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fell over him. Be invisible, he thought. Please let me be invisible. Then, as abruptly as the firing began, it ended. Pak Kun could hear an angry voice coming from the boat.
    â€œWhat are you shooting at, you toad?”
    â€œI heard a noise, then saw that raft, sir,” a second voice said.
    â€œWhere? What raft? That little thing? That’s it? That’s probably just some peasant’s fishing boat.”
    â€œBut I heard a rustling, sir!”
    â€œA rustling? You heard a rustling? Imagine that. There are bats and weasels all around this river, and you heard a rustling! Did you see anything?”
    â€œNo . . . no, sir.”
    â€œThen why did you scare us all half to death by firing at an empty riverbank, you ignorant fool? Idiot! Double shift for you tonight! Who knows, maybe you’ll discover a rebel band of river otters preparing for a sneak attack!”
    Laughter sounded from the boat as the engines started up. From his hiding place, Pak Kun watched the spotlight continue its sweeping of the shore as the patrol slowly floated downriver. He waited a few extra minutes, and then carefully slid back down to the raft.
    While there were definitely some chunks taken out of it, it still looked seaworthy enough. Even if it did sink, the place where Pak Kun made his crossings was only a third of a kilometer across. He had just finished hiking through seven kilometers of forest. Surely he could swim that short distance if need be.
    After pulling the brush off the raft, he eased it from the mud and into the water. Using a small, homemade paddle, he pushed himself away from shore and into the lazy current.
    As he paddled, Pak Kun thought of the day his cousin, Pak Bae, had first asked him to become part of this treason. Although they had been like brothers ever since they were babies, Pak Bae’s voice was noticeably shaking as he explained what he had recently become involved in. It was obvious he knew that with one word from Pak Kun to the authorities, he would be a dead man.
    Pak Kun was stunned as he silently listened to his cousin. Sure, everyone broke little laws here and there. You did what you had to do to survive. But treason? Espionage? That was dangerous.
    Pak Kun had not given his cousin an answer immediately. Instead, he had wrestled with the decision for a night. Do I really have the right to put my whole family at risk? Can an insignificant peasant like me really stand up against the Kim regime?
    By the time the first rooster crowed, Pak Kun had made up his mind. There were millions of his fellow Koreans standing by and not doing anything—many because they were afraid, but many others because there was nothing they could do. If he had a chance to make any sort of difference, he owed it to those helpless millions, he owed it to his ancestors who had built this country, and he owed it to the future generations of Koreans.
    But if he was caught, he would be just another nameless sacrifice to the Great Leader.
    Today was his fourth trip across the North Korean–Chinese border since that day eighteen months ago. Although each trip left him with physical and emotional scars, he still hoped there would be many more.
    Finally Pak Kun’s raft slid onto the muck of the opposite shore. He hopped out and pulled it into the bushes. After climbing up the steep banks, he made his way to a barbed wire fence. It’s interesting, he thought as he snipped away with his cutters. Our troops patrol the rivers to keep our people in, and the Chinese build fences to keep our people out.
    After widening the hole he had just created, Pak Kun crept through the fence. A moment later, trusting in the darkness of the night, he left the security of the brush. In his hand he carried eight small river stones.
    About five hundred meters from the small delta on which he had made his landing was a dirt road. The road was narrow and consisted of two ruts dug into the soil from centuries of cart wheels.