"How would you identify him?"
"The bibliography at the end of the manuscript cites the sources. It mentions documents in the Japanese Foreign Ministry Archives, the History of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs Police, articles in Chosun Ilbo, records seized by U.S. military forces, some biographies of Northeast Anti-Japanese fighters published in Harbin, Manchuria, and several volumes of reminiscences of the partisan guerillas published in Pyongyang. Most of them are dead, but Dr. Lee lists a handful who should be still around. One of them has to be our man."
Yun had stopped in front of a stall piled high with boxes of fruit. Only a few samples of each variety were lying out in the open, the rest covered to protect them from the cold. He crossed his arms, deep in thought, and rubbed his chin. Finally, he looked up at Burke.
"I'd better go," he said, his jaw jutting forward in a determined set. "I'll see if I can arrange it."
"What are the chances?"
"President Kwak is sending a delegation from several of the ministries to Pyongyang. They're to meet with their counterparts from the North and talk about unification. The police bureau will have a contingent of officers from a Special Security Group as bodyguards. The Blue House doesn't intend to take any chances."
"Can you get assigned to the group?"
Yun smiled. "Their commander is an old schoolmate, one who thinks a lot like me. I'll speak to him today. The delegation leaves the middle of next week."
A plainly dressed young woman, her cheeks rosy from the cold, her hair cascading down on both sides to frame her face right up to her sparkling eyes, approached them from the rear of the stall. She spoke to the Captain and bowed.
The detective turned to Burke. "Remember my telling you about Mr. Chon, the fruit vendor? This is Mrs. Choe, widow of his grandson, Kim Yong-man." He looked back at the woman and spoke in Korean.
Burke heard his name and saw Mrs. Choe bow. He nodded to her with a smile.
"I'll have to say most Korean women I've seen are very attractive ladies. I don't know what you do to grow 'em this way."
Yun grinned. "Arranged marriages. Remember, I said it improved the stock? Who knows what they will be like in future years?" He shrugged.
Burke just shook his head.
Mrs. Choe handed the Captain a large envelope and spoke in measured tones.
Yun took the envelope and said what Burke recognized as "thank you" in Korean. As he led Burke back toward the car, he slipped a loose leaf notebook out of the envelope. "They found this hidden away among some of Mr. Chon's things. It's a record of transactions with people the family knew nothing about. Apparently some of his sources. It may provide a clue to the identity of whoever told him about Hwang. Of course, it's equally likely that it won't."
"Let me know what you turn up," Burke said.
That was the sort of thing you hoped for in an investigation like this, he reflected. Turning up something innocuous most people might overlook. A name. A date. A few key words. Although the break in a criminal investigation often came from plain blind luck, it was how you exploited it that would mean success or failure. Intelligence work was not so different. All the sophisticated gadgets, the satellites, the ultra-sensitive cameras, the unbelievable listening devices, the supercomputers, the radio and telephone intercepts, none of what they turned out would be worth more than a few grains of sand without the perception of a savvy human brain to translate the raw data into meaningful information. And as often as not, in the end it would require a lone individual, digging where the ground looked most fertile, to provide confirmation of what the gadgets could only hint at.
That was the role Yun had to play now. There was ample evidence of what was being planned and done, but the who and the why remained elusive. Yun had demonstrated a sharp eye and a quick mind. If he could maneuver his way into the North Korean capital and track down the old partisan who was willing to talk about his comrades-in-arms from half a century ago, they might soon possess the critical facts that led to Dr. Lee's murder, the identity of the brain behind Operation Pok Su. Eliminate the brain and the body withers away, Burke thought. But would that happen here, or had the project gone so far that it would be propelled forward on its own momentum?
Chapter 45
A light snowfall had blanketed Seoul overnight. It lent a hightened sense of relevance to the boots and bells and reindeer and other symbols of the Christmas season that decorated the streets, and it turned the city's palace grounds into pure winter wonderlands. Damp and fluffy, the white stuff clung to the bare limbs of the trees, lay like icing atop the stone walls, and transformed the tiered tile roofs of pavilions and pagodas into corrugated white umbrellas. It was the day of Captain Yun's scheduled departure for Pyongyang. His early call found Burke just out of the shower. At first he took the guarded note in the Captain's voice as an indication that the weather had postponed the trip north. But that was not the case.
"I need to talk with you this morning before I leave," Yun said. an urgency in his voice. "Could we have breakfast at your hotel?"
"Sure, Captain. I can be ready in about fifteen minutes."
They met in the coffee shop and requested a table in the corner, away from most of the other patrons. After they had ordered, Yun leaned forward over the table and spoke in a lowered voice. "I'll be gone for five days. Will you still be here when I get back?"
"Yeah. I'm scheduled to stay another week and a half." He noted the look of concern in the detective's dark eyes but couldn't imagine what was troubling him.
"I've just learned something that tells me the president may be the next victim of Poksu.'
Burke's face dropped like a mask cut loose. He stared across the table. "The president?"
"Yes. I was at a briefing early this morning for the officers going to Pyongyang. Some of the ministry people were there. Afterward, I was standing behind a couple of high officials, one from education, the other from labor affairs. They didn't realize I was there. The education man had just learned that President Kwak will issue a decree in a few days changing the foreign language emphasis in the schools from English to Japanese."
"You're kidding?"
"No. The rationale is that we will be increasingly involved with Japan following the de-emphasis of trade with the United States. The younger generations probably won't give a particular damn. But these men worried about how the older people will take it, those who still hate Japan with a passion. Since it's apparent whoever is behind Poksu is both homicidal and militantly anti-Japanese, I have a great concern about the president's safety. This Poksu leader has already killed a member of the president's family for less obvious reasons."
Burke was shocked. Not so much at the potential threat to the president but at what lay behind Kwak's move. What were his motives? The president was a member of the older generation, wasn't he? Why would he want to cozy up to the Japanese? They were far and away South Korea's biggest trading partner, but that had been true for some years. No other president had felt obliged to go out of his way to placate Tokyo. In fact, the government had complained in the past about discrimination against Koreans in Japan.
"If you're all that concerned, maybe you should talk to your superintendent," Burke suggested.
The Captain grimaced, narrowing his eyes, a gesture that said he'd as soon try to fly off the Seoul tower. "Superintendent So and I are not on the best of terms at present. A little disagreement over political interference. Anyway, I don't want to have to explain the details of the case until I get the information in Pyongyang. Then I should be ready to wrap it up."