Chapter
30
DON’T EVER LET ME IN a room with that man again, because only one of us will come out alive,” said Reel. “And it won’t be him.”
They were back in the States and in Robie’s apartment.
“I don’t want to be in the same building as the guy, much less the same room,” said Robie as he moved around the kitchen making them a meal.
Reel poured a fresh cup of coffee and leaned against the sink, watching him maneuver pots, pans, and dishes.
“You get domestic much?” she asked.
“I live alone. I can’t eat out all the time. My repertoire is limited, but it fills the bill.” He held up two boxes. “Pasta or rice?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I haven’t seen any food go down your throat for about forty-eight hours. How can you not be hungry? It wasn’t like they overfed us at the Burner.”
Reel sighed resignedly. “Pasta.”
Robie heated some water in a large pot.
Reel said, “You know this is going to blow up into some huge international incident.”
“Probably,” said Robie as he looked in the pantry for some marinara sauce.
“And they’ll probably send us out again to clean it all up.”
Robie found the sauce and then tossed her a loaf of hard bread. “Get a knife, cut this loaf into small sizes, and take out your frustrations. Pretend Evan Tucker has been magically transformed into olive bread.”
While she was cutting, Reel said, “To hell with it. If they ask, I’m not going to do it. Are you?”
“Depends on what they ask and who’s doing the asking.”
He poured the noodles into the boiling water and then cracked open a bottle of wine and pulled two glasses from a cabinet. He poured the wine and handed one glass to Reel while he took a sip from the other and started cutting up some vegetables.
“What I know,” began Robie, “is that DD Marks told us to stand down and gave us time off. And I, for one, can use it. I’m too old for the Burner Box crap they pulled. And you’re not that much younger than me.”
“In dog years I’m far older,” pointed out Reel. “And that’s what I feel like, a dog. An old, washed-up dog.”
Robie finished cutting the vegetables and then began to sauté them in a heated pan that was on the cooktop. He took a sip of wine and glanced toward the window where outside the rain was bucketing down.
“General Pak said don’t let them hurt his family.”
Reel nodded. “Right. In North Korea it’s guilt by association. The labor camps over there are all based on that. If Mom and Dad get arrested and sent there, so do the kids. That way they cleanse the generations of ‘undesirables’ or whatever bullshit term they use.”
“I know that. But I checked Pak out. His wife is dead. He’s over seventy, so I assume his parents are probably dead. And he has no kids.”
“Brothers and sisters?”
“Not that I could find. The briefing said he was an only child.”
Reel drank her wine down and poured another glass. “I don’t know, Robie. That is odd. Speaking of family, what about Julie?”
“She’s not my family.”
“Close as you’ve got, I’m thinking.”
“I haven’t talked to her since before we left for the Burner Box.”
“Time off, like you said. You should hook up with her.”
“And why do you care?”
“I like to live vicariously through people more normal than I. Which is basically everyone on the planet, present company excluded.”
Robie checked his watch. “How about we invite her for dinner? You watch the food, I go get her.”
“You’re serious?”
“Why not? She really seemed to like you.”
Reel took a sip of her wine and studied him. “You think?”
“Actually, I know. She told me she thought you were cool.”
Reel considered this and then glanced at the cooking food. “I suck in the kitchen. How about you call and I go get her while you play domesticated?”
Robie smiled and tossed her his car keys. “You’re on.”