"Nice meeting you," said Burke, returning the bow. With this kind of luck, he felt a little better about the reception already. He nodded toward Jerry. "This is Jerry Chan, Mr. Kang. He'll be heading a new office we're opening in Seoul."
They filled their plates, and Burke invited Kang to join them at a small table that another group had just abandoned.
"What communications is your company involved in?" Kang asked.
"We counsel our clients on building effective communications in all areas," Jerry explained. "We're public relations consultants. We facilitate dissemination of news about the companies we deal with, and we work with them on being good corporate citizens."
"My knowledge of the American practice of public relations is rather sketchy," said Kang. "Isn't that what some would call media manipulation?"
"No, no," Jerry said. "We work to see that the press gets whatever information it desires. What we want to do here is determine how the Korean consumer feels about American products and services, then counsel our companies on what they need to do to improve public acceptance. Along the way, we hope to promote better understanding between Koreans and Americans."
Burke took up the theme. "We're well aware of the current strain in relations with your country, Mr. Kang. I believe anything we can do to improve the situation would be to our mutual benefit."
"Yes, Mr. Hill. With that I can agree. But our government argues the U.S. would prefer to hold us back, not unlike the Japanese did. I wasn't born until a year before their occupation ended. But your country has dominated our affairs for virtually my entire lifetime, an even longer period than the Japanese occupation."
Burke frowned. "Why would we want to hold you back?"
"Your invocation of Section 301 certainly makes it appear that way." He referred to Section 301 of the U.S. Foreign Trade Act, which applied sanctions against countries that refused to open their domestic markets to wider participation by U.S. firms.
"Wasn't that in reply to South Korea's restriction of American goods and services?" Burke asked. "It seems to me we've worked all these years to assure your freedom, to help make you strong economically, to give you the option to move in whatever directions you chose."
Kang revealed the barest hint of a smile. "But most of that time we were your debtor. Debtors are not so free to choose, don't you think?"
As for holding the Koreans back, the only thing that came to Burke's mind was the pressure America had put on South Korea in years past to keep them out of the nuclear arms arena. Could Kang know anything about the secret Israeli agreement? Surely not. From what he had heard, the generals didn't trust journalists. They were part of the chief opposition group, the intellectuals.
Two men paused beside the table, looking down their noses at Kang as they spoke in Korean. Without betraying the slightest hint of emotion, he pushed his chair back, stood and bowed. "It has been a pleasure meeting you, gentlemen. Perhaps we can talk again after you have had an opportunity to test the waters, so to speak."
Burke and Jerry stood and returned his bow. "I'm looking forward to it," Burke said with a smile.
"To peopgetssumnita," said Jerry, bringing a flicker of uncertainty to Kang's face as he walked away.
"What was that?" Burke asked.
Jerry grinned. "See you again. Obviously he didn't know I understood Korean. The men who spoke chided him with, 'You're getting quite chummy with these Americans.'"
If Kang were any example, Burke realized, there was a deep-seated mistrust of if not outright hostility toward America among the Korean media. Duane Elliston and Travis Tolliver were about to step into the cage with a very suspicious, sharp-toothed tiger. He hoped they were adept at fancy footwork. As for how it would affect HANGOVER, he wasn't sure.
Jerry suggested they split up and work their way around the room, meeting near the bar in about thirty minutes. Burke found himself more in a reactive mode, talking with those who spoke to him first rather than making any great effort to push himself on others. One of those who stopped to chat introduced himself as Vincent Duques, a political officer at the Embassy.
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Hill," Duques said, giving a sort of salute with his highball glass. He was about Burke's height, but slimmer, with a V-shaped hairline and a pair of dark, probing eyes. His face reflected a half-smile that Burke suspected could change into a sneer with little effort. "Ambassador Shearing tells me you're in the PR business."
"That's right. Worldwide Communications Consultants. We're setting up an office here in Seoul."
"I don't think the Kwak government is terribly interested in good public relations for Americans these days," Duques said. "My advice would be to watch who you're dealing with. It's getting pretty difficult to tell friend from foe around here."
"We're not looking for confrontation," Burke said. "Quite the contrary, our intention is to try and smooth things over. Convince the Koreans that Americans are good guys, that they ought to patronize our business folks."
Duques nodded. "Lotsa luck. Trouble is, they don't want real competition. No more than the Soviets used to. They want us to play by their rules. It's a fixed game, Hill, believe me."
It suddenly dawned on Burke that he had likely encounted the CIA station chief. Duques was frustrated over the current turmoil in South Korean politics because he didn't know whose loyalty he could count on. That was why the Amber Group had been sent here. Then Duques' hint of a smile suddenly widened.
"Now I know who you are." He said it as though pleased at having solved an enigma. "I knew the name and face rang a bell. You're the guy who nailed Hawk Elliott and General Kostikov."
That cinched it. The two main plotters in the Jabberwock conspiracy were the CIA's Hawthorne Elliott and KGB General Vladimir Kostikov. It was doubtful anybody but an Agency man would recall that.
Burke grinned. "You have a good memory, Mr. Duques. Not many outsiders knew Elliott by his nickname."
Duques' smile turned sour. He knew he'd been had. "You hear a lot of things around an Embassy, Mr. Hill. Nice meeting you." He turned and moved on through the crowd.
Burke was happy that he did, although it was doubtful anyone would make anything of that brief encounter. But some of the journalists in the room could easily suspect Duques' real identity, and Burke wanted to avoid anything that might even hint at a relationship with the CIA.
He saw Jerry near the bar and headed that way. Just as they were about to order another drink, Damon Mansfield strolled up, a glass in one hand, the other tugging at the arm of a dour-looking individual in a conservative navy blue suit. Mansfield's collar was unbuttoned behind the knot of his tie. He appeared to have beaten a path to the bar.
"Mr. Hill, Mr. Chan," Mansfield said hurriedly, "meet Kurt Voegler, our commercial attaché. I'm sure he can tell you all you'd want to know about Korea Electric Power. See you around." He was off to greet another press person.
Burke considered the commercial attaché with a feeling of ambivalence. Voegler was in a position to be of significant help in pursuing their objectives, but his appearance did nothing to inspire confidence. His dark hair was complemented by a matching mustache that appeared to have been waxed at the ends. He had the wistful, melancholy look of a man who had tasted defeat. It was as though he had just watched the Embassy guards lower the flag in Saigon for the last time.
Burke held out his hand. "I'm Burke Hill, Mr. Voegler. In case Damon Mansfield didn't tell you, we're with Worldwide Communications Consultants, a PR firm out of Washington. Jerry Chan is manager of the new office we're opening in Seoul."