The Nurse's Bodyguard

She wasn’t smiling.

Luke covered the distance in two steps. This time when he looked at the dark-haired woman he took in details that he’d missed previously. On closer examination he realized that she was not Korean, or at least she was not full-blooded Korean. Her hair, while very dark, was not a flat black. Rather it carried deep brown highlights, and it was very glossy. Her skin was a soft, creamy color rather than the paler shades that many Korean women tried to maintain.

Then Luke realized that the most unusual thing about her appearance—what he should not have missed—was her eyes. Now that he was close enough to look past the dark-framed glasses, he could see the color—or rather colors—of her eyes. For the most part they were greenish blue, which alone would have been striking. But what was remarkable was that the outer one-third of both irises was a warm, coppery brown, interrupted periodically by small bluish flecks. The result was stunning.

Luke suddenly realized he’d been staring. Recovering his composure, he held out his hand. “Let me try this again... Ms. Olsen, I’m Luke Llewellyn, U.S. Navy. I understand that you have an incident to report.”

Cautiously, she placed her hand in his and practically gaped. Luke’s grip was gentle, but his hand was huge and it completely swallowed her much smaller, finer-boned one. Quickly she pulled her hand back and blinked nervously. “I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do. Last night the police detective said I would have to come by the embassy to apply for a replacement passport, and that while I was here I should talk to someone about...well about being mugged.” Her voice was soft and a little tentative, and she made a slight waving gesture with one hand.

Luke was still recovering from his embarrassment. In his peripheral vision he got a glimpse of Tony trying to keep a straight face. Ignoring his snickering colleague, he gave his best effort to appear competent and reassuring. Using his most professional tone, he explained, “In cases like this, where U.S. citizens are harmed, embassy personnel try to work as closely as possible with the police to resolve the case and ensure that it doesn’t happen again. If you’ll come with me, I need to get a little more information.” He motioned toward the hall that led to his borrowed office.

Claire hesitated a beat before responding, “Yes, okay. But...would it be all right if Jessica comes, too?”

“Of course. Ms. Tyson, you’re welcome to accompany us but I’ll ask you to avoid interfering.”

“Thanks,” the blonde replied in a friendly tone. “I promise I’ll keep quiet.”

Luke led the quartet down the hall with the curvy blonde beside him. Claire Olsen stayed a few paces behind and the Marine sergeant brought up the rear. Trying to appear casual with his initial questioning, Luke asked, “Ms. Tyson, have you been in Seoul very long?”

“It’s Dr. Tyson, actually. PhD, not M.D. And yes, I’ve lived in Seoul about seven years.” Her voice was a little throaty, and Luke discerned a bit of a northeastern accent, perhaps New York or another part of New England.

“What do you do?” he asked. They had arrived at the office. Luke entered first and pulled a couple of chairs forward to face the desk. He gestured for the women to sit before retreating behind the desk and taking a seat.

“I’m a professor of cultural anthropology at Seoul National University”

Luke responded, “Hangukmal hasil jul aseyo?”

“Yae, jogeumyo. Hangukmal hal jul ani?” she answered, looking amused.

Luke grinned and just shook his head. “No. Other than ‘hello’, ‘thanks,’ ‘how much’ and ‘where’s the men’s room,’ that’s pretty much the limit of my Korean. Do you actually teach in Korean?”

“No. I teach graduate courses, so my classes are all in English,” Jessica replied. “Most of my students want to go to the U.S. to study further, and they need to practice writing and conversing in English.”

Luke glanced toward the woman’s silent roommate and asked, “How are you two acquainted? Did you know each other before coming to Korea?”

“Seoul National provides me with a very nice three-bedroom apartment,” Jessica said. “Although I’ve lived here for so many years, it can get pretty lonely being a random American in a big city.” She shrugged. “From time to time I offer one of my spare bedrooms to visiting scholars.”

Luke nodded and turned to Claire. “Is that what you are? A ‘visiting scholar’?” He pointed to the form the sergeant had completed. “It says here you’re a nurse.”

Claire was sitting very erect. Although his question was mild, his tone indicated doubt. She cleared her throat before answering. “Well, kind of.” She shifted as if her chair was uncomfortable. “I’m in a graduate program at the University of Minnesota. I’m involved in a project for one of my professors, so I’m working at Samsung Medical Center...collecting data for a research study.”

Luke had been jotting notes as she spoke. He glanced up, “What is your professor’s name?”

“I’m sorry?” Claire responded.

“The name of your professor in Minnesota...”

“Sung...Dr. Lin-yeong Sung, but she goes by ‘Cindy’ in the U.S. Dr. Sung is Korean, but she’s been working at the Mayo Clinic Hospital for nearly twenty years.” Claire seemed to be growing even more uncomfortable. “What does that have to do with me getting mugged?”

“I’m just trying to get background information for the file.” He made another note. “What do you do for this ‘research study’?”

“I work with children who have cancer.”

He glanced back at her and then looked down to scrawl something on his pad. “In what capacity?”

“What difference does that—”

“Please just answer the question.” Luke kept his voice without inflection.

“I work on a hematology-oncology unit with children fifteen and under.” She squirmed and sighed. “We’re collecting data on play therapy involving three different activities—computer games, pets—particularly dogs—and musical instrumentation... We actually teach the children how to play either the piano or a flute. The dependent variable—or rather variables—are symptom experiences and side effects of their therapy—usually a combination of chemo, radiation and sometimes bone marrow transplant.”

He didn’t respond so she licked her lips then continued. “Specifically, I collect information on when and to what extent the children experience symptoms, including nausea, pain, anorexia, insomnia and depression. I periodically measure salivary cortisol levels and take daily blood samples looking for signs of infection or anemia. We also evaluate other parameters such as anemia, leucopenia, weight gain or loss, vital signs, alopecia and dehydration.” Her rapid, matter-of-fact explanation was done in monotone and she stopped abruptly. “Does that answer your question?”

Sometime during her recitation, Luke had stopped writing. He was watching her eyes. Several seconds passed where he tried to come up with a response, but his brain seemed to have clicked off. His mouth was dry and he had to clench his teeth to keep his face expressionless. He knew he was staring and forced himself to look down at what he’d written. Finally, he managed to come up with what he hoped was a reasonable response.

“Hematology-oncology. Is that like leukemia?” He scribbled something.

“Yes, for the most part.”

Luke knew it was his turn again. He feigned looking down at the form. “So you’ve been here a month? How long is your...um...assignment?”

“The fellowship is for three months. I should be here through May.”

He jotted something down then sat back in his chair. Staring at her with renewed intensity, he said, “Tell me about last night.”

In a few sentences, she told him about being assaulted by two men in the hospital’s parking lot. When she concluded, he watched her for a moment. “Ms. Olsen, I’m sure people have told you that physical assaults such as you describe are very rare in Seoul.”

“Well, yes... I was told Seoul is very safe. But, evidently not...”

“So, why do you think someone would attack you?”

“Mr., er, Lieutenant...I’m sorry I don’t recall your name—”

“Llewellyn,” his response was curt, and he motioned toward the name pin above his left chest pocket.

“Lieutenant Llewellyn, I’ve no idea why someone would attack me. It was dark and I was alone. I guess I looked like an easy target.”

“Target for what?”

“I’m sorry?” she said.

“What were you targeted for?”

She blinked several times and sat back in apparent confusion. “Why, my purse, of course. They stole my purse.”

“Ms. Olsen, that seems to be the case. But purse thieves don’t typically resort to violence. Why do you think you were attacked with a knife?”

“I...I guess it was because I fought back.”

“How were your approached? Did they try to grab your purse from the outset?”

She considered his question for a few seconds. “I...er... Now that I think about it, maybe at first they were trying to grab me...”

“Did they say anything?”

She looked pensive. “One kind of yelped when I kicked at him, but he didn’t say anything to me. They might have talked to each other, but I really wasn’t attuned to that, and it would have been in Korean....” She blinked and shifted again.

“Why did you fight back? Why didn’t you just give them your purse?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t stop to think about it. It happened really fast. I was frightened and I just...reacted.” Each word was spoken with emphasis and mounting irritation. She sat up even straighter and her tone carried a hint of belligerence. “Lieutenant, I don’t like being questioned as if I was somehow responsible. All I did was walk across the parking lot. Two men attacked me! I lost my purse, some credit cards and my passport. Plus I’ve got a gash on my arm that’s really throbbing right now. I came here to follow up with someone at the embassy. That was what I was told to do, and for some reason you’re treating me like it was my fault.” Her face was flushed.

This whole case was bothering Luke. He watched her expression through the outburst...she seemed overly defensive, so he persisted with his questions..

“Ms. Olsen, you weigh—what—115? How were you able to fight off two men, at least one of whom had a knife, and come out with only a cut on your arm?”

She lurched from her chair. “That’s it. I’m leaving.” Her voice was blunt.

Jessica stood, too, and joined the conversation for the first time. “Lieutenant, this type of questioning seems inappropriate—”

Luke remained seated and his expression didn’t change. Interrupting both women, he said, “Ms. Olsen, sit down, please.”

“I was the victim! I thought someone here was going to help!” Her voice grew louder and her face redder.

Luke stood then, extending to his full height, looming over the two women. He stared into the oddly colored eyes and repeated, “Ms. Olsen, please sit down. You’ll need to answer a few more questions.” His eyes remained fixed on Claire’s although he addressed her roommate. “Ms. Tyson, you can stay or go, it’s your choice.”

A brief staring match ensued before Claire exhaled then sat down on the edge of her chair. Jessica glanced at her roommate and copied her.

* * *

AS HE WATCHED THE EXCHANGE from his station near the door, Tony was becoming exasperated. He was surprised by Luke’s brusque manner and tough interrogation. The lieutenant’s scowl was uncharacteristic. He was usually obliging and sympathetic, particularly when working with civilians. Tony’s agitation edged toward anger as his superior officer’s questions and manner grew increasingly harsh.

Despite Tony’s growing consternation, he snapped to attention when Luke addressed him. “Sergeant Mancini, the police report notes that there were surveillance cameras in the parking lot. Have one of the translators contact the precinct office and ask for a detective. See if they can send me a video file or web link so I can review the encounter.”

Tony gave an almost indiscernible nod and replied with a crisp “Yes, sir.” Immediately, he departed to follow the order.

* * *

LUKE CONSIDERED the now-tense women and decided to try to defuse the situation. Addressing Claire but including her friend he said, “Ladies, I’m sorry if my questions seem unsympathetic, but I need to file a complete report.” He tried a wry half smile and gave a brief wave to nothing in particular. “You know, the brass and all. They’ll have my head if I’m not thorough.”

That was actually stretching the truth. He would not be expected to do much beyond cursory data collection, and it was very unlikely that the Marine Duty Officer or any of the consular staff would do more than skim his report on Monday. But something bothered him about the whole episode. Physical crimes of that sort were virtually unheard of—even purse snatchings were rare. Looking at Claire and talking with her, he couldn’t conceive of how she could fend off two armed men who were intent on stealing her purse.

But she’d answered his questions about her work without pause—he was certain that part of her account was true. Plus, her roommate had seemed honest—although he would check her story after the women left.

Liars came in all sizes, and gorgeous, arresting eyes aside, the details of the attack didn’t make sense. It was conceivable that she’d harmed herself, in some kind of attention-grabbing situation, or maybe she was involved in something sordid or illegal that went wrong. If there was surveillance video, though, he could get a few answers fairly quickly.

“While we’re waiting, can I offer you something to drink? We have coffee or all kinds of soft drinks... Water?” His drawl became more pronounced.

Luke’s change in manner and engaging grin worked with Jessica. She smiled. “A Diet Coke would be wonderful, if you have one.”

“Can do. Ms. Olsen?”

“Just water, please.” Her response was flat, and Luke realized the only expressions she’d exhibited so far were frustration, irritation and anger, with maybe a hint of fear or timidity.

“Coming right up.” He left the office and quickly proceeded down the hall to the break room. He grabbed a small bottle of water and can of Diet Coke from the refrigerator and quietly jogged back, pausing outside the room hoping to eavesdrop on the women. He was disappointed however, as their voices were pitched softly and he was unable to discern their conversation. He sighed and walked into the room.

“Here, ladies.” He gave the can to Dr. Tyson who took it gratefully and popped the top. He handed the water to Claire, who took it from him, carefully avoiding touching his hand. Luke surreptitiously watched as she unscrewed the top and took a quick sip.

“You’re right-handed?” It was both a question and observation.

“Yes.” Her answer seemed a little hesitant.

“Where is your injury?”

She set her water on the desk and held up her right arm. She pulled back the sleeve of her tan jacket almost to her elbow, revealing a bulky dressing of white gauze encircling her arm. “Do you want me to take off the dressing so you can actually see it?” Her tone was blatantly sarcastic, and her eyes steadily held his.

“I don’t think that will be necessary. Can you point to where the wound is?”

She indicated the underside of her forearm, from a few inches under her wrist, nearly to her elbow. Luke felt an odd sense of relief. The placement of the wound supported her story. It suggested a defensive injury, as if she’d held up her arm to ward off the attack. Further, if the cut had been self-inflicted, it was a pretty sure bet her left arm would have been injured. He jotted a note and was about to continue his questions when there was a brief knock at the open door.

“Lieutenant,” Tony Mancini didn’t enter the room. He caught Luke’s eyes and gave a quick nod to his superior officer.

“Excuse me a minute. This shouldn’t take long.” Luke closed the file, nodded briefly and left the room.

During the short walk to the security office, Tony succinctly filled Luke in. “Getting that footage was a piece of cake. Our translator was able to find a detective—a Mr. Park—who speaks English. While I was still talking to him, that dude emailed me a video link to footage they had already excerpted from the surveillance cameras in the medical center parking lot.” He pushed open the door to the security office where two other marines were monitoring the three dozen remote camera screens. They started to rise in deference to Luke’s rank, but he nodded to them and they continued working. Tony pointed to a computer at the end of the row. He shook his head and gave Luke a meaningful look. “Wait’ll you see this.” Both men remained standing while Tony reached down and started the video.

Fortunately the hospital parking lot had been fairly well lit, and the video was of good quality. Luke and Tony were silent as they watched a white-coated Mary Claire Olsen come into view, walking at a brisk pace. She was almost out of the camera’s range when a man approached her from behind. At first she jumped out of his way when he tried to grab her, then as he swung his fist, obviously intending to strike her, she seemed to whirl and lean away, barely missing a serious blow. They saw her use her purse as a shield to deflect the arching knife, and then watched as she kicked out and struggled to fend off the two men. Luke swore quietly as she managed to stumble away from the assailants. Although the video was not in color, they could easily discern blood rapidly staining the white sleeve of her lab coat.

There was no audio, but he could tell that she screamed for help and then screamed again. He caught the surprised reaction of the two men as they heard the guards responding to the altercation. Both started to run off, but one paused briefly then ran back to pick up the purse the nurse had dropped. As the men ran out of the camera view, two guards approached from the far side and led the bleeding young woman back to the hospital. According to the time stamps, the entire incident took a little more than ninety seconds.

Luke re-played the video, swore again, and then ran it a third time. He leaned over the keyboard, pulled up his secure email account, and in a few keystrokes quickly saved the link so he could view it again. Finally, he turned to Tony. He looked grim.

“So, what do you think?” the sergeant asked.

Luke stared at the now blank computer screen. “I think I’ve got to go apologize to our customer,” he responded. “Some groveling may be necessary.” He paused a breath before adding, “I don’t know, but something about that attack still bugs me...” He sighed then and glanced at the sergeant. “What do you think?”

Tony looked at the computer and then back at Luke. He nodded, “Yeah, I think groveling would be appropriate.”

CHAPTER THREE

“I’M SURE THEY’RE nearly done.” Jessica’s tone was hopeful as she tried to encourage Claire. “I can’t imagine that he’ll have many other questions.” She glanced at her watch and grimaced.

Claire looked at her own watch for what seemed like the tenth time in the past hour and sighed. “What time is your date?”

“He’s supposed to pick me up at six. I can call him and change it to seven...”

Claire shook her head. “No, that’s not necessary, Jessica. You’ve been terrific through this whole thing. Why don’t you go ahead and head home. I can handle it from here, and I won’t have a problem finding my way back to the apartment.”

Even though they’d known each other for only a few weeks, Jessica had been a stalwart friend. In addition to sharing her home, she had instructed Claire on how to navigate Seoul and she’d taken her to dinner and church on several occasions. Jessica had immediately come to the hospital and supported Claire while she was being stitched up. Then she’d helped translate while Claire had given her statement to the police. Today Jessica had offered to accompany her to the embassy to apply for the replacement passport and report the incident. Claire had quickly accepted her offer because she was still trying to find her way around the huge city.

Initially, the process had been simple. The guards were respectful, allowing them to enter and showing them where to go. The Consular Assistant had filed the paperwork for the replacement passport before directing the women to Sergeant Mancini, who’d been sympathetic and helpful. He’d repeatedly tried to assure both women that Seoul was one of the safest places in the world for single women. He seemed genuinely baffled and angry—ready to beat the daylights out of the perpetrators. After he’d assisted with the intake forms, he described the remaining step in the process—a brief meeting with Security’s duty officer. That meeting, he’d assured them, was just perfunctory. They had both been stunned when the alarmingly big officer, with his disarmingly mild drawl, had bombarded Claire with questions and stared at her with distrust.

Claire had not completely recovered her composure following last night’s attack. Although trying to seem calm, she was nervous, hesitant and uncharacteristically fretful of strange men. The embassy was large and imposing, but at least she’d been spared the ordeal of being among a crowd of people.

The sergeant had been friendly, but when he returned with his superior officer, she was immediately overwhelmed into a state bordering on panic. Her reaction to the lieutenant was totally out of place—he bore absolutely no resemblance to her attackers, who’d been Korean..

But the lieutenant had alienated her from the outset when he mistook Jessica for her. Since she’d arrived in Seoul, there’d been too many occasions to count in which people assumed she was Korean, but Claire had never been annoyed before. Luke’s stereotypical attraction to the pretty, curvy blonde, along with his equally obvious choice to ignore her, bothered her in a way that was unexpected. When he was finally forced to acknowledge her, he was ruthless as he grilled her, and she immediately got the impression that he doubted her account of the attack. She couldn’t conceive why he thought she could—or would—make something like that up. Being particularly vulnerable, it bothered her to be questioned and to have someone stare at her as he had, practically accusing her of lying.

“This whole situation is just so weird.” Jessica took a sip of her soda. “In all my years here, I’ve never known anyone who was robbed. And I’ve certainly never known someone who was attacked—well at least not a woman. I’ve heard of quite a few bar fights and such...”

She was interrupted when the two uniformed men returned. Claire couldn’t tell anything from the sergeant, who was expressionless, but the lieutenant looked vaguely uncomfortable. The big man sat behind the desk while the sergeant remained standing at the door.

Luke leaned forward, placing his forearms on the desk and clasping his hands. Claire once again felt intimidated by his size, but she sensed that his response to her had softened. For the first time she really looked at the man, noting his strong features, high cheekbones and full lips. His close cropped hair was dark blond, contrasting somewhat with dark eyebrows shading hazel eyes. Laugh lines were prominent in their corners, hinting that he smiled a lot.

“Ms. Olsen,” he began, his gaze holding hers. She was briefly distracted when she noted the amber striations in his otherwise greenish-brown eyes. “Sergeant Mancini was able to obtain the surveillance footage from last night and we’ve reviewed it several times.” He paused for emphasis. “It confirmed your account of the attack.”

“Well, of course—”

Holding up his hand, he interrupted. “But I still have some questions...”

Claire suddenly felt very vulnerable. Her eyes burned and she blinked several times, trying to keep from falling apart.

Luke abandoned professionalism and reached across the desk to gently pat her hand, surprising them both. Quickly, he pulled back his hand and actually shuffled in his chair.

“I’m sorry, Miss Olsen. Please don’t be alarmed.” He sounded as if he wasn’t used to apologizing. “I need to explain. I’m an analyst. I spend pretty much all day every day trying to understand and interpret information. We’re trained to not take anything at face value, and I transferred my ingrained skepticism to your situation. At any rate, my initial mistrust was unwarranted. Please, I sincerely apologize for doubting your account.” He glanced at Tony, who responded with a tiny approving nod.