A Corpse in the Koryo (6 page)

He says he read your plates."

I could have sat and pretended to consider this. That's what he wanted, so I didn't do it. "There was no farmer in no field, Kang. I was watching.

That's what we do almost all the time, we watch. That's my job, and believe it or not, I know how to do it. What do you want from me?"

"Better." Kang raised his head again. "Another beer?"

"I repeat, what do you want from me? I can't work for you. We only work with the Investigations Department through liaison. A beer at the Koryo doesn't count as proper channels."

"You and I share a problem, Inspector."

"That would be Colonel Kim." A little light went on in Kang's eyes, and went off just as quickly. I never thought I'd see it, that light. Now he realized I knew Kim's real rank. I might as well go the rest of the way.

"Let me guess. The Military Security Command is investigating your department. They're trying to use me to get at you." This was just speculation.

All Pak had told me was that Military Security wanted a picture of the car, though it was clear he was plenty worried even with that. I had filled in the rest, about Kang being the target, while I was driving over to the hotel. Kang could only have been in the room for one reason, and it wasn't to second the motion. He needed to find out what was happening, and he needed to know urgently. "If Military Security wants you, you must be in a lot of trouble."

Kang folded his hands and rested them on the table. "Anyone"--he smiled--"involved with Military Security is in a lot of trouble." He finished his beer, then put the glass to his cheek. "Difficult job, catching a speeding car at dawn on film."

"You didn't want that picture. Kim did." I waited for that little light to flash again, but he must have disconnected it. I figured the conversation was over. "Thanks for the beer, Kang. I've got to clean my apartment."

"Inspector." Kang pushed something across the table. "Don't forget this."

It was my pin.

9

"That was the first time you met Kang?" The Irishman was studying the birds on the cloth as if he'd never noticed them before.

"No, I met him in Pak's office, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah. I meant, that was the first time you spoke to him at anylength."

"Is it a problem for you, paying attention? We can end this right here, if that's what you want."

"I'm surprised you're so polite. I thought you'd be, how to put it, nastier."

"Is that an Irish compliment?"

"No. The one thing I remember from the briefings is that Koreans don't like foreigners. Don't get excited. It wasn't meant as a criticism, just a statement of fact. Like saying cow shit smells."

"What makes you think I like you?"

"Good, you don't, then. I hate it when the briefers are wrong."

"It's not that we don't like foreigners. It's not foreigners, it's ourselves we don't like. In our minds, we are small, quivering, bowing, submissive, beaten, cowering dogs. If we like foreigners, it can only be because we are afraid, or currying favor, or kissing their feet."

The Irishman grunted. "So why did I hear Koreans are tough?"

"Different parts of the anatomy, Rich
ie.
Different altogether. I once heard a foreigner, a very dumb Russian, complain that I was a tough son of a whore. It wasn't grudging praise. He was mad because I wouldn't take his suggestion. Normally, a suggestion from a Russian is like falling down a well, but this time it was a good one. I knew it. He knew I knew it, but I knew if I took his advice, he would have an edge, or he would think he had an edge. Same thing."

"What was the suggestion?"

"We were driving on an icy road. He told me to slow down."

"What happened?"

"It was his car. Russian cars don't steer well in the cold."

"What happens when Pak gives you advice?"

"He never did."

"Guidance, then."

"Ah. Very good, Rich
ie.
That's different. Advice is a question of will. I can take advice or leave it. The burden is on me. Guidance is all about relationships, circles overlapping."

"Did Kang ever give you guidance?"

"No. He wasn't the type."

"What were you doing in Berlin?"

"What?"

"You said you were on a procurement trip in Berlin.You picked up that piano roll. But that's not why you were sent. Since when do police do procurement?"

"I

don't work for you, Rich
ie.
I told you already, I'm not going to describe the phones or the cars or anything that doesn't pertain directly to our discussion. This is my session; I'll tell you what you need to know. That's how we do it."

"It won't work. You were in Berlin. If I don't ask why, I get dinged when they read the report."

"Alright, ask."

"What were you doing in Berlin?"

"None of your fucking business."

The Irishman smiled. "Well, now I am beginning to like you, Inspector.

Why, I don't know, exactly. It gives me the feeling I'm falling down a well."

10

The next morning wasn't so humid. It was still August, but the light was starting to change. The sun was losing its edge, and the morning shadows were softening so that even my neighborhood looked less ragged. Across the river, people in the tall new apartment houses were probably out on their balconies, scratching themselves and yawning, looking down on boulevards ten lanes wide. Very grand, but I found it depressing whenever I drove through that part of town. Nice buildings, but no sense of belonging to anything. No place for the old ladies to sit.

When I walked into my office, there was a note from Pak on my desk. He always arrived early, read the overnight logs, prepared the duty sheet, and then went for a stroll. The note said I was to call Kang as soon as I got in. At the bottom of the note Pak had scribbled three stars over a tree. It didn't mean anything to me. I figured Kang would keep while I made some tea, but then remembered our kettle had disappeared, so I went over to the Operations Building to borrow a cup of hot water. By the time I got back, Pak was waiting for me.

"Did you call Kang?"

"No. You didn't say it was urgent."

"Didn't you see the three stars?"

"Since when does three stars mean urgent?"

"Inspector, anytime the Investigations Department calls, it's urgent."

"What can be urgent? I just talked to him last night at the Koryo.

You want to hear? Oh, and he gave me back my pin."

Pak looked at my shirt. "I'm glad it's back home again in your top drawer. Maybe you should wear it sometime." He motioned me to follow him to his office. "You had a good chat with Kang? Anything special he wanted to discuss?"

I went over what Kang had told me about the wrecked car and the bodies, including the boy. Pak drummed his fingers a couple of times on the desk, then stopped. It was a sign that something was bothering him.

"Call him back. Let me know what he wants." I started to pick up Pak's phone, but he put his hand over mine. "Use yours. There's less static."

'Something the matter?"

'No. I had a dream last night."

'How many times do I have to tell you, dreams don't mean anything.

All chemistry and biology and electrical impulses."

It was about a tiger."

What was the tiger doing?"

Nothing. It was swishing its tail. Kind of a hypnotic look in his eyes. Just behind him was a house. Or what was left of it."

'Where were you?"

'I was in bed."

"No, I mean in the dream. Were you climbing a tree, or trying to run away but couldn't, with a hopeless feeling, stifling, like? Then you woke up and you sweated a little, maybe let your heart calm down as you looked at the ceiling?"

"The tiger wasn't doing anything. He wasn't chasing me. He never chases me. He doesn't have to. He just has to wait and swish his tail, in front of that ruined house. It's an omen. I had the same dream just before my son died."

"Tigers are symbols of strength and pride. Cats and crows are a problem. Pigs are good. That's what they say, anyway. Keep dreaming of tigers, as long as they aren't chasing you."

Pak shook his head. "Dreams don't mean anything, you say, and then you repeat old grandmothers' tales about cats and crows."

"Trying to be helpful, that's all."

"Try to be helpful by calling Kang from your office." He waved me out the door.

11

Kang wanted to meet me at the top of the Juche Tower. He said there wouldn't be anyone there at this time of the morning; the observation deck wasn't even open. "It'll be nice and cozy," he said, "just the two of us. We'll lock the elevator, and I can guarantee no one is going to climb 170 meters of stairs to find out what we are doing."

Pak was noncommittal when I told him where Kang wanted to meet.

"That's his style, everything in plain sight. And you can't be any more in plain sight than at the top of that tower at nine o'clock in the morning."

"You think I shouldn't go?"

"I'm not wild about it." He tapped his teeth with a pencil. "But it doesn't really matter where you meet him. Every place is equally bad at this point. Let's just see what he has to say."

The drive over to the tower took twice as long as usual because the normal route was closed off for repairs, and they hadn't bothered to set up any signs. The next street over was blocked by a stalled trolley. I ended up on a flyover that took me the wrong direction, going toward an empty part of the city where there are a few stadiums and sports halls but nothing else. I looped around back into the center of town, took the old Japanese bridge downstream from the tower, and bumped along an alleyway between buildings to join the main road paralleling the river.

When I pulled up, Kang was standing by the ground-floor entrance, under the base of the monument. I could tell from the way he glanced over at my car that he wasn't happy that I'd made him wait again.

As I walked over, he made a show of looking at his watch. "You ever turn up on time, Inspector?"

I tried to look ashamed--no eye contact, the muscles in my neck relaxed so my head sort of hung down. "Screw you," I thought to myself, but as long as I was looking at the ground, he couldn't read my thoughts.

It was positively the last time I was showing any deference to this guy.

Kang nodded to a woman standing in the shadow of the low doorway behind him. "This is Miss Shin. She's been kind enough to put the elevator into service for us."

Miss Shin had a round face and playful eyes. Her hair was swept back into a single braid that was tied at the bottom with a band made of silver and gold thread. She wore loose-fitting leopard-spotted maroon pants and a white blouse with no collar--not exactly your everyday work outfit. The pin of the Leader rested over her heart, just above where her blouse swelled gently out. You pay more attention to some pins than to others.

"Let's get started." Kang went through the doorway and started down the long hall that led to the elevators. Miss Shin fell into step with me.

"You're not afraid of heights, Inspector?" she asked in a low, throaty voice.

"Don't worry, I've been to the top of this thing, many times.

Whenever foreign police officials visit, I have to take them up here and then walk around the grounds to hear the tour." I looked over at her.

"Funny, I've never seen you. Did you just start?"

"It takes plenty of people to keep this place in working order. When it opened twenty years ago, there was a small army. We've cut back since then, but still there's a lot to do. I've been here awhile. You've not seen me"--she winked--"but I've seen you."

None of us spoke in the elevator. Kang looked at his watch and then at Miss Shin. She gave a little shrug. I tried to figure out how well acquainted they were but gave up when I felt the pressure building in my ears. The motor whined for a moment just before we stopped moving and the doors opened. Miss Shin pressed a red button on the control panel. "Enjoy the view," she said.

Kang walked once around the observation deck alone, making sure it was clear. No one else could have been there, but like every intelligence type, he was a creature of habit. I stopped at the railing and looked out toward my neighborhood. East Pyongyang didn't look so run-down from this height. The breeze had picked up, which meant the day would remain as clear as it was now, giving the city a sense of life it lacked under cloudy skies. When they were built, many of the older buildings had been surfaced with shiny materials, either designs made of tile or glitter mixed in with the paint, so that when it was sunny they danced and sparkled. From the top of the tower, the light glinted off everything below, a window here, a building or a car roof there. I traced the road from my apartment to the chestnut trees where the old man fixed bicycles, but he didn't seem to be around.

Kang tapped me on the shoulder. "No sense in looking at the old part of the city. You want to see the future, it's there." He pointed across the river toward the big ceremonial square and the massive People's Study Hall on the opposite shore. "Funny, people say that Pyongyang resembles Washington. River down the middle, lots of parks and monuments, big tower in the center, not a lot happening. I don't think they have anything like Kim II Sung Square, though."

"I thought you said we'd be alone."

Kang shrugged. "You mean Miss Shin? Don't worry about her, she's fine."

I turned back toward the view. "The shade from the foliage along the streets looks deeper in this sunlight. See those trees, just at the bend in the river, on that little hill?" Kang followed where I was pointing.

"They're more than four hundred years old. They were planted by the royal gardener, who was executed a year later for treason. As if a gardener could have anything to do with politics!" I snorted. "Before he was executed, he asked to be buried beside the trees, so his body could feed them and, as they grew, he could demonstrate his loyalty to the king."

Kang looked skeptical. "What'd they do?"

"They chopped up his body and threw it into the river."