James Church - A Corpse in the Koryo

That's how you deliver it."

"I could just take it and you'd never know what happened. I could take it back and have my people open it, then seal it up again."

"You could also shoot yourself between the eyes. It would be quicker."

"I could kill you right now, you know, say you tried to run." He didn't sound troubled.

"Not now, Colonel. Later, if you like."

He took a polished gold case from his breast pocket, a remarkably thin case that fit perfectly in his hand. He removed a cigarette, looked at it thoughtfully, then struck a match on the side of my desk. The match flared; the sound seemed to grow beyond the flame, then stopped abruptly as he dropped it on the desktop, near the envelope. We both watched as the match consumed itself.

I could see that Kim was not sure of his next move. The envelope was not something he'd planned for. He looked around the room, then up at the ceiling. "Too bad."

"What?" I thought he meant that the envelope hadn't burned.

He struck another match and lit the cigarette, inhaling slowly so the tobacco at the tip glowed for a long time. "Too bad you'll never know what that molding was meant to be." He coughed, dropped the cigarette to the floor, and ground it under the heel of his boot.

I picked up the envelope and lazily fanned the cigarette smoke away from the desk. "Take it, Kim. Deliver it to one person and one person only."

"Are you giving me orders, Inspector? I think not." But there was no edge to his tone.

"A simple chain of custody. From me to you. From you"-I paused and then heard what I knew I'd say all along-"to my brother."

Kim's lips pulled back in a half snarl. "I don't work for you. And I don't work for your brother."

I dropped the envelope onto the desk. Kim stood there, rigid, his mind tumbling as he tried to regain his balance. He picked up the envelope with a quick motion. "What's in it?"

"Names, dates."

"Meaning you don't know."

"If I were you, Kim, I wouldn't start to gamble so late in my career."

Kim was waiting. He was waiting for me to swallow too hard, breathe too deep, blink my eyes too fast-anything that would tell him that I was nervous, that I was lying, that I was a dead man.

I remembered my grandfather. I remembered the trees lining the road in front of our village. I remembered how, the first time the old man had taken me with him to Pyongyang, I'd watched the setting sun run alongside the train. It had turned red as it touched the horizon, then flared against the paddies so they sparkled like a jeweled necklace reaching to the hills. That calmed me. I could afford to blink my eyes.

Kim turned toward the window, maybe to give himself a moment to think. It was the wrong move, and he knew it right away. In the half second it took him to turn back to me, it was too late. The rhythm had changed. I wasn't about to let it shift back again. The only thing to do was to press him, change the subject slightly, make him respond to me.

"You made a mistake, Colonel. You thought you could scare me on that hillside."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You shot one of Kang's men, machine-gunned a wounded man.

First you blew up the Reunification Highway."

"Inspector, I'm surprised at you. I'm operating under orders. The blue car was illegal. It was coming from the south. It might have been an enemy agent for all I knew. Maybe even an assassin. We protected the leadership. You were a witness to that."

"No, I saw something else."

"Is that right? You and who else?"

"You know who. The local security man, Li."

"Yes, Li. Must have been a shock to him. He died not long after. It looks like it was a heart attack. You knew him? My condolences. And you, Inspector, you worked for a man who was killed in a firefight with an operations team performing its duty to arrest an enemy of the state.

Two enemies, actually."

"So, you finally made your move against Kang." I paused. It was time to double the bluff-and it better be convincing. "It may not be soon enough. A report on your car-smuggling operation is waiting to be passed up the line, along with evidence that it was carried out with the help of South Korean intelligence. Kang will gladly corroborate it.

When I hear from my brother that you have delivered this envelope to him, I tell someone to pull it back. If I don't give the word, the report is released twelve hours from now. And if that report is released, it doesn't matter which way events break. You'll be dead either way. Any questions?"

Kim turned abruptly, his boots thudded down the stairs, the door slammed, and then it was quiet. From my window, I saw him leaning against his car, catching his breath, putting the anger back where it wouldn't get in his way. He climbed in and shut the car door carefully, and when the car finally started, it moved down the street so slowly it barely got out of first gear. The big engine throbbed, a low, menacing sound. Kim wanted me to hear it-the restraint.

I sat still for another minute, then walked into Pak's office. The cabinet was open, all of the drawers pulled out onto the floor; the desk was a mess. On top were the folders about the Koreans from Japan, with the papers scattered everywhere. The blue bag was ripped open, and the money was gone. The notebook on the Finn hadn't been touched. Kim was furious. I didn't have any evidence that he was taking money from the south, but he didn't know that. I had bought myself twelve hours to find Kang and make him pay for Pak's death. After that, I didn't care if Military Security found me.

In late summer the rose blooms; The perfumed morning floats above the hills, And along the road where 1 wait, Again to hear the song of a voice that is gone.

– – Yang Hvong Jin (171 S-j 7. S6) I decided to take Pak's car. There was enough confusion on the streets that I knew I could get out of the city. Once on the highway, I'd be vulnerable to any traffic policeman or sentry who spotted my plates and logged them in, but that was later. It was a shock to find Pak's parking space empty. It was a bigger shock to realize I'd forgotten that Pak had driven his car to meet Kang. It was probably still on the hill near the Chinese war monument. There was no time to get over there. Even if there had been, Kim's people would have set up a cordon to see if anyone approached the car. Or Kang might have taken it, leaving his ancient Nissan behind.

Both sentries posted at the front gate watched closely as I stood in the empty parking space. Neither of them belonged to the Ministry.

The sentries at our compound were assigned from the army, changed at irregular times and always from different units. It was a brilliant idea.

With the constant rotation, we never got to know the guards, and they felt no loyalty to us. Whoever thought of it was obviously a genius.

This was the sort of idea that received a bonus. Like all good ideas rewarded with a bonus, though, it was flawed.

I sauntered over to the guards, smiling, and pulled out one of Pak's hundred-dollar bills. The guards yanked their heads back, suddenly interested in the top branches of the trees across the street. I dropped the bill close behind the guard on the right, the one who looked more alert.

He moved his foot so his canvas shoe covered it, but he kept blocking what I needed, the phone to our duty driver. A moment later the phone rang. The guard reached back without turning his body, took the receiver from the hook, and held it out for me.

"Who is this?" The duty driver was speaking carefully. "I just received an order from the Ministry that no cars are to leave the compound."

"Good,"

I replied, loud enough so the guards could hear me without straining. "That means the duty car, too. Bring it around, so I can secure it."

"Inspector, is that you?"