Graduation
The morning jog had come around again, as it always did.
By October, the summer heat was gone without a trace, and all that remained in the air was a cool, crisp bite. The leaves scattered across the ground crunched underfoot, breaking apart beneath our shoes.
Crunch. Crunch.
It had been several days since I’d absorbed the eighty-year-old mountain ginseng.
How did it feel? Honestly, this time something was definitely different.
For one thing, my breathing had become much deeper and longer. Before, by the time I hit the high end of five miles, my breath would start to turn ragged. Now I still had room to spare.
My senses were sharper too, far sharper. If I focused, I could feel everything around the trail with a clarity that bordered on ridiculous.
Even the footsteps of the trainees running fifty meters ahead of me. Even the rhythm of their breathing as it drew in and out.
Most importantly, my internal energy had grown a lot.
The effect was far better than when I’d taken the fifty-year ginseng before. By feel alone, it had to be at least twice as strong.
But the really important part was that it wasn’t just a matter of quantity.
More interestingly, American ginseng was a little different from the ginseng in Korea.
It had clearly absorbed earth energy for a long time, so no one could deny it deserved to be called a true elixir. Still, if I had to classify it, it was less like the yang-leaning ginseng from Korea and closer to yin in nature.
Which is excellent news for me.
Of course, it wasn’t some ancient, overwhelmingly pure yin or yang treasure that had ripened for ten thousand years, so taking it a few times wouldn’t put much strain on my body.
But if I kept taking it steadily? There would absolutely come a day when the balance inside me would start to break down.
And yet that worry had vanished the moment I started taking the American ginseng.
If anything, it had made my yin-yang balance more stable than before.
The biggest gain was that if I alternated it properly with Korean ginseng, the two actually created synergy. That was the real prize.
“Huff... huhhh...”
Nad’s breathing drifted up from behind me. He was already starting to fall behind.
And this was week twelve, too, but his stamina still hadn’t improved worth a damn.
“Damn it, look at Lee! Huhh... you bastard, you’re not even sweating anymore.”
Nad huffed and puffed as he hustled back up beside us.
He never stopped talking, even when he was gasping for air. The guy was incredible in the most annoying way possible.
“Ha! Told you it was that secret herb from before, didn’t I? I knew it! Doping, man. Full-on doping!”
“It was just ordinary ginseng.”
“Ordinary? That root wrapped in moss? That’s the weirdest plant I’ve ever seen in my life.”
As if most people had ever seen a ginseng root worth tens of thousands of dollars.
Ignoring me completely and chattering without a break, Nad got a sharp little remark from Mo.
“Nad. Shut up.”
Honestly, by this point, I didn’t care either way.
I was already the most famous trainee in camp, and I had dozens of nicknames to prove it.
CIA super soldier in testing, runaway ninja, kung fu master, descendant of Genghis Khan... compared to that, rumors that I was taking some fucking plant-based doping agent were downright tame.
“So you’re really leaving soon, huh? For real?”
Mo turned his head and looked at me.
“Probably.”
When I gave the short answer, Mo spoke after a beat.
“Then let’s keep in touch. We might end up working together someday.”
Nad jumped in immediately.
“Obviously. You weren’t planning to just disappear on us after leaving first, were you?”
That stabbed a little too close to home, and I looked away for no good reason.
I didn’t mind Mo, but I had zero interest in ever being dragged around by this asshole Nad again.
For some reason, I have a very strong feeling my life would get exhausting if I keep getting tangled up with him.
“...Mo’s welcome. You? I’ll think about it.”
“Shit, what a heartless bastard!”
After the morning run ended, we headed to the mess hall.
As I was picking up my tray and looking for a seat, one of the trainees passing by called out to me.
“Hey, Ace. You’re heading out? Good luck out there.”
I nodded and sat down.
I was stabbing at my scrambled eggs with a fork when another trainee brushed past me from behind and bumped my shoulder.
“Hey, Lee, before you go, share that secret herb thing with us.”
His tone was half joke, half not.
I snorted, exchanged a look with him, and took a sip of coffee.
Then my eyes met Coleman’s from a table off to the diagonal.
He looked at me for a moment, then gave a silent nod.
Much friendlier than before.
By the time I finished eating, I ran into Ramirez too.
He walked past me with his tray and gave my shoulder a light tap.
There was no trace of the old hostility in it. If anything...
“You’re leaving soon.”
After saying that, he jerked his chin at me and added,
“See you around sometime. Good luck.”
Then he turned and walked off without looking back.
Even that hardhead was saying goodbye to me, which left me feeling strangely off balance.
I must have grown attached to this place while I was only here for training.
I guess I do feel a little sorry to leave.
Though if you asked whether I wanted to keep training longer, the answer was obviously no.
I just regretted that my life always seemed to move on right when I was finally getting used to a place.
***
On the way back after returning my last piece of personal gear, I saw someone waiting in front of the dormitory building.
It was a middle-aged man in a suit, a rare sight here.
Short gray hair. Broad shoulders. A solid, muscular build.
He looked to be in his late forties, but he was impressively well-conditioned for his age.
There was only one kind of person at this training facility who wore a suit.
A CIA employee from Langley.
“Good to meet you. This is the first time we’ve met in person.”
I could feel the man’s eyes sweep over my face once.
After a brief moment of interest, he held out his hand.
“Neil Campbell. I lead the Special Activities Center, SAC, at the Operations Directorate.”
Neil Campbell. The name I’d heard over and over through McKinnon.
An incredibly rigid and strict man, apparently the sort who believed in rules above everything else.
That was the sanitized version, anyway. In reality, most of what I’d heard was profanity.
“Lee.”
I took his hand.
He had quite a grip.
“The evaluation is complete. I’ve gone through McKinnon’s report and the instructors’ consolidated assessments.”
Campbell spoke in a calm, level voice.
“Your shooting exceeded expectations, and your CQB and night infiltration work were marked as beyond the evaluation criteria. It’s a short-term program, so the weaker areas can be addressed gradually... but Headquarters has judged this to be sufficient. Congratulations.”
That was welcome news.
I’d just about adjusted to the place, but I had no desire to spend any more time in this stifling training camp.
Instead of waiting for a response, Campbell held out an envelope.
“And Lee. If you’re willing, I’d like to assign you a mission. Take a look.”
I took the envelope. It was fairly heavy.
When I opened it, I found several items inside.
“It’s a pickup operation for a person in Eastern Europe. The details are inside.”
A pickup in Eastern Europe.
If it was a CIA pickup, there was a very high chance the other party hadn’t agreed to it.
An unilateral pickup. In other words, a kidnapping.
The first thing that caught my eye was the passport.
A dark navy cover. On it, the eagle crest and English lettering were stamped in gold.
[UNITED STATES OF AMERICA]
An American passport.
When I flipped it open, my photo was attached inside.
A picture I had no memory of taking. They must have used one shot when I entered the camp.
And the name printed beside it was:
[DANIEL H. LEE]
The birth date matched mine. The place of birth was Los Angeles, California.
It was completely different from the Korean passport I already had.
As I examined it, Campbell added a brief explanation.
“It’s an officially registered passport. There won’t be any problems entering or leaving countries.”
Under the passport was a stack of documents.
They outlined the background for my new identity.
UCLA graduate, freelance web designer, planning to stay in Eastern Europe for language study and remote work...
They had even listed the courses I’d taken in college.
Enough to answer any question anyone might ask.
Beneath that were a U.S. bank card in the name of Daniel H. Lee and an envelope of cash. There was also a prepaid SIM card, a note with an address, long-stay visa paperwork, a briefing file on the target, and finally an airline ticket.
“Hmph...”
I checked the information on the target.
On the surface, he was a plain businessman running a trade company in Eastern Europe, but in reality he was a weapons dealer handling large-scale smuggling and brokerage.
The file also stated that high-performance Western weapons leaked from the Ukrainian front had recently been traced to him and were being distributed to third countries through his channels.
Tomas Kucera.
I studied the target’s photo and name for a moment, then pulled out the airline ticket.
I read the destination slowly.
[Prague, Czech Republic]
“This isn’t a mission that starts immediately, so you’ll have plenty of time to rest. Stay there for a few months until the contact comes through and blend in thoroughly with the local environment. We’ve already prepared a place for you.”
Campbell added the explanation in his even tone.
I thought it over for a moment, then asked him,
“Am I going alone?”
“McKinnon will join you on site. You’ll move with him.”
McKinnon again.
Whether I should call that lucky or unfortunate, I wasn’t sure.
Still, this time he sounded like he’d be with me as a field partner and backup, not as an instructor.
Several months of laying low in the Czech Republic, then bringing the target in.
With a veteran like McKinnon, it wasn’t a particularly difficult mission.
And more importantly, the pay listed at the end of the file was excellent: 350,000 dollars.
“I’ll do it.”
“Good choice. Your time here was worth it after all.”
Campbell said that and held out his hand again.
“Good to meet you, Lee. Until next time.”
After a brief handshake with me, he gave a single nod and turned away.
I watched his back grow smaller and smaller, then opened the envelope again.
“Prague, huh...”
I pulled out the ticket and looked at it again.
Prague. A city I’d never once visited in my life.
To be honest, I’d heard the name plenty of times, but I had no real idea where it actually was.
Guess I’m going to live in Europe for a while all of a sudden.
I tapped the ticket once, then put it back in the envelope.
It was time to leave again.
***
A few days later.
Prague Václav Havel International Airport.
Standing at immigration, I spoke as calmly as I could.
“Dobrý den.”
It was the clumsy Czech greeting I’d memorized on the plane.
I handed over the American passport to the officer, whose expression softened slightly.
The immigration officer compared the photo with my face once, then stamped it and handed it back without saying anything.
That’s it?
I’d been tense for no reason, like an idiot.
I walked through the gate and got on the bus heading into the city.
“Wow.”
As we moved, Prague began to unfold outside the window.
Rows of old European brick buildings lined the streets, the kind I’d only ever seen on television. Trams rattled by on the road, and tourists crowded the sidewalks everywhere you looked.
But after I got off the bus and headed deeper into the city, past the famous plazas and cathedrals and all the places tourists swarmed, the landscape changed.
It became a real neighborhood where people actually lived.
Narrow streets lined with trees, old apartment buildings with little cafés and grocery stores tucked into the first floor.
I walked while checking the address I’d been given in advance.
The apartment building stood just past a side street off a fairly famous square.
It was old, but fairly clean. I pushed open the wooden front door and found a narrow stairwell inside.
“Phew...”
Third floor.
I put the key in and opened the door.
Click.
A single bed on a wooden floor. A desk, a wardrobe, and a dining table.
I hadn’t expected much, and sure enough, that was exactly what I got.
Still better than Hong Kong, at least.
I walked to the window and looked outside.
Across the street, beyond the red rooftops of the building opposite, a cathedral spire rose into the gray sky.
The October sky over Prague was a deep slate color.
Faint voices speaking Czech drifted up from below the window.
Naturally, I couldn’t understand a damn word yet.
So this is where I’m supposed to stay.
I had no idea how long I’d be waiting here.
Which meant my job was simple: settle in completely and become part of the place.
“Might as well go take a look around.”
I set my bag down and slipped my jacket back on.
First I’d check out the neighborhood. Find a place to eat, too.
Click.
I opened the door and stepped outside.
It was my first day in Prague.
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