Roseanne's Summer Vacation- Chapter 31
In the morning, Tae-jun rented a car through an app and—after five minutes of driving—he set up an observation post from his vehicle outside the Houston Hotel.
The Korean spy boy had no idea he missed Roseanne and others because they departed two hours before his arrival. Eventually, Tae-jun reached this conclusion upon checking Roseanne’s phone location again. The coast was clear to do a search.
He pulled up the hood to protect his face from surveillance cameras and went inside. The spacious lobby was empty. There was a restaurant on the right and the elevator in a corner on the left. The boy approached the reception desk right next to the restaurant entrance.
“Good morning, how may I help you?” The lady receptionist, past her menopause, immediately brightened at the sight of Tae-jun.
“Good morning, I have a reservation.”
“Certainly. May I have your name?”
Unfortunately, instead of getting a name, the receptionist was tightly gripped by the hair. In less than a second, Tae-jun slammed her head against the desk. Her body rolled off a chair on the floor. He picked her up immediately and dragged her into the men’s room just behind the elevator.
Now he had access to the hotel computer. Firstly, he turned off the surveillance cameras. Secondly, he typed in Roseanne’s name into the database to search for her room number. The entire trip party was registered under a single record, and they were situated in rooms 319, 321, and 323. Last but not least, Tae-jun took advantage of the opportunity and inserted a blank magnetic card into a terminal. After writing appropriate information on it, the card was now able to unlock the three rooms.
This made his job much easier. If he hadn’t got to the computer, he would have had to use an under-the-door tool, which was basically a flexible bar on a wire that could pull a handle from the inside.
Tae-jun pressed the elevator button.
***
On the third floor, the boy roamed around as if he were an ordinary guest. Sections of a dark, straight corridor lit up automatically as he walked. Slightly muted Jazz music flowed through speakers hidden in the ceiling. Down the hall, there was an open door and a trolley next to it. A cleaning lady must have been doing her job. He nonchalantly approached Mr Orville’s room and swiped the magnetic card against the lock.
The inside looked empty. There wasn’t anything in the wardrobe or the bathroom. Only a wheeled suitcase lay half open by the bed. Tae-jun searched through its contents, but there was no sign of his backpack and no sign of the boxes. He cursed silently, but did not intend to let go yet. The bed mattress and a bedside table also underwent a close inspection, but to no avail. There wasn’t anything under the carpet either.
***
He couldn’t know the next room belonged to Thally, Milena, and Nika, but it didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out it accommodated three guests, because there were three beds—all unmade. Tae-jun repeated the search drill, but this time he had to make way through clothing scattered on the floor, tons of cosmetics, and empty crisps packets thrown under pillows. Upon drawing back the curtains to check the windowsill, he was startled to find Winnie the Pooh plushie sitting on it—positioned to admire the harbour view. The boy examined the bear, but it was too small and too light to conceal what he was looking for.
***
Back in his hometown, everything looked dull and grey. People barely spoke to each other, let alone socialised. Reverence for the Supreme Leader took priority over anything else. No girl would even bat an eye at him. Tae-jun was just ordinary-looking among his people. Because of these reasons, he pushed himself to the limit during his military service. His peers viewed the military as punishment that had to be endured, but to him it was an opportunity. He didn’t want to come back to lead the life of a farmer, looking for a spouse in potato-stained rags. He wanted to be extraordinary. He wanted to see the world. Thus, he exercised, and he learned like crazy. Soon enough, he caught the eye of Bureau 39, which set him on the right path. As a result, discipline moulded his mind and body into—let’s face it—a professional spy. However, hours of theory and book cramming didn’t prepare him for the first contact with foreign cultures.
Reality check kicked in as soon as his foot stepped off the plane. There was this thing called “the Internet”. He was aware of it from lectures at the Kim Il-sung University and even had some computer practice with it, but it was vastly different from the state-owned network he had grown accustomed to. This made smartphones cumbersome to use, too. Yes, he knew what apps were and how to use them, but nothing prepared him for the cybernetic sea of unlimited possibilities.
In consequence, he spent his first assignment scrolling through social media nonstop for two weeks.
A veil of shame descended upon Tae-jun when he recalled the memory. It took five agents from Bureau 39 to drag him out of the hotel room in Dubai and take the phone away from his cramped hand.
The constant dopamine rush from watching TikTok and Instagram turned him into a human train wreck that looked worse than a Chernobyl survivor. The authorities immediately sent him for rehab to the Wonsan Medical Centre. The physician in charge of his case explained that it often happens to young men from North Korea whenever they go overseas.
“How could I be so stupid!” Tae-jun cried in despair.
Yet, this failure was necessary for him to realise he had to regain control. An inspiration came from John Rambo. Allegedly, these were the late Kim Jong-il’s favourite “dramatised documentaries”. The movies featuring Sylvester Stallone as a veteran defying impossible odds and saving the day were obligatory learning material at the university and made a profound impact on Tae-jun. Rambo didn’t need any socials. He was a one-man army fighting for the good fight, either with a knife, a machine gun, or a rocket launcher.
And so, the Korean boy wonder was back on the job. One successful mission after another, all of this led him to the here and now.
Roseanne’s room was empty.
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