"You want me in your office right away?" Yun asked Prosecutor Park in a voice of disbelief. It was lunchtime. The bulbous lawyer normally reserved an hour or more at mid-day to re-stock the paunch that made his trousers look like a wind sock in a gale.
"Yes, for God's sake! Get down here right away. And drop everything until you do."
"Have you learned something about Hwang?" His voice held a cautious note of optimism.
"Yes, damn it," Park said, lowering his voice, "and I can't talk about it on the telephone."
The Captain made it in record time. He couldn't imagine what the prosecutor had learned to put him in such a state of alarm. Something unusual had obviously occurred, judging from the pile of cigarette butts that crowded the brass-bottomed dragon on his desk.
Yun took his seat and looked across at Park expectantly.
The prosecutor had managed to calm himself some during the time it had taken Yun to get there, but he still sounded a bit unnerved. "I was summoned to the Minister's office a short while ago," he said. "He had Colonel Han, director of the Agency for National Security Planning, with him. They told me that your information was obviously flawed. Your informer is apparently not so reliable after all. If there were someone by the name of Hwang Sang-sol, which they did not confirm, he would not have had anything to do with any of your cases. You are to drop any further investigation of this person. The Colonel stressed that it was a matter of the highest national security. Nothing is to be mentioned to anyone outside of this office. Is that clear?"
What came through loud and clear was that Hwang had, indeed, worked for the NSP. And likely still did. It was not clear whether the NSP had anything to do with Hwang's involvement in the murders. They certainly did not want any probing into his activities that might become a matter of public record.
"I asked is that clear?" Park repeated with emphasis.
Yun nodded. "Quite clear, Mr. Prosecutor. You realize what that would do to these cases if I were to drop Hwang—"
"If you were?" Park gasped in disbelief.
Yun exhaled a deep breath. "If I drop Hwang as a suspect, I'll be right back at the beginning, starting all over at square one. He was my only suspect. The evidence against him is far too strong to be coincidental."
"I don't believe what I'm hearing," said Park, as though the Captain had just announced his decision to fly to the moon. "I distinctly remember saying this person, or non-person, had nothing to do with any of your cases. Nothing means not anything. Period."
Yun folded his arms and stared at the prosecutor as the anger began to well up inside him. Politics had raised its ugly head. The law was the law, and in Yun's mind it applied to politicians equally as with any other citizen. Four people had died, apparently at the scarred hands of Suh, alias Hwang. Letting someone get away with murder was bad enough. With four murders it was unconscionable.
"Are you telling me I can't discuss this with my superiors in the National Police?"
Park shook his head. "Man, are you crazy? Don't you know what power the NSP possesses?"
"They have no authority to interfere in police matters."
"This is a matter of national security. It comes from the Minister of Justice. Do you want them to go to the Minster of Home Affairs? It might bring your removal from more than just these cases. Look, I'm a reasonable man. I know I've criticized you for lack of progress on these homicides. But I'm willing to give you whatever time it takes to start anew. If you must, go find yourself a drunk you can get a confession from."
That was too much. "I've been a police officer for twenty-one years, Mr. Park, and I have never arrested a man I did not believe guilty. If you have nothing else to discuss, I'll get back to work. Obviously, I have much to do."
His insides churned all the way back to his office. He pulled out the biographical sheet on Suh Tae-hung and read it again. A nice piece of American fiction, if I am to believe Prosecutor Park. The man who does not exist. He looked at the files bulging with evidence pointing to murder and conspiracy. He sat there for a long time entertaining all sorts of dark thoughts about political expediency and misplaced concerns over national security and plain old malfeasance. But in the end, he had to accept the reality of it all. They had the legal right to stop his investigation. He shoved the files into a drawer and slammed it shut. Damn it, he was not about to invent evidence to convict some innocent party. If he couldn't pursue Hwang Sang-sol, the cases could damn well lie there and rot.
Chapter 34
The office of Dr. Nam U-je was bright and spacious, furnished with an intricately carved desk and chairs of polished teak wood. Several large plants were placed about the room, assured of sunlight from the large windows that faced a view of the Olympic Stadium. It was not unlike a corporate chief executive's office in the U.S. Dr. Nam sat behind the desk as the two Americans took the chairs facing him. He kept a busy schedule, with all the additional responsibilities that had been given him over the past couple of years. The job of overseeing all the power generating facilities, the nationwide transmission network and the local distributors was enough to drive a normal man gray. But Nam, on his fifties, had hair as black as the crude oil that once had been his biggest headache. Now, with most of the nuclear power on line, oil imports had been cut back considerably. Still, he had other, pressing concerns. He had only agreed to meet with the Americans out of an abundance of caution.
He wanted to know just what interest they had in Korea Electric Power Company.
Brittany Pickerel was dressed in a fashionably feminine dark blue business suit. She smiled at the utility president. "We appreciate your taking the time to meet with us, Dr. Nam," she said in Korean. He was fluent in French but did not speak English. His degree in nuclear physics had been earned in France.
Nam's face remained expressionless. "I'm afraid my time is somewhat limited. I read where your firm was establishing a branch here. I would be interested in learning a bit more about it."
Translating for Duane Elliston, Miss Pickerel told Dr. Nam about Worldwide's plans in Korea and a little about the company's Seoul staff. He was a good listener, prompting her with a question now and then.
"Basically, we want to know what your people like about America and its products, what they don't like, and why. Then we can recommend steps to improve."
Dr. Nam had remained poker-faced but now allowed himself a slight smile. "We know what our customers don't like. They don't like the rates they have to pay, and they don't like it when the power goes out. I don't think public relations could have an effect on that."
"You'd be surprised," she said, a grin tugging at the corners of her eyes. "They might be persuaded that the rates are better than they think they are. And a little publicity on how quickly you respond to complaints of outages could easily improve your image."
"So what is it you wish from me?" he asked.
"We also represent Bartell Engineering, the firm that's building your Taesong nuclear plant. They want us to produce a promotional brochure highlighting their experience in the field. Mr. Elliston would like to take a photographer down there and shoot some photographs, gather some information we could use in the brochure."
Dr. Nam frowned. "Nuclear facilities are highly sensitive areas. We don't permit outsiders to tour them or take photographs."
She gave Elliston's reply. "Since we're employed by Bartell, we aren't really outsiders. The photographs and the brochure would give your country good publicity in showing how technologically up-to-date you are."