by Un-su Kim
‘He has no choice. Without his ledgers, he’s dead anyway. And he doesn’t have time to pull any stunts right now. With everything that’s going on, even a nine-tailed fox would have to come out of its hole.’
‘What about you? How do you plan to get away after making your deal with Hanja? His people will be all over you like a swarm of bees. Dealing with them is not like twirling a pen and scribbling down schemes. They’re highly trained.’
‘I won’t get away,’ she said nonchalantly.
‘You won’t get away?’ Reseng cocked his head.
Mito sat down at the table.
‘The only way to fight is to go into the tiger’s den. For both Hanja and me. The prosecution will be investigating a suitcase full of cash, Hanja’s ledgers, Dr Kang’s data and me, Dr Kang’s assistant—South Korea’s greatest contract kill broker and plotter. Can you imagine how many people that will put on edge?’
Mito was smiling. She was clearly amused. But what on earth was so funny about this?
‘You plan to die there.’
‘Not without a fight.’
‘You could just smoke him out. That’s your specialty.’
‘That only works for catching rabbits.’
‘If you go in, then who’ll take care of the rest?’
‘Sumin will. She’ll control the flow of information, release it at the right times. She’s better at that than I am. Information management is her specialty, after all.’
‘That’s true. That cross-eyed librarian really does have a knack for keeping things organised. You two are a good fit.’ He sneered. ‘Like Tweedledum and Tweedledee. But I doubt you two could even catch a rabbit.’
‘If I get caught, Sumin will start feeding out information. She’ll do it gradually, just enough to keep everyone on their toes. She’ll send it to newspapers and TV stations, or post it online. She could even email it to hundreds or thousands of people. When they open it, the email will automatically forward to everyone else in their address books. After a few days, millions of people could have their hands on the information.’
‘You don’t seriously think an email virus is enough to protect you, do you?’
‘They won’t be able to kill me right away. Not until they track down the host.’
Mito looked serious. Reseng leaned back and lit a cigarette.
‘Then I inflated the ransom to three billion won for no reason,’ he said. ‘The prosecution will just keep it for themselves.’
‘Three billion?’
‘Of course. Seven hundred and fifty million split between four people isn’t much.’
‘So you demanded three billion instead?’
Mito glared at him. She looked genuinely upset. Reseng gave her a chastened nod. After a moment, her face softened.
‘You were really planning to split it with us?’ she asked.
‘Of course.’
‘That’s pretty quick thinking for that empty head of yours.’
She smiled and took a sip of tea, then reached over for one of Reseng’s cigarettes. As she smoked, she picked up a paper from the table at random and put it down again.
‘I scanned every single one of these. They explain all the secret stuff that takes place behind the scenes. All the ugly, lowdown fights that have happened. So many people died, and no one knew the truth behind their deaths. Not their friends or family or even the victims themselves. I think half the battle will be won simply by releasing this information to the world. Even if I die, it will still reach thousands upon thousands of people. Some of those people will be brave or reckless enough to rise up, and some among those will be willing to fight.’
‘You seriously think there’s another crazy bitch out there like you who’ll rise up?’
Mito sat deep in thought, without answering. Then she asked, ‘Did you bring the book?’
‘Nope.’
‘You didn’t look for it? Or you couldn’t find it?’
‘It’s not in the basement. It’ll be hard to find as long as Old Raccoon’s alive. Actually, it’ll be hard to find after he’s dead, too. At any rate, I don’t think there ever was a leather-bound book as you described.’
Mito looked disappointed. But she shrugged it off and went over to the desk, took an envelope from the drawer and offered it to him.
‘What is that?’
‘A plot that will keep you alive, just as I promised. Since you’re in this deep, you can’t just brazenly go on living. You’ll have to die and come back to life.’
‘When did you come up with it?’
‘In the beginning was the Plot…I’ve had it since I first laid eyes on you.’
She handed him the envelope. It looked like all the other envelopes plotters used to send to the library. Reseng pulled out the paper inside and skimmed it. It was a car accident plot.
‘All you have to do is exactly what’s written there,’ she said. ‘Just do what it says to the letter, and don’t get cocky. You’ll need to make a few changes to your car and put a body in it. You know how to find a dead body, right?’
‘This is a pretty clichéd plot.’
‘All good plots are. Special cases call for special plots; ordinary cases, ordinary plots.’
‘Will they fall for it?’
‘So you do want to live!’
She was making fun of him.
‘Well, if there’s no reason I have to die,’ he said, self-consciously. ‘But what about you?’
‘What about me?’
‘Do you have to die?’
‘If I’m not doing this, then I have no reason to live.’
‘What about Misa?’
Mito hesitated before answering.
‘I’m not like the Barber. He used his daughter to justify his actions, but it’s not the same for me with Misa. This world isn’t a mess because people are evil. It’s because everyone has their own stories and excuses for doing bad things. But I’m not stupid or insensitive enough to use my sister to fool myself. To put it simply, I can’t live like that. I’m wired differently.’
‘I’ve only met one other person like you in my whole life. Cold as a reptile. He’s cold because he hates himself more than he hates the world, and he can never truly accept anyone, because he doesn’t know how to accept himself. That person is Old Raccoon.’
Mito considered this for a moment and nodded.
‘Get some sleep,’ she said. ‘Misa’s bed is empty.’ Her face as she rose from the chair suddenly looked very tired. ‘If I get caught and you survive, will you look after Misa? Just until the coast is clear. Three years will do.’
‘You would trust your angelic little sister to an assassin like me? Are you crazy?’
‘Besides my sister, I know you better than anyone. I’ve been watching you and researching you for a long time. But more than that, my sister likes you.’
Reseng didn’t say anything. She waited a moment for his answer and then went into her room. Half-heartedly, he skimmed the document she’d given him and shoved it back into the envelope. Then he went downstairs and lay on the bed in Misa’s room. The pillow, the blanket and the sheets all smelled like Misa. They were as soft as freshly laundered baby clothes hanging in the sun. The moment he closed his eyes, he fell asleep. He slept deeply for the first time in a very long time.
Reseng was wakened by a warm sensation against his cheek. Misa was looking down at him.
‘Sorry to wake you,’ she said.
‘That’s okay, I should get up anyway. What time is it?’
‘Two in the afternoon. I’m leaving now.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Japan. One of our distant relatives owns an onsen spa.’
Reseng got out of bed. Outside the window, Mito was loading Misa’s bags into the car. The cross-eyed librarian came into the room.
‘Misa, you don’t want to miss your plane,’ Sumin said.
‘You should visit me sometime. Come with Mito and Sumin. It’s a really nice place.’
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sp; Reseng nodded. Misa smiled brightly. The librarian looked at her watch again. Misa waved goodbye to Reseng and wheeled out of the cabin. He followed her. The car was packed with far too much luggage for a short trip. Mito picked up Misa and put her in the car, then folded the wheelchair. Misa rolled down the window and looked at Reseng and the librarian.
‘Sumin, bring him with you when you visit me!’ she said with a wave.
The librarian waved back. Reseng waved too. Mito gave the librarian a look and turned to Reseng.
‘Will you be here when I get back?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, I’ll be here,’ he said.
Mito got in the car and left. Misa waved her hand out the window until they were out of sight. The car made its way down the forest road, leaving Reseng and the librarian alone. They looked at each other awkwardly.
‘Now that Misa’s gone, all that’s left is for you and Mito to die, right?’ he asked sarcastically.
Sumin gazed off down the road, her face imperturbable.
‘You won’t succeed. Mito will die, and so will you,’ he added.
She turned to glare at him.
‘Better to die than to live like a dead person,’ she said. ‘I’ve had enough of that.’
X
His watch read 5:00 a.m. Reseng got out of bed, dressed and went into the bathroom to wash the face looking back at him from the mirror. The face had a dark cloud hanging over it. Reseng recognised the cloud as fear. He dried his face on a towel and went into the other room, where he packed his belongings and put the bag on the table. He went over to Mito’s room, steadied his breath and crept inside. Mito was lying in bed. Her face looked haggard, no doubt from all her long days and late nights. Reseng opened the chloroform bottle and tipped some onto a handkerchief, then held it over Mito’s nose and mouth. Her eyes flew open and she stared at him for three long seconds. Her eyes held no fear or surprise, only disappointment bordering on despair. After a moment, she passed out.
Reseng pulled two bags from under Mito’s bed. One contained Hanja’s ledgers, and the other contained guns, explosives and all the other items Mito had prepared for her meeting with Hanja. Reseng took a quick inventory of the second bag and zipped it shut. Then he took it with him, grabbing the bag he’d left on the table as well. After a quick glance at the librarian’s room, he left the cabin.
Reseng called Hanja as soon as he arrived in Seoul.
‘You got the money?’ Reseng asked.
‘It’s ready. What do you plan to do?’ Hanja sounded exasperated.
‘Leave the country. You know I have no other choice.’
Hanja fumed. ‘Watch yourself. I assure you, you will never pull this off.’
‘Wait for my next call, and don’t do anything stupid. The moment you do, you’ll be stepping on thin ice.’
Reseng hung up and turned off his phone.
He got in a cab and headed for G World: around a central plaza was a hotel, a shopping mall and a small theme park. Reseng surveyed the shopping mall. Two glass lifts went up and down the outside of the eleven-storey building. A skybridge connected the mall to the hotel on the seventh floor. Reseng got into one of the lifts and pressed all the buttons. A middle-aged woman in the lift gave him a look of supreme annoyance.
‘Sorry, ma’am. Routine inspection.’
She nodded apologetically. Each time the door opened, Reseng got out to look around before getting back in and riding up to the next floor. For almost an hour, he alternated between the two lifts before heading back down to the middle of the plaza, where he sat on a bench and smoked a cigarette. Two pigeons flapped giddily around the plaza, snatching bread and biscuit crumbs from the ground. They’ve got wings. Why they don’t fly out of this miserable old city? he thought with a smile. He finished his cigarette and headed for a high-end boutique in the mall, where he bought a new suit and a button-down shirt. The salesgirl offered him a shopping bag for his old clothes.
‘You can just throw them away,’ he said.
Reseng went next to a shoe shop across from the boutique and bought a pair of shoes he liked. He threw away the shoes he’d been wearing. After buying some underwear, socks and toiletries, he took the glass lift to the seventh floor and walked slowly across the skybridge to the hotel. He crossed back and forth three times before heading to the restaurant in the hotel’s sky lounge. A stately waiter in his early fifties greeted Reseng and told him the day’s special was dry-aged Hanwoo sirloin.
‘Dry-aged? What is that?’ Reseng said with a smile.
While the waiter explained the difference between wet and dry ageing, Reseng studied the shopping mall on the other side of the skybridge.
‘So, would you like to try the special?’ the waiter asked.
‘Sure, I’ll have that.’
The steak turned out to be delicious. Steak was the most requested final meal for Americans on death row. The carnivorous desire for raw flesh lurking behind the veil of cooked meat. The taste of blood bursting in your mouth as you chew on another mammal’s flesh. Mourners at a funeral eat meat together because that is the privilege of the survivors, and proof of their strong desire to go on living. Reseng savoured his food as if he were a death-row inmate and gazed at the glass of red wine that came with the special. He didn’t usually drink while working. He picked it up and took a sip. Meat and blood. That’s why people love steak, he thought, that cannibalistic instinct hidden inside their neatly pressed suits.
When he had finished eating, Reseng went down to the hotel lobby and booked a room on the seventh floor with a view of the plaza. He took a long bath, washed and combed his hair, and applied toner and lotion to his face. He looked at himself in the mirror. The scar from the Barber’s knife stood out vividly on his right cheek.
‘You handsome son of a bitch,’ Reseng said to his reflection. ‘That scar only makes you sexier.’
Reseng put on his new underwear, shirt and suit. He strapped the holster over his shoulder, the PB-6P9 fitted with the silencer on his right side and Chu’s Henckels on his left. He took a .38 revolver from Mito’s bag and tucked it into the back of his waistband, then put three PB-6P9 cartridges in his right jacket pocket and thirty bullets for the revolver in his left jacket pocket. His preparations complete, Reseng sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the sun to set.
After darkness had fallen and all the lights had come on in the glass-fronted shopping mall, Reseng called Hanja.
‘G World. Shopping Mall. Gate 1. Come alone.’
He hung up and turned off the phone. After half an hour, Hanja arrived at Gate 1. At first glance he appeared to be by himself. He was dragging two wheeled suitcases. Presumably the larger bag was for the billion won in notes, and the smaller one for the bearer bonds. Reseng took out his binoculars and inspected the east and west ends of the plaza, the mall entrances and the emergency stairwell on each floor. He turned his phone back on.
‘Go to the seventh-floor lift.’
Hanja dragged the suitcases onto the lift and got off at the seventh floor. Reseng called him again.
‘Emergency stairs, eleventh floor.’ He hung up.
When Hanja was in front of the eleventh-floor emergency stairs, Reseng called again.
‘Third-floor lift.’
‘Sixth-floor bag department.’
…
…
…
‘First-floor convenience store.’
By the tenth call, Hanja was losing his patience. ‘What the fuck is this? Obedience school?’
‘You’re pretty well-trained for a mutt. Take a break in the second glass lift. You earned it.’
Reseng hung up. Hanja dragged the bags back over to the lift. Each time Hanja moved, Reseng checked the mall entrances, the lifts and the emergency stairwells through the binoculars. Hanja had brought seventeen assassins with him. Two were posted at each of the mall’s four entrances, two were to the left and right of the emergency stairs, one was near the front of the lift on the first floor, one was near th
e lift on the eleventh floor, two were on the skybridge, and the guy directing all the action was standing in the middle of the plaza. There were probably more in the parking lot and on the roof, and there would also be a car waiting at the kerb outside. Reseng grabbed his bag, put on his sunglasses and headed out of the hotel room. Two brawny men in suits were standing at the end of the skybridge, examining everyone as they walked by. When Reseng was about to pass them, one of the men raised his hand.
‘Hey, you in the glasses.’
Reseng pulled out the gun with the silencer and shot both men in the leg. As they fell, Reseng shot the bigger of the two twice more in the thigh, and the smaller guy once more in the thigh. He pulled out the cartridge and slid in a new one. When he’d gone a few more steps, he heard screams behind him. He walked briskly over to the second of the glass lifts and stood in front, pushing the buttons for both. The few seconds it took for the lift to descend from the ninth floor to the seventh felt like an eternity.
The door opened. Hanja was inside. Reseng pulled the .38 from the back of his pants and fired two shots into the ceiling of the lift. Everyone screamed and dashed out. Hanja stared at him in shock. Reseng fired two bullets into Hanja’s right knee. Hanja shrieked and collapsed against the back wall. A portly, middle-aged gentleman was cowering in the corner; he hadn’t escaped with the others. Reseng pressed the emergency stop and tapped the man on the shoulder.
‘Mister? Everyone’s gone. Sure you want to stay?’ he asked.
The man looked up at him and rushed out of the lift. Hanja used the distraction to try to pull a gun from inside his jacket, but Reseng shot him in the right arm and shoulder. He took Hanja’s gun and stashed it in his bag, then emptied the revolver’s spent casings onto the floor and quickly reloaded it with the bullets in his pocket. He took explosives and duct tape out of Mito’s bag and taped a bomb to the outside of the lift, then lit a Molotov cocktail and waited for the first lift to reach the seventh floor. When the door opened, he fired bullets into the ceiling again to drive everyone off, then threw the Molotov cocktail and a small can of paint thinner into the first lift. The inside was quickly engulfed in flames. Reseng got back in the second lift and shut the door. Hanja groaned and stared at Reseng.