"What I did a few minutes ago may have seemed impetuous," Burke said, hoping to put the pieces back together. "But for an American, I'm really quite patient. I like the idea of your slower pace. Take time to chat a bit and get acquainted, establish where everybody's coming from."
Captain Yun smiled and nodded. "Yes, that is the idea."
"Let me tell you what I'm doing in. Korea. The company I'm with now is a public relations agency. We're headquartered in Washington, but we have overseas offices in Berlin, Mexico City and Hong Kong. We're opening an office in Seoul to service our new account, the American Council for Business in Korea. We also have a client called Bartell Engineering that's doing some work in your country."
"Does this mean you will be living in Seoul?" Yun asked.
"I'll only be here a few weeks to help get the office going. We have a man named Jerry Chan, a Chinese-American, who will be the local manager."
"Where are you staying?"
"The Chosun Hotel. It's a nice place. I love the view of the old temple." Burke finished his tea and placed the cup on the low table. It was his turn for a question. "How long have you been with the National Police, Captain?"
"Just over twenty years," said Yun. "I have been involved in homicide investigations in Chung-ku the past ten years. And, yes, I'm afraid Dr. Lee has been the victim of a homicide."
"For your sake, I hope it's a simple case. Open and shut, as we like to say."
Yun gave him a look of resignation. "Unfortunately, Mr. Hill, only the complicated cases appear to come my way. I haven't completed my initial investigation here as yet, but if it runs true to form, what at first appears fairly obvious will turn out to be something else again."
Burke nodded. "I can sympathize with that. Of course, I never had much to do with homicides, since murder per se isn't a federal crime in the U.S. I guess the crime I spent the most time on was conspiracy." In fact, he thought, it was the Mafia conspiracy that ultimately did him in.
"Interesting," was Yun's brief reply.
Burke rose from the chair. "I've enjoyed talking with you Captain Yun, but I know you need to get back to work. Could you call a taxi for me? I'd never be able to tell them how to find this place."
"Certainly," said Yun. He dialed a number, gave instructions and placed the phone back on its cradle. "Someone should be here in five to ten minutes. While we're waiting, I would be interested in your reaction to the murder scene."
Burke was a bit surprised, but realized it was a favorable sign. He had been accepted. He felt a little out of his league, but why not? "I'll have to warn you; I'm a bit rusty. It's been a long time since I looked over a murder scene."
Yun led the way into Dr. Lee's bedroom. Burke detected a slightly fetid odor that he would characterize as the smell of death. He glanced around at the bookshelves and pictures on the wall, then down at the body. The look of all the dried blood gave him a queasy feeling. Death was never a pleasant sight, moreso a violent one. He had read about the sleeping mats they used over here, but this was the first time he had seen one in a Korean bedroom. Studying the body, he could find no visible sign of a wound.
"I don't see any entrance or exit holes from a bullet," Burke said. "All the blood would seem to indicate a knife wound in the stomach or chest."
"Entered just below the sternum," Yun said.
Burke looked around the room again. "Doesn't seem to have been a struggle, does it?"
"No. His son was sleeping in the next bedroom. He says there was not enough noise to awaken him during the night. It could be he heard nothing because he was holding the knife."
Burke looked at him with a hint of a smile. "But you don't think so. That would be the easy way out. Do you know what's missing from the wall over there?"
"A framed display of rare gold coins. He also had a money clip with several large bills on the chest. It's gone."
Burke's smile brightened. "So you have murder in the perpetration of a burglary." Then his face sobered as he added slowly, "But no one was heard. I'll bet you have no signs of a forced entry, either."
"You see why the obvious does not become so simple," said Yun. "But criminals are not so perfect that they make no mistakes. We will find our culprit, I'm certain."
Chapter 26
Back at the hotel lobby, Burke bought a copy of the Korea Herald, an English language newspaper, and went up to his room to see if it contained anything about the Embassy incident. He soon found the story, and he couldn't believe what he read. He went through the article again. The quote about President Kwak was patently ridiculous. There was no mention of the Korean calling Damon Mansfield a "black bastard." He picked up the phone and dialed the Embassy.
"Good morning, Mr. Hill," said Ambassador Shearing.
"Good morning, sir. I've just read the unbelievable one-sided account in the Korea Herald about what happened last night at the reception. Has Damon Mansfield left yet?"
The Ambassador's voice turned somber. "Yes, his flight departed about an hour ago."
"I'm sorry to hear that. I don't believe for an instant he said what that man accused him of. When we talked yesterday morning, he expressed admiration for President Kwak on his comeback after physical therapy. I just can't imagine him referring to the president as 'stooped.' When I asked Damon about it last night, he told me the president hadn't even been mentioned. He said the Korean had called him a 'black bastard.'"
"The newspapers mentioned that Mansfield denied having said anything about President Kwak," Ambassador Shearing reminded him.
"That's right," Burke said. "What else did Damon say about the circumstances?"
"I'm afraid that's all I can tell you, Mr. Hill. The details are part of an internal investigation that I am not at liberty to discuss."
Burke didn't like the sound of that. "Look, Mr. Ambassador, I respect your desire for confidentiality, but I'm not a newspaper reporter or some disinterested citizen. We came over here to work on improving America's image in South Korea. This episode certainly isn't going to make our job any easier. I need to know what happened so we can determine how to counter it."
There was a long pause, then Ambassador Shearing grudgingly acquiesced. "All right. I'll tell you what Mansfield said, but it must be kept strictly confidential. Do you understand?"
"Of course."
"He admitted he had had too much to drink but denied being drunk. I'll have to say he did not appear particularly drunk to me. He said this Mr. Ko was arguing loudly, making absurd charges about the United States bullying the Republic of Korea. Suddenly Mr. Ko called Damon a 'black bastard.' He said it shocked him so that he spilled some of his drink, then Mr. Ko threw an elbow into his stomach. He said he pushed the man away, but not with enough force to knock him down. He called Mr. Ko's performance 'acting,' said he had seen falls like that many times on the basketball court."
"So have I," Burke said. "It was an obvious set-up."
"That's what Damon called it."
"Then why did you apologize?" Burke asked in exasperation. "Why did you send him home?"
"There was no way we could prove who was right and who was wrong. The man was from the Ministry of Culture and Information. If we had called him a liar, the newspapers would have crucified us. They would take his word over an American's any day. To make it worse, they were right there and saw it happen."
"But they saw it wrong," Burke said.
"That makes no difference, Mr. Hill. It was in our government's interest to end the story right there. The Department has no intention of doing or saying anything to further aggravate our relations with the Republic of Korea. My apology attempted to smooth it over. We sent Damon Mansfield home before they could declare him persona non grata."
"And what does it do to Damon's career?"
"I'm afraid it won't help. Other ambassadors will hear about it. They will probably refuse to accept him on their staffs."
Burke could only sit there and shake his head. "So everybody is just going to sit here and do
nothing and ruin a man's career," he said. "A black man who fought his way out of the ghetto and worked like hell to make something of himself."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Hill, but that is the way it has to be. The interests of the nation are paramount. We can't let someone's personal problem take precedence over that."
Burke hung up the phone and stared out the window, fighting against a rising tide of anger. He had always thought in America the individual was paramount. Sure, people in the military signed up to give their lives for their country, but this was the Foreign Service, not the Army. Then he thought about Nate Highsmith's caution to everyone in the Amber Group. They would be called on to do things that might run afoul of the law in overseas locations. If they were caught doing anything that might compromise the operation, Worldwide Communications Consultants would deny any knowledge of their activities. If it were possible to extricate them clandestinely, an attempt would be made. Otherwise, they could expect no more help from the United States Government than would be given any citizen accused of a crime in another country. Damon Mansfield had diplomatic immunity, of course, so there had been no danger of his being arrested. But he should not have to suffer the loss of his career to save face for some lying Korean bastard. What was this man Ko up to, anyway? Could it be part of a disinformation campaign, a plot to bloody Uncle Sam's nose and keep it out of South Korea's nefarious nuclear business? Was there anything he could do about it? In a word, no.
He had barely cooled down by the time he met Jerry for lunch at the Chosun. Jerry was beaming.
"I found just the place for us," he said, excited as a kid with a new bike. "It's only a few blocks from here. Nice office building. On Taepyong-ro, with a view of the Toksu Palace. You'll love it."
"Sounds like something that'll probably cost us two arms and two legs," Burke said.
Jerry wasn't the least bit daunted. "I know my budget. It's right on the money. When can you get the funds to make a deposit?"
"Slow down, Jerry. Do I get to see it first?"
He finally got the message, frowning. "You told me it was my call."
"That I did. And it is. But I'd like to take a look, if you don't mind. Then we can go by the bank and get our account set up."
Jerry shrugged. "Okay by me. But you're awful touchy today. What happened with the professor?"
As Burke ate his sandwich, he told about the murder of Dr. Lee and the aftermath of last night's Embassy brawl. Jerry nodded between mouthfuls of something called pipimppap. As they talked, he maneuvered his chopsticks through a mixture of bean sprouts, bluebell root, blanched fern, spinach and a fried egg with rice.
"Sorry to hear about Dr. Lee," Jerry said. "But it sounds like you may have come up with a good buddy in the police department. That could be handy in the future."
"I'm not sure how impressed he was with me," Burke said. "He seemed pretty sharp. I suspect he may check me out to make certain I'm everything as advertised."
Jerry grinned. "Let's hope you check out. We could use somebody like him when we start investigating Korean employees."
Not a bad idea, Burke thought. Without their customary information sources, such as credit bureaus, FBI checks, which he had arranged through an old colleague, and private investigative agencies, they could be at a considerable disadvantage. "I'll give him a call in a day or so."
"Right. The most worrisome thing at the moment is this Mansfield business in the newspapers. That could come back to haunt us."
"I got the feeling Ambassador Shearing thinks his damage control efforts should put an end to the publicity. After what it cost Damon Mansfield, I sure hope he's right."
Jerry looked up. "If the office space is agreeable to you, I'll call the Chief after dinner and tell him to send in the troops."
The luncheon chat had defused Burke's anger. "I'm sure it'll be fine with me," he said, forcing a smile. "But I would like to see it."
He found Lori in an especially upbeat mood when he called that evening. The testy conversation from two nights ago had been forgotten. Originally, he had announced plans to call her every night, Seoul time. But they finally agreed on every other night to keep the phone bill from resembling the national debt.
"It looks more like a September morning than November," she said. "The sun is warm on the patio. After a good night's sleep, I feel like a million dollars. Well, a hundred thousand, at least."
"Glad to hear it. Jerry found us a nice office location this morning. Otherwise, my day hasn't been all that great."
He told her briefly about Dr. Lee and Damon Mansfield.
"Poor baby," she said. "Do you really think it will ruin Mansfield's career?"
"According to the Ambassador, he'll be hard put to get another embassy assignment. I wish I could do something to help him, but I don't know how."
"That's one thing I admire about you, dear. You're always trying to be a Good Samaritan."
"Bullshit," he said, feeling a twinge of embarassment. He had never managed praise well. "You know I'm a nasty man who pulls wings off butterflies."
"Don't be crude," she said.
That made him feel better. "If you slept good last night, that must mean you didn't have too much kicking going on."
"They apparently needed a nap, too. There's been a soccer game in progress this morning, however."
Burke laughed. "You having any problems at home?"
"Not like Sunday morning." She told him what a mess she'd been forced to clean up after dropping a carton of eggs, which was why she had been so upset when he called.
He felt like a heel. "I told you I was a nasty man. I apologize."
"Never mind. Oh, there is one problem."
"Like what?"
"The kitchen faucet acts like a nose with a cold."
He grimaced. "Seems like it hasn't been anytime since I put new seals in it."
"Shall I ask Will if he'll come over and fix it?"
"I hate to bother him, but I guess you should. It'll only get worse if you don't. Tell Will I'll owe him one."
"He'll love that," she said with a chuckle.
It was true. Will Arnold liked everyone to be in his debt. He should have been a banker, Burke thought. The difference was that Will resisted being paid back. Burke was determined to make up for any favors when he got home, though right now that seemed a long way off. It also paled to insignificance when matched against the task that awaited him here, a task he had hardly begun to face as yet.
That led to the crucial question nobody had dared to ask. Just how much time did he have? Thinking about the information he had gleaned from briefings and reports, it was clear the Koreans would have several years of hard work ahead if they had just started an effort to go nuclear. But, obviously, that was not the case. What could only be guessed at was how much know-how they had accumulated back in the seventies and how long they may have been secretly preparing for the current all-out effort. Was there a ticking time bomb hanging over HANGOVER?
Chapter 27
"If you have such convincing evidence of who murdered Yang Jong-koo and Yi In-wha, bring it to me and let's get a warrant for his arrest." Prosecutor Park's voice sounded as caustic as lye.
Captain Yun held the phone away from his head to prevent damage to his eardrum. He knew it was dangerous to call Park first thing in the morning. If he'd been partying half the night, he'd roar like the bear he resembled. Apparently there had been some sort of drinking bout.
"I need no arrest warrant at the moment," Yun said. "I have to locate him first."
"Put out an all-points bulletin. Send his picture to every damned police station in the country."
"It isn't that simple. The man is a highly skilled assassin. He's a man of many disguises. He isn't—"
"You identified him, didn't you?"
"Yes, but through my most knowledgable informer," Yun said, knowing he had to maintain his patience. He did not want to stir any more of Park's ire than was already obvious. He was trying to buy time. "Now he has killed my
informer, leaving me with no further link to him."
"Captain Yun," said the prosecutor, the sound of his breath exhaling like a windstorm over the phone, "I am assured you are a highly skilled investigator."
Yun caught the irony in having his words thrown back at him. "I do my best, sir."
"Then find your damned assassin and let's get these cases closed out."
"I have set a trap which I hope will snare him by this weekend. It's a gamble, however, and may not work. It depends on how much he learned about me before he killed my informer."
"And if it doesn't work?"
Yun stared at the pile of papers on his desk. The only other recourse he could see at the moment would be to ask the help of the NSP. As much as he hated to admit it, it just might come down to that. "I have one more avenue to pursue, which we can discuss at that time."
"Call me." Park's voice was a growl, followed by the slamming of his phone.
The Captain's eyes swept the stacks of material on the desk. One contained what he called the "conspiracy" file. Another held the evidence gathered on Mr. Chon's murder. A smaller one was marked "Dr. Lee." He took out his note pad, ripped out the pages of information he had copied from the old Chosun Ilbo files at the Seoul National University Library yesterday afternoon and put them in the "conspiracy" folder.
He had found several short items about the Vengeance guerillas starting in 1942, plus a much longer account in August of 1945, which detailed the slaying of two members of the "bandit gang." Obviously the Japanese had forbidden publication of most of the group's activities. The stories he found dealt only with assassination of Koreans, probably collaborators, Yun thought, and raids on Japanese installations that had not been entirely successful. The final item, just before the bombing of Hiroshima, listed the names of the two who were killed at a Taejon post office and reported two men remained at large. One was the leader of the group identified as Young Tiger Lee, obviously not his real name. The hangul characters for poksu bordered by a square appeared with one of the articles. It was identical to the symbol in his file.
The Poksu Conspiracy (Post Cold War Political Thriller Book 2) Page 17