The Orphan Master's Son (53 page)

He parked the Mustang and stepped out. There was no sign of the Dear Leader's entourage. Only Comrade Buc was here, sitting alone at a picnic table with a cardboard box. Buc beckoned him over, where Ga could see that the table's slats had been carved with initials in English. “Every last detail,” he said to Buc.

Buc nodded at the box. “I've got a surprise for you,” he said.

When Commander Ga looked at the box, he had a sudden feeling that inside was an object that had once belonged to the real Commander Ga. He didn't have a sense of whether it was a jacket or a hat or why Buc would be in possession of such a thing, he only felt that what was inside had belonged to his predecessor and that when he opened the box and came in contact with the thing, when he touched it and accepted it, the real Commander Ga would hold a power over him.

“You open it,” he said to Buc.

Comrade Buc reached into the box and removed a pair of black cowboy boots.

Ga took them, turned them in his hands—they were the same pair he'd held in Texas.

“How'd you find these?” he asked.

Buc didn't answer, but gave a grin of pride that he could find any item on earth, anywhere, and fetch it to Pyongyang.

Ga removed his dress shoes, which, he now realized, actually had belonged to his predecessor. They'd been at least a size too large. When he sank his feet into the cowboy boots, they fit perfectly. Buc took one of Commander Ga's dress shoes and studied it.

“He was always such an ass about his shoes,” Buc said. “He made me procure them for him in Japan.
They had to be from Japan
.”

“What should we do with them?”

“They're fine shoes,” Buc said. “They'd be worth a small fortune at a night market.”

But then Buc tossed them into the mud.

Together, the two men began walking the site, making sure everything was in order for the Dear Leader's inspection. The Japanese chuck wagon looked convincing enough, and there was no end of fishing poles and scythes. Near the shooting stand was a bamboo cage that contained the dark motion of poisonous snakes.

“Does it feel like Texas to you?” Comrade Buc asked.

Commander Ga shrugged. “The Dear Leader's never been to Texas,” he said. “He'll think it looks like Texas, that's all that matters.”

“That's not what I asked,” Buc said.

Ga looked up to see if it would rain. This morning the rainfall had been heavy, obscuring everything out the windows, so the light was faint when Sun Moon shifted to his side of the bed. “I have to know if he's really gone,” she said. “So many times my husband disappeared, only to reappear days or weeks later, in ways that would surprise you, test you. If he came back now, if he saw what we were planning … you don't even know.” Here she paused. “When he really hurts people,” she added, “he doesn't take snapshots.”

Her hand was on his chest. He reached for her shoulder, the skin warm from the covers. “Trust me,” he told her. “You'll never see him again.” He ran his hand down her side, feeling the soft skin travel under his fingers.

“No,” she said and pulled back. “Just tell me he's dead. Ever since we decided on our plan, now that we're risking everything, I can't shake this feeling that he's coming back.”

“He's dead, I promise,” he told her. But it wasn't so simple. It wasn't so simple because it had been dark and chaotic in the mine. He'd sunk a rear scissors choke on Commander Ga and held it for the full count and then some. When Mongnan came and found him, she told him to put on Ga's
uniform. He got dressed and listened when she told him what to say to the Warden. But when she told him to crush the naked man's skull with a rock he shook his head no. Instead, he rolled the body into a shaft. It turned out to be a shallow one. They heard the body tumble briefly before sliding to a rest, and with the seed of doubt Sun Moon had placed in his chest, he, too, now had the feeling that he'd only
almost
killed the real Commander Ga, that the man was out there somewhere, recovering, regaining his strength, that when he was himself again, he'd be coming.

Ga walked to the corral. “This is the only Texas we've got,” he said to Buc, then climbed the poles to sit on the top rung. A lone water ox was penned inside. A few fat, widely spaced raindrops fell, but they weren't followed by others.

Comrade Buc was busy lighting a fire in the pit, but mostly he was making smoke. From where he sat atop the corral, Ga could see eels gulping air along the surface of the fishing pond and hear the flap of a Texas state flag, hand-painted on Korean silk. The ranch looked enough like Texas to make him think of Dr. Song. But when he thought of what had happened to Dr. Song, the place suddenly looked nothing like America. It was hard to believe the old man was gone. Ga still saw him sitting there in the dark moonlight of a Texas night, holding his hat against the wind. He could still hear Dr. Song's voice in the aircraft hangar,
A most fascinating journey
,
never to be repeated
.

Comrade Buc splashed more fuel oil on the fire, raising a dark column.

“Wait till the Dear Leader brings the Americans out here,” Buc said. “When the Dear Leader's happy, everyone's happy.”

“About that,” Ga said. “Don't you think your work's about done here?”

“What?” Buc asked. “What do you mean?”

“Looks like you got your hands on all the stuff you had to get. Shouldn't you move on to the next project and forget about all of this?”

“You upset about something?” Comrade Buc asked him.

“What if it turns out the Dear Leader isn't happy? What if something goes wrong and he ends up very unhappy? Have you thought of that?”

“That's what we're here for,” Buc said. “To not let that happen.”

“And then there's Dr. Song, who did everything right, and look what they did to him.”

Buc turned away, and Ga could tell that the man did not want to talk about his old friend.

Ga said, “You've got a family, Buc. You should get some distance from this.”

“But you still need me,” Buc said. “I still need you.” Buc walked to the fire pit and retrieved the Dear Leader's branding iron, which had just begun to heat. Buc used both arms to heft the thing—he held it up for Ga's inspection. In English, the letters running backward, the brand read: “
PROPERTY OF THE DEMOCRATIC PEOPLES REPUBLIC OF KOREA
.”

The letters were big, making the brand almost a meter long. Red hot, it would sear an animal's entire side.

“It took the guys at the foundry a week to make this,” Buc said.

“So?”

Buc looked impatient. “So? I don't speak English. I need you to tell me if we spelled it right.”

Commander Ga carefully read the letters in reverse. “It's right,” he said. Then he slipped through the corral rungs and went to the ox, tethered by a ring in its nose. He fed the beast watercress from a bin, then rubbed the black plate between its horns.

Comrade Buc neared, and by the way he warily eyed the large animal, it was pretty clear he'd never been commandeered to help with the harvest.

“You know how I told you about defeating Commander Ga in a prison mine?”

Buc nodded.

“He was lying there naked, and he looked pretty dead. A friend told me to drop a large rock on his skull.”

“Wise friend,” Buc said.

“But I couldn't do it. Now, I keep thinking, you know—”

“—that Commander Ga is still alive? Impossible. If he were alive, we'd know it, he'd be on top of us right now.”

“I know he's dead. The only point is this,” Ga said. “I keep having this feeling that something bad is ahead. You've got a family. You should think about them.”

“There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?” Buc asked.

“I'm just trying to help you,” Ga told him.

“You're planning something, I can tell,” Buc said. “What are you up to?”

“I'm not,” Ga said. “Let's just forget I said anything.”

Buc stopped him. “You've got to tell me,” he said. “Look, when the crow came, I opened my house, we extended our exit plan to you. I've said nothing to anyone about your real identity. I gave you my peaches. If something's up, you have to tell me.”

Ga didn't say anything.

“Like you said, I have a family. What about them?” Buc asked. “How am I supposed to protect them if you leave me in the dark?”

Commander Ga looked around the ranch, at the pistols, the pitchers for lemonade, the gift baskets on the picnic tables. “When the American plane leaves, we'll be on it, Sun Moon, the kids, me.”

Comrade Buc cringed. “No, no, no,” he said. “You don't tell anyone, ever. Don't you know that? You never tell. Not your friends, not your family, especially not me. You could get everyone killed. If they interrogate me, they'll know I knew. And that's assuming you make it. Do you know the cushy promotion I'd get for turning you in?” Buc threw his hands up. “You don't ever tell. Nobody tells. Never.”

Commander Ga stroked the ox's black neck, then patted it twice, dust rising from its greasy coat. “That branding iron will probably kill it, you know. That wouldn't impress the Americans.”

Comrade Buc began lining fishing poles up against a tree. His hands were shaky. When he had them all set, a line snagged, and the poles fell over again. He looked at Ga, as if it were his fault. “But you,” he said. “You're the one who tells.” He shook his head. “That's why you're different. Somehow the rules are different for you, and that's why you maybe have a shot at making it.”

“You believe that?”

“Is the plan simple?”

“I think so.”

“Don't tell me anything more. I don't want to know.” There was thunder, and Buc looked up, gauging whether rain was imminent. “Just answer this—are you in love with her?”

“Love,” that was a very big word.

“If something happened to her,” Buc asked, “would you want to go on without her?”

Such a simple question—how had he not asked himself this? He felt her steady hand on his tattoo from the other night, the way she let him
quietly weep in bed beside her. She didn't even turn down the lantern so she wouldn't have to look upon his vulnerability. She'd just watched him, concern in her eyes, until sleep drew near.

Ga shook his head no.

Headlights appeared in the distance. Buc and Ga turned to see a black car navigating the muddy ruts on the road. It wasn't the Dear Leader's caravan. As it neared, they could see its wipers were still on, so it had come from the direction of the storm.

Buc turned to him, so they were close. He spoke with urgency. “I'll tell you what I know about how this world works. If you and Sun Moon go together with the kids,
maybe
there's a chance you'll make it,
maybe.
” The first drops of rain fell. The ox lowered its head. “But if Sun Moon and the kids somehow get on that plane, yet you're by the Dear Leader's side, directing his focus, making excuses, diverting his attention, they'll
probably
make it.” And here Comrade Buc let go of his permanent grin and laughing squint. When his face went slack, it was clear its natural state was seriousness. “It also means,” he said, “that you'll
absolutely
be around to pay the price for this, rather than dutiful citizens like myself and my children.”

A lone figure was walking toward them. He was military, they could tell. As the rain thickened, he made no effort to shield himself, and they watched his uniform darken as he neared. Ga opened his spectacles and peered through them. For some reason, he could make out nothing of the man's face, but the uniform was unmistakable: he was a commander.

Comrade Buc regarded the figure nearing them. “Fuck me,” he said, and turned to Ga. “You know what Dr. Song said about you? He said you had a gift, that you could say a lie while speaking the truth.”

“Why'd you tell me that?”

“Because Dr. Song never got the chance to tell you,” Buc said. “And here's something I have to say to you. There's probably no way you could pull this off without me. But if you stick around after this happens, if you stay and bear the burden, I'll help you.”

“Why?”

“Because Commander Ga did the worst thing that's ever been done to me. Then he went right on living next door. And I had to go on working on the same floor with him. I had to bend over and check his shoe size before I ordered his slippers from Japan. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him
coming at me. When I lay with my wife, I felt Ga's weight atop me. But you, you came along and fixed him for me. When you arrived, he vanished.”

Comrade Buc stopped and turned. Ga turned, too.

Then from the rain appeared the scarred face of Commander Park.

“Forget about me?” Park asked.

“Not at all,” Ga said. He watched beads of rain trace the wounds in Park's face and wondered if this wasn't the inspiration for the disfigured man in the Dear Leader's script.

“There's been a turn of events,” Commander Park said. “Comrade Buc and I are going to take inventory of the situation here.” He fixed his eyes on Ga. “And you, the Dear Leader will brief you himself. And after this is all said and done, perhaps you and I will have a chance to rekindle our friendship.”