“What’s that?” Nan asked, squinting into the sun.
“When I was on the island, in my deepest despair, the Korean woman who looked after me and made me breakfast sang this song to me. It’s about a mother who has to leave her infant alone in their hut so she can go out and search for food.”
“It’s lovely,” Nan said. “Will you teach it to me?”
“Of course. Her name is Sung. She’s the one who smuggled out the message to you. I never got a chance to thank her. I hope she’s okay.”
“Me, too, darling. If there’s a way, I think we should try to help her.”
“We should try to do that. Yes.”
Dawkins didn’t know that a week before his escape from Ung-do, Sung had been dismissed from her job and sent back to her family. She was with them now in the farming cooperative of Genjo near the Chinese border. She, too, was happy to be back with her family, her husband and two young sons, but she was apprehensive. Any day State Security Department officers could arrive to take them to one of the country’s prison camps. She’d heard rumors about a fire near Munchon but nothing about the attack. Neighbors whispered about large-scale shakeups in the government and arrests.
Now, as Sung sat in the primitive kitchen of their three-room house, she debated whether or not to try to pass a message to her nephew, who had a friend in the North Korean Strategy Center who might be able to smuggle her and her family across the Chinese border. She knew it was a huge risk to take.
The same night Sung was considering her choice, Crocker stepped off the American Airlines flight from Los Angeles. He’d spent so much time in close proximity with Dawkins and his teammates that it felt strange to walk alone from the gate to the baggage area. He carried the few things he’d packed in his duffel-mainly presents for Jenny, Cyndi, and his nieces and nephews. Sam continued to recuperate at U.S. Naval Hospital in Okinawa, and Akil had gone to visit his family in Detroit.
As Crocker approached the terminal exit, he realized that he’d parked his pickup at ST-6 headquarters and would have to hire a cab to take him to his apartment. He walked with a slight limp from the frostbite and a hunched left shoulder that was still bandaged and would take weeks to heal. None of the people around him seemed to notice him, the bandages on his forearm and shoulder, or the scabs on his neck.
Crossing to the automatic doors that led outside, Crocker realized that he hadn’t given a thought about what he would do during his month of medical leave. All he could think about was the pleasure of sleeping in his own bed.
After the door slid open, he heard someone call his name. Turning left, he saw a young woman’s smiling face and a bouquet of yellow flowers.
He didn’t realize they were for him until Jenny threw her hands around his neck and hugged him. “Welcome home, Dad!”
The unexpected greeting brought tears to his eyes. He squeezed her back and remembered how lucky he was to be alive. “Thank you, sweetheart. It’s so wonderful to see you. How did you know I was on this flight?”
“Dad, I have ways. I’m your daughter.”
“I’m glad.”
Standing behind her was another beautiful woman who it took him a few seconds to recognize.
“Cyndi! Wow. I never expected this.” He opened his right arm to include her in the embrace and found her lips.
She whispered, “I’ve been waiting a long time for this, Crocker. We never got to finish our date.”
He smiled and said, “Tonight. I promise. I’ve been waiting a long time, too.”
The following afternoon, a Thursday, ten days after he crossed the border to South Korea, Crocker exited the navy clinic with a bounce in his step. A navy doctor had just cleared him to drive up to Fairfax with Cyndi and Jenny to visit his ailing father. As he entered the parking lot, his cell phone rang.
“Where are you, Crocker?” Captain Sutter asked.
He had a shitload of things to take care of-bills to pay, e-mails to answer, people to call, things to take care of around the apartment. But all that could wait. Cyndi had until Saturday before she had to get back to Vegas, which meant two more glorious days and nights together.
“Leaving the clinic and about to get in my truck and head north,” he answered.
“You sure you’re up to it?”
“Absolutely, sir. A couple of pains and bruises, but I’ve been through worse.” No way he was going to lie in bed recuperating when he could be out hanging with Jenny and Cyndi.
“If you say so, Tarzan. If you’re ambulatory, how about you stop by HQ for a minute?”
“Happy to, sir, on Tuesday, when I return.”
“It’s important, Crocker. You’ll find out why when you get here. All it’ll take is fifteen minutes tops.”
He put the truck in reverse, backed out of the parking spot, and drove a short distance to the ST-6 compound. A couple of SEAL colleagues spotted him in the hallway and welcomed him back. Life was strange. Two weeks ago he was sleeping on the ground, curled up next to a group of foul-smelling men. Last night he’d fallen asleep in the arms of a beautiful woman. The rescue of Dawkins and the escape from North Korea had restored some of his faith. Good did triumph over evil when applied with confidence and intelligence.
Captain Sutter stood to greet him with a big smile on his face. “Damn, Crocker, you look better then I imagined. I hear you really pushed the envelope this time.”
Sutter seemed thinner than before. “I did what I had to, sir. Couldn’t be avoided.”
He’d already heard the sad news that Naylor, Hutchins, and Suarez hadn’t made it-which cast a pall over an otherwise successful mission and hostage rescue. Dawkins had invited him over to dinner Sunday night so he could meet his wife and daughter. Sometime after that, he’d stop by Suarez’s house in Virginia Beach and visit with his widow and family.
He wasn’t looking forward to it, nor had it really sunk in that he’d lost another teammate. For the next couple of days he wanted to focus on the good, including the news that Davis wasn’t facing a court-martial for assaulting Vice Admiral Greene. Crocker got a kick out of that, and would thank Davis when he had a chance.
“Sit down, Crocker,” Sutter said. “Someone important wants to thank you.”
At some point he’d call his brother and sister and try to explain where he’d been.
“Who’s that?” he asked.
He recognized the president’s warm, deep voice as soon as it came through the speakerphone but thought that maybe it was a prank.
“Chief Warrant Crocker, I can’t tell you how proud I am of you and your men, and humbled by the courage you showed in North Korea and the sacrifices you made for your country. I just got off the phone with James Dawkins, and I can tell you that he and his family are extremely grateful, too.”
He sure sounded like the real thing. “Thank you, Mr. President.” Crocker flashed back to the teenagers in rags dragging dead bodies.
“I hear from your commander that you’re not a man who goes in much for fanfare or awards, and I respect the need to protect your identity from the public. But I don’t feel that thanking you this way does you justice. So I’m wondering if you would accept an invitation to visit me at the White House tomorrow morning shortly after eleven so I can thank you in person.”
“I’d be honored, sir. I want to tell you about some of the things I saw there. But there’s a problem. I won’t be able to make it until after one, because I want to spend some time with my father first. He’s recovering from open-heart surgery. ”
“Oh. How’s he progressing?” the president asked.
“Very well, sir, from what I hear. Thank you for asking.”
“Please send him my regards and let me know if there’s anything I can do for him.”
“I appreciate that, Mr. President. I will, sir.”
“So I’ll see you tomorrow, sometime after one p.m., here at the White House?”
“You will, Mr. President. Thank you for the invitation, and I look forward to meeting you.”