18
“Let’s never do this again.” Mickey sat beside her in the main restaurant of the Sol Resort.
The massive resort in Yangyang was close to the defunct airfield. They sat in a neat spread of tables lined up in orderly rows. A three-story-tall wall of windows shining with the last pinks and oranges of the ending day curved along one side of the room.
And Robin knew that, despite sitting inside air-conditioned helicopters all day, they reeked.
This stretch of the beach was only officially open—whatever that meant—for forty-two days of the summer, and today wasn’t one of them. That meant that the resort’s main restaurant was echoingly empty at eight at night. Five of the fifty or more tables were occupied by small, quiet groups.
Which was good, because MHA’s whole team stank and were too
