The Nurse's Bodyguard. Melanie Mitchell

with her rather frumpy clothes—contributed to a “geek chic” look. Luke got the impression that she was more nervous than her friend. She’d appeared ill-at-ease when she saw the uniformed men descending on them. Luke was very aware that his size was disconcerting to most people and was used to the response. Nonetheless, her reaction seemed a little extreme.

      Deciding to start with a friendly approach, Luke addressed the tall curvy blonde. He held out his hand, and with his most reassuring smile drawled, “Hello, Ms. Olsen. I’m Lt. Llewellyn. I understand that you had a problem last night. We’re here—”

      His introduction was simultaneously interrupted by Tony and the blonde.

      “Oh, no! Not me—” The blonde’s cheeks darkened and she shook her head.

      “Uh, Lieutenant—” Tony held up his hand.

      Luke glanced back at his comrade who motioned toward the dark-haired woman. “Lieutenant, this is Ms. Olsen.” He indicated the blonde who was now grinning. “This is Ms. Jessica Tyson. Ms. Olsen is staying with Ms. Tyson while she’s in Seoul.”

      Luke took a step back and glanced sheepishly between the two women. Trying to smooth over his discomfiture, he shook his head slightly and said, “Uh, sorry. Excuse me.” He held out his hand again. “Ms. Tyson, nice to meet you. Sorry for the mix-up.”

      “Not a problem,” she answered, her voice tinged with humor. He shook her hand quickly before turning again to the other young woman, who was still standing several feet away.

      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