"I'll report everything you've told me to the Coalition in Washington," Jerry said. "I don't know just what action they'll take, but it might be necessary to have you tell your story to the international press. Would you be willing to do that?"
Dr. Shin frowned. "I'd have to leave the country if I did."
"That might not be a bad idea anyway."
The troubled physicist studied his palms for a moment, as if looking for an answer in his lifeline. He looked back at Jerry through determined gray eyes. "Yes, I would talk to the press. This madness must be stopped."
"You said they gave it a special code name. What was the name?"
"They took it from a familiar Taoist blessing, the Chinese characters for happiness and longevity. How's that for scrambling the symbolism? It was called Operation Pok Su."
Chapter 41
The Dokjo Restaurant in Iksun-dong had the look of a large traditional Korean home, which it had been until its reincarnation some years ago as one of Seoul's top native style dining establishments. Hanging scrolls decorated the walls and beautiful examples of celadon and porcelain pottery were displayed about the rooms. Subdued lighting added to the feeling of antiquity. Burke had reserved a table in a small private cubicle but was waiting near the restaurant's entrance when Captain Yun arrived. The policeman wore a dark gray suit that, along with the tightly controlled look on his face, gave him the appearance of a successful Korean entrepreneur. The maitre d' bowed deferentially before conducting them back to the private room where floor cushions were arrayed around a low laquered table.
"Your waitress, Miss Han, will be with you shortly," said the maitre d' before closing the rice paper door behind him.
Burke took his place at the table, thankful for the warmth of the ondol floor. From a speaker somewhere out of sight, he heard the soft strains of a melody he had learned to recognize as Arirang, the country's unofficial national anthem. He hadn't managed to comprehend the words, but concluded that the sound would effectively thwart any recording devices that might be around. Then he almost laughed at the paranoia behind that thought. It seemed rather farfetched that anyone would want to bug the dinner conversation of a police detective and a PR man.
"Did you get caught in that mess up the street?" he asked Captain Yun.
"Mess?"
"All the policemen in front of that place. Motorcycle cops. Vans."
Yun smiled. "That was the Jang Jung Gak kisaeng house, probably the most exclusive one in town. The long black limousine out front belongs to President Kwak. If he's in Seoul, you can usually find him there on a Tuesday night. It's closed to the public on Tuesdays."
"At a kisaeng house? Isn't that a… sort of… "
"House of prostitution? No, not in the normal sense. The young ladies are charming, beautiful, talented. They provide lavish service during dinner. They also sing and dance and play musical instruments. Should they choose to, they may accompany their patrons later in the evening. For rather exhorbitant fees, I might add. In fact, the charges for dinner and entertainment are more than the ordinary man can afford. The president meets there to relax with some of his cronies, particularly the Prime Minister and Colonel Han of the NSP."
An attractive waitress in a colorful hanbok served an array of steaming dishes that soon covered the table. As they began to eat, Yun inquired about Burke's impending fatherhood.
"Only about three weeks to go," he said with a smile. "Which means I won't be in Seoul much longer. That was one reason I wanted to take you to dinner tonight. The other was to let you know the manuscript from Dr. Cabot Lowing should be arriving in the next day or two. I'll get it to you as soon as I can."
"I'm not sure what help it will be now," said Yun with a note of bitterness.
Burke frowned. "What's the problem? I got the impression when we talked the other day that something might have happened with your investigation."
Yun paused, his chopsticks halfway to his mouth, then returned a succulent shrimp to its bowl. He looked across at Burke, his features as hard as the granite that supported the foundation beneath them. "I was told by my prosecutor not to mention this to anyone, but you know the rest of the story. You might as well know this, too."
He explained how his effort to unmask the man known as Hwang Sang-sol had been torpedoed by Prosecutor Park and the director of the NSP. They might as well have slammed a steel door in his face.
Burke shook his head in sympathy. "When they start waving the red flag of national security, you know you've really touched a sensitive nerve."
"True. And Park was nearly petrified at the involvement of the NSP."
"Doesn't look like they left you any maneuvering room."
Yun shrugged. "I could appeal directly to the president, if I was interested in committing career suicide."
"I wouldn't advocate that."
Yun sighed in resignation. "Nor would I."
Burke speared a chunk of beef with his fork and used it to emphasize his words. "If that manuscript was worth killing for, surely it holds something pretty damned important. Let's hope we can find it."
As Burke and Captain Yun were leaving the restaurant, they walked past another small cubicle where two men sat eating. The waitress had just opened the rice paper door, which allowed Burke a glimpse of a large fat man facing him from the other side of the low table. He couldn't recall having seen a Korean of such proportions, almost like a Sumo wrestler. He saw only the back of the short, compact figure facing away from him. Burke wondered if the Captain might recognize the burly diner but realized Yun was looking straight ahead and couldn't have seen him.
In the small room, Prosecutor Park Sang-muk looked down at the man across from him. "One of your old police colleagues just passed by with an American."
Yoo Hak-sil frowned. "An American?"
Park nodded, his beefy jowls shaking like the folds of a dancer's skirt.
Yoo went to the door and looked out. Returning to his place at the table, he downed a swallow of soju and smiled at his dinner companion. "That was his public relations agent."
"What are you talking about?" Park frowned. Sometimes he wondered about his old drinking buddy.
"The American's name is Burke Hill. He's with an American public relations firm that recently opened an office here. They hired me to do some employee investigations on Captain Yun's recommendation."
Park was not at all pleased with what he had just heard. Yun dining with an American businessman whom he had apparently befriended? Could it have any relation to his theory about a plot against Koreans who supported close relations with the Americans? He recalled the Captain's past indiscretions, at least they qualified for that description from his biased viewpoint, which had required large quantities of insam cha to restore his nervous system to its proper balance and harmony. Surely Yun was not still pursuing the involvement of an assassin named Hwang. Park feared any misstep by the investigator might be turned against himself, since he bore overall responsibility in the cases. The very last thing he cared to even contemplate was a confrontation with the NSP.
By the time Jerry Chan and Dr. Shin had finished their conversation about Operation Pok Su, it was too dark for Jerry to risk the treacherous road back down the mountain. So he spent the night at Hongsansa and drove back to Seoul the following morning. Song Ji-young was delighted to see him.