The two of them smiled together, as if one were a mirror image of the other. A moment later, the first one's face fell back into anger. His mouth moved a few times, but nothing came out.
"Phones are down," the second one said and yawned again. His overcoat had a nice fur-lined hood on it. "You know you can't keep him, and you know why. So don't be a dope."
Pak pulled a clean sheet of paper out of a drawer and slapped it on his desk. I'd never seen him make such grand, noisy gestures. "There's nothing that says I can't keep him, and there's nothing that says you get to take him. You're in my office, this is a Ministry building, and I say nothing happens until I get something with an official stamp that tells me I don't have jurisdiction. Meantime, go fuck yourself."
They both looked at the foreigner. "He doesn't move; he stays here. If he leaves this building, he'll be sorry. If he talks to anyone on the phone, he'll be sorry." The first one had found his voice again. He turned to Pak. "And you'll be sorry, comrade, believe me. Real sorry. We're going now, but we'll be back." He picked up one of the cups and tossed it to me. "Wash these, why don't you?"
They smiled again, in stereo, and slammed the door on their way out.
The foreigner applauded. "Bravo, bravo. A man of principle! I thought you said you were going to toss me into their jaws."
I put down the cup and rubbed my ears. "Almost thawed out, but I still can't believe what I just heard. Are you crazy?" I looked at Pak. "They'll tear us limb from limb. Especially the ugly one."
Pak shook his head. "I don't like people helping themselves to my tea, and I don't like them parking in my spot. Besides, they don't scare me. I don't care what they look like. It will take them a couple of hours to find the right person to supply written authorization. No one wants to commit anything to paper these days, too dangerous; there's no paper trail if there's no paper. Everyone wants everything verbal. Well, I don't. I don't have to take verbal orders from them, and they know it. Meantime, I'll call the Minister, and we'll figure out something else to slow them down." He turned to the foreigner. "You were under my care. You still are, as far as I'm concerned. I don't sacrifice people under my care, it doesn't matter how foolish they are."
"Where does all this leave me, if you don't mind my asking?" The foreigner did not look grateful or concerned. He sounded even less so.
"You?" Pak stared at the man for a moment. "Where does it leave you? You can go back to your hotel if you want. Pack your suitcase. Sit tight."
"What if they come for me at the hotel?" Still no note of concern in the voice.
"No problem. The inspector here will look stern. He will be implacable until they back off and go home."
"And if they don't?"
Pak looked surprised. "Do I detect a note of worry? I wouldn't have thought so, you getting worried. But if that's the case, if you'd rather hide, you can stay here. We'll dump you at the airport later this morning, and you take the next plane out." He pointed at the calendar on the wall. "It's Tuesday, you're in luck. The plane leaves early, assuming they get the runway cleared and the ice off the wings."
"What if things play out differently, not so propitiously? It's not that I'm worried, just running down the options."
"I'll bet you have contingency plans." Pak scratched his head. "Deigeh nisht, I think was the term you used. It's Swiss, you said, for 'never mind, it's covered.'"
The foreigner laughed even before I finished translating. "You were so drunk that night, who could believe you would remember anything. But you did! Maybe my efforts here were not in vain." He laughed again. "Look, I can get you honorary citizenship someday, if you need it. You and the inspector, both. Who knows, your Korean genes might like the beach, and a little oil, eh, Inspector?" He patted me on the shoulder. "Is there a bed in this place?"
Pak pointed down the hall. "No bed. You can sleep on a chair in the empty office. The bathroom is downstairs; there's no lightbulb, so try to wait until the sun is up to use it. You need something to eat, but I don't know where we can find anything right now. Maybe they have some food at the airport. We'll see what's possible later this morning. You have your passport with you?"
"No."
"It figures." Pak turned to me. "Go get it before those stone heads think to collect the damned thing from the hotel."
"The clerks won't hand it over." I didn't bother getting up. "'You lack authorization,' they'll say, if I can even rouse them at this hour of the morning. I may not even be able to get in the door. They lock it, and there's no bell."
"Be charming, Inspector." The foreigner handed me a hundred-dollar bill. "Be very charming and give them this as authorization. It might even open the door."
Pak grunted. "They might not take it…"
I put the bill in my pocket. "Though, then again, they might. Of course, as soon as they give me the passport, they'll make a call to our grinning friends." I stood up to go. "Incidentally, keep your honorary citizenship." I looked at a notch at the top of the window frame and said very deliberately, "I don't need it."
"You know, O, you might have been a Jew." The foreigner craned his neck at the corners of the ceiling and then settled his gaze on the top of the window, which was rattling in the wind. "You see Cossacks everywhere."
4
Wednesday morning, the two men from the special section were back, carrying a piece of paper and accompanied by two other men, from where they wouldn't say.
"What do you mean, he's gone?" The ugly one growled and narrowed his eyes. "I told you, if he left this place, you'd be sorry."
Pak tipped back in his chair. "Did you? I don't remember that. Do you remember that, Inspector?" I was standing in the doorway.
"No. I don't recall."
The others turned to look at me. One of them licked his lips. "You, of all people, O. It figures, our paths would cross again, someday." I didn't recognize the face, but his left hand was missing two fingers. He held it up for me to see.
Pak gave me a look, halfway between "You know him?" and "Let me handle this." I leaned against the wall, a little out of sorts. The man with the left hand had died a long time ago. Fifteen years, maybe more. I remembered the day precisely. I just couldn't recall the year.
"Where is he?" The ugly one turned back to Pak. "And don't say you don't know."
"I don't know." Pak took a nail clipper from his drawer. He clipped the nails on his left hand, and put the parings in a neat little pile on the desk. No one spoke. This is what it is like inside an atomic bomb, I thought to myself. In the millisecond before it blows everything to hell.
Finally, the fourth man laughed. "When we're through with you, you'll be lucky to have anything left to clip." He was taller than the others, older. "But I don't want to get ahead of myself. So, I'll give you another chance. Where is the foreigner?"
Pak swept the parings into a trashcan beside the desk before looking up. "He's gone. I assume he took the flight out of here back to Beijing. From there, your guess is as good as mine."
"You decided, on your own, not to hold him?" The tall man looked around the office. "Since when do shitty little policemen make decisions about national security matters? Beyond your writ, wouldn't you say?"
"He had a valid passport, a valid visa, a valid residency stamp, and an airline ticket that didn't look like it had been forged." Pak counted on his fingers as he listed each piece of evidence. "As far as I know, he went through the immigration line, looked at the officer in the booth, you know, the girl with the lips like roses in bloom, and was passed. No one said boo. You had a lookout for him, did you?"