30. Ministry of Foreign Affairs
MINISTRY OF FOREIGN AFFAIRS
The reception had all the warmth of polished marble.
Crystal chandeliers reflected from the parquet floor. Waiters in white gloves threaded silently between diplomats with trays of champagne. A string quartet played somewhere beyond the open doors.
Marina handed her coat to a young woman at the entrance and watched it disappear through a doorway behind her.
Staffing and access.
She was supposed to be assessing who could enter European facilities, not cataloguing ways into North Korean ones.
She accepted a glass of champagne she had no intention of drinking.
She caught sight of Sung-cheol across the room almost immediately.
Dress uniform suited him infuriatingly well.
He stood beside Vice Minister Jung, interpreting for a European diplomat, his face giving away nothing of the man who had kissed her beneath a tree.
Or the man who had disappeared inside this building.
The last time Sung-cheol had come here, someone had intercepted him in the parking lot.
The vice minister wants to see you.
Then he had been gone.
When his eyes met hers, they lingered for no more than a heartbeat before he looked politely away.
He was so good at this. A professional.
She hated that he'd had to learn to dissemble so well.
“Ms. Marina.”
Her stomach tightened.
Vice Minister Jung was coming toward her.
Sung-cheol walked beside him.
Marina smiled.
“Vice Minister.”
“I understand your visit outside Pyongyang was successful.”
There were perhaps fifty answers to that.
“Yes. Thank you.”
“You saw much of our country.”
“We did.”
“The beauty of Joseon must have made an impression.”
Beside him, Sung-cheol's expression remained perfectly blank.
Marina nearly choked on champagne she hadn't drunk.
“It was memorable.”
Jung smiled. “Good. We hope foreign visitors understand that Pyongyang is only one part of our country.”
“Actually, the trip helped with one of my outstanding assessment items.”
Something in his attention sharpened.
“Safe movement and transportation,” Marina continued. “I'd still like clearer information about procedures outside the capital. Checkpoints, notification requirements, emergency travel.”
“The Ministry will naturally ensure the safety of all diplomatic personnel.”
“That isn't quite what I asked.”
A pause.
Sung-cheol lowered his eyes.
Jung's smile returned.
“What specifically concerns you?”
“If someone from the delegation has an emergency outside Pyongyang, who has authority to move them? The driver? Their Ministry liaison? Local security? Do they need authorization from Pyongyang?”
“We would provide all necessary assistance.”
Marina smiled back.
Host-nation security commitment? Still unverified.
“I'll need something more specific for Brussels.”
“Of course.” Jung glanced toward Sung-cheol. “Second Secretary Ri tells me you have been very thorough.”
Marina looked at him.
Sung-cheol gave nothing away.
“I try to be.”
“We appreciate thoroughness.”
She couldn't tell whether it was praise.
That was probably deliberate.
Jung excused himself. Sung-cheol went with him without looking back.
Marina watched them disappear into the reception.
The Ministry had taken him away once.
It could do it again.
“Walk with me.”
Esmee had materialized beside her.
Marina didn't move.
“No.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
“I need you to look like you're helping.”
“That sounds suspiciously like helping.”
Esmee smiled faintly and started walking.
Marina followed, because standing alone staring after Sung-cheol was worse.
They drifted with the other guests through the reception rooms, stopping occasionally as introductions were made. Marina answered questions automatically.
She also counted: two uniformed guards at the main entrance. Three doors used by staff. Catering personnel moving freely between the function room and kitchen corridor. Ministry officials passing through another door without showing identification.
Staffing and access. Apparently she could work while committing professional seppuku.
Eventually they reached a quieter administrative corridor leading away from the reception.
The music faded behind them.
Marina stopped.
“No further.”
Esmee reached down her dress, and folded the device into her hand.
“Showtime. You know where it'll have the best coverage.”
“Then apparently you've mistaken security assessment for espionage apprenticeship.”
Voices echoed beyond the next corner.
Esmee froze.
Another burst of conversation.
Closer.
“Put it away,” Marina whispered. “They're coming.”
Esmee looked around. “I can't be seen holding it.”
She pressed the device into Marina's hand. Instinct made Marina catch it. “What the?—”
Footsteps.
Marina thrust it toward her.
“Take it. Please.”
Marina stopped.
It was the first time she'd ever heard Esmee say the word.
The footsteps were almost at the corner.
Esmee reached for a decorative cabinet.
Locked.
“Damn.”
Then—
French.
A familiar voice.
“Vice Minister, forgive me.”
Sung-cheol.
Marina went still.
“The cultural attaché wished to thank you personally for the exhibition.”
Another voice answered.
The footsteps stopped. Conversation replaced them. Marina looked toward the corner.
Sung-cheol continued speaking, calm and unhurried. Buying time.
Her pulse accelerated. Did he know? He couldn't. Could he?
“Marina.”
She looked back at Esmee.
“There.”
A narrow gap behind a carved radiator cover.
Marina looked down at the device in her hand.
Everything about this was wrong. Her job was to identify vulnerabilities like this one.
Her job was to stop people from exploiting them.
Her job was to determine whether a European mission could operate securely inside this country.
And somewhere around the corner was a man this country could make disappear between one evening and the next.
The safety and protection of our people comes first. Always.
Ri was now one of their people.
She slid it into the recess. Esmee snapped the cover back into place.
Perfect.
The footsteps resumed. Sung-cheol rounded the corner first, his eyes wide with warning. He took in Marina, Esmee, and the radiator cover.
Marina's stomach dropped.
Something changed in his expression—so slight it could have been imagined.
He smiled politely. “There you are.”
Behind him, Vice Minister Jung and another Ministry official appeared.
Jung frowned. “I hope we are not interrupting.”
Marina forced herself to smile. “Not at all.”
His gaze traveled briefly down the corridor.
Marina became acutely aware of everything she had spent weeks assessing.
The cameras she couldn't see. The personnel she didn't control. The doors she couldn't open. And the device now hidden right behind her.
“Ms. Marina,” Jung said pleasantly. “Are you lost?”
Esmee turned her head slightly. “We were trying to find the ladies room.”
Marina smiled. “Indeed.”
“Of course,” Jung said. “It’s over to your right. I will ask Miss Park to escort you personally.”
“Thank you so much,” Esmee purred.
Ri gestured back toward the reception. “Shall we?”
Marina walked beside Esmee toward the music. Esmee’s step slowed, and she nudged her with a shoulder.
“Fuck, we missed something,” Esmee breathed.
Marina’s heart stopped. A camera was mounted high up in a corner, panning slowly over them.