A Dark Fantasy Spy

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The set time for the volunteers to gather at the airport was 9 a.m. Camila, leaving home an hour earlier at 8, struggled to haul her heavy suitcase.

“What should I do? I think I’m going to be late, Sis!”

“Well, you should have gotten up earlier.”

In contrast to her younger sister’s anxious voice, the older sister remained completely composed.

The younger sister was banging her beloved Union Jack suitcase against the front railing, completely oblivious to the morning’s arrival due to her laziness.

While the suitcase was bumping around, Camila, with her messy hair hastily tied up, caught her sister’s eye, and she let out a deep sigh as if the ground might fall away beneath her.

“You always sleep in on the days we have to go out. What on earth were you doing at dawn?”

“I was watching a movie… a movie…”

“What was it this time? 007? Kingsman?”

Camila proudly exclaimed, “Mission: Impossible!”

“I’m curious how you got into Cambridge with such a lack of preparation. Sigh… Did you pack your passport and vaccination certificates?”

“Yeah! I packed everything for malaria, dengue fever, and yellow fever!”

“Get in! If we leave now, we won’t miss the flight.”

The sisters, heavily laden with their things, crammed themselves into a taxi. After the driver confirmed that passengers had boarded with his rearview mirror adjustment, he casually put on his sunglasses and asked their destination.

“Please take us to Heathrow Airport.”

“Sure, no problem!”

Beyond the dark sunglasses, the middle-aged driver fell into thought. Because he interacted with various individuals in his job, he naturally speculated that today’s passengers were university students.

It was mid-May. With the peculiar school system returning to three terms in London, it was obvious the passengers were university students.

Given the age difference, it seemed the older sister had already graduated or was in graduate school; the younger sister appeared to be studying at Cambridge.

Around this time of year, university students were typically preoccupied with vacation plans. This passenger likely seemed to be heading abroad for holiday fun.

Thinking this, the middle-aged driver cautiously struck up a conversation with the chatter of the passengers as he drove toward Heathrow Airport.

“You must be university students. Is it vacation time?”

“Ah, yes! I’m attending university!”

“With all that luggage, you must be going on a trip. I’m curious where to? Paris? Berlin?”

“No. It’s not a vacation; I’m on my way for medical volunteer work.”

“Ah, medical volunteer work. That’s wonderful. So, what’s your destination?”

With enthusiasm, the red-haired girl replied, “Sudan!”

“Oh my. That’s not a dangerous place, is it? Things are quite chaotic in the Middle East these days…”

Camila smiled brightly. “That’s right! It’s currently a war zone!”

—

Extra Episode – Same Day, Same Place, Different Task

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“Is that supposed to be something to brag about?!”

“Ah! Ahh! That hurts, Sis!”

Camila, tapping her sister’s hand which was pinching her cheek, started to tear up.

London’s Heathrow Airport was bustling with thousands of visitors, and the two women, clearly raised with privilege, attracted attention as they bickered.

“There’s a time and place for everything. Is war a joke? How could you say something like that there?!”

“I just… ah…”

“I’m really at my wit’s end.”

Releasing her sister’s cheek, the older sister reprimanded her sternly.

“Don’t say things like that again. Remember what happened last time when you told your professor you were going to Afghanistan? Dad nearly collapsed!”

“That time, it was a friend of Dad’s in the Ministry who told me… It wasn’t the professor who said it.”

“That friend is the one who recommended you for the internship without your parents’ knowledge.”

Lowell’s parents had cherished their youngest daughter, their late-born after two sons and a daughter. They had only scolded her twice in her life.

Once was when Camila secretly applied for the intelligence agency’s internship and got caught late, and the other was when she accompanied her sister to Afghanistan.

Though she hadn’t realized it at the time, it was entirely thanks to ‘company’ acquaintances that their father discovered her risky internship acceptance announcement and the flight purchase to Kabul.

“Hey, congratulations! I heard your daughter got accepted?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Haven’t you heard? Camila applied for an internship at the company I work for. I just saw her name on the list of accepted candidates released by HR today. Didn’t you know?”

“What? My daughter is in that lousy company?!”

“Yeah, and your eldest is doing medical volunteer work abroad, right? With Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders)?”

“Yes. I was hoping she’d graduate from medical school and work somewhere comfortable. But this is what it turned into.”

“By the way, is your younger daughter working there too?”

“Hmm? Camila? No, she’s a university student.”

“That’s odd… So, why is your daughter heading to Afghanistan?”

“… She’s going where?!”

To a father who graduated from Sandhurst as an Army officer and a law graduate, Camila was the child he treasured more than any other.

He fully understood what Afghanistan was like from his experience fighting against the Taliban. Finishing his dinner appointment in a hurry, he laid himself out in front of his two daughters, who were searching for a hotel in Kabul on their laptops.

Looking back now, it was indeed a comical scene, but neither of them could find it funny when reflecting on it.

It was because they promised their parents they would safely return, no matter what happened.

To stay at a hotel with armed guards if possible. Avoid actions that might offend the locals. Prepare to understand at least the local language and customs in case of interaction. And so on.

It was curious how their father could know so much about the Middle East and Africa after just pausing in Afghanistan, but it was also a sincere plea from him, which they rarely saw, so both daughters could only promise to return safely without asking more.

“Remember, we promised Dad to come back safely. You haven’t forgotten that, have you, Camila?”

“Uh-huh… I know.”

“We’re not going on a fun trip; we’re going to save lives.”

“I know! I know!”

Camila, placing the suitcase as baggage, tucked her hands into her pockets and grumbled.

Just like they had learned from their previous missions in Afghanistan and Syria, she packed only the essentials.

She brought light-colored, breathable clothing to avoid heat strokes and also stashed emergency cash in case she needed to slip something to the police or civil servants. This was a tip from her seniors who lived off contracts from the intelligence agency after graduation.

As she took in the scenery of London, a place she wouldn’t see for a while, her sister, having passed the security check and received their tickets, began to speak.

“We’ll join the other members in Paris first. You remember Noah, right?”

“The emergency physician from Médecins Sans Frontières in Paris? Of course.”

“She’s bringing her mentor along as well. He’s Korean, named Dr. Choi. Have you heard of him?”

“Korea? South? Or North?”

“Of course South Korea. Would it be North?”

“Just kidding! I know there are no North Koreans in Médecins Sans Frontières!”

“Please, stop that! What kind of joke is that? I seriously worry about what you learn online sometimes. Is your humor so destroyed just from viewing tweets from IS on Twitter?”

“Oh, I meant the Northern Alliance!”

“And I’m just researching for a school assignment!”

Camila let out a squeal as she boarded the plane to Paris. Her sister watched her with a mix of disbelief and resignation before shaking her head.

—

*

—

“Don’t you dare mess it up, or the commies will hunt us down.”

In the passenger seat of the van, I opened our discussion to the team.

In the backseat, shielded by heavy tinting and curtains, a group of subordinate employees sat among a jumble of suitcases that wouldn’t budge even if an adult male kicked them.

“Are you referring to the Ministry of State Security? What’s the exact count?”

“Three informants from Dar es Salaam, two people dispatched from the Luanda embassy. If you add in the personnel from the Cairo embassy, that makes a total of seven.”

“Excluding the reinforcements flying in from the homeland, that’s still a lot.”

Staff shortages were a persistent issue for the North Korean embassy, especially following the hardships caused by the ‘Arduous March,’ which significantly reduced stationed manpower. Nevertheless, seven agents from security were dispatched across three countries.

With his foot resting on a suitcase, Deputy Moon quietly mumbled. Beneath his feet were satellite phones for use in the desert, nestled among the espionage equipment.

“Even with just three more, we’d exceed ten. Our team, without the manager, barely has five.”

“Why worry with that much backup?”

I gestured towards an old sports bag. The faded logo indicated it was stuffed full of automatic rifles “acquired” from the black market.

Two years prior, following the Taliban’s takeover of Kabul, a significant quantity of firearms flooded the international black market. Moreover, Libya, which shares a border with Egypt, had been torn apart by civil war, allowing us to explore various rifles at the Egyptian black market.

While it was definitely the kind of scene that would make someone, a colleague at the Egyptian intelligence agency, shout at anyone who heard. But I wasn’t concerned in the least.

After all, it’s not uncommon for foreigners to be armed in war-torn areas. The illegal possession of weapons by intelligence officers working in countries embroiled in conflict is an uncomfortable truth that every agency knows yet turns a blind eye to.

From the very moment I received the call, they must have at least caught a whiff of this reality. They simply pretended not to know.

Inside the van speeding through the remote desert, conversations flowed smoothly. The members of the operations team threw out a few intermittent questions while keeping an eye on the other lanes.

“What about the workshop staff? Will there be support out there?”

“They’re ahead of us. We’ll finish our jobs and link up with the district personnel in Khartoum.”

“Have we identified the whereabouts of the North Korean fugitive?”

I shook my head, resting my foot on the glove box.

“It seems the National Intelligence Service also couldn’t get that far. If they had, the onsite team would already have handled it. Instead, I heard the security agents have secured their accommodations.”

“Where’s that?”

“In an apartment in downtown Khartoum. It’s about 500 meters away in a straight line from the hotel we’ll be staying at.”

Section Chief Kim maneuvered the steering wheel.

Gifted with a strange ability to fall asleep on planes, he always took the wheel after arriving at their destination. He had a good skill set and also liked handling cars, so he naturally volunteered as the driver.

He smoothly gripped the wheel and glanced at the passenger seat in the rearview mirror.

“Manager.”

“Yeah, Section Chief Kim?”

“What if the Ministry of State Security gets to the target first?”

That was indeed an important question. I crossed my arms and fell deep in thought.

The assignment was an operative from the Reconnaissance General Bureau focused on outside earnings (the bureau chief’s slush fund). He was managing contracts with Sudanese warlords for electronic devices and had found himself in danger of losing his head due to unpaid debts.

For reasons unknown, he flew to Sudan without notice, which alerted the Ministry of State Security, overriding the Bureau to get the tracking underway.

If we were lucky, we’d just contend with the Ministry agents. If unlucky, it could lead to a confrontation with the Reconnaissance officers dispatched to fix things.

Due to the absence of a national intelligence agency in North Korea, intelligence groups have to prove their loyalty with actions exceeding others. And ultimately, proving that loyalty comes down to the amounts of money involved.

That’s why both the Ministry of State Security and the Reconnaissance Bureau run different operations. They might avoid stepping on each other’s toes yet rush at any opportunity to eliminate each other’s lead.

As such, we needed to secure the rogue who messed up and fled as fast as possible.

This was vital in stopping money from flowing into North Korea and draining the funds meant for the Bureau Chief of the Reconnaissance Bureau. It could also potentially sabotage military cooperation for North Korea. Nonetheless, the main goal was to gain the intelligence the fugitive held.

I decisively replied after combing through my hair neatly.

“We’ll intercept him. Aim for capture alive when possible; if negotiations fail, we clear everything and grab whatever documents we can.”

“Meaning we’ll have to analyze that too.”

“Also, if he’s alive, we’ll need to interrogate him.”

“Understood. A checkpoint ahead. Everyone get ready.”

At the end of a potholed road muddied with sand and dust, I could see the Egyptian Military’s border checkpoint.

The van came to a halt at the red light, and I rolled down the window to greet the soldier with fluent Egyptian Arabic dialect.

“Masaa al-khayr!”

“Ahalan wa sahlan. Please show your passports.”

As I rolled down the window and handed over the prepared documents, the soldier guarding the Egypt-Sudan border checked the paperwork and opened the checkpoint for us.

Thus, we successfully crossed the border.

—

*

—

At the end of their journey from London Heathrow Airport to Paris Charles de Gaulle International, and finally to Khartoum International Airport, Camila and her companions finally arrived at the hotel.

“Wow…”

The hotel, located in the heart of Khartoum, was magnificent.

Perhaps due to catering to foreigners and wealthy patrons, the decor was truly beautiful. Though it was impossible to guarantee a luxurious stay given the infrastructure’s shortcomings, it was comforting to see familiar menu options at the restaurant due to British colonial influence.

Of course, what delighted Camila the most was the solid security.

The security guards hired by the hotel were armed with automatic rifles and closely monitored the guests moving in and out of the lobby. While her sister expressed a skeptical demeanor, thinking, “Even in the capital, I can’t relax,” Camila felt just fine.

As they began to unpack and explore the lobby, suddenly…

“…Ayat!”

A passerby unexpectedly bumped into her from out of nowhere.

Engrossed in the exotic scenery she was witnessing for the first time, she accidentally knocked her head right into the man’s chest! She wasn’t sure if she hit a button or what but felt a dull thump in her head.

Instinctively squeezing her eyes shut, Camila rubbed her forehead then lifted her eyelids only to catch her breath.

“I’m so sorry! It wasn’t on purpose!”

Right before her stood an Asian man. He was carrying a sports bag over his shoulder and pulling a suitcase behind him.

As she touched her forehead, Camila met the eyes of the Asian man, instantly freezing like Medusa’s victim.

It was a peculiar sensation.

Though she had encountered Asians before, this situation was different. The only Asians she met so far had been studious types in England or immigrants who all spoke English proficiently without a hitch.

However, now, in a foreign land that wasn’t familiar with her English, encountering an Asian was a first.

At that moment, Camila suddenly realized she wasn’t accustomed to the Asian languages.

“Uh, um…”

Stammering, Camila was about to utter an apology to the foreigner she bumped into but couldn’t find the words.

The only words from another language she knew were greetings in Chinese, and previously, when she visited a student, she was scolded for saying “Ni hao!” as if she were a racist.

She also recalled the time when a Chinese person, asking her for directions, launched into a flood of questions all in fluent Mandarin.

That made her wonder if the man might not speak English either.

As her head swirled with worries, an articulate voice broke through her thoughts.

“I’m sorry. It was an accident. Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Oh, um, no. I’m fine!”

“What a relief! I hope you have a lovely day.”

Despite their collision, the Asian man smoothly apologized and brushed past Camila. Moments later, she saw what seemed to be his companions boarding the elevator, all of them weighed down by heavy luggage.

Watching that scene from a distance, a dazed Camila muttered to herself, staring vacantly into the void.

Oh, he knows how to speak English.

Barely recovering from her foreign language shock, she snapped back to reality as her sister descended the stairs, keys in hand.

“Camila, what are you doing here?”

“Um, oh? Nothing, nothing at all.”

Now sharply aware, Camila turned to her sister, who had appeared in lighter clothing in the lobby, and asked, “What about the others?”

“Everyone’s resting in their rooms. Come on, let’s head out to the city.”

“We’re not starting the volunteering right away?”

“I’ll set up the base camp and we’ll leave tomorrow morning. First, we need some food.”

“I had airplane food.”

“Doesn’t your mouth need to eat, too? You need a meal before you can work.”

That’s true. Eating is a major affair.

Agreeing with her sister for the rare time, Camila gathered her things and left the hotel. Under the glaring sun of the dark continent, she raised her hands high and yelled, “Let’s go grab some food!”

“We’re here to save people, you know.”

The two sisters, passing the armed security, stepped into the streets and enjoyed the culinary culture of a country they were visiting for the first time.

—

*

—

At that moment, on the 9th floor of the hotel in Khartoum.

While I stood by the window overlooking the street, I spotted two foreigners. One was a stranger, but the other was familiar. To be precise, I had merely encountered them at the hotel lobby.

As I focused on the red-haired girl heading down the eastern street, Sergeant Hwang approached me while untangling a cable tie from some internet wiring.

“What are you so keenly observing?”

“The foreigner I met in the lobby earlier.”

“Oh, the red-haired lady? What’s up? Did something happen?”

Not that something particularly serious took place.

I shoved my hands into my pockets and responded casually.

“It was just a minor bump after all.”

Among intelligence officers living abroad, it was common to have misunderstandings or altercations with the locals.

Had things escalated into a genuine issue, it might have posed problems before we even started our operations. Unpleasant memories tend to linger longer than others, and when they turn into bothersome incidents, it could taint the public perception of intelligence officers.

That’s why seasoned agents usually prefer to offer old-fashioned polite apologies or solutions.

Or they might even pay a compensation fee, and in the worst-case scenario, resort to threats. But those threats are always a last resort.

Disputes hinder operations, after all.

Naturally, things like trivial situations could just be brushed away without concern.

As I continued to observe the red-haired girl turning into an alley, Sergeant Hwang, connecting the cables for the equipment, threw out a friendly jest.

“Hey, is it about time for you to get married, Manager? Why do you keep staring at her? You enchanted by her beauty or something?”

“Sergeant Hwang.”

“Pfft…”

Laughter erupted among the team as Sergeant Hwang’s joke landed. Deputy Moon turned his head, and the other staff shared amused looks. Among their ranks, I spotted Section Chief Kim, chuckling to himself while cleaning up after the suitcases.

“Hey!”

“My apologies, Manager.”

“You lot…”

The team quickly erased their smiles and returned to their work stations.

Deputy Moon retrieved the espionage gear and organized it, while Sergeant Hwang connected the internet cable to a rugged Panasonic laptop. Some were checking communications and sound clarity with the headquarters, while others were busy installing Israeli listening devices by the window.

Meanwhile, Section Chief Kim, having shoved the weapon-laden sports bag under the bed, approached me and extended something toward me.

It was a pistol.

“This is yours, Manager.”

I examined the gun that Section Chief Kim had handed over. It was an Iraqi Tarek pistol, the kind I’d fired a few times during my time in the agency.

Pulling back the slide to glance at the brass-colored bullet, I pocketed the loaded gun and fished out a couple more magazines from another bag.

“Are we ready for the listening operation?”

“Just finished the checks.”

“We’ll tap into Communications for the Ministry of State Security. And we must equip our office with cameras and listening devices before the week ends, so start preparing that too.”

“I’ll get right on it. Are you heading out?”

“Yeah. I need to see if there’s any activity around their office.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Not wanting to stand out too much, I decided to just take the guns on this outing.

Section Chief Kim pulled out his own Tokarev and packed it, while I grabbed two knives we could use before leaving the office.

“You guys take care.”

Deputy Moon quickly scanned the corridor before closing the door respectfully.

Under the blazing sun of May in Africa, we headed westward on the streets of Khartoum, armed with just pistols.

Now, it’s a moment that’s been forgotten by everyone.

One day that once was.

—

Extra Episode – Same Day, Same Place, Different Task – END –