"Have you been out chasing burglars?" Kang asked. "Walking through that snow must be like stepping in quicksand."
"Yes," said Yun, realizing the impression he must have left with his harried look and heavy breathing. "I feel like I just tried to run through it."
Quicksand, indeed. As he watched Hwang glide toward the elevators like a cat on the prowl, he realized that if he didn't soon ferret out the man's mission here, he'd run the risk of being swallowed up by a mass of doubt and indecision at least as deadly as a pit of mushy sand.
"I'm staying right here until somebody orders me out into that mess," Kang said with a frown.
"I'm with you," said Yun, then looked toward the registration desk. "I need to go ask that clerk something. See you around."
As Hwang disappeared into the elevator, Yun strode quickly up to the desk. The clerk looked around at him, still holding the new arrival's registration card.
Yun smiled. "That man who just checked in, the one with the mustache. Was that Kim Chung-gun?"
"No. He was a Chinese businessman named Tao. A lucky fellow, too. His flight from Beijing was the last one allowed to land before they shut down the airport."
Yun nodded with a reproachful "I should have known" frown, then pointed to the card in the clerk's hand.
"I remember him now. Is that his card? Could I see how he writes his name?"
The clerk glanced at the card, then back at the detective. "Aren't you one of the delegates from Seoul? He's a friend of one of your people." He placed the card on the counter. "He asked for a room across from Captain Yun."
Chapter 49
The luncheon was a small, intimate affair involving only ten top-level businessmen with significant interests in the Far East. Plus Burke Hill. He knew he didn't breathe the same rarified air as the others. He hadn't flown in aboard his corporate jet as had those from New York, Chicago, Houston, and San Francisco. And he didn't belong to the same exclusive clubs as Nate Highsmith or the big shot chairman of a Washington area manufacturer. The only rationale for including Burke was his just-completed six-week sojourn in Seoul. But that appeared reason enough, since a chief purpose of the session was to update the business leaders on conditions around the Pacific Rim. The President had included his Chief of Staff along with his Assistant for National Security Affairs and the Director of Central Intelligence.
Burke assumed that Nate had been born wearing a neatly knotted necktie, since he was almost never seen without one. But the President, who had a less formal background, preferred to take advantage of every opportunity to go casual. This was a weekend break in the rugged and scenic Catoctin Mountains, near the Maryland state line northwest of Washington. The President had decreed the dress should fit the location. So the men came in a mixture of attire that included hunting clothes, colorful flannel shirts and one pair of cowboy boots. It had a definite leavening effect on the gathering and helped make Burke feel more like he was back home in the Smokies.
The luncheon was held in a room with rich wood paneling and a conference table that appeared to have been hewn out of a giant tree trunk. Burke wondered if he might be sitting where Anwar al-Sadat or Menachem Begin had sat as they worked out their famous Camp David Accords. One non-rustic accessory was the lectern, which General Thatcher and Kingsley Marshall used for their briefing. They gave an overview of American positions in the region and touched on some of the more troubling aspects, such as China's continued refusal to take a more democratic approach in dealing with its masses. Reports of South Korea's plan to substitute Japanese for English as the primary language elective in its schools — Japanese had been the official language during the occupation — had just begun to surface in the press. The CIA Director advised that it was a topic being taken quite seriously at Langley, although it was too early yet to determine just what lay behind the reports.
During the question-and-answer session, Burke was asked by several of the guests his assessment of the Seoul government's current drift. He had chatted briefly with Thatcher and Marshall during the pre-luncheon cocktails about what he should say. He told the group there were some definite problems in Korean-American commercial relations. However, Worldwide Communications Consultants' survey showed a basic undercurrent of goodwill among ordinary Koreans for the American people as a whole. Official red tape, he lamented, came in immense widths and unconscionable lengths, but if you could locate the right officials, business could be conducted easily and amicably. He thought particularly of Captian Yun Yu-sop at that point and wondered how his venture in Pyongyang was going. When a questioner brought up the Damon Mansfield fiasco, which had gained wide coverage in the American press, Burke hesitated a moment. He knew how the State Department felt but wasn't sure of the White House's orientation. It was a subject he hadn't discussed before lunch. He finally decided when in doubt, tell the truth.
"I had a nice chat with the editor of one of the most influential newspapers about that incident," Burke said. "He had initially accepted the story given by the supposed victim, even wrote an editorial about it. But at my suggestion, he looked into it a bit deeper. He concluded the man had lied, that Damon Mansfield had been set up. But he wouldn't print a correction or retraction."
"Why the hell not?" asked a ruddy-faced Texan who had likely weathered his share of clashes with the press.
"He gave me a nice lecture on the value of our Bill of Rights," Burke said. "Without some criminal charge, an official condemnation or a confession by the bogus victim, he would run the risk of having his newspaper shut down by the Ministry of Culture and Information. Which, by the way, was who the man worked for."
He noted the President's look of concern but had no idea whether it was for what he had said or the fact that he had said it. The session ended shortly afterward. He and Nate had been briefed beforehand on what to do. As the group milled around in the room shaking hands, Burke made a point of looking a bit distressed and commented that he had eaten too much.
After everyone had bundled up in their heavy jackets and coats, the Chief of Staff led the group out onto a terrace where the chill mountain breeze whistled through the bare limbs of tall, gaunt trees. He had led them down the snow-covered stone steps to a swimming pool in the shape of a figure eight before anyone noticed that Burke Hill and Nathaniel Highsmith were not among them. The White House official explained that Mr. Hill had felt a bit ill and was being checked by a White House physician. Mr. Highsmith had stayed with him. Everyone knew the President had been scheduled for a meeting with his National Security Advisor and the CIA Director.
The room looked like something in a plush hunting lodge, which essentially it was, though the only hunting done around here was the constant search for intruders by the Marine guards. Straightback chairs were arranged before a massive fireplace in which large logs popped and crackled as accompaniment to the dancing yellow flames.
As the junior member of the group, Burke followed protocol and walked in last. He had made a marvelously quick recovery. There had actually been a physician, who had talked with him for a couple of minutes. Truthfully, his stomach hadn't felt altogether right since he had left Seoul. When he related the story of his hurried departure and the birth of the twins, the doctor said it sounded like a tension-produced upset stomach. He advised taking a good antacid for a few days until things settled down.