"Always go with the cigarette butts," I said.
"Do you think you're standing here right now because I trust you?" The general shook his head. "Not a chance, Inspector. Sohn thought I should meet you. Otherwise, you would have been turned away at the gate the first time. Maybe shot."
I looked at Jeno. "How did you know Sohn's brother-in-law was in charge of this place?"
"I didn't, not until Sohn told me. He thought the military might go along with selling off the missile program if there was money in it for them, turning the production sites like this one into moneymaking enterprises." He stood up and strolled slowly around the hut. On the wall was a map of the site. He stared at it intently. "I have no idea what this place could be. It would have to be leveled. There's certainly nothing worth saving."
"Nice line of trees along the road," I said. "Poplars."
"Too bad they're not much taller than matchsticks."
The general cleared his throat. "If there is nothing else…"
"Somehow, you didn't strike me as a field officer." I smiled at him.
He smiled back. "Insufficiently crazed?"
"No, you move too much like a panther."
"Meaning?"
"Unerring sense of balance." I waited to see if he took that the wrong way. He didn't. "So what happens now?"
"Now?" It was my question, but the general was speaking to Jeno, as if I had disappeared from the room. "Now, we're almost out of the woods. Nothing changes, nothing stops. We test what we need to test. We spend what we need to spend. I hear something is planned for the summer in Hwadae."
"Things will get better until they get worse again." I listened to the sound of my voice. Neither of them seemed to notice. "No one understands that things can't go on like this?" It wasn't good, staying invisible too long in these situations. The trick was rematerializing in the same form that you were when you were last seen.
"I need some air." The general opened the door. "Things can always go on, Inspector. It's our curse. There is always a break in the clouds, always. Sohn knew that. It's what worried him."
"He was in a hurry," Jeno said.
"In a terrible hurry." The general stood in the doorway with his back to us. "He thought this might be the only chance."
"For what?" I remembered what Pak had said about the theory of the "only chance."
"To change course. He told me he'd move heaven and earth this time."
Jeno?s right hand gripped the left. "That was his mistake. It's always fatal. He shouldn't have run out of patience."
"You can drown in patience," the general said. "Sohn didn't want to drown."
"And you?" I asked.
As the general turned to me, he adjusted his jacket. Military and police, I thought; when they get uneasy, they tug at their clothes. "It's quiet out here. None of those crazy plans going across my desk. The winds sing through the ruins. I write poetry and count the days of my life. When spring comes, I'll be transferred. The azaleas are nice in Yongbyon in April, isn't that what they say?"
"And this site?"
He shrugged. "It's not police business, I can tell you that much."
"I may see you in Pyongyang, then."
"Or in Seoul."
"Keep your balance, General."
"And you."
"If we move enough piles of dirt," Jeno said more to himself than to either of us, "sooner or later someone might notice."
Chapter Four
The phone rang just as I walked into Pak's office. Pak picked it up and frowned. "Well, tell your people to take care of it." He listened for a moment. "How many? Are you kidding? Alright, we'll be there as soon as we can. But don't blame me." He put down the phone and shook his head. "Get everybody in the building and let's go."
"Where?"
"The soccer stadium. There's a riot." Pak grinned at me. "Can you believe it? A soccer riot in Pyongyang! I never thought I'd live to see the day."
"Soccer, this time of year? Who wears shorts in this weather?"
"I guess sitting with all those people beats freezing alone in a cold apartment. Anyway, it's a championship against some team from the Middle East. Maybe the powers that be figured they couldn't function in these temperatures."
2
"That was fun." Pak rubbed his shoulder and let out a small groan. "At least it was different. I wouldn't have thought anyone could throw a bench that far." He groaned again, louder this time. "I think we did okay, Inspector. Lots of shouting. A few odds and ends onto the field. The referee cowering behind us. All sports, no politics, a little steam released and everyone happy. What do you say?"
"I say we don't let the boys in uniform have whistles anymore. The young guy next to me was blowing his the whole time. I would have killed him, but I think the sound paralyzed me."
"Probably just excited, that's all. Not something they get a lot of training for, riots."
"As will be obvious to anyone who reviews the films. Wait until the reports are filed and the comments come back from the Ministry. Someone will decide we need crowd-control gear, and then they'll decide we need training in how to use it."
"That means a lot of drills out in the cold before work. Fortunately for me, chief inspectors are exempt from field training. Unfortunately for you, inspectors are not."
"As long as it doesn't happen again for a while, maybe I'm safe."
"Don't get too comfortable, there's another match tomorrow."
"Let's hope it snows harder." Outside, a few flakes were drifting down. I liked snow late in March.
"Did you see that crowd? Magnificent, roaring like lions. Jumping up and down, a lot of yelling, and all perfectly harmless. Things are getting better, people can feel it. I don't know about you, but I never worried we'd lose control. Not once."
"I don't think we had control. I think they were just content to stay where they were and complain. If they had come onto the field, we'd have been squashed like grapes. Not one of our men had any idea what to do."
"And you did?"
"No, I just shoved back whoever was shoving me. The whole time I kept hoping nobody would call the army."
"For a soccer riot? Not likely."
"The army is sticking its nose everywhere these days. They'd like nothing better than to show we can't do our job."
"You want to know what I think? I think someone is going to have to pay for those benches. I hope it isn't us. The Ministry doesn't have the budget."
"I hate soccer. I always have. Too much running around to no purpose."
3
"You've been a good host, Inspector. I'm appreciative. Tomorrow I'll get on the plane, and you'll be free of me. Admit it, you'll be delighted." Jeno was walking beside me on the street in front of the hotel. It wasn't warm, but from the way the sun played with the wind and the clouds hurried across the sky, you could believe it might be soon.
"'Delighted' might be a little strong," I said.
"I'm sorry about what happened at the lakeside. It was regrettable. I hope you realize I had nothing to do with it."
"M. Beret filled me in."
I detected a slight skip of the eyebrows.
"That's good."
"He said the Man with Three Fingers saved my life."
"M. Beret said that?"
"Yes, I found it curious, too."
"You still feel guilty, don't you? About leaving your three-fingered colleague all those years ago."
Somehow, Jeno had been approved for yet another visa. I had become resigned to his ability to collect visas. But that was different from being given access to my file. So who was talking to him? How would he know anything about what happened that night?
"When the Pakistanis found your colleague, they didn't know who he was. He had no identification, and no face. For some reason, they didn't leave him to die. They brought him to the nearest army hospital, and the chief surgeon-a young man who had studied in London, as a matter of fact-put him together. There was nothing to do as he recovered, so they became friends. The surgeon taught him chess. The surgeon had acquaintances. And they knew how to play chess. It was awkward for the wounded man, picking up the chess pieces with that hand. The surgeon wanted to repair it. He was advised not to."