Brian Haig - Mortal Allies

Buzz shrugged. “In a manner of speaking. They didn’t let her sleep for five days.”

Kip stood up. “Actually, I think Major Golden is confused. The testimony is not against the accused, Thomas Whitehall. It concerns a key prosecution witness.”

Carruthers scratched his head a moment. “The point may still be relevant. Compelled testimony from the wife of a witness could enjoy the same protections.”

Then I popped up. “May I help clarify a point for the court?”

Golden glowered, but Carruthers nodded.

I said, “Mr. Mercer, could we have the full name of the woman on the tape?”

Buzz jovially said, “The name on her military dependent ID card is Jin May Bales.”

“Is that her real name?”

“Nope. Her real name’s Lee Chin Moon.”

“Where’s she from?”

“The papers she filed with American military authorities say she was born in Chicago, Illinois, and came here in 1995.”

“Was that factual?”

“Nope. Lee Chin Moon never set foot in the United States. She spent her whole life in a special camp in North Korea, at least until a submarine landed her off the east coast of the Republic of Korea.”

“Are you saying everything she reported to the military authorities when she and Bales applied for marriage was false?”

Buzz chuckled, then matter-of-factly said, “Very nearly. Except for the block she stamped that identified her as a female. She is in fact a female. I’ll attest to that.”

“And how would you describe their marriage?”

“It wasn’t a marriage. It was her cover. She was actually the controller for Choi and Bales. She was sent down here to run their operation when it was determined to be an intelligence gold mine.”

“I’m sorry, why’d they send her down here?”

“To run this whole operation.”

Even I had to shake my head at that one. “She was in charge of this?”

“Yep. They gave her a legend as Choi’s sister, then made it foolproof by having her marry Bales. A pretty slick solution, if you think about it. She’s living right on an American base as an officer’s wife, she’s controlling the man she lives with, and Choi gets to stop by and visit his ‘sister’ as often as he wants. And nobody’s suspicious.”

At this point we could have become embroiled in one of those lengthy arguments that you often see in bigamy contests about whether a marriage is still legal even if one of the participants used a false name – but really, what would be the point?

Eddie was squirming and trying to come up with something to object to, but I guess he finally realized he’d only make an utter fool of himself. I wanted to see him try anyway.

Carruthers said, “Play the tape,” and Eddie kept his mouth shut.

Minister Lee himself reached up and turned out the lights.

The TV screen flickered as the tape cued, then a picture popped up of a woman seated on a white chair in the middle of a white room. A wool blanket had been thrown over her body to cover her nakedness.

She looked filthy and exhausted, and her hair hung down in oily straggles. She was still breathtakingly beautiful.

For about thirty seconds, there were some exchanges between her and a man who was hidden from the camera. They were speaking in Korean, so I didn’t understand what they were saying, but her voice and her demeanor were pleading, and the man’s voice was sharp, overbearing, harsh.

She finally hung her head in resignation and allowed it to bob up and down in an exhausted nodding motion.

The man said, “Describe your relationship to Michael Bales.”

He made her go through everything Buzz Mercer just told us, only it was infinitely more compelling to hear it from the lips of this woman taped into a chair. Carol Kim had been right. Her English was excellent, right down to the midwestern twang. But it should be. Like Choi, before coming south she’d spent her whole life in that special camp that Kim, the KCIA man, had mentioned, being taught English by former American POWs.

Then came questions about her responsibilities, and it turned out her role in the conspiracy included controlling the traitors Bales and Choi caught inside their net. In fits and starts, and often speaking haltingly, she said she told her traitors what information her masters in North Korea wanted, she collected their products, and on market days she went downtown and dropped them off with a contact who sped them up north.

Then came the part we were awaiting.

“How was Michael Bales enlisted?”

She stared at the floor. She seemed to be having trouble recalling it, maybe because she was exhausted, or maybe because she didn’t want to get Bales confused with all the other Americans they’d entrapped.

Then she said, “This happened months before I arrived. Bales went to Itaewon one night to the King Mae Bar. He drank heavily and went upstairs with a prostitute. Bales likes… well, he likes rough sex. We had problems with him even after he was recruited. That night, though, Bales beat the whore as he screwed her…” She drew a few quick breaths like she needed oxygen to keep talking. “He drove her nose bone into her brain. She hemorrhaged and died. Choi came to investigate. Bales immediately identified himself as a police officer and Choi recognized how valuable he could be.”

“So they struck a bargain?” the unseen questioner asked.

“Yes… a… a bargain.”

“It was that simple?”

She nodded.

“Then what?”

“Who cares about the death of a whore? Who complains if her killer is never found? Her pimp? Choi wrote in the criminal file that Bales was there as an investigator, rather than a suspect. After two months he closed the case as unsolvable.”

“Didn’t you worry that Bales might flee or go back on the bargain?”

“There were always second files. I sent them north for safety. I could get them if… well, if I needed them.”

“What did Bales do for you?”

Her chin fell on her chest, but her eyeballs looked up and stared at her questioner. “I’m tired… uh, ask me later.”

The questioner screamed something at her in Korean, and while I had no idea what he said, she obviously did, and it brought her chin right off her chest.

The questioner said, “Now, answer the question. What did Bales do for you?”

Her head rolled backward, like she was trying to get blood flowing in her brain. “The first year… background checks on targets. He could access military personnel and FBI files. That was helpful.”

“Anything else?”

“After a few years, he helped with entrapments. Choi would call him when he found a target. Bales would… he would help persuade them. The Americans, they became worried when he arrived. He would help pressure them.”

“Did you give him money?”

“Some money. We sent it to a foreign account. It was not important to him, though.”

“Why?” the interrogator asked.

Her chin fell on her chest again, but this time she kept talking, although her voice was trailing off. “He is very egotistical. Choi arranged to make him look like a super-detective.” She then chuckled to herself, like it was a big joke only she got. “Very funny, really. Bales’s superiors began relying on him to handle most of the cases committed off base. And when Bales’s tours ended, they were eager to see his time extended in Korea.”

“Tell us about the American Keith Merritt.”

“No,” she said, her voice becoming very weak. “It is time to sleep… You promised.”

The screen suddenly went dark, but the sound was still on and you could hear the noise of footsteps, then four loud whacks, and the woman yelping from pain. Then the picture returned. Her cheeks were red, and she was staring at her interpreter with a mixture of resentment and anger.