It had been three days since the body of Yeong’s criminal associate, Cho Hee Sun—“Sonny” to the Americans — was discovered at his Beverly Hills residence, a single gunshot to the head. Cho’s brother, originally an informant for the U.S. Secret Service — and now a CIA asset — had convinced the North Korean Ministry of State Security to hire Gabe for Yeong’s PSD when two members of the crime boss’s security detail were arrested in Hong Kong.
Gabe had been on the job for more than a month, but other than lots of frequent-flyer miles, he had little to show for all the travel. He was providing security for an organized-crime boss but the information he was gathering was unlikely to ever be used in an American courtroom. He had collected hours of audio and video on a tiny recording device — and dutifully passed more than thirty micro-memory chips to Wilson, his “coordinator.” But Gabe also knew that unless he was brought into Yeong’s inner circle, he wasn’t likely to accomplish his mission: “Find out everything you can about what’s going on between Pyongyang and Tehran.”
Gabe’s bosses in Washington were excited about Yeong’s visit to Kish Island and the images of the North Korean and Iranian participants he brought back. But there was precious little audio and Gabe had not been allowed inside the meetings Yeong attended.
Sonny Cho’s murder threw a wrench in the works. Some at CIA headquarters in Langley who knew about the connection between Cho’s brother and Gabe’s job on Yeong’s PSD urged that Gabe be pulled off the assignment. Others said the mission was too important a national security matter to pull him out at the first sign of trouble. Wilson left it up to Gabe.
Gabe had learned in the Marine Corps to run to—not from—the sound of gunfire. His hope was not only in situational awareness developed in combat and instilled in the training he received at the CIA’s “Farm” in Virginia but the intelligence-gathering devices available to the federal government. So far Cho’s murder remained a mystery… to the Korean criminal community, the Beverly Hills police, and Gabe’s government handlers.
Though Gabe had tried to distance himself from Cho, all the members of Yeong’s security team had shared beers at the bar with Cho. Some of them, Gabe included, had even dined with Sonny at the same table where Park and Yeong were now sitting. It was not unusual for the “off-duty” members of the security team to gather at the end of a long day of doing Henry Yeong’s bidding to down a few cold ones and complain about management… criminal syndicate management. Since Candy was the perfect hostess and gorgeous, the men enjoyed spending time with her, sharing stories even if embellished, and hoping to be rewarded with her smile. Gabe concluded that nearly every member of Yeong’s cadre should be equally suspect and that would ameliorate the risk of being discovered.
To his credit, Wilson pointed out the risks. “Look,” he told his young charge, “there were less than two degrees of separation between you and Cho. Both of you were tasked with investigating the Supernote: you by the CIA and Cho by the Secret Service. The reports and audio files you’ve sent in show he was a big talker and he claimed to have dated both Park’s daughter, Jenny, and that bar princess, Candy. The profile on Cho says he fancied himself to be a ‘ladies’ man,’ though how a guy with his looks and personality could have been is beyond me.”
“Yeah,” said Gabe with a smile, “and his breath was rancid.”
Wilson continued, “Your aud/vid recordings make it clear you were practicing good tradecraft by trying to avoid Cho, but there are several where you caught him spinning yarns and bullshitting Candy and others about the work he supposedly did for Yeong. More than once he can be seen and heard asking others about the Supernote. When I saw what you had gotten, I called Bauer at Secret Service and suggested they pull Cho in and whip him into shape. Sounds weird, but Bauer was acting as case officer for Cho and was afraid his boy might skip the country if he leaned too hard on him.
“Of course, Langley didn’t want that to happen because of the link between you and Cho’s brother. If Cho had split, we would have had to pull you out. Unfortunately, we don’t know for sure how much Sonny told others about your connection with his brother and your getting hired on with Yeong’s PSD.
“I called Langley and asked them to ping NSA for anything they can suck out of their ‘music collection’ from Cho’s phone calls and computer files, but the hackers at Fort Meade say it will take two to three weeks to search for it.”
Gabe nodded and said, “It figures. Another case of too much data.”
“To the extent that there is any good news in all this, NSA is now hitting every phone number and URL we know of for both Park and Yeong and all their known associates for any live hits that mention your name.”
“In real time or delay?”
Wilson reflected a moment, then said, “The FISA order says real time because your life is at risk. But you and I know that means hours at best — not minutes — and it’s usually seconds that really matter. You want to stay in or we can pull you. It’s your call.”
The young CIA Clandestine Service officer reflected on what Wilson said. Gabe had observed Cho’s sleuthing tactics to be less than perfect and twice warned the Korean gangster to work the silence. Finally, he considered that everyone knew Sonny Cho truly enjoyed hearing himself talk and that anyone who cared would conclude Cho’s big mouth had somehow gotten him killed. After reflecting for a few moments on what Wilson had told him and what he already knew, Gabe said, “I’ll stay in.”
Though they weren’t participants in the discussion at the table, Gabe and Li from Park’s security detail could easily hear all that was being said by the two crime bosses. Gabe hoped his miniature recording device was capturing the audio and video of this unprecedented meeting. What the tiny lens couldn’t catch were the security personnel of both participants posted outside at the front and back doors.
Every U.S. agency involved in this operation knew that unlike the Italian Mafia, there is no “commission” overseeing Korean organized crime in Los Angeles. Yeong and Park called the shots in Southern California. But only Gabe and a handful of others knew both men had been sent to Los Angeles by the North Korean regime, relying on Pyongyang’s criminal empire to furnish the contraband being distributed in L.A. and throughout the United States.
Depending upon their respective overseas contacts, they could get a long list of contraband products from a variety of sources in North Korea, China, Russia, Indonesia, Mexico, Latin America, and Southwest Asia. Both the Park and Yeong organizations had networks of “shoppers” scouring a global underground marketplace for everything from sophisticated phony pharmaceuticals to the counterfeit Rolex watches Tommy Hwan was distributing.
The two crime bosses had vied for the lucrative privilege of distributing Supernotes in the Americas. By listening carefully to the conversation, Gabe discerned Office 39 in Pyongyang made the decision: Park would have exclusive rights for distribution in the United States and Mexico. Yeong was now the sole distributor in the Middle East, Africa, and Asia — but not China or South Korea. Others, apparently unknown to Park, Yeong, or U.S. authorities, were given distribution rights in Europe and Latin America.
“We have had our differences,” said Park.
“We have,” replied Yeong.
“But I had no reason to kill Cho. He served you, not me. He never betrayed me nor have we engaged in any type of business venture.”
“He dated your daughter,” said Yeong.