“Korea? South? Or North?”

“South Korea, obviously. You think it would be North Korea?”

“I’m joking, joking. I know there are no North Koreans in Doctors Without Borders.”

“What kind of joke is that? Sometimes I worry about what you’re learning on the internet. Are you getting your sense of humor from IS tweets on Twitter?”

“No, it’s the Northern Alliance, not IS.”

And I’m looking it up for school assignments, not for fun!

Camilla shrieked as she boarded the flight to Paris. Her sister stared at her for a moment before shaking her head as if to say she couldn’t handle her.

*

“When in doubt, we take down the commie bastards first.”

From the passenger seat of the van, I addressed my team members.

In the back seats, behind dark tinting and vehicle curtains, my subordinates sat among a pile of suitcases sturdy enough to withstand an adult man’s kick.

“You mean the State Security Department agents? What’s the exact number?”

“Three operatives from Dar es Salaam, two drafted from the Rwandan embassy. Add the personnel from the Cairo embassy, and that’s seven in total.”

“That’s still a lot, even excluding reinforcements from the homeland.”

Staff shortage is a chronic problem for North Korean embassies, which drastically reduced their permanent staff since the March of Suffering. Nevertheless, seven State Security agents were dispatched from three countries.

Deputy Moon, who had awkwardly placed his foot on a suitcase, quietly cursed. Under his feet lay satellite phones from the International Maritime Organization that could be used in the desert, along with intelligence gathering equipment.

“With just three more added, we’d already have over ten. Our team is barely five people, excluding you, sir.”

“What’s there to worry about with those?”

I nodded toward an old sports bag. The bag with a faded logo was filled with automatic rifles acquired from the black market.

Following the Taliban’s capture of Kabul two years ago, a significant number of firearms entered the international black market. Moreover, Libya, which shares a border with Egypt, was a country torn apart by civil war, so we were able to examine rifles from around the world in the Egyptian black market.

My Egyptian intelligence contact who provided information for this operation would probably tell us to get back to Seoul immediately if he knew, but I didn’t care at all.

Foreign nationals carrying guns in conflict zones aren’t exactly rare. And the illegal possession of firearms by intelligence officers operating in war-torn neighborhoods is an uncomfortable truth that all intelligence agencies know about and turn a blind eye to.

They probably suspected as much when they took my call.

They just pretend not to know.

Friendly conversation flowed inside the van speeding through the remote desert. The intelligence operations team members kept a close eye on the other lanes and occasionally asked questions.

“What about the workshop people? Are they getting support?”

“They’re already ahead of us. We’ll do our job and meet up with the branch staff in Khartoum.”

“Has the location of the escaped North Korean been identified?”

I shook my head, resting my feet on the glove box.

“The National Intelligence Service couldn’t find out that much either. If they had, a field team would have handled it already. But they did locate where the State Security agents are staying.”

“Where is that?”

“An apartment in downtown Khartoum. About 500 meters in a straight line from the hotel where we’ll be staying.”

Chief Kim turned the steering wheel.

Born with the strange ability to sleep soundly on planes, he always took the wheel upon arrival. He was a good driver and enjoyed handling cars, so he volunteered as the driver.

He gently gripped the steering wheel and glanced at the passenger seat through the rearview mirror.

“Sir.”

“Yes, Chief Kim.”

“What if the State Security Department reaches the target before us?”

An important question. I crossed my arms slightly and fell into thought.

Lee is a foreign currency earner (managing the director’s slush fund) affiliated with North Korea’s Reconnaissance General Bureau. Managing contracts for electronic equipment with Sudanese warlords, he faced beheading after failing to receive payment.

For whatever reason, he flew to Sudan without reporting, and the State Security Department, catching wind of this, began tracking him before the Reconnaissance General Bureau could.

If we’re lucky, we’ll only have to deal with State Security agents; if unlucky, we might clash with Reconnaissance General Bureau agents sent to clean up the mess.

Given North Korea’s lack of a national intelligence agency, intelligence organizations always need to demonstrate their loyalty ahead of others. And that loyalty is ultimately measured in monetary value.

That’s why the State Security Department and Reconnaissance General Bureau operate separate businesses. They don’t encroach on each other’s territory, but when they catch a lead, they rush in to cut off the other’s lifeline. This situation is just an extension of that.

So we need to secure the communist who botched his business and fled as quickly as possible.

That way, we can block foreign currency flowing into North Korea and seize the Reconnaissance General Bureau director’s slush fund. Going further, we might even neutralize North Korea’s military cooperation through this incident. Of course, the most important goal is the information Lee possesses.

Having organized my thoughts, I bluntly answered:

“We intercept. Capture him alive if possible, but if things go wrong, take them all down and just grab the documents.”

“And I suppose analyzing those will be our job too.”

“Analyze, and if he’s alive, interrogate him too.”

“Understood. Checkpoint ahead. Let’s get ready, everyone.”

At the end of the paved road mixed with sand and dust, an Egyptian military border checkpoint appeared.

The van stopped at the signal, and I lowered the window, greeting the soldier in fluent Egyptian Arabic dialect.

“Massa al-kheir.”

“Ahlan wa sahlan. Please show your passport.”

After handing over the prepared documents, the soldier guarding the Egypt-Sudan border checked the papers and passport, then opened the checkpoint.

And so we safely crossed the border.

*

At the end of their journey from London Heathrow Airport to Paris Charles de Gaulle International Airport to Khartoum International Airport, Camilla and her group finally arrived at their hotel.

“Wow…”

The hotel located in the center of Khartoum was magnificent.

Perhaps because it was for foreigners and the wealthy, the interior was quite nice. Although the infrastructure was outdated, making it difficult to guarantee a comfortable stay, Camilla liked that the restaurant offered familiar menus, thanks to British colonial rule.

Of course, what really impressed Camilla was the robust security.

Security guards hired by the hotel were armed with automatic rifles, keeping a close eye on people entering and leaving the lobby. Although her sister expressed displeasure, saying “We can’t feel safe even in the capital,” Camilla didn’t mind at all.

It was while unpacking and wandering around the lobby that it happened.

“…Ouch!”

She collided with a pedestrian who suddenly appeared from outside her field of vision.

Distracted by the exotic scenery she had never seen before, she bumped her head against the person’s chest. She felt something—perhaps a button—that made her head ring.

Reflexively squeezing her eyes shut, Camilla rubbed her forehead and opened her eyelids, only to catch her breath.

“I’m sorry, oh!”

Before her stood an Asian man. He had been carrying a sports bag on his shoulder and pulling a suitcase.

Rubbing her forehead, Camilla froze like someone who had encountered Medusa the moment her eyes met the Asian man’s.

It was a kind of culture shock.

It wasn’t that she had never met Asians before, but the situation was different. The Asians she had met so far were either studious international students or immigrants in Britain, all of whom were fluent in English, no worse than native speakers.

But here she was, in a foreign country—Africa, where English wasn’t the primary language—face to face with an Asian person.

At that moment, Camilla belatedly realized she wasn’t familiar with Asian languages.

“Um, well…”

Trying to think of an apology for the foreigner she had bumped into, Camilla stammered without even getting a word out.

The only language she knew was a Chinese greeting, and she had once been called a racist when she ignorantly said “nihao” to an Asian student. She also recalled a Chinese person stopping her to ask for directions and pouring out questions in fluent Mandarin.

So, as a British person, she thought:

What if this person doesn’t speak English either?

With her mind going blank from such worries, fluent English reached her ears.

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t intentional. Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Oh, oh, yes. I’m fine.”

“That’s good. Have a nice day.”

The Asian man who apologized in fluent English despite the collision walked right past Camilla. Shortly after, men who appeared to be his companions boarded the elevator, carrying heavy luggage.

Watching from a distance, Camilla muttered blankly with her gaze fixed on empty space.

Oh, so he could speak English.

She only came to her senses when her sister, holding the key, came down and entered her field of vision.

“Camilla, what are you doing here?”

“…Huh? Oh. Nothing.”

Belatedly coming to her senses, Camilla asked her sister who appeared in the lobby in casual attire:

“Where is everyone?”

“They’re all resting in their rooms. Come with me. Let’s go downtown for a bit.”

“Downtown? Aren’t we starting the volunteer work right away?”

“We’ll set up the base camp and leave tomorrow morning. Let’s eat first.”

“But I had the in-flight meal.”

“Aren’t you hungry? You just slept while I was eating. We need to eat something before we can work.”

That’s right. Meals are important.

For once agreeing with her sister, Camilla gathered her things and left the hotel. Under the blazing sun of the Black Continent, Camilla raised her hand high.

“Let’s go eat!”

“Remember, we’re here to save people.”

Passing by the armed guards, the sisters stepped onto the street and enjoyed the food culture of a country they had never visited before.

*

At that same time, on the 9th floor of a hotel in downtown Khartoum.

Standing by the window looking down at the street, two foreigners entered my field of vision.

One was a stranger, and the other was an acquaintance. Well, we had merely crossed paths in the hotel lobby, but still.

As I was gazing at the red-haired girl heading toward the eastern street, Sergeant Hwang approached me while untying internet cables bound with zip ties.

“What are you looking at so intently, sir?”

“The foreigner I met in the lobby earlier.”

“Ah, that red-haired woman? Why? Did something happen?”

Nothing worth mentioning.

I answered with my hands in my pockets:

“We just bumped into each other in passing.”

It’s common for intelligence officers to have friction with locals while living abroad.

If things had escalated and caused a commotion, we would have faced difficulties before even starting our operation. Unpleasant memories tend to stick more strongly in the mind than others. In such cases, a civilian unrelated to the operation would inevitably remember the intelligence officer’s image.

That’s why experienced agency personnel prefer to apologize appropriately and resolve issues for most problems.

Alternatively, they can compensate with money, or in the worst case, resort to threats. Of course, threats are always a last resort.

Conflicts are harmful to operations.

But for simple incidents like this one, it was fine to just let it go.

As I watched the red-haired woman entering an alley, Sergeant Hwang, who was connecting cables to equipment, joked with a good-natured smile:

“Well, well, our team leader might be ready for marriage. Why do you keep looking? Did her beauty captivate you?”

“Sergeant Hwang.”

“Pfft…”

Laughter escaped from the team members at Sergeant Hwang’s joke. Deputy Moon turned his head, and the others did the same. Among them, I saw Chief Kim snickering while moving a suitcase.

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“You guys…”

The team members wiped the smiles off their faces and returned to their work.

Deputy Moon took out and organized intelligence gathering equipment, while Sergeant Hwang connected internet lines to the ports of a rugged Panasonic laptop. Someone was exchanging communications with headquarters, checking the sound quality and condition of the communication equipment, while others stuck to the windows installing Israeli eavesdropping devices.

Meanwhile, Chief Kim, who had placed the sports bag containing firearms under the bed, approached me and held out something.

It was a pistol.

“Your weapon, sir.”

I checked the pistol Chief Kim handed me. An Iraqi Tariq pistol. It was a firearm kept by the intelligence service for research purposes, so I had fired it a few times before.

After pulling back the slide to check the brass bullets and the interior, I put the loaded gun in my pocket. I also took out a couple more magazines from another bag.

“Is the wiretapping preparation done?”

“Just finished the inspection.”

“Intercept all communications those State Security bastards exchange. And we need to install cameras and bugs inside that office within this week, so prepare for that too.”

“I’ll prepare right away. Are you going out?”

“Yeah, need to check what’s around the commies’ office.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Body armor would be too conspicuous, so we decided to just take guns.

Chief Kim took out his Tokarev, and I grabbed two more knives for us to use before we could leave the office.

“We’ll be back.”

Deputy Moon glanced around the corridor and bowed slightly as he closed the door.

Under the hot sunshine of May in Africa.

“Let’s go catch some commies.”

Two Asians with concealed pistols melted into the western streets of Khartoum.

Now forgotten by everyone.

But it happened once.

Extra Episode – Same Day, Same Place, Different Business -END-