James Church - The Man with the Baltic Stare

“More trees, and then more trees. Where did they come from? I thought you didn’t have any left.”

“Got to get up early to fool your people,” I said. “I called ahead and told the farms to mobilize everyone to plant these big trees in a hurry. But you spotted it right away.”

“Let me offer a suggestion,” said the captain. “It would save a lot of time if you people would build a few bridges over these valleys. A nice, straight highway would probably cut an hour, maybe two, off the drive. You might build some tunnels, too, while you’re at it. We could send some of our engineers up to show you how to do it.”

“Captain, tunnels are one thing we know how to build.”

“Then why don’t they do something about these roads?”

“Nothing wrong with these roads,” I said. “They’re scenic. Why don’t you look at the scenery?”

He looked and I drove as fast as I dared as we descended from the mountains down to Chosan, toward the shores of a lake formed by a dam on the Amnok River. We arrived before dusk, but not a lot before. I suggested we wait until morning to look around, but the captain seemed in a hurry.

“Let’s go out there now, get it over with,” he said. “There’s plenty of light left, and I don’t want to hang around.”

“This is nothing like the descriptions in those reports in the file. I wonder if they were talking about another location.”

“If I were you,” the captain had a pair of small binoculars to his eyes and was scanning the horizon, “I wouldn’t mention that file anymore. Forget you saw it.”

“What file?”

“That’s more like it.”

“Still, it’s peaceful. I don’t know what it is about the countryside in the fall, but it has a lulling effect on everything. If there was anything to worry about earlier in the year, you’ve forgotten what it was by October. You know, this area was separatist a long time ago. It pulled away from one of the old kingdoms and wouldn’t come back. Maybe that’s why we’re up here, to see if that sort of thing has stayed in the gene pool. Stubbornness is a dominant gene, I think. You only need one.”

The captain put the binoculars in his pocket. “Stop musing, Inspector. It’s going to get one of us killed.”

“Not likely,” I said. I turned my attention to a line of lindens that defined the route of a narrow road as it followed the banks of a stream flowing west, into the sunset. At dusk, the air in this part of Chagang took on a purity that made the light a river of memories. All the more reason I was surprised when the captain grunted and crumpled to the ground.

Nothing happened for what seemed a long time. Then a lanky man wearing a sharkskin suit and huge running shoes stood up from behind a row of bushes, brushed off his trousers, and walked slowly toward me. Even in the fading light, I could see he was very much a Chinese policeman. There was no mistaking the haircut or the way he moved. Somebody had once been shocked to find Chinese where he didn’t expect them to be in Korea, not far from here. I knew how that felt.

The captain was on his back, completely still, with a pretty big hole in his head. That seemed strange, because the man walking toward me wasn’t carrying a weapon, not where I could see one, anyway. Nobody else was in sight, but I presented a good target, so I picked out a place to fall down in a hurry if the bushes started moving.

“We know who you are, Inspector,” the man said when he was close enough to be heard without shouting.

“I take it that’s a good thing.” I nodded at the captain’s body. “If you’d waited for a moment, I would have introduced you to my colleague.”

“Him we know. He’s responsible for the deaths of two of my men. He was supposedly working for me, only I knew he wasn’t. I warned him a few times. It didn’t take. So, he’s gone.”

“Just like that.”

“Just like that. And you, Inspector, I understand you are about to do funny things in funny places. Funny things happen to people in such cases.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You don’t know? I’m talking about your trip to Macau. You aren’t welcome there. I can’t guarantee your well-being if you go.”

“Who the hell are you to be telling me where I can go and where I can’t go?”

“Just someone trying to pass along a little friendly advice.”

“Friendly advice? Since when is a hole in the head friendly advice?”

“When it isn’t your head.”

I don’t react well when people standing next to me are shot. “Maybe on your own soil you can hand out advice. But this land, here, on this side of that river, isn’t yours, or perhaps you need to check a modern map. The weather may come from your side. The wind may blow from that direction most of the time. But that’s about all. The sun doesn’t rise there, the sky doesn’t start there, and I don’t have to put up with your threats while you’re standing in my country.” It was a long speech, maybe a little provocative under the circumstances. I looked down at the captain. The hole in his head wasn’t getting any smaller.

The Chinese policeman gave me a slow, ancient, imperial smile. “Keep it up, Inspector.” He started to walk back to the bushes where he’d first appeared, then stopped and looked over his shoulder. “The captain didn’t listen to me,” he shouted. “Think about it.” He disappeared from view, but I wasn’t inclined to find out where he went.

The next day, well before dawn, I put gas in the car and drove like a madman back to Pyongyang. When I got to the compound, I slowed down; I made it a point to move up the walkway in a manner that wouldn’t excite the tank gunners. Even though the door to Kim’s office was ajar, I knocked. The first time it had been a good move to go in unannounced. I didn’t think it was smart to make that sort of thing a habit, especially because as far as Kim knew, the captain and I were still on the border.

“Yes, Inspector, can I help you?” Kim had his back to the door, studying the old maps on the wall behind his desk. Apparently, he did know I wasn’t still in Chagang.

“What’s this about?”

“You mean your meeting with the Great Han up on the border? We’d all be better off if you didn’t talk to strangers.” He turned slowly to face me.

“I didn’t have much choice, actually. He was hard to ignore. You already knew he’d be there?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Who is he? He put a hole in your captain’s head, or did you already know that, too?”

There was a slight pause, maybe an intake of breath. “I repeat, dealing with strange Chinese isn’t wise.”

“All Chinese are strange.”

“Good, Inspector, at last we agree on something.”

“How am I supposed to stay away from Chinese if I go to Macau?”

The face went several shades of red. “Who said you’re going to Macau?”

“The Great Han. He didn’t seem in any doubt that you were sending me. He emphasized that I’d better not go.”

Kim picked up the phone. “I want a meeting in my office in fifteen minutes.”

“Back to the previous question, how am I supposed to stay away from Chinese if I go to Macau? Or hadn’t you thought of that?”

Kim was writing a note. “There you mingle; here you don’t.”

“How is it that the Great Han knows what you’re going to do before you do it? Or shouldn’t I ask?”

“That’s what we’re going to find out, Inspector, as soon as you leave.”

“You going to cancel the trip? I don’t even have a suitcase.” I also didn’t plan to go. There was nothing I wanted to see in Macau. Driving to the border with the captain had been different. While I was in the windowless room reading that file, I’d felt a switch flip on somewhere inside me. It had been years since I’d looked at a file, traced connections, put together stray bits of information to see if they fit. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it. But the image of the hole in the captain’s head was enough to convince me that nostalgia for operations wasn’t healthy.