"By whom?"
"It requires the personal approval of the Minister of Home Affairs or the Minister of Justice. Until about five years ago, the Director of the NSP could also authorize it. That's no longer true."
Now we're getting somewhere, Yun thought. He glanced down at the information sheet Burke Hill had given him. Suh had been arrested in 1981. More than ten years ago.
"Is any record kept of the names of those deleted?" Yun asked.
"Yes. The ministers keep a list of whose files they authorize to be killed out."
"And the NSP Director?"
"I'm sure he would have those he authorized. What name are you concerned about, Captain Yun?"
"Sorry, this is a highly sensitive case. I'm afraid I'll have to be as reluctant to give that out as you were about compromising your security system. Tell you what, when everything's cleared up, I'll be happy to get with you and go over my concerns. Meanwhile, you have helped more than you know, Captain. Thank you very much."
He had a very good idea of who might have erased Hwang's or Suh's police record. It would be interesting indeed to see what Prosecutor Park came up with from the NSP.
Chapter 32
Burke, Jerry and Brittany Pickerel took advantage of the beautiful late fall day on Sunday to visit Kyongbok Palace, which lay just beyond the end of Sejongro north of the Embassy. They wandered first through Kwanghwa-mun, the Gate of Transformation by Light. It was another of those magnificent wooden structures with two-tiered tile roofs built atop huge stone archways. The massive gate opened onto the grounds of the National Museum of Korea. After a brief look around, they headed for Kyongbok's East Gate and strolled onto the palace grounds.
As they started up the steps to the Throne Hall, a smiling young man in his Sunday best came walking toward them, a newspaper folded beneath his arm. Another language student, thought Burke. He was becoming accustomed to the frequent approach of Koreans, usually students, bent on practicing their English.
The man gave a slight head bow and said, "Good morning. My name is Kim. I work with Munhwa Broadcasting Corporation Television News. Aren't you two the men I saw at the American Embassy party Monday evening?"
"We sure are," Jerry said. "I'm Jerry Chan, this is Miss Brittany Pickerel, and this is Mr. Burke Hill."
"Are you with the new American public relations company?"
Burke nodded, smiling. "That's us."
Mr. Kim took the newspaper from beneath his arm and opened it. "I doubt that you read hangul, but I was wondering about your reaction to the editorial in today's Koryo Ilbo?"
"Miss Pickerel and I read and speak Korean," Jerry said quickly. "But we haven't seen a newspaper today. What's the editorial about?"
He folded the newspaper to highlight a particular article and handed it to Jerry. "Maybe you had better read it for yourself."
As Burke watched the frown deepen on Jerry's face, he knew the news wasn't good. Finally, Jerry muttered a subdued, "Damn," and looked up.
"What is it?" Burke asked.
"It must have been that editor we talked to, Kang Han-kyo. It's about the incident between Mansfield and the Korean. He says it could only accelerate the U.S.'s declining prestige in South Korea. That it tends to confirm what a lot of Koreans believe Americans really think of them. He mentions us. Says there's an American PR firm in town attempting to shore up the U.S. image. He thinks we'll be fighting a losing battle."
Burke started to give a quick and dirty one-word summary of what he thought of the editorial but caught the Korean TV man's eye and thought better of it. "My reaction," he said, sermonizing, "is one of disappointment. I think the incident was misinterpreted and seriously overblown in the press. As for the job Worldwide Communications Consultants will be doing, I think we have an excellent opportunity to better inform Koreans about the true feelings of Americans. We're friendly, open people who wish you nothing but the best."
Mr. Kim kept his smile. "I think maybe the younger people don't accept this. The older generations remember your help during the war. The government, I think, likes your tourist dollars but doesn't like your advice."
"That's an interesting comment, Mr. Kim," Brittany said. "I will be working on a survey to quantify the views of different segments of your population. And you think the younger generation will be our toughest group?"
"Oh, yes. They don't like outside advice, either."
Brittany tilted her head to one side. "Is that the general perception? That we're too bossy?"
"Bossy? Oh, yes, I think so. You tell us how to run our military. You tell us who should be our friends. You tell us we should buy more of your products and sell you less of ours."
Jerry shook his head. "I think our intent was to offer advice, not to say you have to do this or that."
Burke didn't feel this was the time or place for a full-fledged debate on Korean-American relations. And he was anxious to get back to the hotel and have Jerry or Brittany provide him a full translation of that editorial.
"We really appreciate hearing your views, Mr. Kim," he said with a soft smile, making an obvious glance at his watch. "I'm afraid we're on a tight schedule, but thanks for calling this to our attention. If we can be of help to you in any way, please give us a call."
"Here's my card," Jerry said, handing over one of his new business cards with the Seoul address and phone number.
They left Mr. Kim standing there, still smiling, and walked quickly across the terrace toward the street.
Burke lay back on the bed, his head propped on two pillows. He was reading the Koryo Ilbo editorial for about the tenth time when his phone rang. It was Captain Yun.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Hill. I hope you are having a pleasant weekend."
"Fine, thanks, Captain," he said absently. He didn't really mean it, of course. He was still considerably agitated over the newspaper item, which he considered unfairly provocative.
"You have been most helpful to me," said Yun earnestly. "I apologize for not mentioning this to you earlier, but did not think about it affecting you."
Burke frowned. "I'm sorry, Captain. I don't think I understand."
"Have you been informed about the editorial in today's Koryo Ilbo?"
Burke sat up abruptly. "As a matter of fact, I have a translation in front of me. It certainly won't make our job any easier."
"Yes, I can see that. I knew it was referring to your company. Are you familiar with the details of what happened at the American Embassy party?"
"I sure am. I was there."
"You saw it?"
"Well, let's say I was looking in that direction. I wasn't close enough to really see exactly what happened. But I talked to Damon Mansfield afterward, and also the Ambassador. I don't believe it happened like they said in the newspapers."
"I think you are right," said Yun.
Burke was puzzled. "Do you know something I don't?"
"Yes. The Korean, a man named Ko Pong-hak, has been a member of our national Taekwondo team. He participated in the Asian Games and in the 1988 Olympics."
"You mean he's an expert?" Burke asked.
"Exactly. Quite expert. And you can be certain that a Taekwondo expert could not have been knocked down by a drunken opponent. Probably not a sober one, either."
"Damon said he was set up, that the fall was a fake. I think the Ambassador was inclined to doubt him. Damon told me he never said a word about President Kwak. He said the incident started when this Ko character called him a 'black bastard.'"
"Previous to this," Yun said, "I have never seen Ko identified as anything but a construction worker."
"Construction worker? Not an information officer?"