"Just write the facts as you gave them to me. Let your readers draw their own conclusions."
"You must understand the differences between American democracy and Korean democracy, Mr. Hill," he said. "Your constitution forbids any laws abridging freedom of the press. Prior restraint is not allowed. Your newspapers can print whatever they wish, be it factual, speculative, spiteful, even libelous, though, of course, they could be sued. Our constitution is a bit different. It provides that neither speech nor the press shall violate the honor or rights of other persons, nor undermine public morals or social ethics. The Ministry of Culture and Information is our watchdog."
Burke shook his head in disgust. "I see your problem," he said.
Now that he thought about it, he recalled having read where the South Korean government had closed down newspapers in the past. Surely that couldn't happen over something as simple as a low-level bureaucrat stepping out of line. But Kang obviously knew the limitations of Korean press freedom much better than he. Supposedly South Korea had become more liberal than in the past. No doubt to some degree it had. But the old spectre of intimidation was still alive and well. And when it was your newspaper that was on the line, you didn't push your luck too far.
He decided it might be worth asking Captain Yun about. He caught the policeman in his office and attempted to sound more upbeat than he felt.
"This is Burke Hill, Captain. I hope you're having a good day?"
"Some people believe if they awaken to see another morning, it is a good day," said Yun. "I'm not so easily pleased. But I won't bore you with my problems. How can I be of help to you, Mr. Hill?"
"For one thing, I thought you might be interested in a follow-up on the information you gave me regarding the Embassy brawl." He related Editor Kang's findings.
"I'm not surprised at Ko's union connection," said Yun. "The government job is another matter. Normally, the government doesn't like unions. Evidently this is one they control or one that is working for them."
"I was hoping Koryo Ilbo would print a retraction or a new story explaining what really happened. Kang says they can't." He explained the editor's reasoning.
"Yes," Yun said, "Our newspapers are not so free to do as they please. Unfortunately, that apparently applies also to our National Police."
Burke frowned. "What do you mean by that?"
"I don't think it would be wise to say any more," Yun said.
Burke sensed that something had gone badly wrong. But what? Did it have anything to do with the cases they had discussed? Was Yun being purposely vague on the telephone? He had to find out. Perhaps an invitation was in order. Jerry had told him the Koreans considered it impolite to refuse another's hospitality. "I really enjoyed my recent visit with you," he said, baiting the trap. "It would be a pleasure to have you as my guest for dinner."
Although Burke thought he might have detected some reluctance, Captain Yun accepted his invitation. They agreed to meet Wednesday evening at a traditional Korean restaurant in Iksun-dong that Miss Song had recommended. The Iksun-dong section north of Pagoda Park was home to some of the best Oriental style restaurants in Seoul, as well as the most noted kisaeng houses.
Chapter 38
Kurt Voegler agreed to meet Jerry Chan and Duane Elliston early that evening at a maggolli house, a sort of Korean neighborhood pub, across from the high-rise Reijeo Building, the business group's expansive, modern headquarters. It was a favorite after-hours hangout for young, mid-level Reijeo executives. After an exhaustive, free-wheeling afternoon of bouncing around ideas for a promotional giveaway that would send the Korean winners on all-expense-paid junkets to Disneyland, Disney World, and Washington, D.C., Jerry and Duane were primed for the "happy hour."
"We might learn something of interest tonight," Jerry said as they approached the bar, "but our primary mission is to make some contacts we can pursue later. It's important to make them feel we're a couple of normal guys. One thing we can expect to encounter is the old Korean drinking game."
Duane grinned. "I'm good at drinking games."
"You need to know the rules on this one. The guy next to you will hand you a glass and pour. You take it in both hands. turn it up, and pass it on to the next guy."
Duane smirked. "Got it."
Maggolli is a milky-white rice brew, traditionally Korea's most popular drink. Though mild, it can pack a punch that sneaks up on the unwary. Maggolli houses in the blue-collar sections tended to be untidy taverns where the partying usually became rather raucous. Since this one catered to Korea's version of the yuppy, it was quite decent and upbeat in appearance. The unwinding was well under way when they arrived, the crowd noisy in a cheerful way and constantly milling about. The place served excellent anju, bar snacks, including pindaeduk, mung bean pancakes with shrimp or meat mixed into the batter.
Voegler arrived at about the same time. They ordered bottles of the cloudy brew and nibbled on pancakes as they began circling through the crowd. The attaché quickly spotted a table of Reijeo people that included a few acquaintances. He introduced the Americans and they squeezed into a couple of narrow openings at the table. The man beside Jerry was named Kwon. Most of the Koreans understood English, but Jerry spoke in Korean to show that he wasn't your average American visitor.
"The weather's been great since we got here," Jerry said, going with a tried and true opening gambit for any conversation. "When do you expect snow?"
"Before the end of December," said the bespectacled young man. "Of course, it could happen any time now. What is the weather like where you came from?"
"I came here from Washington, though I've lived all around. The Washington weather is a lot like here. It's cold back there now, but so far no snow."
They had to lean their heads close to hear above the noise. Kwon said, "Too bad you didn't get here in the spring. That's the best time to see some of the countryside."
Jerry smiled. It provided the perfect opening. "A friend of mine wants me to go visit Andong."
Kwon's face lit up. "That's where my ancestors came from. The Kwons were yangban during the Yi Dynasty." The yangban were aristocrats who held down high government posts.
"Then you can tell me what I should be sure to see while I'm down there."
Kwon took a big gulp of maggolli and wiped his mouth. "A lot of the old homes are still there. On the east side of town is a seven-story pagoda you should definitely see. It's the oldest and largest in Korea. And, of course, you'll want to go up to the Amita Buddha. It's just north of town. Twelve meters high, carved into a huge boulder."
Jerry finished his drink and ordered another. Kwon was well ahead of him and chattering without restraint.
"I read where your company built a plant inside a mountain down there a few years ago," Jerry said casually. "Chuwangsan, I believe. Isn't it southeast of Andong?"
"Right." Kwon moved his head closer, lowering his voice. "It's one of those projects we don't talk about."
Jerry nodded knowingly. "Because they make explosives. I'm manager for the local office of an American public relations firm. I know how it is to have to deny something everybody knows is so."
Kwon rumpled his brow and gave a half-grin. "We don't deny our Explosives Division is there. But they have some government contracts for materials used in military weapons. The government gets touchy about it."
"Seems like the article I read also said it had a Special Something Division. Special Services?"