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The debriefing with Chief Presidential Secretary Park Jeong-gi and the Captain of the Special Unit Park Mu-young was unpleasant. There was a somber quality to the affair, punctuated by the angry motions of the Captain as he flipped through the headlines of the morning papers. The Special Unit was plastered across every single one of them, each detailing the disastrous operation the night before and the underage Sect member that had blown herself up in front of one of their operatives. Anyone who entered the room could smell the blood in the air.
Jang Jin-tae sat in the back of the Captain’s office, quiet and unassuming, but a solid presence. A Training Officer would normally not be privy to the affairs of the Captain and the Chief Presidential Secretary, even if the Special Unit operative in question, Lim Joong-kyung, was one of his men. But Jang Jin-tae was no ordinary Training Officer, and Lim Joong-kyung was no ordinary operative.
The Captain turned off the television with a sound of disgust. The televised briefing was being held by a representative of Public Security, declaring that the Special Unit’s operations were temporarily suspended until the fact-finding committee released its findings. Meanwhile, Lieutenant Lim and Squadron One were to undergo ‘reeducation,’ another reason why Jin-tae was in the office with the Captain and the Chief Presidential Secretary.
“Four weeks?” the Captain exclaimed. “Is this a divorce? How are they going to fight terrorists without us? Public Security bastards, making committees and announcing whatever they like.”
Park Jeong-gi ignored this little outburst asking instead, “How’s that guy? Lim?”
“Luckily, no major injuries,” Jin-tae answered.
‘No major injuries’ was putting it lightly, he thought. The fact that Lim had no more than cuts and bruises, and required a handful of stitches along his side was nothing short of a miracle. The Special Unit full body armor was damn near impenetrable, but the girl had blown herself up in front of him. Only the quick reflexes of Lim’s partner, Kim Chul-jin, in pushing Lim to the ground to take cover, had mitigated the effects of the blast. Kim Chul-jin had also walked away from the blast unharmed and like the rest of Squadron One, was back at the training camp for ‘reeducation.’
“He received psychological treatment five years ago,” Park Jeong-gi said thoughtfully, looking at Jin-tae. “He’s got a past, and this girl too, is underage.” He turned to the Captain. “He’s the perfect scapegoat. Why not just blame it on his personal issues?”
Jin-tae answered before the Captain could. “He’s a part of the unit’s history. It would affect the other men’s morale.”
It wasn’t a lie, Jin-tae reflected. Lim was a legend among the Special Unit, the only remaining member from the ill-fated squadron of the botched Bloody Friday mission. The other members of the squadron had dropped out eventually, unable to handle the trauma, too psychologically damaged to continue as members of the Special Unit. For a while, two of them had remained. But now it was only Lim. For that reason alone, Jin-tae felt connected to him. They shared history.
Luckily for Jin-tae, the Captain shifted the conversation before the Presidential Secretary could pursue his line of thought.
“That damned Sect has used kids as bomb runners for ages,” the Captain complained. “So, why blame it on the Special Unit now?”
“If Public Security went so far as to set up a committee,” Park Jeong-gi answered, “things will be tense for a while.” He paused. “So, did you catch Sect Leader Uhm Chul-hyung?”
“A few of them got away,” the Captain grudgingly admitted. “Seems he was among them.”
Park Jeong-gi nodded, standing up and going over to the window where there was a growing commotion outside. It was the noise of arriving vehicles and people entering the Special Unit’s headquarters. He watched the goings-on for a moment.
“Assholes sure move fast,” he commented. “It’s the crack of dawn.”
“Public Security?” the Captain questioned.
Park Jeong-gi nodded, before looking back at Jin-tae. “There’s a back exit, right?”
Jin-tae escorted the Chief Presidential Secretary out personally. It was a convenient way for them to have a private conversation.
“How far will Public Security go?” Jin-tae asked, as he lit Park Jeong-gi’s cigarette.
Park Jeong-gi took a long drag before exhaling slowly. They began to walk in the underground passage that connected the Special Unit’s headquarters with the Waste Recycling Plant that the unit used as a cover.
“They’re making a show of targeting Special Unit,” Jeong-gi replied. “But don’t they have their eyes on bigger fish?”
Jin-tae nodded in agreement. “Public Security has never supported reunification, though they toe the government line.” He paused. “You think they’ll stage a coup?”
“Isn’t that their only option?”
“Give them the opportunity and they’re capable of anything.”
Park Jeong-gi stopped walking and turned towards Jin-tae. “Our VIP is extremely concerned about this,” he said in a low voice, even though they were alone.
Jin-tae nodded. “I’ll draw up counter-measures,” he replied.
By the time Jin-tae returned to the headquarters, Public Security agents were crawling everywhere with their boxes of papers and files, hauling out Special Unit’s records and hard drives at will. Jin-tae veered away from the commotion, heading instead to the officer’s lounge to make a cup of tea. He didn’t break his stride when he heard an unwelcome voice calling after him. Instead, he hoped that unwelcome voice would become discouraged and walk away. But he knew that it wasn’t meant to be. Han Sang-woo was too ambitious to become ‘discouraged.’
“Officer!”
Jin-tae turned his head to the left, tea in hand to see a slightly breathless Han Sang-woo leaning against the doorway to the lounge. It appeared the other man had run down the hallway to catch up with him.
“Are you in charge of the fact-finding committee?” Jin-tae asked mildly.
“I had no choice,” Han said. There was the familiar shrug of his shoulders that was meant to convey false modesty, but instead spoke of arrogance. “This time, the public opinion is sour,” he explained before pausing and watching Jin-tae carefully. “How’s Lim doing?” he eventually asked.
“Haven’t seen him since the incident,” Jin-tae answered. It was mostly true. He’d dropped by the medical ward to check on Lim as soon as he’d been brought in, but he hadn’t spoken to Lim directly. Lim hadn’t even known that he’d stopped by. “Must be in the hospital,” he added.
“He seems quite disturbed this time,” Han said, unsubtly fishing for information.
How Han thought he could make that assessment was beyond Jin-tae. “Lim is?” he questioned, affecting disinterest. “No, he’s different.”
“I’m probably the only one who knows him for real,” Han stated, completely without irony.
It took all of Jin-tae’s willpower not to laugh in his face. “Yeah?” he said instead, brushing by the other man and going back into the hallway.
Han wasn’t deterred by the brush off. He began trailing after Jin-tae, keeping a respectful distance but still seeking information. “What do you think of him?” he pressed. “Lim suffered the most from Bloody Friday.”
Jin-tae heard the questions, but more importantly, he heard what was underneath them. He heard Han’s envy of Lim, his desire to belong, his anger at rejection, his resentment of Jin-tae. All unspoken, but present nonetheless. It had been years since Han had left the Special Unit, but his feelings were as raw as ever, and as plain as day for Jin-tae to see.
“If there’s human, there’s beast too,” Jin-tae said, somewhat enigmatically. “The Special Unit is comprised of them, and Lim is one of them.”
“If the Special Unit is Lim, and Lim is the Special Unit,” Han went on, continuing the analogy. “And if Lim is like this, then isn’t the Special Unit standing on the edge of a cliff as well?”
“That is where we belong,” Jin-tae replied evenly.
Han flashed a small smile, one that Jin-tae couldn’t see, but could hear in Han’s voice when he spoke. “How long do you think the Special Unit will serve its purpose, officer?” he asked. It was a loaded question.
Jin-tae finally stopped walking. “Han,” he said, addressing the other man directly as he turned around. “Glad you’re no longer part of it,” he told him bluntly. “The Special Unit is not a road for success. It is about sacrificing oneself. There’s not even a spot for us at the National Cemetery. What can you expect from such a group?”
Han’s smile widened. There was nothing sincere about it. “Anyhow,” he said, cheerfully. “The top hopes this is a turning point for the unit to establish itself as everyone wishes.”
Jin-tae would not humor him. “If everyone wishes it,” he said with finality, “that means no one wishes it.”
Then he walked away.
Kim Chul-jin lead his team up the stairs in formation. It had been years since he’d set foot on the training grounds, but he remembered every step, every last cranny. Squadron One had been divided into two groups, and he was in charge of the assault team. The other members of the squadron had been spread out as the enemy, Lim among them. But it wasn’t just Lim that was out there. Chul-jin knew that Training Officer Jang was also part of the opposition. Jang Jin-tae and Lim. They were the most prized targets.
The shit hit the fan as soon as the team entered the first room. One member was immediately blown away by a training pellet before he’d even cleared the doorway. Instinctively, Chul-jin knew that it was Lim. He confirmed it when the remaining members of his team made it inside the room and Lim systematically began cutting them down. Even if he wasn’t at one hundred percent, Lim was the best among them.
As his men drew Lim’s fire, Chul-jin raced across the room in an effort to outflank Lim. Everyone else was down except for Gon, who had rushed Lim before he could reload, the two of them crashing into the thin plastered wall and falling into the abandoned restroom beyond. Chul-jin entered the restroom at the other end, just in time to see Lim throwing Gon over the sink, knocking him out cold. No one ever held back during training. The bruises were real, as were the occasional broken bones and cracked ribs.
Chul-jin fired, striking Lim in the shoulder, but it wasn’t a kill shot. Lim staggered and dropped to his knees. “I’m sorry,” Chul-jin said automatically. “I’m sorry.”
It was a mistake.
Chul-jin recognized the look of pure irritation in Lim’s eyes, just before he caught sight of the heavy brick in Lim’s hand. He had no time to react before Lim threw the brick at him, striking him square in the chest, and knocking his weapon out of his hands. Then, two successive training pellets hit Chul-jin in the same area. Both shots were kill shots, their force strong enough to send Chul-jin sprawling onto the dusty floor. Lim walked right over him, still giving him a reproving look before running into the hallway.
Officer Jang Jin-tae was the last remaining target.
Jin-tae waited. He knew that Lim would be the lone member of the squadron left. Lim was always the last man standing. It was one of the reasons why he, more than anyone else who had passed through the Special Unit’s training program, was Jin-tae’s protégé.
He had moved further into the training course, into the rooms where the dummies had been placed. A family at dinner. A couple at a wedding. The girl with the red cloak.
It was an old trick, and perhaps a cruel one, but necessary. He had to make sure that Lim’s head was still in the game. He made a small noise, giving Lim a clue to follow. His protégé took the bait, entering the room that Jin-tae had chosen and was immediately met by Jin-tae’s pellets. Quick reflexes had Lim avoiding the gunfire as he launched his own attack. Then, Jin-tae was the one running, leaping over a sofa at the same time as he used his momentum to topple the sofa onto its back for cover. He ducked behind it and waited. They exchanged gunfire twice more before Jin-tae was able to pin Lim down for long enough to escape into the next room.
He watched as his protégé moved through the next two rooms silently, clearing them efficiently as he’d been taught, that is, until he reached the last room where Jin-tae waited in the shadows. Lim’s hesitation was a split second – and Jin-tae knew what was flashing before Lim’s eyes – but it was enough. Jin-tae moved out of his hiding place, firing two consecutive shots from close range, just as Lim had done to Chul-jin. It was the same move, this time executed by the teacher. Like Chul-jin, Lim’s breath was knocked out of him, pain searing across his chest as the force of the pellets knocked him to the ground. He landed on his back. Hard.
When Lim looked up, Jin-tae was looming over him. “Snap out of it, will you?” the Training Officer berated. “Damned fool,” he muttered, as he stepped over Lim’s prone form and exited the room.
Out in the hallway, the defeated members of Squadron One were back on their feet, nursing sore joints and newly-forming bruises as they headed out of the training facility. Jin-tae caught Kim Chul-jin’s eye and motioned to him. Chul-jin jogged over, snapping a quick salute.
“How’s Lim?” Jin-tae asked him.
“He kicked all our asses,” Chul-jin replied. “So, I’d say he’s all right.” He shrugged. “Aside from that, you never really know with Lim.”
Jin-tae didn’t react, but he agreed with Chul-jin. It was an honest assessment. “Take him out tonight,” he ordered.
“What?”
“You heard me,” Jin-tae snapped. “Get ’im out of here. Have a meal. Have a drink. Find out what he and Han spoke about earlier today. Make sure his head’s in the right place. You got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let’s go,” Chul-jin said impatiently.
Lim ignored him. They were at the outer guardhouse that demarcated the Special Unit’s headquarters and the territory of the Waste Recycling Plant. Although Chul-jin had been the one to secure the night passes for them (and Lim was fully aware of who had provided those passes), Lim, as the senior officer, was the one in charge of officially signing them out for the evening.
The last of the paperwork filled out, Lim flipped the chart back to the officer on duty.
“Where are we going?” he asked his partner.
“To eat,” Chul-jin replied, practically dragging him down the walkway onto the main road.
They took a bus into the city and wound up at Chul-jin’s favorite noodle house. It was a go-to place for many of the Special Unit guys, though the proprietors were hardly aware of that. The identities of the Special Unit members were their most valuable commodity, precious to them. Their most fiercely guarded secret. Out in the real world, they were non-descript men who blended into the crowd. But they were lethal killers. All of them. Wolves who stalked among the sheep.
The meal was relaxed. So ordinary that it made Lim smile, and he didn’t do that enough. Chul-jin was good company, a good friend. Even if going out tonight hadn’t been Chul-jin’s idea (and Lim strongly suspected that it wasn’t), he was glad that he had come. It’d been a good idea (and Jin-tae was often full of good ideas). Chul-jin was the opposite of Lim, which is probably why they got along so well. Han had also been the opposite of Lim, but he and Chul-jin were nothing alike, for which Lim was grateful.
Both Han and Chul-jin were smart, decisive men. But whereas Han had turned his intelligence to further his ambition, Chul-jin strove to improve himself, to be loyal to his brothers and the unit. Han had been more like a snake than a wolf, a viper who waited in the undergrowth. His envy had always been palpable to Lim, even in the best of times. It manifested in his competitive streaks that he passed off as fun and games, but were deadly serious affairs to him. Chul-jin also had competition and drive, but there was none of the underlying malice that Han had carried with him. Chul-jin meant well, and he wanted what was best for his brothers. Sometimes, Lim thought that Chul-jin was too kind-hearted to be a member of the Special Unit. Kindness and compassion were not traits that Jin-tae valued. But then Lim would remember how Chul-jin had dismantled one of the Sect hideouts a few months ago, cutting down two teams of Sect terrorists with razor efficiency, and Lim knew that there was a wolf inside his partner. It was just better hidden than most.
There were no wolves at the dinner table tonight, however, as Chul-jin devoured his bowl of noodles and soup, before dragging Lim off to a nearby bar (another Special Unit haunt). By this time, Lim was too agreeable to care. He wouldn’t drink though (he remembered the doctor’s advice), much to Chul-jin’s annoyance.
“What?” his friend asked. “You expect me to drink alone?”
“Doctor’s orders,” Lim answered, before ordering a lemonade. “And I expect you to drink enough for both of us,” he added.
“That’s not the plan,” Chul-jin grumbled, but proceeded to do just that.
“And what’s Jin-tae’s plan, exactly?” Lim said, when they’d gotten their drinks and moved to a corner table at the back of the bar. “Find out how I’m doing? Make sure I’m still a good solider?”
Chul-jin started, throwing Lim an accusing look. He took a long drink before answering. “I would’ve done this anyway, y’know,” he said. “Even if Jin-tae hadn’t asked me to.”
“Ordered,” Lim corrected.
Chul-jin rolled his eyes. “Fine, ordered,” he repeated. “Jin-tae may be a hardnosed son-of-a-bitch, but he cares about his men. Especially you. You’re his prized pupil. We all know that.” He chuckled, a little darkly. “Han certainly did.”
“That’s very subtle,” Lim commented.
Chul-jin laughed outright. “I’m not trying to be subtle,” he said, in between laughs. “You wanna talk about assholes? Han’s probably the biggest asshole there is.”
“Those are bold words for someone who’s never even met him,” Lim pointed out, amused. Han had left the Special Unit the same year that Chul-jin had signed up. They’d missed each other by a scant few months.
Chul-jin’s look was incredulous. “Oh, come on!” he said. “Don’t tell me you’re actually defending that jerk?”
It was Lim’s turn to chuckle. “Hardly,” he replied, taking a drink. “It’s just that you sound so sure. I mean, how do you know he’s an asshole?”
“I don’t need to meet the guy to know that he’s an asshole. I’ve heard all the stories, Lim. They’re not flattering. And it’s revealing to me that you’ve never once disputed them. You – who everyone claims knew Han best. Silence is confirmation.”
There was a weighted pause.
“Are you going to dispute them now?”
“No.”
“Then, he’s an asshole.”
Lim clinked the neck of his bottle against Chul-jin’s bottle. “I’ll drink to that,” he agreed.
Chul-jin laughed again, finishing his beer. He stood up for a refill. When he came back, he had two bottles with him and he pushed the other one in front of Lim. Lim shook his head.
“More for me then,” Chul-jin sighed, retaking his seat. “So, what did that asshole want earlier?”
“That’s what this is really about, isn’t it?” Lim questioned. “Doing Jin-tae’s dirty work for him.”
Chul-jin managed to refrain from rolling his eyes this time. “Yeah, he wants to know,” he admitted. “But so do I. What did Han want?”
“He gave me something,” Lim said, a little reluctantly. “The diary of the dead girl. Said it fell between the cracks.”
“What?” Chul-jin exclaimed. “What the hell are you supposed to do with that?” When Lim didn’t respond, Chul-jin repeated the question. “C’mon, Lim,” he pressed. “What did Han ask you to do?”
“He asked me to return the diary to the girl’s sister.”
“What!” Chul-jin exploded. “That is Grade A manipulative asshole bullshit!”
“Lower your voice,” Lim said, noticing how the other patrons had turned to look in their direction.
“You don’t owe them anything,” Chul-jin hissed.
“Maybe I do.”
“Why?” Chul-jin argued, leaning forward. “None of this is your fault. Did you get her to join the Sect? Did you turn her into a bomb runner? Are you the reason she was there that night? Everything she did was her choice. She blew herself up in front of you, man. How can you blame yourself for that?”
Chul-jin stopped abruptly. He’d unintentionally crossed the line and he knew it. It was written on his face, just like it must’ve been written on Lim’s face. The unspoken question hung in the air between them.
Why didn’t you shoot? Why didn’t you shoot?
Lim couldn’t answer that question. Oh, somewhere deep inside him, he already knew the answer. It was buried someplace where fifteen other unarmed high school girls had been murdered on Bloody Friday. But it wasn’t the same, was it? Those girls had been unarmed. But the Red Riding Hood. She had been a bomb runner and she hadn’t been afraid to pull the trigger. It wasn’t the same thing at all.
He’d frozen anyway. In five years since Bloody Friday, he’d never frozen. But it’d happened in the tunnels with the Red Riding Hood.
And Han knew it.
And now his ‘old friend’ was trying to exploit it, for reasons yet unknown.
“You’re not going to meet her, are you?” Chul-jin eventually asked.
“Who?” Lim said, still distracted by his thoughts.
“The sister.”
Lim looked up. “I already gave her a call,” he admitted. “We’re meeting tomorrow.”
“For fuck’s sake!” Chul-jin exclaimed, quickly lowering his voice again. “You know Han’s just using you, right? Trying to fuck with your head? Why are you going through with this? Don’t play his mind games.”
“It’s more than just a mind game,” Lim told him quietly. “It’s something I have to do.” Closure, he thought, but didn’t say aloud. Maybe this small act would give him closure. “Anyway,” he went on. “Don’t bother reporting to Jin-tae. I’ll tell him all this myself.”
“Nice try,” Chul-jin shot back, still obviously annoyed. “You tell Jin-tae whatever you want. I’m still reporting to him.”
“That’s what he likes about you,” Lim commented. “Your loyalty to the pack.”
“Ha!” Chul-jin said, but Lim could tell that he was pleased. “Now that business is out of the way, let’s not spoil the rest of the evening,” he went on, reaching over and picking up Lim’s untouched beer.
Lim grinned. “You’re drinking for two,” he reminded his friend.
Kim Chul-jin drank for more than two. He drank for probably half the squadron, which was unfortunate because he was a drinking lightweight. It would’ve been too difficult to take a bus back to HQ, so Lim poured his friend into a taxi and got dropped off outside the Waste Recycling Plant. The driver gave them an odd look at their destination, but didn’t ask any questions. The long walk back to the guardhouse was an ordeal. The same officer who had signed them out was still on duty, and he smirked at Lim as Lim signed them back in. Lim didn’t have enough energy to glower back.
He wasn’t surprised to see Jin-tae waiting for them at the entrance to the barracks. The Training Officer didn’t walk toward them, just waited for Lim to half-carry, half-drag his partner to the front door.
“Was this part of your plan?” Lim asked his boss when he made it to the entrance.
Jin-tae offered the faintest of smirks as he went to Chul-jin’s other side and helped prop him up. “Not exactly,” he said, slinging Chul-jin’s left arm across his shoulders. “I didn’t think you’d drink him under the table.”
“I didn’t drink,” Lim replied. “Doctor’s orders.”
Jin-tae’s only response was, “Medical ward.”
They turned left towards the hospital ward where Lim had spent the better part of the day recuperating, instead of heading to the sleeping quarters. It would’ve been impossible to get Chul-jin back into his bunk without rousing the other members of the squadron, so the hospital ward was the next best option. Chul-jin could sleep in peace, and he’d wake up with a monster hangover in the morning.
The nurse on duty immediately stood up to assist them when they entered the medical ward, but Jin-tae waved her away. When it became apparent that Chul-jin wasn’t injured, the nurse stayed at a respectful distance while Jin-tae and Lim placed him in the nearest bed, Lim taking off his friend’s shoes before drawing a blanket over him.
“Give him something for his hangover in the morning,” Jin-tae told the nurse.
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
The Training Officer glanced at Lim briefly before walking out, Lim taking one last look at Chul-jin before following him. In the hallway, Jin-tae turned left again in the direction of the stairs that would lead to his office. He didn’t look at Lim again or say a word to him. Lim only waited a few seconds before following his old teacher.
“How long were you watching?” were the first words Lim spoke to Jin-tae’s back, when they were alone in Jin-tae’s office.
“Since you arrived at the front gate,” Jin-tae answered. He was pouring a drink from his secret stash. He turned around and offered the glass to Lim, who shook his head.
“Doctor’s orders,” Lim repeated.
Jin-tae took a sip, and put the bottle away. He sat down at the armchair and Lim joined him at the settee.
“Good evening?” Jin-tae asked mildly.
“It’s faster to get your answers directly from me,” Lim said, not bothering with the niceties.
“I don’t just want answers,” Jin-tae told him. “I want an honest assessment of you.”
“You’ll get it in the morning,” Lim said. “Once Chul-jin’s pounding headache subsides.”
“It’s no secret that Public Security is targeting the Special Unit,” Jin-tae went on smoothly. “There was a suggestion today of letting you take the fall for the scandal.” He watched Lim steadily, but the other man didn’t react. “That’s not going to happen. But the suggestion reveals a line of thinking that’s worth pursuing. If our allies view you as a weak link in the unit, then our enemies do as well. And they will try to exploit that weakness. Han believes he knows you better than anyone else. He told me as much today, and that he was very . . . concerned . . . over your current mental state. For someone who deals in counter-intelligence and espionage, your ‘friend’ is remarkably unsubtle.” Jin-tae paused and took another drink. “What did he want with you?”
“He gave me the dead girl’s diary,” Lim answered without hesitation. “He said that I should return it to her sister since I was the last person who saw her alive.”
“Clever,” Jin-tae said, thoughtfully. “But very heavy-handed. Have you contacted the sister?”
“I spoke with her this afternoon.”
“And when will you meet her?”
“Tomorrow evening.”
Jin-tae nodded. “I won’t give you a night pass for that,” he said. “There must be no official record of you leaving the base, especially if Public Security is watching you.” He gave Lim a hard look. “Be on your guard, but don’t arouse her suspicions. This is a trap, but we need time to uncover Public Security’s plan.” He paused, finishing his drink and placing the empty glass on the table. Then, he stood up. “I know you’re not the weak link of this unit,” he said, looking down at the other man. “You’re a survivor. A true wolf. Don’t disappoint me.”
Lim was back in the tunnels of the underdrain. He was wearing civilian clothes. A flash of red caught his eye and he turned. It was the Red Riding Hood. She was running away from him.
“Wait!” he called out.
She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. When she spoke, her voice was soft but carried clearly to him in the acoustics of the tunnel.
“You can’t come with me.”
“Wait!” Lim said again, but it was too late. The girl was already running away from him. He gave chase. Why was she so fast? He didn’t seem to be able to close the distance between them. He heard splashing behind him and then beside him. He glanced down. A dog was running next to him. No, a wolf. More splashing. More steps. More bodies near him.
Lim kept going, the pack of wolves by his side. The tunnels seemed endless, labyrinthine. He lost sight of the girl and stopped. The wolves who had been following him, stopped as well, convening around him, rubbing their bodies against him. They looked up at him expectantly, waiting to follow his lead, but Lim was lost.
A splash. A flash of red.
Lim followed the sound. The wolves, excited again, ran beside him. He arrived at a locked gate that blocked the entrance to one of the tunnels.
“Wait!” he called once more, hands gripping the gate’s iron bars. “I have to ask you something.”
The girl was on the other side, several meters away from him. She turned, but she wasn’t the Red Riding Hood anymore. She was Yun-hee.
“You can’t come with me,” Yun-hee repeated. “You know that.”
Suddenly, the gate that Lim was holding swung open, even though he hadn’t unlocked or unbolted it.
“No,” he whispered. “No!”
The wolves went through, chasing after Yun-hee. She screamed and ran, but she was no match for the pack. They surrounded her, tearing at her flesh and her clothes. She fell to the ground and the wolves covered her from Lim’s sight, but he could still hear her cries and the wolves’ vicious snarls. The water grew red from her blood. Then, it was no longer Yun-hee being ripped apart by the wolves, but the Red Riding Hood being shot to pieces by the high caliber bullets of Lim’s gun. He fired and fired, the spent bullets falling into the water as the girl’s body was smashed against the wall.
Lim woke up drenched in sweat.
The room was dark, lit only by the moonlight that filtered in through the windows. He wasn’t in his bed in the barracks. Lim covered his face with his hands and felt the bed shift beside him. It appeared as though he’d woken up his bed partner, which wasn’t surprising. Jin-tae was a light sleeper.
“Bad dreams?” the commander asked.
“It’s nothing,” Lim answered.
The bed shifted again and Lim knew that Jin-tae had pulled himself up into a sitting position. There was the sound of a bottle being uncapped and then liquid being poured. Lim knew it was the bottle of Macallan that Jin-tae had left on his bedside table from the night before. Lim drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around his knees, his body hunched over.
“Bad dreams are never nothing,” Jin-tae replied. “And you haven’t had those for a while.”
Lim understood what Jin-tae wasn’t saying. He hadn’t had bad dreams since Bloody Friday, and his commanding officer would know. Han had been right to target his mental state. He felt unbalanced. Uncertain. Maybe Jin-tae didn’t see him as a weak link, but Lim himself wasn’t so sure.
“Was it the Red Riding Hood?”
“Yes.” Lim cleared his throat. It felt dry all of a sudden. “I was chasing her in the underdrain, and a pack of wolves was with me. When I finally caught up with her, she changed into Yun-hee. The wolves tore her to pieces. And then it was me, shooting the Red Riding Hood, her body riddled with bullets.”
Silence.
“You like this Yun-hee?” Jin-tae eventually asked.
“She seems sincere.”
“She’s a Public Security spy,” Jin-tae said harshly. “If she seems sincere, then she’s doing her job.”
Lim didn’t want to hear this, but he didn’t say anything either.
“We’ve looked into her background,” Jin-tae continued. “Her real name is Kim Seo-hee. It was changed last March when she was arrested by Public Security. Before they turned her, she was the head of the Sect Women’s Unit. High up in the pecking order. Dealt with Uhm Chul-hyung directly.”
This knowledge eased something in Lim and he relaxed his posture, uncoiling some of the tension from his body.
“The Red Riding Hood that died wasn’t even her sister,” Jin-tae went on. “Yun-hee is a plant. Han chose her because an opportunity presented itself and she was convenient.”
“He’s using her,” Lim translated.
“To strike at us,” Jin-tae reminded him. “Don’t lose sight of that.”
Lim felt so tired. Jin-tae was right, as usual, even though Lim didn’t want to admit it. Han may be using Yun-hee now, but Jin-tae would find a way to turn her against Public Security. That’s what he did, and why he was a master at counter-intelligence. Lim just needed to buy him some time. He didn’t want to think about where that left Yun-hee. She was a pawn to be used by both sides, and her fate would be decided by whichever side won. Han would have her killed rather than uphold whatever bargain he had struck with her. As for Jin-tae . . .
By nature, the commander wasn’t an affectionate man. He didn’t do cuddles or hugs. Even kissing – especially on the mouth – was rare. Too intimate, Lim thought. There were different kinds of intimacy, as Lim had learned. And for Jin-tae, kissing and other signs of tenderness or affection, were more intimate than fucking.
But tonight felt different. Talking about his dreams and his confused feelings for Yun-hee. Lim would never admit it to Jin-tae, but he’d felt something for her tonight, some kind of kinship that was wholly unexpected. He felt as though he understood her, and maybe. . . maybe she understood him too. He probably didn’t have to tell his commanding officer. Jin-tae had a knack for sensing these things. He was a better psychologist than any of the shrinks Lim had been required to see after Bloody Friday.
Given the situation, Lim didn’t think Jin-tae would refuse him if he sought a tiny bit of comfort. He shifted backwards slowly, giving Jin-tae plenty of time to move or brush him off if the other man wanted to. But Jin-tae didn’t react, other than continuing to drink his scotch. So, Lim eased into him, nestling against the side of his chest. Jin-tae passed him the tumbler of scotch and Lim accepted it (despite the doctor’s orders), the burn of the liquid soothing the dryness in his throat. He passed the tumbler back, feeling something very close to contentment when Jin-tae wrapped an arm around him.
“What about the brother?” he said, speaking into the comfortable silence. “Is he real?”
“He’s real,” Jin-tae confirmed. “He’s been in the hospital for about a month. Requires surgery. A transplant. It’s not life-threatening. Not yet, anyway.”
Lim knew that his next action would be pushing it – another person might call it ‘cuddling’ – but he turned so that he could curl into Jin-tae’s side. He waited. No reaction. Then, Jin-tae moved, but it was only to light a cigarette and he didn’t disturb Lim’s position. He took a long drag.
“Have you figured out Han’s plan yet?”
“No, but we’re close.” We need you to buy more time, is what Jin-tae didn’t say. “Yun-hee is the key to all this,” he said thoughtfully. “She’s the known link between Public Security and the Sect. She’s more than just a spy.”
“You think the two organizations are working together.” Lim said those words as a statement not a question.
“I do,” Jin-tae confirmed. “It’s just a matter of proving it. We’re going to take Public Security down. Get them off our backs for good.”
Lim inwardly smiled at the boldness of that declaration. The Special Unit was under investigation. Public outcry to have the unit disbanded was at a record high. And yet, Jin-tae was running a covert counter-terrorist operation with the goal of bringing down both Public Security and whatever was left of the Sect, at a time when the unit’s activities had been officially suspended. This didn’t surprise Lim in the least. Jin-tae never played defensively. With Special Unit’s back against the wall, attack was the only option. Lim reached over and took the cigarette from Jin-tae.
“I thought you quit,” Jin-tae told him.
“I did,” Lim said, before taking a drag.
“When Yun-hee contacts you again, meet her wherever she wants. Keep on your guard. Han isn’t known for his patience. He’ll strike soon.”
There was something almost prophetic about Jin-tae’s words. Lim was thinking about them as he held Yun-hee tightly and leaped out of the broken window of Namsan Tower, the fire hoses that he’d attached together not long enough to reach the platform below, but just long enough so that the remaining distance wasn’t too rough of a landing.
Jin-tae had found a way to warn him before the ambush. He’d received a call about a mistaken delivery while he’d been on the bus to Namsan and known that his phone was being tapped. It meant that Han’s operation was under way. When he arrived at Namsan Tower, he spotted Han’s agents everywhere – the man and woman by the display, the man throwing away his trash, the couple taking a photograph, the man on his cellphone by the staircase. They were supposed to blend into their surroundings, but they were hardly discreet. It was almost laughable. When Yun-hee casually took his arm and held it long enough for them to be photographed together, Lim glanced down at her and felt a twinge in his heart. So, this was betrayal, he thought.
At breakfast that morning, Chul-jin had teased him about Yun-hee. “I’ll be following your girlfriend again today,” he’d said. “Don’t do anything embarrassing.”
“Don’t get caught,” Lim had warned him.
“No one’s gonna catch me,” Chul-jin had laughed. “And it sure as hell beats training exercises.”
Lim couldn’t argue with that, though he didn’t mind the training exercises as much as Chul-jin. In some perverse way, he enjoyed them, especially if Jin-tae joined in, which he almost always did. He wondered what the rest of their unit thought whenever he and Chul-jin weren’t present. There were whispers of the Wolf Brigade both inside and outside of the Special Unit. But even Special Unit members themselves couldn’t confirm the rumors. No one knew for sure . . . unless you were a member of the Wolf Brigade. Both Lim and Chul-jin were. And Jin-tae was their commanding officer.
When Lim and Yun-hee had escaped from Namsan Tower, he’d risked it and contacted Jin-tae through his phone, even though it was being tapped. Their conversation would be short – not long enough for a trace – and he’d dispose of the phone afterwards.
“What’s going on?” Jin-tae had asked brusquely.
Lim knew Jin-tae well enough to detect the faintest undercurrent of anxiety in his voice. He was glad to hear that worry. It meant that his faith in his commander had been rewarded. Han had outright lied to him in the parking lot, claiming that the President’s Office and the Special Unit had agreed to throw him under the bus. Lim had known that it was a lie and he’d called Han’s bluff, but he’d also remembered Jin-tae’s words in his office. The idea of Lim being used as a sacrificial lamb had been floated by the President’s Office, but Jin-tae would never have allowed that. Whatever Han thought, the Special Unit wouldn’t abandon him. Han was a deserter. He’d never understood how the pack worked, had never been a true member of the unit.
“I’m safe,” Lim said, wondering if the different layers of meaning would reach Jin-tae through the line.
“Is the girl with you?”
“Yes.”
“Go to Safe House Four and meet Kim Chul-jin. This phone will be destroyed.”
Lim wanted to ask more, but it was too dangerous. He had to get rid of his phone. He sensed that Jin-tae had made a breakthrough that afternoon, before the ambush at Namsan Tower. The photos that he’d sent of Han with high-ranking Sect officials seemed to confirm it. Han’s reaction to those photos all but confirmed it as well. The Deputy Director of Public Security had lost his cool, and that never happened. It was a sign of the pressure that Han was under, and Lim’s high-profile escape right from under Public Security’s noses with their own spy no less, had only increased that pressure.
Han had always underestimated him.
Everything went according to Jin-tae’s plan after that. Well, mostly according to plan. Jin-tae didn’t expect Public Security to be so bold as to pick Kim Chul-jin up off the street, but that’s what they did. Lim could hear the strain in his commander’s voice when Jin-tae explained the situation to him. By then, he and Yun-hee had broken into an abandoned building, unable to reach the safe house due to the road blocks and police checkpoints. Their faces were everywhere – on the television, on all the news outlets. Public Security’s manhunt was extensive and they needed to find cover.
Lim had reported his status to the operator of the main trunk line and had been instructed to wait for a return call. That call had arrived just as Yun-hee was baring her soul to him, explaining her situation, pleading with him to run away together. She would reveal everything, and they could escape Public Security, escape the Sect and the Special Unit. She wasn’t acting anymore, Lim had thought. If she ever had been. Once again, he’d felt the stirring of kinship, of familiarity. He remembered his dream. You can’t come with me. You know that. He knew that.
The phone rang.
His reaction had been instinctive, bolting out of his place and leaving Yun-hee stunned, the tears still wet on her face. She’d been shocked, but he couldn’t help it. He’d been waiting for that call, and hearing Jin-tae’s voice meant too much to him, even if his commander sounded strained himself.
“What’s the situation?” Jin-tae said.
“I’m safe,” Lim replied, the same answer as before with the same shades of meaning.
Kim Chul-Jin’s capture changed Jin-tae’s strategy. Until that point, Lim had expected to be brought in together with Yun-hee. But once Jin-tae said those fateful words, “Change of plans,” Lim knew what he really meant. Endgame. They would finish this tonight.
“Come to underdrain C-21 before 0500 hours,” Jin-tae instructed.
Lim felt his skin prickle at the destination. Underdrain C-21. The site of the sect’s last known hideout. The place where the Red Riding Hood had blown herself up. The tunnels of his dreams. Jin-tae would have him exorcise those dreams and finish Public Security off at the same time. His commander was efficient like that.
“With the girl?” Lim asked.
“Yes.”
“We don’t need the girl anymore. We know what they’re doing, so she’s no use to us.”
“Listen,” Jin-tae began.
“It’s my business,” Lim interrupted, a rare sign of disrespect. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Bring the girl,” Jin-tae ordered, his voice like steel. There was no mistaking the anger there, or the tension that had sprung up between them. The telephone line seemed to crackle with it.
“Understood, Lim?”
Lim didn’t answer. The tension was becoming unbearable.
“Is there a problem?”
“No,” Lim finally said.
Silence. The click of the other phone disengaging. Jin-tae had hung up, but Lim felt the lingering mistrust. He had given Jin-tae cause to doubt him. You’re a survivor. A true wolf. Don’t disappoint me.
The final showdown at underdrain C-21 was a slaughter. Two teams of Public Security plus their special ops against one member of the Wolf Brigade. Coupled with the other Public Security teams at Namsan Tower, Lim had lost count of how many men and women he’d killed that day. But putting on the full-body armor of the Special Unit was always liberating. It was like shedding his human skin. Jin-tae was right. He felt most himself when he was on duty, when the weight of the armor covered him, when he saw the world through the lens of the Wolf Brigade.
Yun-hee tried to back out at the last moment. She admitted her deceit, showed him the tracking device. She was afraid for him, afraid for the trap that Public Security had set. Lim looked at her with a kind of pity. Yun-hee didn’t yet understand the extent to which she’d been used. By both sides. But he didn’t have to explain because by then Jin-tae and the Special Unit had arrived.
Han died that night in the tunnels. Lim didn’t feel anything as he’d hunted his ‘old friend.’ He would learn later that Kim Chul-jin had been killed during interrogation at Public Security’s headquarters, and he’d taken some solace in knowing that he’d avenged his friend’s death.
By the time Lim emerged from the underdrain, a little tired and a little bruised, Jin-tae was calmly smoking a cigarette while members of the Special Unit carried out a clean-up operation.
“What are you planning to do?” Lim asked Jin-tae, as the commander walked back to his vehicle.
“About Yun-hee? I’ll take her to the Special Unit. Finish her off there. I don’t want her corpse mixed in with the others.”
The answer didn’t surprise Lim. On some level, he’d been expecting it. Whatever choices had lead Yun-hee to this point, she had become a victim. Public Security was never going to let her live. The Special Unit was no different. Her only chance had been fleeing with Lim, if Lim had only agreed to go with her. But he knew that wasn’t possible. You can’t come. You know that. But maybe . . . maybe he could still help her.
The real showdown was at the Special Unit’s training facility between Lim and Jin-tae, between the teacher and the pupil. Jin-tae had charged him with executing Yun-hee (“You do it. That way she’ll leave with no regrets in this world.”), but Lim knew he couldn’t. It was the first order that he’d ever refused. He told Yun-hee to wait for him in his vehicle. He half expected her to get her head blown off by the sniper that he knew Jin-tae had left behind as a contingency to ensure that his orders were followed. When that didn’t happen, Lim was certain that Jin-tae would come back himself. That was the only way to settle this – between master and student.
Lim left the train station after seeing Yun-hee and her brother off. They didn’t speak. He didn’t know himself whether he would reveal his presence to her until the last moment, as the train was pulling out of the station. She saw him through the window, leaning against the last pillar of the platform. There was surprise in her expression . . . and gratitude. They hadn’t seen each other since that day at the Special Unit when Jin-tae had ordered her execution and Lim had stopped it.
Lim had known from the first moment he’d met her that this wasn’t their story. There could be no happy ending for them. Humans and wolves couldn’t co-exist, and he belonged with the pack. But he’d been able to give her another chance, which was more than most people got from the Special Unit. A second chance was enough. It was up to Yun-hee to decide what to do with it.
Lim had another appointment to keep.
Jin-tae stood by the railing overlooking the Han River, smoking a cigarette. He was wearing civilian clothes, a rare enough sight. But even without the customary Special Unit uniform, he looked every bit the military man – the sharp tailored silhouette, square shoulders, straight posture, an economy of movement that belied high-level combat training. Lim smiled to himself. Jin-tae was the alpha, but he couldn’t hide in the real world. A wolf was a wolf wherever he was.
“Good vacation?” Jin-tae asked him without turning his head, when Lim appeared by his side.
“Good enough,” Lim answered, hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket.
“You’ve taken care of your business, then?”
“Yes.”
Lim didn’t elaborate. Jin-tae didn’t want to hear those details anyway. It’d been two weeks since their fight at the training facility, since Lim had negotiated a deal with his commanding officer: Yun-hee’s freedom for Lim’s loyalty. He still didn’t know what to make of Jin-tae’s capitulation. The Special Unit didn’t negotiate. They were brought in for their use of extreme force and tactics. But Jin-tae had given Lim what he’d asked for, even if Lim hadn’t been sure that he’d leave the unit at all. He’d told Jin-tae that he wanted to live by his own rules, but those words had been said in the heat of the moment, with emotions running high and blood lust coursing through their veins. Later, Lim wondered if he would’ve had the strength to leave the unit, to leave Jin-tae. He didn’t know. And now he would never find out.
Jin-tae agreed to uphold Public Security’s end of the bargain with Yun-hee, even if Public Security had never intended to do so. Special Unit paid for the transplant operation that Yun-hee’s younger brother needed. The Unit gave both of them new identities and enough money to begin a new life.
“I want things to change between us,” Lim said, out of the blue and with no context whatsoever.
Jin-tae glanced at him then, his gaze piercing. “I wasn’t aware that we were still negotiating,” he said.
“Did you really believe that I would leave the Special Unit?” Lim asked. The Leave you, remained unsaid.
“You were quite adamant,” Jin-tae pointed out.
“You could’ve just killed me,” Lim replied. “Killed the girl, too. That’s SOP for Special Unit. No one would have questioned it.”
“And waste my best asset?”
“I’m more than an asset to you.”
Jin-tae looked back out over the river and took another drag of his cigarette. He appeared to be disinterested, but Lim knew that he had the commander’s attention. He stepped closer, facing Jin-tae.
“When Han was trying to get me to surrender, he said that the President and Special Unit had given me up – thrown me under the bus. But I knew that you would never do that, would never allow that to happen.” Lim paused. “Han said that you never did anything to protect us during Bloody Friday, but that’s not true. You’ve done more for me than anybody else. You’re the reason I’m still here.”
“What is it you’re asking?”
“I want more.”
“That’s not very specific.”
“I want to be able to kiss you. Sometimes,” Lim added, thinking that Jin-tae might balk at the request.
As it was, the commander gave him a wry look. “Next, you’ll say that you want to hold hands in public and go out on dates,” he remarked.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lim retorted. It was his turn to look out over the Han River. He felt a flush creeping up his neck at Jin-tae’s suggestions. The truth was, he did want those things but knew that they were impossible.
“If you really wanted those things,” Jin-tae said quietly. “You could’ve had them with Yun-hee.”
“Would you have let me leave?”
“I don’t know,” Jin-tae said, in the only sign of vulnerability Lim had ever heard from him. “But since it appears that we’re renegotiating –”
“I never wanted those things with Yun-hee,” Lim cut him off. “And I know that I can’t have them with you either. But the Special Unit is my home, and you’re my alpha. I’ll take whatever I can get.”
Lim looked to his right and found Jin-tae staring at him. For a moment, he thought he’d wilt under that scrutiny. But then the commander looked away, finishing the last of his cigarette.
“Hungry?” he said. “There’s a good noodle place near here.”
“Yeah,” Lim agreed. “I could do with some noodles.”
Jin-tae turned to his right and began walking. Lim fell into step beside him, hands still in the pockets of his bomber jacket. He felt a kind of peace settle over him, a calm that he hadn’t experienced since the Red Riding Hood in the tunnels. He’d been able to give Yun-hee a fresh start, but he hadn’t realized that he’d done the same thing for himself. Walking beside Jin-tae along the Han River in the burnished purple and golds of the Seoul sunset, he recognized the moment for what it was.
Fin.