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The volunteers promised to gather at the airport by 9 AM. Setting out an hour earlier at 8, Camila struggled with her heavy suitcase.

“What do I do? I think I’m going to be late, sis!”

“Well, maybe you should’ve woken up earlier.”

Despite her younger sister’s urgent voice, the older sister remained utterly unfazed.

Completely oblivious to the morning light, the younger girl pounded her cherished Union Jack suitcase against the front door rail.

The older sister sighed deeply as she watched Camila, with her messy hair haphazardly tied up, oblivious to the suitcase clashing around.

“You always sleep in on the days we have to go somewhere. What exactly were you doing up at dawn?”

“I was watching a movie. A movie…”

“And this time, what movie was it? 007? Kingsman?”

Camila proudly exclaimed, “Mission: Impossible!”

“I’m really curious how someone as unprepared as you got into Cambridge. Ugh… Did you pack your passport and vaccination records?”

“Yep! I got malaria, dengue, and yellow fever shots all sorted!”

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

The sisters, loaded with their bags, squeezed into the taxi. The driver, after confirming the passengers via the rearview mirror, adjusted his sunglasses and asked about their destination.

“Please take us to Heathrow Airport.”

“Yes, understood.”

Beyond his dark sunglasses, the middle-aged driver fell into deep thought. Being in a job where he met various people, it naturally crossed his mind that today’s passengers were university students.

It was mid-May, and with the three-term system returning in London, it was clear they were students.

Judging by the age difference, the older sister had likely graduated or was in grad school, while the younger sister seemed to be attending Cambridge.

At this time of year, university students were usually out and about enjoying their break. This passenger pair probably had plans for overseas travel during their vacation.

Thinking along those lines, the middle-aged driver began to casually engage the chatty passengers as they made their way to Heathrow.

“You must be university students. Is it your break?”

“Ah, yes! I’m in college.”

“With all that luggage, I assume you’re going on a trip somewhere. I wonder where—Paris? Berlin?”

“Nope. I’m not going on vacation; I’m heading out for medical volunteering.”

“Oh, medical volunteering. That’s commendable. So where’s your destination?”

The red-haired girl cheerfully answered, “Sudan!”

“Oh my. I hope it’s not too dangerous there? The Middle East has been quite noisy these days…”

Camila smiled brightly. “Exactly! It’s currently a conflict zone!”

**Extra Episode – Same Day, Same Place, Different Antics**

“Is that supposed to be something to brag about?!”

“Ow! Oww! That hurts, sis!”

Camila dabbed at her eyes as her sister pinched her cheek, surrounded by the throng of travelers at London’s Heathrow Airport. The struggle between the two well-privileged women caught the attention of many bystanders.

“There are things you can and cannot say. Is war a game for children? How can you speak like that?!”

“Please…!”

“I’m genuinely at my wit’s end!”

The older sister released Camila’s cheek and scolded her harshly.

“Promise me you won’t do that again. Have you completely forgotten the last time when you told the professor you were going to Afghanistan, and dad collapsed from the shock?”

“Well… that time, it was a friend of Dad’s at the ministry who mentioned it… It wasn’t the professor’s fault! He’s the one who wrote me a recommendation letter without telling Mom and Dad when I applied for the internship…”

Lowell’s parents doted on their youngest daughter, who was born late in life after their first son and daughter. They had only scolded her severely a couple of times throughout her life.

One was when Camila secretly applied for an internship with the information agency and got caught later. The other was when she tagged along with her sister, who was working for Doctors Without Borders, to Afghanistan.

At that time, they hadn’t realized that their father discovered their audacious actions regarding Camila’s internship acceptance at the intelligence agency and the flight tickets for both daughters to Kabul, thanks entirely to acquaintances at “the company.”

“Congratulations! I heard both your daughters got accepted this time.”

“What? Where did you hear that?”

“You didn’t know? Camila applied for an internship at my company. I saw her name on the accepted list today.”

“What? My daughter went to that damned company!?”

“Right. Didn’t your oldest daughter say she’s going abroad for medical volunteering? Was it Doctors Without Borders?”

“Yeah. I always hoped she’d work somewhere comfortable after graduating medical school. But this is what happened.”

“But is your second daughter also working there?”

“Uh? Camila? No, she’s just a college student.”

“That’s strange… What’s your daughter doing going to Afghanistan?”

“…What did she say she was going?!”

To a father who had graduated from Sandhurst as an Army officer and a lawyer, Camila was the apple of his eye.

Having fought against the Taliban in Afghanistan, he was well aware of what that place was like. After wrapping up an evening appointment in a hurry, he collapsed in front of his two daughters, who were busy searching online for hotels in Kabul.

Looking back now, it was the most amusing scene ever, but both sisters just couldn’t find the laughter when recalling that moment.

Because even when something went south, they had promised their parents to return safely.

They vowed to stay in a hotel with armed security at least. They would avoid actions that could upset locals as much as possible. They would at least have an understanding of the locals’ language and customs in case they needed to communicate. And so on.

It was curious how the father, who returned from a mere deployment in Afghanistan, knew so much about the Middle East and Africa, but since it was such an earnest request from a typically mild-mannered father, neither daughter dared to pry deeper and simply promised to return home safely.

“But we made a promise with Dad. To come back safely. You didn’t forget, did you, Camila?”

“Uh-huh… I know.”

“We’re not going on a vacation. We’re going to save lives.”

“I know. I know.”

After checking her suitcase as checked luggage, Camila stuffed her hands in her pockets and grumbled.

She packed only the absolutely necessary items, just like she had learned during her previous volunteering in Afghanistan and Syria.

She brought lightweight, breathable clothing to avoid heatstroke, along with ample cash for bribery in case she had to “reward” the police or civil servants. It was a golden tip she picked up from seniors living off contracts with the intelligence agency after graduation.

“….”

While taking in the London scenery she wouldn’t see for a while, her sister, having passed the security checkpoint, spoke as she received the tickets.

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

“The emergency medicine specialist from Doctors Without Borders in Paris? Sure.”

“This volunteering mission also includes her mentor, a Korean named Dr. Choi. Have you heard of him?”

“Korea? South? Or North?”

“Of course, South Korea. Would it even be North?”

“Just joking, just joking! I know there are no North Korean folks in Doctors Without Borders.”

“You really! What kind of joke is that? I sometimes worry about what you learn online. Only looking at those tweets from ISIS all the time has really dulled your humor!”

“Oh, it’s not ISIS, it’s the Northern Alliance!”

“And I’m not looking them up out of fun; it’s for a school assignment!”

Camila shrieked as she boarded the plane to Paris. Her sister watched her with a wry smile before shaking her head in exasperation.

*

“If things go sideways, we dunk those pesky Reds!”

In the front passenger seat of the van, I broke the ice with the team.

In the dimly lit back, equipped with tinted windows and vehicle curtains, a pile of suitcases sat unmoved even if an adult male kicked them.

“Are you talking about the State Security Department? What’s the precise number?”

“Three guides from Dar es Salaam, two pulled from the Luanda Embassy. Add the Cairo embassy personnel, and we total seven.”

“Even without counting the reinforcements flying in from the homeland, that’s still quite a lot.”

The chronic issue of staffing shortages for the North Korean Embassy had stemmed from massive reductions since the arduous march. Yet, still, pulling seven agents from three countries was impressive.

Assistant Manager Moon, lifting one leg onto a suitcase, quietly mused aloud. Beneath him were satellite phones from the International Maritime Organization, packed alongside intel collection equipment.

“Even just three more would give us over ten. Our team, minus the manager, barely counts five.”

“And what’s there to worry with all this gear?”

I gestured toward a worn sports bag. The faintly visible logo was stuffed with automatic rifles sourced from the black market.

After the Taliban’s takeover of Kabul two years ago, a considerable amount of weaponry flooded the international black market. Plus, Libya, which shares a border with Egypt, had been torn apart by civil war; we could peruse rifles from all over the globe in the Egyptian black market.

It would be a scene where contacts from the Egyptian intelligence agency would yell at the sight of what we’d found, telling us to get out immediately, but I couldn’t care less.

After all, how many foreigners are walking around with guns in a war-torn area? And illegal firearm possession among intelligence officers operating in civil war zones was an uncomfortable truth all agencies were aware of while conveniently ignoring.

From the beginning, they could tell our intentions just from the phone call; they were just choosing to play dumb about it.

A cozy dialogue flowed in the van racing through the desolate desert. The intelligence operations team members occasionally threw out questions, keeping an eye on the other lanes.

“What are the people in the workshop saying? Will we receive support?”

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

“Have you pinpointed the whereabouts of the escaped North Korean?”

I shook my head, resting my foot on the glove compartment.

“It seems the National Intelligence Service couldn’t figure that out either. Had they known, the on-site team would’ve already taken care of it. Instead, I heard they got hold of the accommodations of those security agents.”

“And where’s that?”

“An apartment in downtown Khartoum. It’s located 500 meters in a straight line from the hotel we’ll be staying at.”

Section Chief Kim turned the steering wheel.

Gifted with the unusual ability to sleep on planes, he always took the driver’s seat as soon as they arrived. The outcome was natural given that he enjoyed both driving and had good skills.

He held the wheel smoothly and glanced into the rearview mirror at the passenger seat.

“Chief.”

“Yes, Section Chief Kim?”

“What if the security department reaches the target before us?”

It was a crucial question. I crossed my arms and fell deep into thought.

The person was a worker responsible for foreign currency earning at the North Korean Reconnaissance General Bureau (in charge of the Bureau Chief’s slush fund). He was managing contracts with a Sudanese warlord for electronic equipment but found himself in a predicament, as he had not received payment and was at risk of losing his head.

For reasons unknown, he fled to Sudan without reporting it, and the Ministry of State Security, having caught a whiff of it, began tracking him, bypassing the Reconnaissance Bureau.

If he’s lucky, he’ll only have to deal with the Ministry of State Security agents, but if not, he might cross paths with the agents dispatched from the Reconnaissance Bureau to clean up the mess.

Given the absence of a national intelligence agency in North Korea, agencies must always prove their loyalty ahead of others. Ultimately, the measure of that loyalty is the amount of money involved.

That’s why the Ministry and the Reconnaissance Bureau operate as separate entities. They don’t invade each other’s territories, but when a case arises, they pounce to sever the opponent’s lifelines. This situation is merely an extension of that.

Thus, we must secure the red bastard who hastily bailed on the project as quickly as possible.

That way, we can cut off the foreign currency trickling into North Korea and clean out the Bureau Chief’s slush fund. Furthermore, we could potentially nullify North Korea’s military cooperation through this incident. Of course, the most critical target is the information this guy holds.

With my neatly arranged hair, I curtly replied.

“We need to intercept him. Capture him alive as much as possible, but if things go south, we’ll just take everything and leave him behind.”

“Analyzing that will be our job too, huh?”

“We’ll analyze it, and if he’s alive, we’ll interrogate him as well.”

“Understood. We’ve arrived at the checkpoint ahead. Everyone, get ready.”

At the end of the road, where sand and dust mingled, stood an Egyptian military checkpoint.

The minivan stopped at the signal, and I rolled down the window, greeting the soldier in fluent Egyptian Arabic.

“Masaa al-khayr.”

“Ahlan wa sahlan. Please show your passports.”

As I handed over the prepared documents, the soldier securing the Egypt-Sudan border verified the papers and pass and opened the checkpoint for us.

Thus, we were able to cross the border safely.

*

At the end of the journey, which connected London Heathrow Airport, Paris Charles de Gaulle International Airport, and Khartoum International Airport, Camila and her party finally arrived at the hotel.

“Wow….”

The hotel situated in the heart of Khartoum was grand.

Perhaps because it catered to foreigners and the wealthy, the interior was quite nice. Although one could hardly say that a comfortable stay was guaranteed, I appreciated the familiar menu seen in the restaurant due to the influence of British colonial rule here.

Of course, what pleased Camila the most was the robust security.

The guards hired by the hotel were armed with automatic rifles, closely monitoring the comings and goings in the lobby. Though her sister expressed her discomfort, thinking, “Even here, I can’t let my guard down,” it didn’t bother Camila at all.

As they unpacked and were idly wandering around the lobby—

“…Ouch!”

She bumped into a passerby who suddenly appeared from the edge of her vision.

Absorbed in the exotic scenery she had never seen before, she accidentally hit her head against something hard—the chest of a stranger. Maybe it was a button or something that made her head throb.

With her eyes reflexively closed, Camila rubbed her forehead, lifting her eyelids only to swallow hard.

“I’m sorry, uh…!”

Before her stood an Asian man, carrying a sports bag over his shoulder and dragging a suitcase.

As she touched her forehead, upon locking eyes with the Asian man, Camila froze like she had encountered Medusa.

It was akin to a bout of seasickness.

Though she had met Asians before, the situation was different. Up until now, the Asians she had encountered were diligent students studying in the UK or immigrants, all of whom were proficient enough in English to not fall short of native speakers.

But in a foreign land, one without English, she encountered an Asian.

In that moment, Camila belatedly remembered she was not accustomed to Asian languages.

“Uh, um…”

Trying to muster an apology for bumping into the foreigner, she stammered without knowing what to say. The only phrases she knew were greetings in Chinese, and once, when she said “Ni hao” to an Asian student, she was rebuffed and labeled a racist.

Memories of a Chinese individual calling out to her, questioning her in fluent Mandarin, surfaced as well.

In her thoughts, a British person would ponder, perhaps this person can’t speak English either?

With that thought, her mind went blank until the sound of fluent English pierced through her thoughts.

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

“Uh, um, no. I’m fine.”

“Glad to hear. Have a nice day.”

Even after bumping into her, the Asian man elegantly offered his apology and briskly walked past Camila. Shortly after, several other Asian men who seemed to be his companions loaded heavy luggage and stepped into the elevator.

Watching them from a distance, Camila stared vacantly into space.

Ah, he could speak English.

It wasn’t until her sister descended with the keys that she snapped back to reality.

“Camila, what are you doing here?”

“…Uh, uh? Nothing at all.”

Once she regained her composure, she asked her sister, who appeared in light attire in the lobby.

“Where is everyone?”

“They’re all resting in their rooms. Come on, let’s take a quick trip to the city.”

“We’re going to the city? Didn’t we just start the service?”

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

“I already had the in-flight meal.”

“Isn’t there an opening in your mouth? I slept while you were eating. You need to eat something to work, right?”

That’s right. Meals are a major concern.

Agreeing for once with her sister, Camila gathered her things and left the hotel. Under the blazing sun of the dark continent, Camila raised her hand high.

“Let’s go eat!”

“We’re also here to rescue people.”

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

*

At that moment, on the 9th floor of the hotel in downtown Khartoum.

As I stood by the window, watching the streets below, two foreigners caught my eye.

One was a stranger, and the other was someone I had seen before. To be precise, we had only crossed paths in the hotel lobby.

While I was focusing on the red-haired girl heading down the eastern street, Sergeant Hwang approached me as he untangled the internet cable bound with cable ties.

“What are you staring at so intently?”

“The foreigner I met in the lobby earlier.”

“Oh, the red-haired lady? What’s up? Did something happen?”

It’s not that serious.

I replied, shoving my hands into my pockets.

“She just bumped into me. That’s all.”

It was common for intelligence officers to clash with locals while living abroad.

Had the situation escalated to cause a commotion, obstacles would have blossomed before the operation even began. Unpleasant memories tend to stick more than others, and that would inevitably cement the intelligence officer’s image with unrelated civilians.

That’s why seasoned agents adapt apologetic resolutions or pay off in such cases, and in the worst-case scenario, they could resort to threats. However, threats remain a last resort.

Disputes are detrimental to their operations.

Of course, if it was merely a trivial issue like this, passing it off would be fine.

As I watched the red-haired woman turn into the alley, Sergeant Hwang, having connected the cables to the equipment, casually joked.

“Say, is it about time for our manager to tie the knot? Why do you keep staring? Have you fallen for her beauty?”

“Sergeant Hwang.”

“Pfft…”

His jest elicited laughter from the team members. Assistant Director Moon turned away, and the other employees followed suit. Amongst them, I caught sight of Section Chief Kim, who was grinning while shifting his suitcase.

“Hey.”

“Sorry, Manager.”

“Brats…”

The team members quickly stifled their laughter and resumed work.

Assistant Director Moon pulled out surveillance equipment to organize it, while Sergeant Hwang plugged the internet cable into the Panasonic rugged notebook. Someone communicated with headquarters to ensure the sound quality and status of the communication equipment while others crowded the windows to install Israeli eavesdropping devices.

Meanwhile, Section Chief Kim, having placed the sport bag containing firearms beneath the bed, approached me and handed something over.

A pistol.

“This is your item, Manager.”

I inspected the pistol handed over by Section Chief Kim. It was an Iraqi Tariq pistol, one I had shot before, as it had been kept for research at the intelligence office.

I pulled back the slide and examined the brass-colored bullet along with the interior, then tucked the loaded gun into my pocket. I retrieved a couple more magazines from another bag.

“Is the eavesdropping setup complete?”

“Just finished the checks.”

“We’ll pick up everything the Ministry passes around. And we need to set up cameras and listening devices inside that office by the end of the week. Prepare for that too.”

“We’ll get it ready right away. Are you going out?”

“Yeah. I need to check what’s around the red bastards’ office.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Since bulletproof vests are too conspicuous, we decided to carry only our guns.

Section Chief Kim pulled out his Tokarev, and after I gathered the two knives we would need, we finally stepped out of the office.

“Have a good trip,” Assistant Director Moon said, glancing around the corridor before closing the door with a nod.

Under the blazing sun of Africa in May.

“Let’s go catch those reds.”

The two Asians with pistols melted into the western streets of Khartoum.

Now, no one remembers, but once upon a time…

*Extra Episode – Same Day, Same Place, Different Actions -END*

 

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