The Poksu Conspiracy (Post Cold War Political Thriller Book 2)

by Chester D. Campbell

  "It's still coming down like crazy."

  "They say we can get a train out of here in about an hour. It's a five-hour trip, but that may be our best shot. I'd be willing to wait, but there's no telling how long we'd be stranded here. Looks like it'll be at least eight before we get there."

  "Just grab a cab and go on over to the Chosun. Call my room when you get in."

  "We'll be ready for the bar," vanRoden said. "Brad says these damned airplanes and terminals are beginning to give him the willies."

  No sooner had Burke hung up than he had another call. This one was from Kang Han-kyo.

  The editor's message was terse. "I'll do it," he said.

  "Thanks." Burke felt like an Alaskan huskie just unhitched from a loaded dogsled. A heavy burden had been lifted.

  "I talked with the owners," Kang said. "I asked if they trusted me to do something I thought more important from a moral and philosophical standpoint than most anything we'd ever done. I warned that it could mean getting closed down should things go wrong. They said to use my best judgment."

  "I wish there was an easier way out, but I haven't found it."

  "I know. I'll send you a copy of everything in the morning. My production manager will handle it personally, so there won't be any leaks."

  Burke checked his watch. It would be nearly midnight in Washington, but he knew Nate Highsmith was awaiting his call. He had contacted Nate as soon as he arrived at the office that morning, giving him the full details of the plan. Nate was to discuss it with the White House and give him the President's reply when Burke called to confirm Editor Kang's participation.

  "How did it go at the newspaper?" Nate asked.

  "Kang was a bit hesitant, as I expected. But he cleared it with his owners, without giving any detail on what he planned to do. He's in."

  "Great. The President gave us the go-ahead. According to Kingsley Marshall, South Korea has confirmed our worst suspicions. They expanded the danger zone for their missile test. It will involve a powerful new explosive, according to their warning."

  "Yeah," Burke said. "You can translate that 'nuclear.'"

  "Right. Meanwhile, the President is dispatching a courier by Air Force jet. You're to pick up an envelope from Ambassador Shearing first thing in the morning. Good luck with it."

  "I damned sure hope we're luckier than Rudy vanRoden and Brad Gore," Burke said.

  "What's happened?"

  Burke told him about the snow delays.

  "They won't be there until tonight?" Nate said in disbelief.

  "Fortunately, we haven't had any problems so far."

  Afterward, he reflected for a moment on good fortune and good luck. They made about as unreliable a pair of bedfellows as he could imagine. The plain facts were that you made your own breaks, and you made your own mistakes. And in this business, you weren't allowed too many of the latter.

  He received another call late that afternoon that sounded like a definite break.

  "Mr. Hill," said a Korean-accented voice, "I must remain anonymous for the present, but I have some information I think you would find highly beneficial."

  "What kind of information?" Burke asked.

  "About a project called Pok Su and Captain Yun Yu-sop's investigation."

  Who the hell was this guy and where did he get my name, Burke wondered? Could it be some kind of probing operation? An attempt to get him to throw a little light on something better kept in the shadows? Or was it the man Captain Yun was chasing, Hwang Sang-sol? "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, stalling.

  "Don't worry, Mr. Hill. I'm no government spy. I know you have been working with Captain Yun. I have some details he was unable to purchase from his informer."

  If it were bait, it was too juicy for Burke to avoid biting at. "What sort of details?"

  "Things like who was responsible for several murders and who is running Pok Su."

  "What about who murdered Captain Yun?" Burke asked.

  "Yes, not only who did it, but who hired the man who did it."

  Burke remained skeptical. "How do you know these things, and why tell me?" he asked.

  "Ah, yes. What do I get out of it? I'm close to one of the prime organs of power in this country, Mr. Hill, and I am increasingly unhappy with actions of the Kwak regime. Let's just say I owe them a payback. That's what poksu means in Koean. For Dr. Lee, for Yun Yu-sop, for Ahn Wi-Jong."

  To know all this, the man definitely had to be on the inside. He even knew about Ahn. Had they managed to track down Ahn Wi-jong at Wat Prathat Doi Suthep?

  "I will meet you tonight at eight o'clock," the man added.

  "No need for that,"Burke said. "Just tell me now."

  "I have documents to show you, also, and I cannot be seen in public. Come to the Namyong Iron and Metal Company. The gate will be unlocked. Come around to the back entrance to the building."

  Burke jotted down the address. "And how do I know this isn't some sort of ambush?"

  The man's voice became agitated. "You Americans, always suspicious, always looking for the dark side. It is I who will be at your mercy. How do I know who you might bring with you? It would be better for me if you came alone, but..." His voice trailed off.

  "All right," Burke said. "Eight o'clock."

  He would not be alone. He would have Duane Elliston in reserve. Rudy vanRoden and Brad Gore also, if they arrived in time, though he wasn't counting on it. The information promised would give him a measure of insurance for tomorrow's showdown. There was, of course, one troubling aspect. He would be taking a big risk, walking blind into the Namyong Iron and Metal Company. He'd prefer to check the place out, but there wasn't time for that. He wondered again if the caller could have been Hwang? That didn't seem likely, though, when he considered the circumstances. Hired guns were not usually briefed on the inside workings of an operation. Anyway, with Duane backing him up and with the gun he had picked up from Lieutenant Yun in his pocket, it made the risks a bit more acceptable.

  Burke called Duane and Brittany into the office and told them about the mysterious caller.

  "I want you to drive us over there," he told Brittany. "We'll let Duane out down the block and you can drop me off at the company gate. Then you go straight home and wait for us to call."

  "How long will you be there?" she asked.

  "Thirty...forty-five minutes, I'd think."

  "What if I don't hear from you, like in an hour?"

  Burke rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Call Lieutenant Yun Se-jin, tell him what happened. I'll give you his number." Burke had managed to clutter up Jerry's desk a little more to his liking, and he toyed for a moment with a round plastic container filled with paperclips. He looked up at Duane. "It might be a good idea to bring the Lieutenant into this thing ahead of time, see if he would provide us a little reinforcement. Just in case Rudy and Brad don't make it in time."

  Duane frowned, shaking his head. "We can handle it without any outside interference. I'll check the area carefully as I move in, then make sure you're having no problems."

  Burke reacted physically as well as verbally, giving the container a savage twist, spilling paperclips onto the desk. "Damn it, Duane, we don't need any heroics. The more safeguards we can build into this situation, the better."

  "Heroics, hell. Be practical. Nate warned us to protect our cover. Ask some Korean cop to help us move in on this guy like the charge of the Light Brigade and you think he's going to believe we're just a PR agency? Tell me another joke, man."

  The look on his face reflected the simmering inside as Burke jammed the paperclips back into the plastic cylinder. There was no use arguing with Duane Elliston. If he didn't have all the answers, he'd damn sure make you think he did.

  "All right," he said, spitting out the words like darts. "I'll meet you two at the Chosun at seven-thirty."

  After they left, Burke closed the door and called Lieutenant Yun. He got his answering machine. Burke left a message about the caller and the plan to meet at the
Namyong Iron and Metal Company. He asked Se-jin to call him if he got the message before seven-thirty.

  This would be the closest Brittany had come to being involved in a real covert operation. She had never said anything, but she had secretly dreamed of taking part in some kind of cloak-and-dagger deal. Now that it was about to happen, she found herself concerned enough about the disagreement between her co-conspirators that she detoured by the hospital on her way home and asked Jerry's advice.

  "Duane's headstrong, but he's competent," Jerry said. "Just remember, Burke's in charge. Whatever he says goes. But you're not trained for operations. As soon as you let them out, get the hell out of there in a hurry and wait for the phone call. Good luck."

  Chapter 67

  As it turned out, the maverick snowfall ended in Seoul about the time Rudy vanRoden and Brad Gore boarded the Blue Train in Pusan. Had they waited another hour, they could have taken a flight that would have put them in the capital the latter part of the afternoon. VanRoden, a veteran of long, endless days and nights spent on stake-outs, possessed a patience worthy of a microbiologist who stared for hours at the infinitesimal movements that took place under the lens of a microscope. His partner was the opposite. A tall, ugly, muscular man whose appearance was enough to discourage most people from tangling with him, Gore had an overactive thyroid, or some such imbalance, that encouraged activity on a grand scale. He had convinced vanRoden they would be better off moving toward Seoul by some means rather than sitting around the Kimhae Airport terminal hoping things would change for the better.

  There was still no sign of the pair from Washington when Burke met Duane and Brittany in front of the Chosun, where the snow had been shoveled into levee-like piles. Lieutenant Yun had not returned his call either. There appeared to be no choice but to go with a lone backup. The heavily-traveled streets were mostly clear, with only occasional patches of slush to give drivers second-thoughts about the need for caution. Brittany let Duane take the wheel, though Burke had to call him down a time or two when the evasive maneuvers he took to shake off any would-be followers got a bit out of hand. Burke could see the company getting stuck with a big repair bill if they wound up wrapped around a light pole or skidding into someone cruising in the opposite direction.

  Along the street where the Namyong Iron and Metal Company was located, the snow had been packed down to form a soft cushion that deadened the sound of the small car. Brittany had resumed her seat behind the steering wheel, and she drove slowly along the darkened street. Though Burke had been given landmarks to help find the location, she could read the name printed in hangul on the sign out front.

  "There it is," she said in a hushed voice.

  A few small lights dotted the scrap metal yard, giving just enough illumination for someone to find his way back to the rear of the building.

  "Drive down to the end of the block and turn around," Burke said. "That'll give Duane a chance to slip out without being seen."

  "Take your time walking around back," Duane said. "Give me a chance to work my way up there. I'll move in as quickly as I can, once I determine there's nobody else around. By the way, don't forget to switch on your recorder."

  Burke carried a small, voice-actuated microcassette recorder in his coat pocket to tape the mystery man's revelations. He gave a thumbs-up signal, and Duane hopped out as Brittany slowly backed around. He slipped to his knees on the snowy surface, but quickly recovered. Brittany continued at a slow pace back up to the gate in the high fence, where she stopped for Burke to get out.

  "Please be careful, Mr. Hill," she said.

  He gave her a confident smile, a lot more confident than he felt. "Don't worry, Brittany. Just get the hell out of here and head home. Don't stop for anything or anybody."

  Burke looked around the area to be sure he was alone, then opened the gate and stepped inside. The cold night seemed to seep through his coat and send a chill down his body. Reaching into his pocket, he pressed the switch that would turn on the small recorder.

  The building stood in the darkness on his left. It was tall enough for a two-story structure, but without windows for an upper floor, he thought it more likely a high-ceilinged warehouse type. He watched Brittany's car disappear down the street, then looked around. The city's lights reflected off the cloudy sky, giving a ghostly iridescence to the white blanket that covered the ground. Dim pools of light formed by the small, dust-coated bulbs put a sparkling sheen on objects nearby. He saw a few pieces of heavy equipment, one a bulldozer, another a small crane. There were whitish piles of what appeared to be various types of scrap metal stacked about the yard.

  With his hand gripping the small automatic in his coat pocket, Burke walked slowly alongside the frozen tire tracks that flanked the building.

  He saw no lights inside until he had reached the rear, where he noticed a yellow glow that filtered through a barred window in the back door. He stopped and stood rigid, like a soldier at attention, for what was only seconds though it seemed ages. Only his head moved as he listened for any unusual sounds, straining to catch any kind of movement, any sight that resembled part of a human figure. He saw nothing and heard only the random sounds of night in a large city—a dog barking in the distance, the faint rumble of a train heading downtown, the metallic clank of a lid being slammed on a garbage can.

  With the gun out of his pocket now, he moved toward the door. When he was almost there, he turned suddenly and dropped into a crouch, scanning the area again for unannounced company. He had an eerie feeling that he was not alone, but he could detect nothing tangible to support it.

  Finally, he stepped up to the window and looked in. He saw a room with a few desks and chairs and a service counter. There was no one in sight.

  He turned the doorknob and gave a gentle pull. The door came open. As he paused before entering, he heard a calm voice.

  "Please come in, Mr. Hill."

  Cautiously, Burke stepped inside.

  After a moment, the voice continued. "I'm sorry I cannot be with you just yet." He recognized it as the man on the telephone. "I had some most pressing business to take care of first. However, I did not want you to waste your time, so I recorded this message to enlighten you until we can meet in person."

  Burke looked around the room as he listened and saw the small tape player sitting on the counter. A wire had been run across from it and rigged so that opening the door would throw a switch, turning on the recorder. "Please have a seat and make yourself at home, Mr. Hill, while I give you a few facts regarding this poksu business."

  Burke sat in one of the chairs as the voice droned on.

  "Captain Yun was a very diligent investigator. He came to realize that the deaths of several prominent Koreans were related to their common interest in promoting close relationships between the Republic of Korea and the United States of America."

  As the man talked on, Burke realized that so far it was all information he had heard before from Captain Yun. He felt like a captive audience of one and had the urge to check the door and make sure he hadn't become strictly a captive, period. As soon as Duane arrived, they would find a phone in here and call Brittany, then get the hell out of the place.

  With no sidewalk, Duane kept close to the buildings that hugged the roadway as he watched Burke enter the gate to Namyong Iron and Metal Company. There was no way to hide against the background of the snow. He moved his head constantly, checking in all directions, but detected no one. Burke had disappeared behind the building by the time he reached the gate.

  Drawing the Beretta he had acquired illegally, he slipped through the gate and started toward the rear of the structure. He moved with caution through the deeper snow to mask the sound of his steps. Once in back of the building, he checked the area again and noted no movement, no sign of anything threatening. As he approached the door where the light shone through, he heard a voice from inside, but he couldn't make out what was being said. It didn't sound like Burke.

  As he glanced around, he no
ticed another door a little farther down the rear wall of the building. It was a solid door and it appeared to have been left slightly ajar. Inside was complete darkness. Damn, he thought, I should have brought a flashlight. There was no safe way to approach it, but with the voice coming from inside the building, he reasoned that the mystery caller was with Burke and any danger would likely come from that quarter.

  He turned back toward the door with the barred window, listening intently to try and pick up what was being said. As a result, he failed to hear the slight movement in the darkened storage room. The muted plop of the first silenced shot registered in his brain about the same time the bullet struck him in the back. He felt a sharp pain that caused him to squeeze his eyes shut and grit his teeth. The second shot erased all feelings and he fell into the elongated strip of yellow light that came through the barred window.

  Chapter 68

  As Burke sat absorbed in the taped monologue, the door abruptly burst open behind him and a flat voice said, "Don't move, Mr. Hill, we have work to do."

  Burke had laid the Smith & Wesson, along with his topcoat, on the chair beside him. He didn't even bother to look at it. It was useless now.

  The black-clothed figure moved around in front of him.

  "Hwang Sang-sol," Burke said, recognizing the eyes, the forehead, the face behind the familiar mustache. Of course, he should have known. The voice on the tape had been detailing the murders Hwang had committed, right up to that of Captain Yun.

  "Very good, Mr. Hill," Hwang said with a faint smile, more a sneer. Continuing to point the gun at Burke, he reached his other hand over to shut off the tape, then slipped it out of the recorder. "I trust you found my descriptions entertaining?"

  "You didn't keep your word," Burke said. "You promised information on who hired you, who killed Captain Yun."