Jerry wondered what significance that might have. "Do they take applications at the plant?"
"No. Security is too tight around there. You can't get near the place without a badge. There's an employment office in Andong. "
"I'll probably drop by and check into it tomorrow," Jerry said. "Is it a good place to work?"
The foreman raised a bushy eyebrow. "If you like hard work and long hours and stick with the company line."
Jerry grinned. "Doesn't everybody?"
"Apparently not. Word got around recently about a scientist who got himself fired for objecting to something he was involved in."
"That offends our Confucian conscience," Jerry said, feigning indignation.
"Tell that to the students at the next demonstration in Seoul." The foreman laughed. He had a prominent dimple in his chin.
A dissident scientist might be a fertile source for information on the plant. Could his objections have had anything to do with work on nuclear weapons, Jerry wondered? "What was the name of the guy who got fired?" he asked nonchalantly.
The foreman shrugged. "A Dr. Shin, I believe."
"What happened to him?"
"They shipped his ass out, that's what. I'll guarantee you he didn't go to another plant. I understand they blacklisted him. There was a rumor he'd gone to Pulguksa Temple to become a monk. Wouldn't be the first professional to take up the priesthood after a career was shot out from under him. Of course, I don't know if any of this is true."
Jerry begged off a visit to the inn with the excuse that he had to get back to Andong to meet his lady friend. Actually, he was ducking what might develop into another drinking game. This guy looked like he would probably be an old pro at it, capable of drinking the hardiest imbiber under the table.
On his way back to Andong, he came up with a plan. Pulguksa, he recalled, was one of the most famous temples in the country, built by a Silla Kingdom monarch in the fifth century, when Buddhism first came to Korea. It was located near Kyongju, which served as the Silla capital from its founding in 57 B.C. until its downfall near the middle of the tenth century. Kyongju was a couple of hours drive southeast of Andong.
Back at the yogwan, he called Burke and explained his plan, which would require the Worldwide office to back him up should any inquiries come through. They would confirm that he was representing an American client called the Coalition for Nuclear Freedom.
He started out early the next morning, as soon as there was enough light for driving in unfamiliar territory. Andong was already stirring, but he saw none of the frantic rush that marked this hour of the day in Seoul. Here the people went about their lives in the centuries-old way, seeking order and harmony at a traditionally timeless pace. Overnight, the clouds had moved in, casting the town in shades of gray, giving it a more prounounced aura of age. He took Highway 28 southeast, which paralleled a railroad most of the way to Kyongju.
In 1979, UNESCO named Kyongju one of the world's ten most important ancient historical sites. It was also South Korea's top tourist attraction, but Jerry had no interest in sightseeing at the moment. Pulguksa was only sixteen kilometers away, though it required following a tortuous road up the side of cloud-shrouded Mt. Tohamsan. About halfway up, just beyond a tourist-oriented village, he found the temple complex, a series of walled compounds set on stone terraces in a glade of pine and juniper trees.
He parked and set out on foot, buttoning the collar of his topcoat as a misty drizzle began to fall. When he reached the entrance, he saw why it had been selected as National Treasure No. 1. The elevated grounds were reached by thirty-three steps that led across two granite bridges between stone balustrades. Even in the gloom of morning, the facade was nothing short of spectacular, featuring reddish-brown and yellow panels beneath soaring rooflines, the woodwork painted in colorful red and green designs.
A month earlier, he would have been engulfed by tourists. But at the end of November, with rain threatening, visitors had become sparse. He walked past the temple's two famous pagodas, huge granite structures built during a reconstruction of Pulguksa in 751. Jerry was fascinated by the place. In the main hall, he found a solemn-faced young monk, head shaved, dressed in saffron robes, and handed him a business card.
"I wondered if I might find Dr. Shin here?" he asked.
The monk eyed him with a look devoid of emotion. "You should speak with Moon Chwa," he said. "I will take you to him."
The young monk led him across the inner courtyard toward a building at the rear. The Korean entered first, then invited Jerry to follow. He found himself in a small room with an ondol floor, and in the presence of a short, plump man whose round face resembled a smiling mask. He judged him to be somewhere in his forties.
Moon Chwa glanced at the card, then back at Jerry. "Welcome to Pulguksa, Mr. Chan," he said in Chinese.
Jerry smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Moon. It's been awhile since anybody spoke to me in Chinese."
"You are Chinese-American?"
"Yes. Both my parents came from China, but I was born and raised in the U.S.A." He switched to Korean. "I also speak your language, however."
Moon Chwa nodded. "And very well, I might add. Your card says you are manager of a public relations office. You might say we're in the same business. My job is to handle relations with the public here at Pulguksa."
Jerry bowed. "It's always nice to meet a kindred spirit."
Moon Chwa moved over to a low table and motioned to Jerry. "Please sit down, Mr. Chan."
Jerry took his place on a floor cushion across from the monk. He turned at the sound of someone behind him and saw a middle-aged woman carrying a tray with two cups of tea and a plate of sliced apple and pear. She placed them on the table and silently withdrew.
"Pulguksa is a very special shrine," Moon Chwa said reverently. "Unfortunately, it is not the place of serenity that many of us might prefer. You see, being National Treasure No. 1 has its drawbacks. The power of thought is our most important teaching, but concentration and medidation aren't always easy with the crowds we get here. You're fortunate to have come on a light day."
Jerry chewed on a wedge of apple, then looked at Moon Chwa thoughtfully. "I think my parents may have been Buddhist before they came to America. My mother eventually joined the Methodist Church. That was the church I grew up in. I don't recall my father ever talking much about religion. He wasn't really a shamanist, I don't think. He never spoke of spirits. But he was dedicated to nature, to animals and birds, to trees and flowers and rivers and streams. He marveled at the changes that took place, particularly in spring and fall."
"The Lord Buddha taught that life is a continuous process of death and rebirth. Was your father a teacher?"
Jerry sipped his tea. It was bland, but hot. "He was a scientist, a researcher. He had a doctorate in chemistry."
Moon Chwa observed him intently. "When you entered the temple, you asked about someone. A Dr. Shin, I believe."
"Yes, I was told he might have come here with an interest in becoming a monk."
Moon Chwa assumed an apologetic look. I'm sorry, Mr. Chan, but we have no such person here. Why are you looking for this Dr. Shin?"
The short, plump figure reminded Jerry of Humpty Dumpty as he sat beside the table with legs crossed. But the feeling of strength that emanated from him gave no hint of an impending fall. Jerry toyed with his teacup for a moment, deciding whether to use the cover story he had devised. This trip had been a gamble at best, but he had hoped for a bit better luck. The foreman had seemed to take the story about Shin's retreat to Pulguksa as rather reliable. Still, he had to admit that rumors could probably get pretty wild around a plant the size of Chuwangsan.