"Thank God for Choi," Lori said with a sigh. "I'm glad somebody appreciates what you've done, and the sacrifices you've made, enough to show some compassion."
"Speaking of appreciation," Nate said, "you can expect a call from the President."
The following day was mostly a blur for Burke. Worldwide Communications Consultants would be closed on Christmas Eve, so the obligatory party was held that afternoon. He was suffering the aftereffects of jet lag, and a couple of glasses of spiked punch left him thinking nap time.
Evelyn Tilson had all the gifts from his list neatly wrapped and stashed in green plastic bags.
"When I throw these over my shoulder," he said deadpan, "they'll think Santa has traded his sleigh for a garbage truck."
"Never happen, Boss. They'll say there goes Scrooge, hauling the office silver home for the holidays."
He shook his head. "I'll let you figure how to get this home." He signaled a couple of boys from the mail room, who brought in a large box with a huge red bow around it.
Her blue eyes widened like a pair of Delft saucers. She pried at the box, ignoring a torn fingernail, until she had one side torn open to reveal a laquered Oriental chest with mother-of-pearl inlays and large brass ornaments. She grabbed Burke, hugged him and planted a wet kiss on his cheek.
"All is forgiven," she said with a smile as broad as her face. "I've always wanted one of these."
Cliff Walters arrived on Christmas Eve. He said he had a reservation at a nearby motel, but Burke and Lori would have none of that. He was given a guest room far enough away from the twins to avoid middle-of-the-night serenades.
Burke and Cliff sat up late in the evening talking. Cliff told him that apparently the White House had blocked any effort to move in on Dr. Kim Vickers after their encounter that night in San Francisco. Instructions had come down from FBI Headquarters the following day to maintain the surveillance but take no action that might raise any suspicion on the part of Dr. Vickers. Then, two days ago, they received word to close in and make the arrest of both Vickers and his hacker. The foundation director had been a nervous wreck and promptly confessed to working on behalf of the Korean government.
"Turns out he had been recruited by the late President Kwak back in the sixties," Cliff related. Then he eyed his father with a quizzical grin. "That sudden decision to go ahead with the arrest wouldn't have had anything to do with your winding up your business in Seoul, would it?"
Burke shrugged. "One of these days I hope I'll be able to tell you."
Christmas morning brought a blanket of fresh snow that turned their lawn into a Currier and Ives print. Burke put a large log on the fire in the family room and they opened packages around the tree. Afterward, he made waffles for breakfast, his lone culinary claim to fame these days. They were sitting at the table finishing their coffee when the phone rang.
"This is the White House operator," a voice said. "Could I speak with Mr. Burke Hill, please?"
A few moments later, the President's jovial voice came over the line. "Merry Christmas, Burke. If anybody deserves one, you sure do. I want to thank you on behalf of all those people who will never know why they owe you such a massive debt of gratitude."
"Thank you, Mr. President," Burke replied. "Happily, it's turned out to be a great Christmas for me. And I appreciate the praise, but I'm sure others could have done the job better. At least we accomplished what we set out to do."
"Indeed we did. There won't be any Rose Garden press conference this time, of course, but you and your wife are invited to join me and my wife for dinner one evening soon. I'll have someone get back to you on the details. Say, I don't want to keep you from your family any longer, but you have our best wishes. Enjoy the holidays, my friend."
Lori was beaming when he looked around at her.
"Well, what did he say?" she asked.
"What kind of dress will you wear to the White House dinner, dear?" he asked.
It was two months later when Burke was summoned back to Seoul for the trial of Colonel Han Sun-shin. They assured him that his testimony would take no more than a couple of days and then he would be free to return to the States. Lori went with him. The day after he completed his testimony, they attended the wedding of Jerry Chan and Song Ji-young. It was a traditional Korean ceremony at a wedding house, with both bride and groom dressed in colorful regalia. A surprise guest was Damon Mansfield. The new regime had apologized for Mr. Ko's actions at the Embassy party, and Mansfield had been reinstated as Cultural Attaché.
They ate lunch afterward with the newlyweds and a group of Song Ji-young's friends. It was a lively, noisy affair. When they were about ready to leave, Jerry asked them to wait a moment. He had something to show them. He went out to his car and came back with a box that contained a wedding gift from one of his Korean acquaintances.
"I thought you'd enjoy this, Burke," he said, opening the box.
He pulled out a framed print of Taoist ideographs and held it up.
Burke smiled and Lori gave him a puzzled look.
"Isn't that what I saw at Dr. Lee's house?" Burke asked.
"Probably," said Jerry. "Pok Su. Chinese for happiness and longevity."
Burke nodded. "I believe I like that better than poksu in a square."
About the Author
After following a snake-like career path that writhed about from newspapers to magazines to speechwriting to advertising to PR to association management, I settled on novel writing after retirement. I'm having a blast. My PI characters do things I'd never dare attempt. The reviewers love 'em, and so do the fans. Most of my stories are drawn from life, from all the weird and wonderful things that go on around me. Since I've been observing this for the last 87 years, there's no shortage of stuff to draw on. Lately I've been working on a trilogy of Post Cold War thrillers, of which The Poksu Conspiracy is the second. My interest in the clandestine world stems in part from my time as an Air Force intelligence officer in the Korean War, a field I then pursued in the Air National Guard until retirement as a lieutenant colonel. For more about me and my writing, go to:
http://www.chesterdcampbell.com