29. GRWM Pyongyang Edition
GRWM PYONGYANG EDITION
The apartment had one bathroom, and one usable mirror outside of it. This became a problem at six forty-five.
“I need it,” Esmee said, blotting her lips on one of the pristine tissues she seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of.
Marina made another mental note: Esmee was oddly well supplied, but then again, Esmee’s luggage had arrived with a permanent tag reading HEAVY.
“I thought the French look was effortless chic,” Marina noted drily.
“There’s no such thing as effortless chic. It’s a lot of effort, so much that it looks effortless.”
Giovanni came out of the bathroom in trousers and an undershirt, rubbing his hair with a towel.
Three women turned toward him.
“What?”
“You were in there for half an hour,” Aya said.
“I was showering,” he replied.
“For half an hour? In our only bathroom?”
“While three women are getting ready for a black-tie reception?” Esmee added.
Giovanni looked around as though only now appreciating the tactical situation.
“The bathroom is free now for Get Ready With Me: Pyongyang Edition.”
Marina smiled despite herself.
For the first time since they had arrived in Pyongyang, the apartment felt almost normal.
Dresses hung from doors. Shoes had migrated beneath the dining table. Makeup covered the counter beside their increasingly depleted supply of coffee. Someone had draped stockings over the radiator despite the fact that the radiator wasn't warm.
At the center of it all lay the cream-colored invitation from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
Marina looked down at it.
The receiving line. Reception rooms. Dinner.
Remarks—a lot of remarks. A lot of toasts, probably, too. It was going to get boozy.
Vice Minister Jung was listed as attending.
Her fingertip stopped beside his name.
Across the room, Esmee caught the movement in the mirror.
Marina moved her finger down. Esmee's eyes followed.
“Are we working tonight?” Aya asked.
Marina looked up. Aya had taken Esmee's place at the mirror and was finishing making up her second eye.
“We are always working.”
Marina folded the invitation.
Esmee crossed behind her and her fingertip touched the invitation once.
Marina looked at her.
Esmee moved on.
The gesture would have meant nothing to anyone else. Marina understood it: tonight was the night. Even here, Marina swept regularly for bugs, but they still behaved as though the apartment were monitored. No detector was infallible.
Giovanni emerged from the bedroom wearing his shirt open at the collar and carrying his bow tie.
“Who knows how to do this?”
All three women stared at him.
“What?”
“You came to North Korea with a bow tie you can't tie?” Marina asked.
“I can usually tie it. But I have to YouTube it first, and… I forgot that YouTube is blocked here.”
Aya held out her hand. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”
He went to her.
Aya flipped his collar up and began working the tie.
“You know,” Giovanni said, “I feel there is a great deal of hostility in this apartment tonight.”
“There are four adults sharing one bathroom,” Aya said. “There is the correct amount of hostility.”
Esmee disappeared into the bedroom. Marina watched her go.
A few seconds later she returned carrying a clutch and set it on the table.
Marina picked it up.
“Excuse-moi, you cannot borrow it.”
“I don't want to borrow it.”
Marina opened it. Inside there was lipstick, compact, handkerchief, and a comb. Nothing else.
Esmee watched her.
Aya was still fighting Giovanni's bow tie. “Hold still.”
“I am holding still,” he chuckled.
Marina handed Esmee her clutch, but held it when Esmee reached for it.
“You’d better show me,” Marina told her, and then let go. Whatever Esmee intended to take into MOFA, Marina wanted to know about it before they left this apartment.
She walked into the kitchen, and Marina followed.
“Do you have ice?” Esmee asked.
Marina scoffed. “We're in Pyongyang.”
“A diplomatic residence without ice. Barbaric.”
Marina opened the freezer. There was, in fact, ice.
Esmee reached past her for the tray, her other hand brushed Marina's. Something small and hard passed between their palms.
Marina closed her fingers around it. Then she opened a cabinet, ostensibly searching for a glass—only then did she look.
A tiny black device rested in her palm. It was the technical project. The thing they'd discussed on the river as though discussing it somehow made it less real.
She curled her fingers around it. Maybe this was why Esmee had brought so much luggage to North Korea—to camouflage this within the contents.
“No,” she said quietly.
Esmee reached for a glass. “How, then?”
In the other room, Aya was laughing now. Giovanni's bow tie had somehow ended up around his forehead, and he was leaning in to kiss her.
“You agreed.”
Marina whirled around. “I agreed to help you assess whether it's possible.”
“You agreed to more than that.”
Esmee took ice from the tray and Marina gave her back the device. She tucked it under the décolleté of her dress.
Marina nodded and walked back into the living room.
“Absolutely not,” Aya was saying.
“It looks fine.”
“You look like you're about to rob a casino.”
Giovanni turned toward Marina with the bow tie hanging crookedly from his collar.
“Marina, can you fix it?”
Marina sighed. “Come here.”
Marina untied the mess Aya had made and started again.
“I was doing it,” Aya protested.
Giovanni stood obediently while Marina tied it.
“You're very good at this.”
“I have skills.”
“I've noticed.”
Behind Giovanni, Esmee went completely still. Only for a second. Then she picked up her lipstick.
Marina finished the knot and straightened it. “There.”
Giovanni looked down. “Perfect.”
Aya emerged from the bedroom in a long green dress.
Giovanni stared.
Aya stopped. “What?”
“You look beautiful,” Giovanni said.
Aya smiled, and swished her dress.
Giovanni seemed to realize he was still staring and abruptly became interested in finding his jacket.
Esmee lifted an eyebrow.
“Is the bathroom free?” Marina asked. She’d just gone an hour ago—she hoped that no one else noticed.
Across the room, Esmee tilted her head, her expression unreadable.
In the bathroom, Marina looked at her dress. It was a simple affair, dark blue and minimalist. Formal enough for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs without making her feel as though she were attending someone else's wedding.
“You look lovely,” Aya said.
Marina looked at herself.
Dark blue dress, earrings, no necklace. Hair still unfinished. A woman going to a diplomatic reception. Nothing unusual about her. Nothing visible.
“Thanks.”
Aya went back out.
Marina remained in front of the mirror, turning sideways and narrowing her eyes. Her hand drifted toward her abdomen before she caught herself. She dropped it.
Then Esmee appeared behind her in the reflection.
Marina turned around. “You were thinking.”
“Still legal in most jurisdictions.”
“Not this one,” Marina whispered, and stepped past.
In the living room, Aya had found music somewhere. Low enough that it wouldn't interfere with conversation, but enough to change the room.
Giovanni was pulling out a bottle of something from the fridge.
“Maybe we don’t want to start so early,” Esmee suggested. “How about a glass of water, to avoid a hangover?”
Giovanni shrugged, and replaced the glass bottle with a plastic bottle of water.
He handed glasses to everyone.
“Let’s be gauche and toast with water,” Esmee suggested.
Marina took a glass, and Aya raised hers.
“To surviving another evening of diplomatic hospitality.”
“That's bleak,” Giovanni said.
“We're in Pyongyang.” Aya waggled her fingers to make her point.
“Fair.”
Esmee lifted her glass. “To the mission.”
Marina looked at her. Three little words with an entire conversation underneath them.
Marina touched her water glass against Esmee's. “To the mission.”
Four glasses met. For one second they were simply colleagues standing in an overcrowded apartment, dressed too formally, about to go somewhere together.
“Everyone ready?” she asked.
“No,” Aya said.
“Yes,” Giovanni said simultaneously.
Esmee picked up her coat. “Perfect.”
They went downstairs together. Four members of the European delegation heading to a Ministry of Foreign Affairs reception.
Esmee tugged up her dress as the apartment door shut behind them. Then she smiled and glided down the walkway.