Inspector O 01 - A Corpse in the Koryo

by James Church

  See what I mean?"

  "I scared the piss out of him."

  "Bravo. Not good enough. We need him neutralized." Kang paused.

  "Don't worry, I'm not talking about anything physical."

  "Too bad."

  "Wow!" He sat back. "A pair of scorpions. Do me a favor, put it aside for now. Whether and why you dislike him is not my business.

  But I need him off my back, and I need you to help me figure out what will make him crawl back into his hole on his own."

  "Rat poison."

  Kang sat still for a moment, took a deep breath and exhaled, and then turned the key in the ignition. The engine sputtered once and came to life. "Pak said you were unreasonable on this, but I said you'd help. I guess not." He ignored the traffic policeman's salute as we passed, turned onto the highway with a squeal of the car's old tires, and drove with bored, silent concentration the rest of the way into town.

  When we got to the bridge across the river from my apartment, Kang pulled over and reached into the backseat for a small package. All he said was, "I think this is for your picnic." Then he got out of the car and walked to the riverbank.

  I wasn't sure what he meant. The package was bulky, wrapped in plain brown paper. Inside was a hand-knit sweater. There was no note, but there didn't have to be. Maybe there was still a trace of her perfume on it, or maybe I only imagined it. The sweater looked like it might be too big. But it was blue.

  5

  The next morning it was raining and windy. I rode my bicycle to the office. The traffic lady was not there, but my satisfaction at crossing the intersection aboveground was short-lived. An army truck spewing black smoke threw up a sheet of water as it passed me.

  Pak looked up from his desk as I stood in his doorway. "You are puddling on my floor, Inspector. Go dry yourself off, and get some hot tea. They might still have some in the traffic unit." As I turned to start down the hall, he stopped me. "Where are you going?"

  "You told me to get some tea."

  "Forget the tea."

  "So, you heard about the car."

  "The car has been taken off our books. There isn't much left of it, anyway. The damage you did to the left fender by driving into that ditch has disappeared. Likewise the left fender, along with much of the left side of the car. I hope the gas tank wasn't full."

  "You mean it exploded? Who turned the key?"

  "No one, as far as I know. Must have been a stray radio signal. Very sloppy job." Pak looked back down at his desk and I thought I was dismissed, but he looked up again. He pursed his lips, which he only does when he is thinking about how to say something delicate. "Kang is an ally. We have very few. He has helped us. He asks for our help, we give it, no matter what, and not just grudgingly."

  I nodded. No sense in fighting this again, especially when being noncommittal would suffice. "Tell Kang I'll give it some thought."

  Pak closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "You still need to go to Hyangsan looking for pine needles?"

  "The pine needles aren't the key, but if they match what was in the cuffs, we can rule out a lot of territory. If I go up there today, even with the rain, I can stay in the hotel and make friends with the staff. Those records may be gone, but the staff's memory isn't wiped out by power failures."

  "Unless they've been warned off, like the people at the Koryo."

  "I told you we shouldn't take this case. Didn't I tell you no one could solve it?"

  "I have great faith, Inspector, that you will solve it. And do you know why? Murder is bad enough, but having a foreigner murdered in the capital is worse, and not finding the murderer is worst of all. If this case isn't solved in a hurry, there will be pressure from the Foreign Ministry.

  They will yowl for days about how it is harming our relations with the Finns, and to stop their yowling, the Center will lean on our Minister, and the Minister will lean on me. And you do know who I will lean on, Inspector?"

  "I can't do miracles."

  Pak smiled. "As long as we understand each other."

  "You left out one player in all of this. Kim. Kim doesn't care about yowling, and no one can lean on him or Military Security."

  "So, you think he's already gotten to the staff at Hyangsan?"

  "No, I don't think he has. When Military Security lands, they land hard, but as far as I can tell, they don't get ahead of the game very of ť

  ten.

  "Don't be so sure, Inspector. They cultivate a reputation as plodders so they can turn up where you least expect them."

  "And that's what I'm going to do. Turn up where they don't expect us. For sure, once Kim hears I'm up there, he'll gag the staff, but for now, he thinks we're fumbling around the Koryo. In fact, why don't you go over there today and tramp through the halls. Make it look like we're closing in on a suspect."

  "Any other requests, Inspector?" The question was tinged with annoyance, but Pak was already reaching for his jacket.

  I thought a moment. "Get us a new teakettle, would you? I don't care what color it is, as long as it boils water. In fact, get a real plain-looking one. Maybe no one will steal it."

  Pak stopped and started searching his pockets. "Have you seen my notebook? I had it with me last night. I didn't leave it in your office, did I?" He frowned as we walked across the hall into my room. "It was nearly blank. Damn, I hate losing new notebooks." He frowned again.

  "There were two pages from my meeting with the Minister, and a few odds and ends from what you found at the morgue."

  My stomach got a funny feeling. "Anything about the pine needles in the trouser cuffs? Or the two sets of keys?"

  "No, the main thing was what that doctor told you. Ethnicity is not an identification. Something odd about it, so I wrote it down."

  "Maybe your notebook is sitting in the same in-box as the Hyangsan Hotel's records."

  Pak nodded. "Maybe. From now on, those scraps of paper you call notes stay on your person, even if it means bathing with your clothes on." He smiled absently out my window. "Those notes from the Minister's meeting will curl their hair. The vice minister was droning on, and I can't stay awake when he does that. So my notes had him saying something more provocative."

  "You want me to take the train to Hyangsan, or can we get another car so soon? And do we trust the local guy up there?"

  "Take my car, but stay out of ditches this time. The local guy's name is Song. His family is from Japan, actually. He speaks some Japanese.

  That's why he's at Hyangsan, to handle visitors. I trust him this far"-- Pak held his hands not too far apart--"but no farther. He means well, and he may be a little help. Use your judgment."

  As he threw me a set of keys, Pak said matter-of-factly, "Don't turn to look, but there's a black Mercedes outside on the street that wasn't there a minute ago. Pretty blatant." He picked up my umbrella from where it was propped against the wall. "This thing leak?"

  "I don't know. I found it the other day."

  Pak nodded toward the window. "They must be awfully concerned to play us like this. I'll lead them around the city and then to the Koryo.

  You wait a few minutes to make sure they don't double back, then zip out of here. They won't have anyone else standing around outside in this weather. Keep in touch."

  I walked over to my file cabinet and pulled an armload of old files off the top. My desk is close enough to the window so that anyone in the street could see me, if that was what they wanted to do. I dumped the files on my desk, sat back in my chair, and lit a cigarette. Except when I'm traveling, I rarely smoke, but I figured from the street it would look like I was settling in on a rainy morning. With luck, they'd pull away before I had to take more than a few puffs.

  Below in the courtyard, Pak made a show of trying unsuccessfully to start his car, got out, and used the telephone at the guard post to call the duty driver. It didn't take long for an old jeep to pull up; Pak climbed in, and they drove away. From the corner of my eye, I could see that the Mercedes wasn't moving. The motor w
asn't even running.

  They knew my car was in pieces, and it looked like Pak's was out of commission. I wasn't going anywhere in the rain, even if it was lightening up to a steady drizzle. So why were they sitting there? The driver and his partner were probably arguing about what to do, whether to follow Pak or stay and watch me. Unless one of them pulled rank, they were liable to sit and argue all morning. Just as I resigned myself to being a prisoner in my own office, the window on the driver's side opened and a cigarette, barely smoked, was thrown onto the street. The tires spun, then caught the wet pavement, and the big car shot away from the curb. Our guards craned their necks to watch for a moment, then pressed back under the small overhang in a futile attempt to avoid the downpour that had just begun.

  6

  I put off leaving until the weather improved, but it kept raining hard and the wind picked up, so I ended up going over my notes again and calling around to see who might know something about Military Security operations. They didn't seem to have much of a rhythm to anything they did, but I figured they must have some sort of regular procedures. Every organization has regular procedures, even lunks and thugs. I wanted to have some sense of the telltale signs if they started after me in earnest. Nobody would talk to me. As soon as they heard me mention Military Security, their voices went toneless and they suddenly had to go to some meeting or another. The phone rang just before dinner, as I stood at my window watching rain splash off the sidewalk. It was my brother.

  "We need to meet." I wasn't used to hearing his voice over the phone. It was low and rough, as if it had been soaked in gravel.

  "We already did." I resisted the urge to slam down the receiver.

  "Once a year is enough."

  "Half an hour. At the Koryo."

  "I'm busy." As usual, I was talking to myself. He had already hung up.

  When I walked into the hotel's lobby, he was in the beer hall, slumped at the same table, fiddling with a matchbook. I strolled over but remained standing. "I'm here. What do you want?"

  He didn't look up. "Sit, please, this is serious."

  "Since when do you have anything serious to say?"

  "Do us both a favor, cut the police inspector crap. Sit, just for five minutes. Hear me out."

  I took off my coat, folded it carefully, and laid it on the bench.

  "Don't waste my time." I sat down.

  "Things are happening."

  I started to get up again. "We've had this conversation."

  "Sit. Shut up, just listen for once. Things are happening, but you don't know what they are."

  "And you do?"

  "I have a good idea, a lot better than yours. Everything will move, compass points will change, brilliant stars will be plucked from the sky.

  Rearrangements. Rethinking."

  "It won't be the first time. We'll survive."

  He ripped a match from the pack and crushed its head between his nails. "No, this time is different." He swept the powder onto the floor.

  "Okay, this time is different. That's life."

  "No, that's not life." The waitress walked over and started to ask for our order. It was the same girl who had overheard us last time. When she saw it was my brother, she closed her mouth and backed away. "You are my younger brother. We are all that is left of the family. I looked out for you during the war, or have you forgotten?"

  "The war is a blank, an empty room, no echoes, no shadows, no light, no dark. I don't remember, I don't dream, I don't dwell on it."

  "You're a sad case, you know that? Some people still ache from the war, but you act as if it's nothing."

  "Get to the point."

  "The point is, you're going to have to trust me for the next couple of months."

  "Meaning?"

  "Stay out of my way. Get off this case, drop it, break a leg. Better yet, resign from the Ministry. I can have your files pulled, so yours won't be there when there's a review. I'll put them in a safe place until things calm down."

  "Funny, Pak wanted me to resign, too."

  "When did he say that?" My brother's voice became smooth, suspicious.

  "That

  got your attention, I see. Never mind."

  "So, you'll do it?"

  "Then what?"

  "These things are hard to predict."

  "What makes you think I'm in your way?"

  "You are."

  "And if I stay where I am, continue my investigation?"

  "I can't help you when the boom drops."

  "You mean you won't."

  "No, I mean I can't. I'll be fighting for survival. I have others to protect, programs, people." He paused. "Ideas."

  "Ideas?"

  "I've warned you. I've asked you. Trust me, just for now, just this once."

  "You said 'ideas.' You mean class purity? Human perfection? The collective will?"

  There was silence. He sat still enough to be a statue guarding the entrance to an old king's tomb, nothing but sadness in the air between us.

  "For the first time in years," I said, "you interest me."

  "Will you do as I ask, or not?"

  "You know the answer."

  His closed his eyes for a moment and put his hand to his forehead.

  It was a gesture he used to make a long time ago, during the war, to contain the despair that washed over us on cold nights. "Then at least delay the investigation. That's all. Put it in a pending file. Cremate the corpse, lose a couple pieces of evidence, have the room lady reassigned."

  "How do you know about her?"

  "I told you, this case is beyond what you imagine."

  "Don't touch her."

  He stood up abruptly. "It's not a choice. I don't give a damn about the case, just where it leads. If you don't let it go, you'll burn. They'll scatter your ashes over the river at dawn."

  "And if I burn, so will you."

  "Maybe, maybe not. But I can't risk it."

  "Ah, now we get to the point. I should save your skin."

  He looked at me quizzically, then sat down again. "I thought you were smarter than this. You still don't get it." With his fingers, he traced a single Chinese character on the polished wood of the table. It was the character for family. "If you get too close on this case, you'll give them what they need."

  "Them?"

  He lowered his eyes. "You heard me."

  I stood without a word and walked through the hotel lobby, out the front door, down the drive to the empty street. I walked quickly, but it was already evening, and the darkness overtook me.

  "You don't have a brother, you do have a brother. Which?"

  "Are you hard of hearing? I have no brother."

  "Strange country. You have a relative, a brother, let's say, then he's not a relative anymore. Any other relatives you don't have who are trying to help you?"

  "Careful, Richie. You are stepping into a minefield. Back off."

  "Your grandfather was a hero. I respect that."

  "Your family?"

  "Big, three brothers and three sisters. My father had four brothers. My mother has a sister. They all have families of their own, a pile of kids.

  When we get together in the summer, you can't hear yourself think." He watched my face closely. "I have children, two girls." He almost said something more, then checked himself.

  "My grandfather used to say that my brother and I were close when we were growing up, that my brother protected me. I don't remember. He came back once from the orphans' school after a year or two. Spoke in a loud voice, said he loved the fatherland. Grandfather said it was a good thing to see loyalty in a young boy, but afterward I heard him tell a neighbor that it was damned unpleasant to be lectured by a kid, especially your own grandson."

  "You

  ever think about getting married? Having a family?"

  "Kang, Mr. Molloy. Kang is your topic A, topic B, and topic Z."

  "You say he's dead."

  "So he is, but even the dead have much to tell. Maybe that's why we worship them so. Wi
sdom from beyond."

  "The sarcasm button just lit up on the tape recorder."

  "Good, it works. Where were we?"

  "Going to the mountains. In Hyangsan."

  The road to Hyangsan led to the clouds, Still I climbed, listening to waterfalls, Breathing the scent

  Of sacred pine trees.

  -Kim ?o [Vomite I S4-1 198) when I went to bed in the Hyangsan Hotel, it was a rainy, sticky summer night. When I woke, it was autumn. Not just the promise of a changing season, but the change itself, whatever the calendar said. The air was crisp and the light so pure that the mountains in the distance were etched sharply against the sky. The underbellies of the clouds off to the east were burning gold, but the sun was still low and the flanks of the rugged hills that ran alongside the fast moving stream coming down from the Myohyang Mountains were mostly in shadow. Small clouds nuzzled outcroppings along the hilltops, baby white puffs that looked like they had needed something solid to lean against during the night. They had overslept and been left behind. As I watched, they grew more transparent with each sunbeam that touched them. No struggle or sound of despair. They just disappeared.

  I

  stood on my balcony to listen to the birds gathering on the lawn in front of the hotel. On the hills off to the left, where the sunlight hadn't yet found its way, more wispy clouds dumbly awaited their fate. They had settled so close to the ground that they appeared tethered to the gnarled dwarf pine trees growing out of the rocks. The hills were steep.

  It didn't look possible to climb up there, but that's the funny thing about Korean hills. They're either harder or easier than they appear.

  I left the city right after the meeting with my brother. It had stopped raining by then, but it started up again as soon as I got on the highway. There wasn't much traffic, and I never did see a train. At one point, near Kujang, the highway crosses the river coming between steep hills. Then, around the next bend, the river broadens out onto a plain, as if whoever had planned its course had a sudden change of heart.

  Leaning support piles are all that remain of a narrow bridge that once spanned the river. It was on this old bridge that my parents were killed. A lonely F-86 had dropped out of the morning sky and made a single strafing run on a small convey of trucks halfway across. The convoy was to have moved at night and been snug against the hills by daybreak, but something held them up and they were hurrying over the river in first light. Fighter planes weren't supposed to be out that early.