by James Church
"I always meant to take that boat," Pak said. "Maybe I'll write a list of things I meant to do."
Kang clucked his tongue. "Too soon to be morose. No one will make a move yet."
Maybe it was his tone of voice, but I felt a sudden surge of anger.
"You are pretty calm about this. You've been awfully damn calm the whole time, even in Manpo after you killed Chong."
Pak's right hand moved slightly. I thought he might be going for his gun. "Chong? The guy they were asking me about?"
Kang didn't change expression. "The inspector didn't tell you about our adventure?" He laughed. "Did he tell you about his Finnish girlfriend?"
Pak's hand stayed put. "It must be raining Finns. We're drowning in them. Come to think of it, I never did get a report, Inspector."
"No time for that." Kang nodded at three men who had just stepped into the restaurant. One of them was Colonel Kim. He was wearing civilian clothes; the two others were in well-fitting Military Security uniforms, fine buttons and all. Kim glanced out the window at us. He caught my eye and held it, then looked away and followed the restaurant manager to a private room off to the side. The manager, a tall man with a sad face, was sweating profusely. He did not look happy to see Kim.
Kang had already started down the steps to the parking lot, two at a time. "I'll meet you at the monuments." He flashed that smile of his, the one with the teeth. "Should be a splendid view."
Pak started his car and then turned the ignition off. "What's going on? Why didn't you tell me about Chong?"
"Chong? Arab blood? I started to, but you said you didn't want to know."
He gave me an acid look. "I didn't need to know if you two were acquainted.
That's a hell of a lot different from knowing one of my inspectors was present when Kang shot a Military Security operative. Did you at least report it to someone?"
"Ha! He didn't shoot him. It was a rock." Pak stared out the windshield.
"Kang said not to report it. He had some sort of operation under way at a compound in the hills just below where it happened, and he didn't want activity."
"What compound?"
"I don't know. He said it was run by Military Security, and he wanted me to get inside, but then you found the Finn and I had to come home."
"Did Kang seem rattled that I ordered you back here?"
"Kang? You've got to be kidding. Even when those three guys were frying in the jeep-"
"What jeep?"
I paused. "Let me give you the whole story as we drive." When I finished, Pak pulled into a narrow side street where an ice cream vendor had set up in the shade of three enormous mulberry trees. A few of the customers looked over when the car stopped next to the curb, but on a sunny afternoon, eating ice cream beats staring at a parked car. After a minute, no one looked to be paying much attention.
"You go back to the office." Pak ran his fingers through his hair.
"Take the bus, if it's running today. No one will be laying for you on a city bus. I saw the way Kim sneered at you in the restaurant. They may not be tailing us right now, but it won't take them long to locate our cars.
"This is what you meant, isn't it, about all hell breaking loose.
They're about to move in on Kang, and you think you're on the list, too. Have you been working for Kang? Military Security has no reason to get you. You weren't there when Chong was killed." Pak didn't say anything. "Does it go back farther? You and Kang?"
"What you don't know, Inspector, can't hurt you."
"I'm not worried about what I don't know. I'm worried about you.
Why don't you go back to the office? Or better yet, get over to the Ministry.
The Minister won't let Military Security into the building. I can get to the monuments from here on foot. There won't be any trouble there. I think they're still waiting for something. That look from Kim wasn't the one a snake gives before it strikes. More like an invitation to play a little longer. Come on, mouse, try to get away. Anyhow, I have some business with Kang."
Pak reached over and opened my door. "Nope. You're outvoted, comrade. The People's Committee of Ministry Unit 826 has just voted and recommends you go back to the office. Period."
"You're going to have to tell me sooner or later what this is about.
You just can't leave me dangling. Kang says you two know each other a long time." I got out and slammed the door.
Pak started the engine. "Go back to the office, straighten things up. Get to my desk. It was used by the Japanese army, probably the security people. It's not the normal junk we have. Second drawer, there's a fitted compartment. Inside is an envelope. Use it when you need it. You'll know what to do with it when the time comes. If they took apart the desk, they'd find it. Otherwise it would sit there for years, and then it would be too late. In my filing cabinet, there are transfer papers for you, a residence card, and a temporary food certificate."
"For where?"
"Not Kanggye." He smiled. Then the smile disappeared. "Stay low.
Sand your wood if that's what you need to stay sane. The unit where you're going won't ask questions. Don't raise any. And wear the fucking pin, will you?"
I started to say something, but the car pulled away. The people sitting on the curb across the street concentrated on their ice cream and pretended they hadn't heard a word.
9
Pak's phone was ringing when I walked in an hour later. As soon as I picked it up, the line went dead. My office had been searched. The sandpaper I'd left on the desk had been opened and then refolded the wrong way. Why had they driven away just after Kang came up? How did they happen into the same restaurant just as we were leaving?
The only thing I was sure of was that Pak was yelling at Kang this very minute, demanding to know why the Investigations Department had exposed one of his inspectors to danger without telling him, and warning that he was going to cut off cooperation with Kang once and for all.
Pak's phone rang again. I let it go several times before I picked it up. It was the vice minister. "Inspector, your phone seems to be disconnected."
His voice was dangerously normal, like the lid on a bottle of poison. "Get over to the Ministry, now. The Minister wants to see you. There's been an accident." Before I could ask what he meant, he hung up.
The Ministry was a five-minute car ride away. On my bicycle it would take longer. The bicycle was leaning against the tree where I had left it. It looked like the back tire had lost more air, but there wasn't much I could do about that. At the first intersection, the traffic lady whistled for me to stop and use the underpass. I ignored her. She could blow her whistle until she was red in the face, because 1 knew she didn't have a radio, and by the time a patrol car appeared to ask her what was wrong, I'd be at the Ministry. I gave her a salute as I rode by.
The guards at the Ministry's gate waved me through without asking to see my ID. The vice minister was in the Minister's outer office, sitting on a couch with an assistant, going over some papers. He pretended I wasn't there. Finally, he stood up and nodded to me. "The Minister is on the phone. As soon as he gets off, we'll go in. You will stand and listen to what he says. Don't ask him any questions, and don't comment on anything he says. When he's done, come back out here and wait for me."
"What happened? You said there was an accident?" I realized I still had the pistol in my back pocket. A good reason to let the vice minister walk ahead of me.
"Inspector, do us both a favor. Say nothing." His lips quivered with the rage that had long ago boiled away all his other emotions. "You think you're above the rest of us. You think you can ignore the regulations, sidestep politics, forget to come to the study sessions for months on end.
Sanding wood instead, like some backcountry carpenter. You don't even bother to read the editorials in the newspaper. Don't think it hasn't been noticed. Did you think you'd get away with it forever?" The vice minister's aide shot me a warning look. He never wanted trouble, always wanted things calm until he could get ou
t of the room.
The double doors to the Minister's office opened. The vice minister went in first, I followed, and the aide stepped past me into the hall, but not before he had mouthed one word: "Pak."
The Minister looked up slowly as we walked in. His face was haggard, his eyes sunk into his head, his cheeks hollow. He rested his glance for a moment on the vice minister as if he wanted to say something, then thought better of it and turned to me. "Inspector, have a seat." He gestured to a chair in front of his desk. The chair looked as frayed as he did, though it had once been a handsome piece. The arms were carved in an unusual shape, sloping down slightly and then flaring at the ends, so that whoever was sitting there did not have to grip the arms but could relax. "Your grandfather made that for me." From the corner of my eye, I could see the vice minister stiffen, and as he did, the shadow of a smile played across the Minister's face. I sat down, favoring one side. I didn't want to blow a hole in grandfather's chair, or my leg.
"Everything he did, everything he made, was perfectly planned and crafted. Not that he was perfect himself. But he left behind an example of enduring value." The Minister paused a moment to consider his next remarks. "I'm sure he passed those traits, and those values, on to you.
I've watched you for years, Inspector." He glanced at my shirt. The absence of the pin was noted with a cough.
The vice minister walked around the desk and put a piece of paper in front of the old man. The Minister read it quickly, and as he did his shoulders slumped. "On the road leading up the hill to the monuments, weapons were discharged," he said. This was very much the Minister's style. He never said "shots were fired," but rather "weapons were discharged."
He looked back down at the paper. "Your chief inspector was hit several times. He died in the hospital a short time ago. He had a pistol in his hand, an Israeli army pistol. It had been discharged twice." The Minister paused. "You were seen at lunch with him, along with an official of the Investigations Department. Do you know anything about this?"
The vice minister looked sharply at me, warning me to keep quiet.
He needn't have worried. I was stunned, feeling sick. Pak had insisted I go back to the office. Now he was dead.
The Minister stared into space briefly, lost in thought. "Chief Inspector Pak will be irreplaceable. He was truly one of our foundation stones. I don't know what we are going to do without him." He stood up and walked around the desk so he was next to me. "There will be a tough investigation, and I mean very tough, over what happened this afternoon. The only reason you aren't in custody right now is that I've personally intervened at the top." The Minister turned to the vice minister.
"Would you excuse us a moment?"
The vice minister raised a hand in protest, "Sir, I hardly think it would be proper-"
The Minister interrupted. "You let me worry about that. I'm asking you to leave my office so I can speak in private with the Inspector. Are you going to do so, or shall I have you thrown out?"
The vice minister's face became a blank mask. He gave a wooden bow and moved across the carpet to the doorway. "I'll be in my office," he said to me, and then closed the doors with an ominously gentle touch.
The Minister leaned against his desk, looking even paler and more tired than he did when we walked in. "This is the end for me. But that's not important. Things are happening. You can swim with the tide, Inspector, I won't blame you. Or you can act. But you'll have to make up your mind quickly."
I glanced around the room. The Minister shook his head. "Don't worry. This room is clean. They try every now and then, but whenever we find their handiwork, I raise hell and they have to remove everything.
Then they have to start all over. I'm surprised the walls are still standing, they've drilled so many holes for their microphones. It has become almost a joke at the parties."
"What happened to Pak?" I needed to know if he had been surprised or if he had surprised them.
"Pak and Kang were walking up the hill together. Six Military Security agents stepped out and ordered them to get on the ground. Pak drew his weapon and fired. He killed one of them before they shot him.
Kang rolled behind some boulders and fled. They are looking for him now. My information is that you spent time with Kang on the border last week. It has also come to the attention of Military Security, believe me. This case with the dead Finn you've been investigating, it also has Military Security connections."
"I realize that."
"What you don't realize is that things are moving at the top." The Minister looked at his watch. "In about two hours, the leadership meets to discuss final details on clearing away some old mistakes. These were bad mistakes, horrendous mistakes, Inspector. They will snap their fingers, and someone will take the blame. That's all I know, and now you know it. The vice minister hasn't been told any of this, not from me, anyway. Still, he's vibrating about something. He probably has his suspicions.
Watch his tongue. It darts in and out like a snake's. Maybe he can smell the fear in the wind." The Minister put on a dark, well tailored jacket and straightened his tie. "I have to go to a meeting. I may not be back." He shrugged. "Someone might need this job to be vacant.
The vice minister thinks he's going to get it." The Minister laughed, and some of the gauntness left his face. "He's in for a surprise. If I am replaced this afternoon, you're on your own, Inspector." I stood up, and we shook hands. He stepped quickly through a side door, without glancing back.
10
There was a steady stream of military traffic on the streets, jeeps barreling past, heavy trucks in twos and threes driving so fast their engines were screaming. I'd decided there was no reason to see the vice minister.
He wasn't going to do me any favors. He and Pak had been enemies; now he was mine as well. He'd try to get rid of me if he could, but from what the Minister had said, Yun was going to have trouble just watching his own back. Without Pak or the Minister, my own back was none too safe, either, but if I kept a low profile in the middle of this political typhoon, no one would notice me, except Military Security.
Kim had put me in his sights, but first he wanted Kang.
I needed to get rid of the pistol in my back pocket. I needed to get to Pak's office before anyone else did, to look at his files. Riding my bicycle seemed like a bad idea-too many army vehicles with bad brakes going at high speed. It would take twenty minutes on foot, but I could go on the path by the river most of the way. The walk rarely was crowded, and I knew there were no patrols down there except at night, looking for drunks sleeping on the benches.
Walking gave me time to think. By the time I was nearing the office, I knew I had to forget the Finn. The Finn wasn't important; his identity wasn't important; in some ways, even his killer wasn't important. What mattered to me was Pak. Why was he dead? It wasn't an accident. It was almost as if he had set it up himself, part of a script he had written a long time ago but couldn't play out until now. He had trusted Kang, he had helped Kang, and Kang left him to die. There must have been some bond between them. Maybe there was something in the papers Pak told me to get from his desk. I stopped and looked at the river. Pak was gone. Any bond he had with Kang had died with him. Kang was smooth. Kang was clever. Kang used people, but he wasn't going to use me, not anymore. I needed to be alone with the man for just a few minutes.
After he gave me some answers, I would deal with him.
The guard at the gate to our compound had been changed, but no one stopped me as I walked past. There were no cars parked outside.
The street was deserted except for an old woman and a boy, who bounced a red ball against the compound's wall.
The drawers on Pak's desk were locked, but I knew he kept a key in the top drawer of his file cabinet. There was a pile of folders in the drawer. As I flipped through them, I saw they all concerned Koreans from Japan who had died over the years under suspicious circumstances.
I recognized only one of the cases, a couple killed when their car was hit h
ead on by an army truck that had crossed over the center line on the highway to Hyangsan. Two farmers had witnessed the collision.
They said the truck didn't even apply its brakes. The incident happened just inside our jurisdiction, and Pak had insisted that we start an investigation, even though we weren't equipped to deal with traffic accidents.
The day after I called around for information on the truck's unit, Military Security moved in, took over, and told us to drop the case. They never shared their findings, but Pak found out through his own channels that the truck driver was not disciplined and, six months later, received a promotion.
We closed the case, and I forgot about it. Pak, it was clear, did not.
He had kept the files active, feeding in bits and pieces of information, mostly from sources I'd never heard of. I dumped the folders back and dug around for the key. It was buried in a corner, under a pile of pamphlets from Japanese travel agencies. Folded up with them was the front page of an edition of the party newspaper from a year ago. It carried a government statement on improving relations with Japan. Pak had underlined a few sentences in pencil, and at the bottom of the statement he had written, "Reckoning." There was another article, from a Japanese newspaper. I couldn't read it, but there was a picture of a small boy holding a cat.
For all these years that Pak and I had worked together, sometimes seven days a week for months at a time, I had fooled myself into thinking we knew each other's rhymes and rhythms perfectly. Yet here, in his desk, was evidence I didn't know him very well after all. He never said anything about it, but all these years he had been focused on Japan.