Jung-myung Lee - The Investigation

‘You might be accused of being a traitor.’

‘You’ve become as powerful as Choi,’ Sugiyama explained. ‘My goal is to keep you inside these walls. I’m agreeing to your plan so that I can keep you here.’

Dong-ju let it go. Beauty would yet purify the underground torture chamber, once soaked with Korean blood and tears.

I shook my head in disbelief. Dong-ju had turned against Choi with Sugiyama’s help. Choi had killed Sugiyama while also protecting Dong-ju. The three created a labyrinthine tangle. Where to start unravelling the knot?

‘Did Choi ever find out about your betrayal?’

Dong-ju nodded. ‘At the end of summer he came to me after a stint in solitary. His eyes were burning with rage. He’d discovered my tunnel. He tried to strangle me, shouting, “Why did you dig your own tunnel, you rat?” I told him it was a way to freedom, just like his tunnel. I mean, who was to say that either one would work? And I knew he wouldn’t kill me or report me. I don’t know how I knew that, but I did. He said, “We’re both digging to get out of this place. I guess it’s good to have more than one route. All I can do is hope that my tunnel will save me.” I said a prayer for our two tunnels to free us in our separate ways. We didn’t say anything else about the subject after that.’

‘Choi kept your underground library secret this whole time,’ I mused. ‘He must have known that talking about your tunnel wouldn’t help his cause.’

‘For all Koreans, Sugiyama was someone who deserved to die. At first, I thought Choi killed him, too.’

‘Are you saying he’s not the murderer?’

‘When Sugiyama died, several Koreans saw Choi in the underground library. He couldn’t have killed him.’

‘Then why didn’t they say anything?’

‘Because Choi was going to be executed anyway, for his escape plot. Why send another to his death? I’m sure everyone wanted to protect whoever it was that killed Sugiyama.’

Dong-ju’s words struck me as if I’d been winded. Had I accused an innocent man? He was going to die because of me. How would I prove now that he didn’t kill Sugiyama? I had to start all over again. ‘Then who killed Sugiyama?’

A dark smile appeared on Dong-ju’s pale face.

Was that the smile of a murderer wearing the mask of a poet? Suspicion and fear spread like a vine in my head. Was Dong-ju lying to me? He had fooled Choi, after all. ‘You blamed Choi to hide the fact that you killed Sugiyama!’ I cried. ‘Your tunnel led to the inspection ward, which is connected to the central facilities!’ My voice trembled.

Dong-ju assumed a cold expression. ‘And why would I kill him?’

‘Because he found out about the underground library! He knew you stole those books. You silenced him to keep your secret safe. You murderer!’ My voice choked with rage. I wanted to punch him. He’d made me falsely accuse another man.

He looked at me sympathetically, as though he understood.

I walked along the dark corridor. My boots were as heavy as lead. Dong-ju’s insistence that Choi wasn’t the murderer confused me. If Dong-ju had killed Sugiyama, he’d committed a perfect crime. Choi was already accused of it. But Dong-ju went out of his way to insist that it wasn’t Choi, even though he must have known I would suspect him next. Or perhaps he was urging me, in his subtle way, to find the real murderer, chastising me for accusing an innocent man. I was back at the beginning, inundated with questions, without a single answer. Titles on those black books swam into my hazy, muddled head. Government publications had been smuggled into the underground space to be reborn as new books — The Birth of an Empire became Les Misérables, Regulations for Actions in War became The Poetry of Francis Jammes .

I took the incineration log and a lamp and headed to the inspection library. I lifted the wooden board; dust and the dank odour of mould washed over me. I ran down the stairs. I pushed aside the construction materials and found the waist-high entrance to the tunnel. I examined the wall, bringing the lamp closer. Inside the tunnel I noticed sharp marks from a shovel carved in the hard dirt wall; the way they were cut into the dirt showed that the digging had commenced from the library. So Sugiyama had not only supplied the books. No wonder he had dirt on his uniform. Dong-ju had been telling the truth. Sugiyama hadn’t stumbled upon the secret plan; he’d had a crucial role in creating it. Sugiyama Dozan, that feared guard of the Empire, had wilfully betrayed everything it stood for.

Who was he really? And who exactly had killed him?

The next day I dragged myself to Maeda’s office, feeling embarrassed, fearful and guilt-ridden. Maeda was stirring lumps of coal in the furnace with tongs, his cheeks ruddy.

‘I’ve discovered something new in regard to the murder of the guard,’ I announced.

‘And what is that?’ he asked, bored. ‘Did Sugiyama’s ghost tell you something?’

I swallowed hard. My lips felt stuck together, as though a spider had spun a web in my mouth. ‘I believe we have the wrong man.’

Maeda tossed the tongs aside and turned round to look me squarely in the eyes. ‘What are you talking about? You’re the one who investigated the murder. You said it was Choi. You’ve been given a medal and promoted to corporal. And now you’re saying you’d reached the wrong conclusion?’

‘There was an error in the investigation. Circumstantial evidence pointed strongly to Choi, who, as you know, confessed. But there are still unresolved issues.’

‘This prison is filled with unresolved issues! For example, why don’t these filthy Koreans disappear from the earth? Why do soldiers of the Empire have to take care of them? Everything is an issue. That doesn’t mean there are answers.’

‘If Choi killed Sugiyama, there would have been footprints at the entrance to the central facilities. If you remember, it snowed that night. But there were no footprints at the scene of the murder or in the yard leading up to the building.’ Of course I knew that the lack of footprints had nothing to do with Choi’s innocence, since he could have entered the central facilities through the tunnel leading to the underground library. But I wasn’t about to reveal that secret. To get at one truth I had to hide another; I was playing a dangerous game.

‘I suppose they could have got erased by the guards’ or the prisoners’ footprints.’

‘That night all the prisoners were in their cells. I have another question.’

‘How many goddamn questions do you have?’ Maeda snapped.

‘Why didn’t Sugiyama report Choi’s tunnel? And why hasn’t Choi been executed for digging it?’

The damp coal in the furnace crackled. Maeda waved his hands impatiently. ‘Enough! You intellectuals never know when to put a stop to things. You’re over-thinking it. When you’re not sure, the very first thought that comes to you is usually the right one.’

‘But Sugiyama was so thorough. Why would he look the other way when a prisoner tried to escape? And why would that prisoner be allowed to live? Neither of these things should have happened at a place like Fukuoka Prison.’

Maeda looked uncomfortable. ‘So you have a lot of questions. But you’re a soldier! Your job is to take orders.’

I straightened my shoulders. ‘Sir, I’m not resisting an order. As an investigator—’

Maeda’s voice sliced through mine. ‘You’ve wrapped up that incident!’

I forced myself to keep talking. ‘But if Choi isn’t the murderer. If it wasn’t Choi, then who killed Sugiyama? Who’s the real murderer?’ I looked down at my feet.