Chapter 37
586 Words
Chapter 37
It was an early night for everyone. Late evening in the Canadian Gulf Islands, late afternoon in North Korea at the end of a long day, and little or no sleep the prior night.
North Korea’s leader hadn’t been rude at dinner, but he’d made it clear that if it wasn’t about basketball, he wouldn’t be talking to anyone other than President Matthews.
Daniel offered Alice a separate room. The gentlemanly thing to do, and there were just enough beds. Big John and Tim, the two crew chiefs, had bedded down in bunk beds, generous enough for John’s tall frame. Beale and Henderson in one suite, Kim Jong-un in one of similar comfort and style. Daniel and the Korean bodyguard, who had still remained nameless, were to share another bunk room.
The crew chiefs and the Korean guard had found some degree of trust and set up a schedule so that two could sleep and one patrol.
He gave Alice the last bedroom, which sported a frilly set of curtains and a double bed with pink and pale blue pillows. Clearly a girl’s room, the nicest in his estimation. He set out a glass of water and a small collection of fine chocolates as he’d done for the others. Sometimes it was the little touches that counted.
He debated at length about just setting a chocolate and glass for himself on the other side, but it felt presumptuous.
She’d been strangely silent during dinner and it had been left to himself and Henderson to carry the conversation. Tim and John had chipped in with stories of their more famous escapades as the self-declared pranksters of SOAR’s fifth battalion. Something about painting a general’s Humvee bright pink, every single part right down to the insides of the panels and the under the armor. They’d fully disassembled it to make sure no piece was missed.
“He had a bad habit of calling SOAR pilots ‘pansy girls’ compared with the 101st airborne.” Tim had clearly been deeply insulted.
“Along the way, we may have happened to rebuild the steering system so that the steering wheel worked in reverse. But maybe that wasn’t us.” John ended wistfully. Tim had cut his steak in a thoughtful silence that spoke volumes.
No one had anything to say, and no one had the energy to fill the lagging gaps in the conversation.
All in all, everyone was relieved when it was bedtime.
Daniel had helped Mark with the dishes. By the time they were done, everyone had retired.
Mark slipped into his and Beale’s suite, the lights already out.
Daniel took a quick turn of the house. Lights were out under all the doors, except one.
Alice’s door stood open just an inch. A thin beam of light slid out into the hallway.
He peeked in through the c***k.
Alice was under the covers, already asleep.
The light that shone through the c***k came from the other side of the bed. There, beneath the soft light stood a half-empty glass of water and half of the chocolates he’d left for Alice. The cover was folded back and his travel bag rested on a chair by the window.
He closed the door and slipped into bed beside her as gently as he could.
She mumbled something as he clicked off the light. It took him a moment to unravel that she’d said, “I’m awake.”
“Sure you are.” He whispered back, gently patting the pleasing round of her hip where it shaped the quilt beside him.
With a soft sigh she settled into a truly deep sleep.
Daniel, perhaps due to sleeping on the jet plane, lay wide awake long into the night.
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