Free Korea Strait by David Poyer Page A

wanted to use the gym. But Rit—Donnie?
Donnie?
”
    What
    â€œYou were there. Tell the commander what happened.”
    The sound went down again. “Who? Rit? Oh yeah—we were at the train station, waiting for a taxi. And Rit, he sees this Korean girl. Oh, you’ve never seen anything that cute. In that little plaid skirt they wear to school. So before I know it, he’s over there hitting on her.”
    â€œShe’s a
student?
”
    â€œYeah. Goes to Pusan Women’s College. At least that’s what she
said
. He got in the taxi. Checked in here with us. But then he took off. Never used his bed, far as Oberg says. Him and Oberg are in the other double.”
    Henrickson said, “He left a number, but when we call there’s nobody there who speaks English. At least, that we can understand.”
    Dan ran his fingers through his hair. “He’s
UA
? Is
that
what you’re telling me?”
    â€œWell—not exactly. But if he’s not here, and we can’t get hold of him—”
    â€œHow old is this girl?”
    â€œHe said eighteen,” Wenck called from the television.
    â€œDamn it! I want one of you to take that number down to the desk. Have them call and translate for you.”
    â€œYou want him to come in?”
    â€œOf course I do! He belongs here with us, not shacked up with some eighteen-year-old.”
    â€œLooked more like thirteen,” Wenck mumbled over the throb of jungle drums.
    Dan started to ask if he was serious. Then decided that was one of those questions he was better off not asking. “I want him here for dinner. Six o’clock, and we’ll get organized.”
    In his own room, he stood at the window looking down at Pusan. The mountains, the city sprawled halfway up them, and in the distance the sea, gleaming like ironed foil. He did a couple of stretches, just to get the car trip out of his muscles. Then unzipped the computer case.
    He spent the next hour setting up the notebook, then getting connectivity with TAG with the scrambler modem. It was slow work, and at first the system wouldn’t take his password and user ID. It was case sensitive, though nobody had mentioned that. At last bytes started oozing through, but it was like sucking molasses through a drink stirrer. All the way around the world. Most of his in-box was routine unclassified but there was also a message explaining in more detail what the fax had said. Team Bravo was to stand easy on station until Commander, Seventh Fleet made up his mind about participating. He rogered for it, logged off, and shut down, then looked at his watch. Still an hour till dinner.
    He wasn’t looking forward to it. But it was time to check on Captain Joseph O’Quinn, U.S. Navy, Retired.
    â€œJUST a second,” came a muffled voice when he knocked. Dan stood in the corridor as a middle-aged Japanese couple brushed by, bowing and smiling. He smiled back, wondering how they perceived Korea, how older Koreans reacted to them. Certainly Hwang didn’t seem to cherish any good memory of Japanese occupation.
    â€œWho is it?” Through the door, louder.
    â€œLenson.”
    â€œYeah?” The chain rattled. “C’mon in.”
    O’Quinn was in the same white terry bathrobe with an embroidered dragon that Dan had seen hanging in his own bathroom. He held a can of Diet Pepsi in one hand and a paperback novel, finger thrust between the pages, in the other. Smoke curled from an ashtray. He was unshaven. Dan smelled liquor. He stepped in, checking for bottles, and caught one on the sideboard. Dark rum, a fifth, nearly empty.
    â€œYou doing okay all alone up here, Joe?”
    â€œI always get a single on the road. I can’t sleep with another guy snoring in my ear. I guess we’re just waiting for the assholes in charge to make up their fucking minds, right? Want a drink? Oh, yeah—you don’t touch it. Pepsi?”
    Dan accepted one