"Who knows? Guy from Kepco who used to work with me said he'd heard they planned some sort of research facility. Their fuel fabrication plant's there, and their waste storage site. I understand they've already pulled some of the power output from the unit there off the network."
Although Steele took pains to blow his smoke the other way, some of it drifted back toward Duane, who detested the odor. He leaned away from it. "Kanggu's north of here, isn't it? You ever go up there?"
"Naa." The sound was that of a deep-voiced sheep. "I got enough to worry about here. Obviously they don't want me around there anyway. The new guy from Kepco won't even talk about it."
Kanggu definitely bore looking into. Duane eyed him contemplatively. "Doesn't that make you a little curious?"
That brought the first hint of a smile Steele had allowed. "Sure as hell does. I learn more from truck drivers than anybody. They've been hauling equipment to Kanggu for several months. As early as last spring. One guy told me he saw loads of crates that came from Israel and France. He said some of the stuff apparently went to the Reijeo factory at Mt. Chuwangsan."
When Ko had finished shooting and they were ready to head back to Pusan that afternoon, Duane tried to think of some excuse to take a northern route back. But it would have been completely out of the way, and he didn't want to risk rousing any suspicions on the part of the photographer. He would have to come up with a logical reason to make a trip down to Andong, the biggest small town in the vicinity of both the Kanggu power facility and Reijeo's cavern in the mountain. He had a feeling that those two locations were the key to whatever the Kwak government was up to.
Chapter 36
The cold wind cut through the night air like a wayward knife, causing Burke to emulate a turtle, retracting his neck below the collar of his navy blue topcoat. He and Jerry were returning from dinner at a fashionable restaurant in a nearby office building. Its clientele consisted mostly of Western and Korean businessmen. They had seen Kurt Voegler, the Embassy's commercial attaché, huddled with a group of Koreans in the lounge. It was one of countless watering holes around downtown Seoul where business people unwound at the end of a long, hectic day.
They made it back to the office around nine, shortly before Duane was due to return. No one gave them a second glance. Working late was endemic to the highly industrious Koreans. It was not unusual to find lights still burning at this hour in offices all around the building.
As he dropped into the armchair behind his desk, Burke considered calling Lori. Her due date was only a month away now. He was fond of telling other people not to worry about things over which they had no control, but it was advice not so easily taken when it came to Lori's pregnancy. Still, this wasn't his night to call, and when he had ageed upon a schedule, he stuck to it.
Duane arrived a short time later. Looking through his office door, Burke saw him stripping off his coat as he crossed the room. He appeared to be in a testy mood after a long, tiring day of travel. Spotting Burke, he blurted, "Damn, it's cold around here. I should have stayed in Pusan."
Jerry came out of his office. "How was the flight?"
"Fine. If you like being strapped in a den full of Kimchi Eaters Unanimous." Duane sniffed at the lapel of his wool jacket. "My clothes reek of garlic."
Jerry shrugged. He had learned to like the spicy stuff. "If you can't beat 'em, you might as well join 'em, Duane."
"Me, join a movement? Ha!" It was a derisive laugh. "I'd as soon pay homage to the Devil. Matter of fact, I'd rather. At least he might be able to warm things up around here."
He trailed the manager into Burke's office.
"What did you learn from R. Mitchell Steele?" Burke asked.
"I picked up a few eye-openers." He told them about his conversation with the burly engineer. "I assume France and Israel are behind whatever South Korea is involved in. If they have some kind of nuclear program going, I'd say Kanggu and Reijeo's Chuwangsan plant are a good bet for its location."
Burke nodded. "You're probably right there. But I wouldn't jump to too many conclusions based on the crates. The shipments may not have had government approval."
"Our customs people wouldn't have allowed it."
"Do you know what was in the crates?" Burke eyed him with a cold stare.
"I can guess."
"More assumptions?" Burke frowned. "Assumptions won't get it in this business, Duane. We need facts. Verifiable facts."
Jerry moved over to sit on the corner of Burke's desk, apparently placing himself as a buffer between the two. "Too bad we don't have a good Korean agent we could insert down there," he said, twisting his mouth in thought.
"I haven't met a Korean yet who'd make a good agent," Duane said.
"Don't sell the opposition short," Burke said. "That's a good way to get your neck chopped off."
Duane shrugged off the warning. "We don't need a damned Korean anyway. I can rent a car and drive down to Andong. It's the closest town of any size. I'll do my American writer routine and put some pointed questions to the people around there."
"Yeah, and get a pointed gun in your face." Burke's voice was caustic. He had vowed he wouldn't let Duane provoke him this way, but that superior attitude and the tendancy to jump into things before thinking them through was too much. "You'd stick out like a sore thumb. You won't find English-speaking folks out in the provinces like you do in Seoul."
"Hell, half the scientific types down there probably studied at Cal Tech or MIT," Duane said.
Remembering the Korean-American Education Foundation, Burke knew he could be right. But that was no excuse for taking the risk of blowing the company's cover. "Damn it, Duane, we've gone to great pains to structure everything about this organization to prevent its being compromised. Steele told you the Koreans won't say a word about what's going on to him. If the security is as tight as it appears to be, an American nosing around that area would get a quick trip back to Seoul. Probably in the custody of NSP agents. The next place they'd be asking questions is right here in this office."
Duane planted his fists against his hips in a combative stance. "I'm an operations man, Mr. Hill," he said, grim-faced and formal. "I was sent over here to gather hard intelligence. I can't do it sitting in a damned office in Seoul. I know exactly how Mitch Steele felt when he told me if the desk jockeys would leave him alone, he'd get that project finished."
Jerry held up his hands in a halting gesture. "I think you're both right," he said. That brought a sudden silence and looks of contemplation. "Burke is right about the reaction to an American, Duane. There's too much anti-U.S. rhetoric these days. We've already encountered it on multiple occasions. Plus the natural suspicion these people have from years of constant reminders of the threat from the north. They'd stonewall you at best, call in the authorities at the worst."
Duane was about to protest when Jerry stopped him with another raised hand.
"And you're right, we need somebody checking into what's going on down there. But it has to be somebody who won't attract suspicion and blow our operation. Obviously, that means me."
Burke sat for a moment, completely nonplused. If it was all that obvious, why hadn't he thought of it? The young man's outburst had rubbed a raw spot. Was Duane right? Was he thinking like a desk man? His job was to supervise people in the field, not act like a field agent. But, though similar, Jerry's assignment as a field manager was different. He had to consider when the circumstances dictated that he become personally involved in an operation.
Burke eyed Jerry. "Do you have a plan?"
"Frankly, no. Not at the moment. But I will shortly."