Epilogue
With practiced fingers, Mr. Rhee carves another slice from his Ōmi steak, dips it in a small pool of miso sauce, and guides it into his mouth. He savors the beef’s robust taste, then follows with a sip of Shiraz wine.
He casts a glance over the private jet’s empty cabin, then out the nearest window, though there’s not much to see at thirty thousand feet over the Atlantic in the middle of the night. Almost absently, he removes an object from the inner pocket of his jacket, then places it on the table next to his dinner plate.
He allows himself a smile as he eyes the coin, though it doesn’t last long. It seemed inconceivable that such an innocuous artifact held the final memories of one of the world’s most capable operatives. Thankfully, that part of his employer’s plan had gone
