The Orphan Master's Son_ A Novel - Adam Johnson [50]
“I’ve already been to language school,” Jun Do said, then added, “You think it’s possible, I mean with the currents and all, that he could make it back?”
“We all love that boy,” the Captain said. “And mistakes were made, but he can’t come back. He’s not part of the story anymore. That’s not how the story goes now. You’ve got to get your head straight about that. The girl, she’s doing okay with this, right?”
But before Jun Do could answer, the Captain noticed the chart on the wall. The room was dim, and he stood with his candle. “What the hell,” he said. He started tearing out pins and dropping them to the floor. “A week he’s been gone, and still that kid is tormenting me.” He pulled the chart free. “Look,” the Captain said, “there’s something you should know. Before, when we thought the Second Mate hadn’t taken anything with him, we really hadn’t looked close enough. We didn’t think to check down in the hold, where your equipment was.”
“What are you saying?”
“One of your radios is gone. He took a radio with him.”
“Was it the black one?” Jun Do asked. “Or the one with the silver handles?”
“The one with the green dials,” the Captain said. “Is that going to be a problem? Is this going to hurt us?”
Jun Do could see it so clearly now, the Second Mate out on the raft in the dark with nothing but a battery, the green glow of a radio, and cigarettes without matches.
“That radio’s pretty basic,” Jun Do said. “We can scrounge another one.”
“That’s the spirit,” the Captain said. He put on a smile. “Here, here, I’m being an idiot, have some more tuna. And the girl, what do you think of her? I talked to her, you know. She has quite a high impression of you. What can I get you, is there anything you need?”
The beer was running right through Jun Do. “That jar over there,” he said. “Can you hand it to me.”
“Sure, sure,” the Captain said, but when he picked it up, he eyed it with great suspicion. He looked like he was going to smell it, but then he just passed it along.
Jun Do rolled to his side and brought the jar under the sheet with him. Then the only sound in the room was the sound of urine filling the jar in fits and spurts.
The Captain talked over the sound. “Well, you’re going to have to do some thinking. You’re a hero now, and they’re going to ask you what you want. How about it, is there anything you’d pick?”
When he was done, Jun Do opened his eyes. Then he carefully handed the jar to the Captain. “The only thing I’d like,” Jun Do said, “is to stay on the Junma. I feel comfortable there.”
“Of course you do,” the Captain said. “Your equipment’s there.”
“And there’s power at night.”
“And there’s power at night,” the Captain said. “Consider it done. You now live on the Junma. It’s the least I can do. But what is it you really want, something only the officials can give you?”
Jun Do hesitated. He took a pull of beer and tried to think of one thing that North Korea could give him that would make his life better.
The Captain sensed his hesitation and started describing others who’d done great deeds and the prizes they’d asked for, “like the guys in Yongbyon who put out the fire at the power plant—one of them got a car, it was in the paper. Another guy wanted his own telephone—done, no questions, they ran a wire to his apartment. When you’re a hero, that’s how it works.”
“I’d have to think about it,” Jun Do said. “You caught me a little off guard. I’m not so good off the top of my head.”
“See, I knew that,” said the Captain. “I knew that about you because we’re family. You’re the kind of guy who doesn’t want anything for himself. You’re a guy who doesn’t need much,