Dead End Deal

by Allen Wyler

  “No,” he answered bitterly. “Not as long as the police want me.”

  “How can I help you?”

  The walls of the small apartment seemed to close in on him. “I can’t stay here. I do, they’ll find me for sure.”

  “My friend isn’t home, so I talked to her on her cell. She’ll be home later. We can wait here until then. Or,” her face brightened, “you still owe me dinner.”

  A quick check of his cell charge showed the battery critically low. He also worried about his appearance. By now, every cop in Seoul had probably memorized a detailed description of him. Which, now that he thought about it, probably explained how the cop spotted him so easily outside the Intercontinental. He held up the cell. “I need to find a charger for this. And, I need fresh clothes. Know any stores open this time of night?”

  “No problem. There are several close by.” She jumped up and held out her hand for him. “Let’s go.”

  IN A SMALL dressing room Jon pulled on a pair of denim jeans and a black polo shirt. A perfect fit. He’d already selected a fairly good Ralph Lauren knockoff of a black shirt with epaulets. He undressed, removed the price tags, and redressed. Jon also bought a pair of Nike running shoes, a disposable cell, a charger for his Droid, and a small black gym bag to store everything. He was surprised at not thinking of getting a new cell sooner. He opted for one that gave him 200 minutes of international calling time. If that didn’t last until he got out of here, well. . . .

  Now packed, he opened the dressing room door and headed for the cashier, Yeonhee falling in beside him. Initially, he worried about paying by credit card, but figured Park already knew he still in the area so what difference did it make?

  Holding Yeonhee’s hand and acting like a couple, they walked back to the apartment from the restaurant. For the first time since meeting her at the Ritz-Carlton, she seemed relaxed.

  She said, “Come, we go to Gayeon’s apartment now.”

  “Hold on, let me make a call.”

  “No. It can wait until you’re off the street.”

  Good point. He slid the cell phone back into his pocket.

  Gayeon’s apartment was slightly bigger than Yeonhee’s, a one-bedroom affair with a double bed. She worked as a secretary at a large company, Yeonhee told him. She was thin and strikingly beautiful, a few inches shorter than Yeonhee with a flatter face with pronounced cheekbones and equally large, innocent almond eyes. Oversized glasses gave her a studious appearance.

  As Yeonhee introduced them Gayeon smiled, bowed, and blushed.

  “She speaks less English than I do,” Yeonhee explained.

  “Thank you for sharing your apartment,” he said to her.

  She put perfectly manicured fingernails to her lips and glanced at Yeonhee with a giggle. Yeonhee muttered a stern reply in Korean. Then to Jon: “Make your calls now, okay?”

  Wayne answered immediately. “My God, Jon, you okay? I’ve been worried sick when I didn’t hear back from you. Get hold of Fisher or the embassy yet?”

  “Yeah, but I’m getting jammed. Park notified the embassy before I called so the guy I talked to—Bundy something—says there’s a warrant out for my arrest, which, according to him means there’s no way they can help.”

  “Aw shit, this just keeps getting better, doesn’t it?”

  Yeonhee whispered to Gayeon as both of them sat on floor cushions, watching him.

  “How about you? Do any better on finding a lawyer?”

  “At least that’s good news. I called around. Remember that thing a year or so ago with Tom McCarthy?” McCarthy, another Seattle neurosurgeon, had been falsely accused of stealing classified material from the military.

  “Yeah?”

  “Figured he might know someone, so called him. He recommended a guy named Palmer Davidson. I got hold of him and explained your situation. He said there’s nothing he can do in Seoul, that you’ll have to find someone there, but went on to say that if you can figure out a way to get back home, he’s happy to represent you. He made a point of saying to get out of there with or without a passport. Meaning if you have to, find a way to get one illegally. Way he sees it you wouldn’t be heading back to Seoul any time soon, so screw ‘em.”

  “Bundy basically said the same thing. I just haven’t had time to do anything about it. And really don’t know where to start.”

  “That anything Jin-Woo might help you with? You’d think with all those cousins of his, one of them would have a connection.” Seemed like Jin-Woo had a cousin in every business they’d ever discussed.

  He’d already considered and rejected that possibility. “No good. I don’t want to contact him. Park had him in for questioning earlier today and for all I know, he may still be there. And you better believe that before they release him, Park will lean on him to give me up the moment he hears from me.”

  “You’re probably right.” Wayne made a little humming sound. “Know what? Somehow, I can’t believe the State Department would completely abandon a US citizen, regardless of the circumstances. Thought of trying someone other than Bundy?”

  “Yeah, but only if nothing else works. Bundy pretty much convinced me they’re not about to help.”

  “Damn!” Made the little hum again. “So how do I reach you if something happens here? The number showing up isn’t your cell.”

  “Figured that’d be too easy for Park to track, so I picked up a disposable. I plan to keep my regular cell turned off in case Park has any way to trace its GPS.” He had Yeonhee specifically check with the sales clerk to make sure his new one didn’t contain any GPS function.

  “Got it. Be careful.”

  He punched off and spent a moment reconsidering Wayne’s suggestion to call Jin-Woo. Was there any way to enlist his help and still dodge Park? Maybe he did know someone who could help him obtain a counterfeit. He dialed Jin-Woo’s cell, heard it ring until finally flipping over to voice mail. Worrisome. Maybe he was correct about Jin-Woo still being questioned by Park. Nevertheless, it was worrisome.

  41

  SOON AS JON put the phone down, Yeonhee said, “You look like you could use a drink.”

  Gayeon stood and moved to a cupboard above the sink.

  Not a bad idea. He’d done about as much as he could tonight. They’d had only tea at the restaurant, so a drink might relax him and, in turn, help jog loose an idea or two about how to find a counterfeit passport. If Park was able to track him down tonight, there wasn’t much more he could do to prevent it. Being out on the street or checking into a hotel probably carried more risk than staying here. “Sure, why not.”

  A thought hit. “Does Jin-Woo know you and Gayeon are good friends?”

  Gayeon was pulling down glasses and a fifth of Johnnie Walker Green Label from the cupboard when she paused to shoot a questioning look at Yeonhee. Yeonhee thought about it a moment. “Know what? I don’t know for sure. I may have mentioned her to him at some time, but there’s no reason that he should remember it.”

  “So, you haven’t talked about her a lot?”

  “No. Actually, I tell him very little about my personal life.”

  He trusted her judgment.

  Gayeon served them each a glass of scotch, neat. They raised glasses in a silent toast, sipped, then sat on floor cushions, each absorbed in their private thoughts. Yeonhee suddenly looked up at Jon. “My friend Jung-Kyo has connections. Maybe he can help.”

  A twinge of jealousy tapped his heart. “The guy you’re dating?” He swallowed a large portion of the scotch, sending a burning ember down his throat on into his gut. Without a word, Gayeon took his glass and returned to the counter for a refill.

  Yeonhee blushed. “Yes.” Then quickly added, “He’s an important man. Maybe he knows people who can take care of it.”

  Made sense. More importantly, he didn’t have a better idea. “Worth a try.” Then remembered her complaint the other night, of Jung-Kyo’s jealousy. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”

  For a moment the question
seemed to embarrass her, but it quickly vanished. “If he can do it, he’ll do it for me.”

  Jon wasn’t so sure it was a good idea, yet didn’t see another option. “Okay, give him a call and ask.”

  She dialed a number, listened, apparently got no answer, so dumped the cell back into her purse. “He didn’t answer his cell and it’s too late to call his office. When he’s out drinking with friends he doesn’t answer or just can’t hear the ring. I’ll try his office in the morning, when I know he’s at work.”

  Gayeon stood and held out her hand. Yeonhee fumbled through her purse a moment and came away with a set of keys she handed her.

  Jon held up his hand to stop whatever was about to happen. “Wait a minute. Where’s she going?”

  Yeonhee seemed surprised at the question. “She stays at my place. We stay here.”

  Sort of what it looked like might happen. “Not a good idea. The police already know about you. If Park came to the lab he might come to your place too. They find her there, they’ll know where to look next.”

  Yeonhee shook her head as if disappointed in herself for not having thought of this. “Know what? You’re right.” Then rattled off a few words to Gayeon.

  Gayeon glanced at Jon and smiled.

  “What?” Jon asked, frustrated being unable to understand one word they said.

  “She wants you to take the bedroom. We sleep here.”

  “Where?” He scanned the room, seeing nothing to sleep on. “On the cushions?”

  Yeonhee laughed at him. “Yes. On the floor. Koreans sleep on the floor all the time. Is not a problem.”

  “That’s not right. She’s our hostess. I’ll take the cushion and you two take the bed.”

  Yeonhee shook her head. “No. You’re her guest. You get the bed. She already changed the sheets. To do otherwise would not be polite.”

  The cramped, hot bedroom contained a double bed, a dresser, a small square bedside table with a thin black tensor lamp and a CD player on it, and barely enough room to navigate around the bed. It reminded him of the stateroom he and Emily shared on a cruise. Wearing only shorts, he stretched out on the top of the bed, turned off the small lamp, and listened to the hushed voices of the two women chatting softly in the other room. For the first time in what seemed like days, he could luxuriate with his thoughts. As he lay still, trying to relax and allow sleep to come, he became aware of other sounds. A toilet flushed upstairs, sending a rush of water down a pipe in the wall. Outside a dog barked. A door slammed. A jet passed overhead. Soon heavy fatigue dragged him into deep sleep.

  42

  YEONHEE CROSSED HER arms and leaned against the door jamb, watching Jon sleep. She debated how best to wake him, resisting the urge to do so with a gentle kiss on the cheek or by running her fingers through his brown hair. Seeing him sleep seemed pleasingly intimate, a sight she would only experience if they were “involved.” What would it be like to be involved with him? Would he be jealous, like Jung-Kyo? She thought not. He was more confident of himself than Jung-Kyo. Behind her, in the living room, Gayeon moved quietly, straightening up cushions and preparing the table for breakfast.

  Before falling asleep last night she debated the best way to approach Jung-Kyo about the passport. And now this issue still weighed heavily on her mind. No matter how delicately she worded the request, there was no way to actually get a passport without mentioning Jon’s name. Eventually. As soon as she did, Jon would be at Jung-Kyo’s mercy. Which would, she felt certain, be a problem. . . . Not to mention the things he’d accuse them of . . .

  So, she decided to make the proposal in stages. First step would be to ask if he had the proper connections to obtain a false passport. If so, she would line everything up before actually giving him Jon’s name. The passport picture would be the easiest part and could be done before that. And if Jung-Kyo pushed her, as she knew he would, there would be every reason to be evasive. If he knew the document was for Jon—or any man, for that matter—he’d make a scene. That she could handle. What worried her most was the possibility he’d notify the police immediately. And be totally self-righteous when he did it. Then justify his jealous action by claiming the police were, after all, hunting Jon. Jung-Kyo was like that: always making excuses for what really amounted to petty jealousy. But, it was more than that. It was a control issue. He always had to be the one to control the relationship. If the tables were turned, if it were Jung-Kyo who needed help leaving the States, how would Jon react? Very differently, she suspected.

  She settled for simply saying, “Jon, wake up,” and not touching him.

  WHEN JON CAME out of the small bathroom after washing up, Gayeon was at a two-burner hotplate brewing tea and cooking rice. Yeonhee, wearing a pair of back jeans and a Chicago Bulls sweatshirt, was dishing out three servings of kimchi with a set of long silver chopsticks. Breakfast, Korean style.

  They sat on cushions and ate at the low table but didn’t talk.

  Breakfast finished, Yeonhee began to straighten up the kitchen while Gayeon took her turn in the small bathroom. This gave Jon an opportunity to telephone the embassy again. It required two separate conversations with low-level bureaucrats before finally being transferred to the consular officer, Warren Hamilton. Last night while waiting for sleep he debated how best to approach the subject and decided simply to throw himself on their mercy.

  Jon started with, “Mr. Hamilton, Jon Ritter. Did Bundy tell you I called yesterday?”

  “He did, and I’m well aware of your situation. As I understand it, he gave you some very good advice. Have you looked into his suggestion?”

  A lead weight settled in his gut. Hamilton had just landed a pre-emptive strike. The man had no intention of helping Jon leave the country.

  “Are you recording this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Then, for the record, I didn’t kill anybody. If the police have evidence to the contrary, I would love to see it. I’m being framed.” His well-planned speech suddenly vaporized in a blitz of emotion. “Can we meet face to face? I need to tell you my side of this.”

  “Why? What good would that do? This is a legal issue that doesn’t involve the State Department at all,” Hamilton said emphatically.

  “At least give me a chance to explain my side of this. I didn’t murder those patients. My whole research career was dependent on their outcome. The last thing I wanted was a complication. Okay, this sounds paranoid, but bear with me: an anti-abortion group is trying to ruin me. They’re responsible for this. You can verify this with one quick phone call to the Seattle field office of the FBI. Ask for Special Agent Gary Fisher. He’ll confirm every word of this.”

  “Dr. Ritter—”

  “No! Listen. Please. If those two patients were murdered, then the Nuremberg Avengers are responsible. They did it to destroy me and my work. Look at their website. Ask Fisher. They murdered Gabriel Lippmann when they attacked me a week ago. Fisher and the Seattle Police can verify this because it’s true.”

  “Let me—”

  Why wouldn’t anyone listen to him? “Verify it! Please! Call Fisher. He knows. He’ll vouch for what I just told you.”

  “Hold on,” this time even more emphatic, not giving Jon a chance to interrupt again. “Let me explain something before you go any further. None of what you’re telling me matters.”

  The words floored him. “Doesn’t matter? What the hell do you—”

  “Let’s cut to the chase. I may be a bureaucrat, but I’m not stupid. I know what you’re asking. You want me to facilitate your exit of this country. In other words commit a crime.”

  “Right. Exactly! I’m being framed for a murder I didn’t commit. Why should I want to stay here and . . . ” What could he say to be convincing? “You’d be asking the same thing if you were me.”

  “Let me explain a few facts. I work for the State Department. I, and all the other personnel stationed here, have nothing to do with the Korean judicial system. We cannot, and will not, interfere with their
system in any way. Rightly or wrongly accused, you will need to deal with them on their terms. If this means you must stand trial in a court of law, so be it.”

  Abandonment, betrayal, and anger swirled through Jon’s mind. Anger came out on top. “Don’t hand me that holier-than-thou shit. I remember a news story from several years ago . . . a US citizen working for a contractor in some place like Mongolia ended up charged with killing a man. I don’t remember the exact details, but I do remember the government allowed him to return home until the trial. He later went back to that country to be proven innocent of any crime. Why can’t you arrange the same type of thing for me?”

  “I too remember that case. For your edification the dispute centered on whether the death happened to be an on-the-job accident. That’s significantly different from your situation. In your particular case, the police claim premeditated first-degree murder, for which you were detained, but then you orchestrated an armed escape from detention.”

  Why isn’t he listening to me? “How could that possibly be? What could possibly be my motivation? Why would I do that? The only thing I did involving the patients was observe surgery. In fact, I never met either of them until the moment I walked into the OR, and then they were under anesthesia.” Not exactly the whole truth, but he wasn’t making headway otherwise.

  “So you say. The Seoul police provide quite a different version. Correct me if I’m wrong, but here’s the official police version: you came to Seoul with the very specific intent of conducting research you were prohibited from doing at home. You pressured your friend Jin-Woo Lee into helping you. Then you instructed him to intentionally deceive Tyasami hospital personnel into believing you were conducting quite a different surgery than scheduled so you could conduct your research. You’re saying this is all a pack of lies?”

  Jon was speechless. Factually, Hamilton’s version was closer to the true than his version. But the way he told it made his actions sound so . . . slimy. And not even close to his intent. Pressure Jin-Woo? No, not at all. That was a lie.