“We were on first-stage unity.”
“That year, as you realize, will mark the one hundred and fifth birthday of his father and his own seventy-fifth. The plan he has in mind, I’m told, is for a loose union, largely cosmetic but enough for him to be able to claim success in reuniting the ‘bloodlines’ of the Korean people, if not the territory. Last year, the two sides agreed to limited and quiet exchanges of personnel, mostly in the field of internal security.”
“Funny place to start,” I said.
“It would be in the real world, but, as we know, this isn’t the real world. So everyone decided that they wanted eyes and ears right where they could do the most good. Pyongyang sent two incompetents to Seoul from a department that shall remain nameless.”
“And whom did Seoul send?”
“Its very best, also incompetent but well shod and well fed. This exchange led to a lot of stumbling around for the better part of twelve months. Then, in March this year, the center had another health setback, serious enough to be confined to bed but not so serious that it was impossible to issue orders. I have my suspicions about who else is in the room when those orders are signed, but we can talk about that later. In any case, the South saw this development as a chance to replace its people with someone who actually knew what he was doing, could consolidate the gains, and could even-with a little luck-go on to the next phase. In pursuit of these goals, the incompetents were recalled and Major Kim was sent to Pyongyang in April. He had orders to proceed in all haste to achieve the consolidation part of the plan, and then to move with caution to explore the possibilities for next steps.”
“How do you know so much about the South’s plans?”
“Not everyone in the North is incompetent, Inspector. And Kim is not as smart as he thinks.”
“All very interesting, but none of it explains why Kim sent me to Macau.”
“It does, in a way. Consider: Officials in Pyongyang with even one eye open are already concerned about the drift of events, and have been searching for a rallying point, some sort of brake on what they recognize as dangerous, almost fatal South Korean inroads. To buy time, they have been urging that one of the center’s sons be put in place immediately to ensure stability for an eventual transition. They gather all of this under the cloak of carrying out plans for the first stage of ‘national unity.’ That isn’t what they want, of course, but it’s the best they can hope for until they figure out something better.”
Click. Clack. “Up the chimney and out to sea,” I said. I nudged my glass nearer the bottle in hopes that Kang would pour more-a lot more. There was a leadership transition in the works? And a successor in play? And I figured in this exactly how? I had been brought down from the mountain to be thrown headfirst into a pit of snakes, big snakes, the sort of snakes that swallow full-grown deer and then burp with pleasure. My hands weren’t shaking, but if Kang didn’t fill the glass right away, I might not be able to hold it still. “That was the chosen son whose tracks I was sent to erase in Macau, wasn’t it? Chopping up a prostitute can’t be very good for a smooth transition.” I remembered the room and its view. Nonchalance fled as reality knocked at the door. “No wonder Kim wanted me to get the evidence pointing somewhere else.”
Kang waited a moment before letting a few drops fall into my glass. “You actually believed him?”
“I take it you mean that wasn’t his intent.”
“Oh, no, he really did want you to go through the motions. One of Kim’s main tasks, though, is to accomplish exactly the opposite. He is supposed to make sure the son is so badly compromised that no one can possibly follow him. He must have wondered how to do that, until you crashed into view. Your appearance lets Kim claim that he’s made every effort to save the successor’s reputation, but due to the bad faith of the Chinese and the incompetence of a former North Korean policeman-the grandson of a Hero of the Republic no less-that has proved impossible. He discredits Beijing and the opposition in Pyongyang in one move. Brilliant.”
“I didn’t realize my skills were in such demand.”
Kang screwed the top on the bottle. Vodka time was over.
“This leaves me with a question.” I said. “Do you think the son did it? Murdered that prostitute in his hotel room?”
Richie coughed and fumbled with his glass. “How can you drink that potato water? Have a bit of this whiskey, why don’t you?”
“The Chinese have become concerned,” Kang ignored my question, “and concern has rapidly become alarm, at what the South is doing. Colonel Pang and his teacups are already moving to stop the process.” Astounding, did Kang have Chinese maples on his payroll? “But the scent of blood is on the wind. Gangs from China and everywhere else see an opportunity to carve up the country into spheres of influence. For all I know, the Mafia has set up shop on Kwangbok Street.”
“You forgot something.”
“The opposition. Yes, meanwhile, there is a loose resistance building against outside efforts to seize on the situation. It isn’t anything coordinated-yet.”
“So I noticed. It sounds a lot like holly.”
“Really?” Kang looked at Richie and smiled faintly. “Holly takes at least a couple of years to germinate after you put the seed in the ground, or so I’ve heard.”
Richie sat up. He seemed better, energized somehow.
“Holly…,” Kang said. “Tough little tree. Refresh my memory, what kind of leaves does it have?”
“Leathery, spiny.” I hesitated because I hated to give him what he wanted. “And glossy.” What a son of a bitch he was, both of them were. “And you two want to talk me into joining this loose resistance, I suppose. It was you who pulled me back into this sewer from the beginning, wasn’t it, from the moment that car stopped in front of my cabin. How you did it I don’t yet know, but if I go back and look, I’m sure I’ll find your paw prints.”
Richie was staring at me intently.
“Sorry,” I said, “but I don’t have the time or the inclination to help.”
“Is that so?” Richie had sunk back against the cushions. His voice was flat. “You went to Macau to help Kim.”
“I didn’t. I went to find out what is going on. Besides, I had to prove something to myself.”
“That’s fine,” Kang said. “That’s good. A little self-validation before the sheet is pulled over your face for the last time. While you’re at it, you might consider whether you really want to be treated like dirt between the toes of China. Because that’s what you’ll end up being. The South Koreans will lose the game; the Chinese will win. Seoul is a pack of fools. You want to join them? I wish you the best of luck.”
Succumbing to imagery never leads anywhere good. On the other hand, the mental image of 10 billion Chinese toes did carry a certain weight. “What do you propose doing about it?”
“We don’t need to fight the Chinese, Inspector. We don’t even have to make them unhappy. We need them to think we are prepared to cooperate. It wouldn’t take much. Colonel Pang is a reasonable man, as you’ve seen. It’s too bad he’s been marked to die.”