"To me, the implication is pretty clear. Ko was sent to that party to goad Damon Mansfield into a shoving match. As the police officer who gave me this information said, with his skills, Ko could have put Mansfield on the floor in an instant if he'd wanted to."
"What police officer?"
Burke hesitated. "I'm not sure he would want his name mentioned. I'd have to ask him first. But he told me that this Ko was a member of the South Korean Taekwondo team. He competed with them in the Asian Games and did a demonstration at the Olympics."
Jerry Chan cut his eyes toward Kang as the mention of sports competition triggered a new thought. "Mr. Kang, how did your reporter know about Damon Mansfield's fight, something that happened on a basketball court several years ago? That doesn't strike me as something likely to be in a Korean newspaper's clipping files."
"I'm sure we had a biographical sheet on him. We receive them from your Embassy when a new attaché arrives."
Jerry grinned. "Begging your pardon, sir, but I sort of doubt an Embassy bio would include anything about a college basketball brawl. That's not their style."
Kang was obviously irritated. Burke hoped the anger was not directed at them. He'd hate it doubly since that had been one of Duane's predictions. "These are matters with which I am not totally familiar, gentlemen," the editor said carefully. "But I can assure you I will be familiar with them soon. Thank you for bringing this to my attention."
He stood behind his desk, a clear signal that the interview was over. He hadn't said what he would do, if anything, after he looked into the matter, Burke thought. All they could do was hope Kang Han-kyo was a fair-minded journalist.
On their way back to the office, Burke debated whether to call Ambassador Shearing and inform him of what they had learned. He finally decided against it. With the Ambassador's convoluted logic, he might consider it interference in the legation's affairs. Should the newspaper correct its story or print a retraction, he would press Shearing to make certain that Damon Mansfield was exonerated.
Chapter 33
Duane Elliston craved action. This was his first operational assignment, and he was anxious to get going on something he could sink his teeth into. The morning session with Brittany and the Korean market researchers had been boring with a capital "B." He had made an occasional suggestion to keep things moving in the right direction. Mostly it had been listening to drivel about market segments, audience impact, key words, images. Brittany was as polished as a stainless steel blade, and about as sharp. They would speak English for awhile for his benefit, then the conversation would lapse into Korean. She could babble with the best of them. As he watched her haggle ardently over some obscure point, he wondered idly if she might be that impressive in bed.
Making out with the ladies had never been a problem with Duane. He had looks and money, and his sometimes bizarre behavior had proved more intriguing than repelling to most of the girls he encountered. Choosing to swim against the tide hadn't particularly endeared him to his family, however. His father had wanted him to be a straight-laced, Brooks Brothers model businessman, like his older brother, Kevin. That didn't interest Duane. In fact, it was primarily his dad's effort to mold him into a clone of Kevin that had propelled him in the opposite direction. His senior year in high school had been the turning point. Kevin was a dean's list football star at Harvard, plowing steadily through the curriculum that would lead to a coveted MBA. Duane, whose high school marks were equally impressive, announced that he would not attend Harvard. He chose instead to head west, traveling halfway across the country to Missouri, a university noted for its prowess in journalism.
After a few years on a Chicago newspaper, Duane agreed to return home to New York and the family business, but in the PR end rather than advertising. The Highsmiths had always been close family friends. They were Uncle Nate and Aunt Ginger. He saw it as a godsend when Nate agreed to take over the agency and save his father from drowning in a flood of red ink. But knowing that Kevin would eventually become head of the agency, he took advantage of the opportunity to jump ship when Worldwide Communications Consultants was formed.
Duane was aware that Burke Hill had not been pleased at his inclusion in the Korean operation, but he also knew Burke would not be in Seoul for long. He was determined it would not diminsh his role in any way. After all, he was the only fully qualified intelligence officer on the scene. The fact that he was totally untested seemed inconsequential. He had acquitted himself well as a cub reporter and as a neophyte public relations practitioner. He expected to pull off this debut with equal aplomb.
He and Brittany ate lunch near the research firm, which was located in a commercial area south of the Han River. It was around two when they returned to the office. Duane immediately put in a call to R. Mitchell Steele at the Taesong nuclear power plant.
"Steele here," said a gravelly voice.
"Mr. Steele, this is Duane Elliston with Worldwide Communications Consultants in Seoul. Did your people in California tell you we were coming?"
"Oh, yeah." He sounded unenthusiastic.
"How is the project coming?"
"We're on schedule, but the next four weeks are critical. If those desk jockeys in California and the engineering geniuses in Seoul will stay off my back, we'll make it."
That sounded like a veiled warning to keep out of his way. Duane decided to try a little back door approach. "How would you like another good project to work on when this one is finished?"
"That's what they hired me for. What did you have in mind?"
"Bartell wants me to come down there and shoot some photos, get a feel for the project and turn out a promotional brochure. Something they can use to sell other prospects."
Steele mumbled a reply that sounded like, "Oh, they do."
Duane wondered if he had an ego. "They said to play up Mitch Steele as the man who can produce miracles."
"I don't know about any damn miracles," he said. "But if I get this sonofabitch done on schedule, I'll sure deserve some kind of medal."
Duane chuckled. "I'll see that you're put in for a commendation. What would be a good day to come down?"
"Listen, sonny… what did you say your name was?"
"Elliston. Duane Elliston."
"Well, Duane, if you want to make pictures down here, you'd better get your ass over to Kepco and see what they say. They're more security conscious than the U.S. Defense Department."
"Would Dr. Nam U-je be the one to approve it?"
"He's the man with the brass balls."
Duane grinned. Despite the grouchy tone, Mitch Steele was a man he could admire. He believed in the direct approach. "We have an appointment with Dr. Nam on Thursday. I'll get back to you."
He had never heard the prosecutor in such a state of panic. It was shortly before noon on Tuesday, and Captain Yun had just arrived at his office following a fruitless morning of battering heads with the bureaucracy. First he had tried the Ministry of National Defense. He wanted access to the files of former members of the ROK Army Special Forces. That was not possible, a harried young personnel captain insisted. Talk to the colonel. The colonel, a husky, beetle-browed ogre with the tact of a drill sergeant, was more adamant.
"Shit, Captain, when the Army needs the help of the police, we'll call you." He growled like a bear just out of hibernation.
"This is an important homicide case," Yun said. "It involves a relative of the president of the republic."
"Then bring me a piece of paper with the president's signature on it and you can see the records."
End of conversation.
Next he had gone to the Ministry of Education, in hopes of finding something on Suh Tae-hung among the records of university graduates. Which university, he was asked? He had no idea. What year? He was not sure. An exasperated clerk threw up her hands. Talk to the head of the division, he was told. And so it went.