Hyukjae watched his tutor peer out the window. She was being paranoid again. That guy following the in the Mustang had really spooked her.

 

"Chill out, Jessica. He doesn't know what room we're in."

 

She slid the curtains together, casting a blanket of darkness across the motel room.

 

"He parked near the lobby entrance. We'd better pack up and leave another way." She clicked on a corner table lamp. The pale light seemed to deepen the wrinkles on her face and hands. "How much more time do you need?"

 

Hyukjae sat on the bed nearer the window, a stack of pillows between his back and the wall, and tapped away at his laptop. "Just a couple of minutes." He looked up at her and winked. "Dad's slide rule must have been broken. It took almost an hour to balance the books."

 

Jessica slid her sweater sleeve up an inch and glared at her watch. Hyukjae knew that look all too well. His tutor's steely eyes and furrowed brow meant the Queen of Punctuality was counting the minutes. They were cutting it close, and they meet his parents at the performance hall for the company's quarterly meeting. And who could tell what delays that goon in the prowling Mustang might cause? His father had noticed the guy this morning before he left, and he looked kind of worried,but that could have been from the bean and onion burrito he had for breakfast.

 

Hyukjae frowned at the spreadsheet. "This formula doesn't make sense. Dad's trying to divide by zero."

 

"Can you call and ask him on the way? We have to hit the road."

 

Hyukjae pushed the laptop to the side. He knew how his father would respond. He'd just grin and say, "Dividing by zero reflects my creativity." Hyukjae laughed. Dad knew a lot more about math than he ever let on; he just concentrated on spying and research and let Hyukjae do the number crunching.

 

As Jessica peered out again, he looked over her shoulder. The driver of the black Mustang was parked under a tree, sloppily eating a sandwich as he watched the front door of the motel. A intermittent shower of leaves, blown around by Chicago's never-ending breezes, danced about on the convertible's ragtop.

 

"Don't worry about him," Hyukjae said. "He's too obvious to be a pro."

 

"True enough. But you don't have to be a pro to frighten an old lady."

 

As she turned toward him, he gave her the goofiest clueless stare he could conjure. "I'm not an old lady!"

 

He waited for Jessica's infectious laugh that had brightened a hundred mornings in dozens of strange and lonely cites all over the world. But it didn't come. A shadow of worry passed across her face, draining the color from her cheeks.

 

He squinted at her. "Something else is bugging you."

 

For a moment, she just stared, a faraway look in her eyes. Finally, she shook her head as if casting off a dream. "Did you pack the mirror your father gave you?"

 

"I think so." He jumped up and walked over both beads before bouncing to the floor in front of the shallow closet. A towel-wrapped bundle sat on top of his suitcase at the very peak of a haphazard pile of clothes. Carefully unfolding the towel, he revealed a square, six-by-six-inch mirror with an ornate silver frame. His father had entrusted this mirror to him just yesterday, calling it a "Quattro" viewer and warning him to keep it safe.

 

Hyukjae pondered the strange word that represented his father's latest assignment, something about retrieving stolen data for a company that used reflective technology. Dad had been tight-lipped about the details, but he had leaked enough clues to allow for guessing.

 

He gazed at his reflection in the mirror, the familiar portrait he expected, but something bright pulsed in his eyes, like the split-second flash of a camera. Jessica's face appeared just above his blond cowlick, suddenly much closer. He spun his head around. Strange. She was still near the window. When he turned back to the mirror, her image was no longer there.

 

As she walked up behind him, her face reappeared in the glass. Hyukjae glanced back and forth between the mirror and Jessica. The inconsistent images were just too weird. The opening notes of Beethoven's Fifth chimed from his computer - his custom sound for new email. Still holding the mirror, he leaped back to his computer and pulled up the message, a note from his father.

Your mother is rehearsing with Yesung, and that reminded me to remind

you that she's going to call you to the stage to play your duet for the

shareholders. She'll have your violin, all tuned and ready to sizzle. Since

it's the Vivaldi piece, you shouldn't have any problem. Just don't mention

your performance to Dr. Simon. Trust me. It will all work out.

 

Two words embedded in Hyukjae's mind, Trust me, the same words he had heard so many times before. With all the narrow escapes his father had engineered over the years, what else could he do but trust him? Jessica flung a pair of wadded gym socks that bounced off his chin. "Where is your tux?" she called as she searched through his crumpled clothes.

 

"I hung it on the shower rod." He patted a shiny motorcycle helmet sitting on his night table. He had hoped to ride their Harleys through town. With Jessica in her new dress and him in a tux, they would have looked so badass. But no, they had to hitch a ride in the company limo. With their chauffeur, Ryeowook, at the wheel, they'd be better off in a hearse. He wouldn't do more than thirty, even in a forty-five zone.

 

Jessica disappeared into the bathroom and returned in a flash, brushing lint from his tux. "Aren't you going to help me?"

 

"Sure." He picked up his elastic exercise strap and karate belt and threw them into the suitcase. They were essential items. Since his dad was planning to rent an RV for a month long trip out west, with all that driving, he had to do something to stay in shape.

 

They'd have a whole month with no wild getaways, no running from crazed neo-Nazis, no dodging bullets from Colombian drug dealers. Sometimes those scrapes with death gave him a rush, and decking a thug or tow with a wall placed karate chop was always a thrill, but...

 

He gazed at his motorcycle helmet and let out a sigh. It was probably better to avoid trouble than to dance with it. That's what his father always said.

 

Jessica peeked out the window again. "The driver just got out and I think he saw me."

 

"Here we go again." Hyukjae slapped the suitcase closed and zipped it up. "You got an escape plan?"

 

She snatched up her own suitcase. "There's an emergency exit down the hall. I'll call Ryeowook and tell him where to pick us up when we find a place that's not so dangerous.

 

Hyukjae tucked the computer under his arm and grabbed the strap of his red backpack. "Yeah, like ground zero at a nuclear test site."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

As the sweet tones of a divinely played violin faded, applause exploded from the audience. Two hundred exquisitely dressed ladies and gentlemen leaped to their feet, volleying a hailstorm of "Bravos" toward the stage. A beautiful, raven-haired woman tucked her violin under her arm and bowed gracefully.

 

Her ivory face slowly reddened as the cheers rose to a , the scarlet hue a stark contrast to her satiny black gown. Her smile broadening, she focused her eyes on a man in the crowd, the tall gentleman standing next to Hyukjae - his father, Lee Sungmin, clapping madly. His old Nikon camera bounced against his chest, dangling from a long strap.

 

While his mother's strings still sang in his ears, Hyukjae clapped until his hands ached. Would anyon eer match such a virtuoso performance?

 

She bowed again, now laughing joyfully at the adulation. Hyukjae clapped even harder, his heart leaping into his throat as he added a loud "Brava!" His own mother, Lee Charin, the greatest violinist in the world!

 

When the applause finally settled and everyone took their seats, Hyukjae noticed a change in his mother's countenance. She glanced around the stage, two familiar worry lines now etching her brow as her cheeks paled. Hyukjae looked at his father. On his opposite side, Dr. Simon, short and bald with owl-like eyeglasses, stared at a text message on his cell phone. Dr. Simon angled the tiny screen toward them, but it was too far away to read. He said with a hint of a British accent, "Mictar is on his way. Thre is no tie to lose."

 

Tensing his jaw, Hyukjae's father lifted a hand and displayed four fingers. His mother nodded, then stepped forward her long dress sweeping the platform. After pulling a microphone from its stand, she cleared and spoke with a trembling voice.

 

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. I'm overwhelmed by your response." She pointed her bow towards someone in Hyukjae's row about a dozen seats over. "I want to thank my first music teacher, Yesung, for being here today. Without him I would not be playing violin, nor would I even be alive. When my mother died, he took me into his home and he and his dear wife gave every bit of love a grieving ten year old could ever want."

 

The crowed clapped again. His face beaming, Yesung nodded, spilling his familiar unkempt hair over his face. She turned towards Hyukjae. "I hope you have saved some warmth for our next performer, a young man who is on his way to stardom. I find no greater musical pleasure than to accompany him in our favorite duet."

 

His father leaned over and gave Hyukjae a one armed hug. "Play your heart out son, and never forget how much your mother and I love you."

 

As he returned the hug, Hyukjae peeked over his father's shoulder at Dr. Simon. The shorter man pursed his lips tightly but said nothing. Hyukjae whispered, "What's going on?"

 

"Please welcome," his mother continued, "my son, Lee Hyukjae." Applause erupted again. His father pushed him back and gripped his shoulders firmly. A strange tremor rattled his voice.

 

"Remember what I've taught you, and everything will be fine. If you ever get into big trouble, look in the mirror I gave you and focus on the point of danger. Nothing is more important." Out of time to ask more, Hyukjae rose and headed toward the aisle on the right. As he squeezed past Jessica's silk covered knees, she patted his hand, her eyes glowing with pride. Her bright face, beautiful smile, and lovely white evening gown made her look half her age.

 

With his father's strange words echoing in his mind, Hyukjae felt as though he were floating outside his body, watching himself climb the four steps to his mother's level. The arched windows to his left cast filtered sunshine into his eyes as his shoes clicked along the hardwood stage.

 

When he drew near, his mother took his hand and pulled him close. She whispered in his ear and laid his violin and bow in the crook of his arm. "Just take a deep breath, my love, and follow my lead. Let your heart take over your hands, and your strings will sing with the angels."

 

She kissed him on the cheek, then blew softly on his bow fingers, a ritual she began when he first took up the violin at the age of three. "To bless your playing." she had said. The warmth of her breath always calmed him down. The audience quieted to a hush. Hyukjae raised the bow to the strings, his eyes locked on his mother's. He pressed his calloused fingers against the fingerboard, peeking out of the corner of his eye to catch his dad.

 

Strange. He was gone. And so was Dr. Simon. Hyukjae shivered for a moment but refocused on his mother as she laid her own bow on her strings. With a long, lovely , she began, her violin singing a sweet aria that begged for another voice to join it. As if playing unbidden, Hyukjae's hands flew into action, creating a river of musical ecstasy that flowed unhindered into the first stream of joy. The couplet of harmony joined in a celebration of life, part of Vivaldi's dream of four perfectly balanced seasons played as a sacred offering to their Creator.

 

His mother leaned close to him, as close as their vibrating bows would allow. As their slowed, bending the music into a quiet refrain, she reached a rest in her part of the piece and whispered, "It is time for a very long solo, my love. Play it with all your heart." He glanced up at her, his fingers playing on their own. A tear inched down her cheek as she continued. "I will join you again when the composer commands  me."

 

She backed away and lowered her bow. Hyukjae played on, closing his eyes as he reconstructed Vivaldi's theme, building measure upon measure until the composer sang spring into birth, new melodies sprouting forth from earth's womb in all their majesty.

 

His heart sang along. This was the best he had ever played the piece but he was glad it would soon be time for his mother to rejoin him, an arrangement they had created a dozen weeks ago to showcase his talents. But when the expected note from his mother didn't arrive, he flashed his eyes open, his bow scratching out a warped reflection of the notes. Where was she?

 

He laid his bow limply on the strings as he stared into the audience, scanning the dumbfounded faces row by row. His father's seat was still empty. Now Jessica's was vacant as well. The auditorium seemed to swell in size, making him feel like a shrinking mouse, all alone up on stage with a toy violin and bow.

The onlookers buzzed with whispered words. Yesung rose to his feet and pointed at a door to the side of the stage. "Your mother went that way, Hyukjae." He spoke in a kind, soothing voice. "Do you think she's ill?"

 

"I...I don't think so." Hyukjae cleared his throat. Now he was even sounding like a mouse. "She didn't mention anything."

 

A muffled pop sounded. Hyukjae flinched. What could it have been? A blown circuit? But the lights were all still on. The audience grew restless in the awkward silence. The side door opened, and Dr. Simon walked to the center of the stage. After lowering a microphone stand to his level, he wrung his hands nervously.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen," he called, "please pardon the interruption. Hyukjae's parents had to leave unexpectedly. We will have a short break and then hear from our guest pianist." Shifting away from the microphone, he nodded toward Hyukjae. "Please come with me, and I will you home."

 

Hyukjae stayed put, staring blankly into the performance hall. As the audience filtered toward the back, a loud "Excuse me!" sounded from his left. Jessica stood at the side door Dr. Simon had just entered. "I will take Hyukjae home," she said. Dr. Simon pushed his glasses higher on his nose, his eyes darting all around. "Well...I suppose that will be suitable."

 

His gaze locked on the room's main entrance behind the last tow of seats. Two men stood near the doorway, their arms crossed as they stared at the stage; one, a tall white haired man with a thin, pale face, and the other, a man  of average height wearing a navy blue blazer and khaki pants.

 

Dr. Simon tugged on his collar. "Jessica, please meet me in the main lobby in fifteen minutes. I have some important information to give you." His hands wringing again, he pattered off the stage and hurried toward the exit. Hyukjae hustled to his tutor. "What's up?" he asked, glancing back at Simon. "Everyone's acting so weird!" Jessica yanked him through the doorway and into a dim hall. "Come with me!"

 

She led him briskly down the short corridor and flung open a door on the left. Inside, a steep staircase descended into darkness. Laying a finger on her lips, she set her foot on the top step and gestured for him to follow. Once inside, she closed the door and whispered so quietly he could barely hear. "While you were going up on stage, your father and Dr. Simon took off toward the exit in the back, so I followed."

 

A dim glow from somewhere on the lower level gave the just enough light to see each other's faces. Holding on to his elbow, she descended the creaking steps slowly and hurried through her words. "When I got into the foyer, I caught a glimpse of your father and Simon ducking into the hall, and I managed to stay close enough to watch then go down these stairs. I tried to listen from up here, but I could only hear violin music and a lot of whispering. Then I heard a gunshot."

 

"A gunshot? Are you sure?"

 

"Positive. Right after that, Dr. Simon ran back up the stairs, so I ducked behind the door. I don't think he saw me, so I just followed him back to the stage." When they reached the bottom, they came upon two open doors, one in front that led into the darkness and one to the left, the source of the dim light. Carrying his violin by its neck, Hyukjae peered into the darker room in front. A glow from a hidden source revealed a system of large air ducts hanging from a low ceiling and a narrow wooden catwalk leading away from the door.

 

Hyukjae took a step through the door on the left.A bare bulb in an old lamp sat atop an antique desk, illuminating a hodgepodge of items in the eight-by-eight-foot chamber - hard shell suitcases, sports equipment, wicker baskets, and two unvarnished coffins, each sitting on a low table in front of a head high tri-fold mirror. He blinked at the odd collection. Were the coffins stage props? Maybe they had recently put on a vampire skit.

 

He took another step. As he closed in, a body in each box came into view, barely visible in the lamp's weak glow. His legs suddenly weak, he stumbled into the gap between the two tables that held the coffins. Even in the dimness, their identities were unmistakable - Sungmin and Chaerin Lee.

 

 

 

I used sungmin and cl just because their names end with Lee so...yeah :P