The shop was located on one side of the ground floor of an older building, with floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows at the front and on the side facing the elevator lobby. Low cardboard stands featuring the latest paperback bestsellers stood near the windows. A U-shaped island near the front, in full view of the windows, housed three clerks and two cash registers. The disparity in numbers was accounted for by the trim young clerk with thick, sandy brown hair, who appeared to have more concern for the anonymous people trudging through the chill December afternoon along the sidewalk than the paying customers inside the shop. He had been on the job for only the past hour, and then due solely to the generosity of the elderly store manager, who had offered no objections to cooperating in an FBI investigation.
As 4:30 drew nearer, he took the photo from his pocket and studied it with growing consternation. Would he show up, he wondered? Of course he would, he told himself. And he was right. At almost exactly 4:30, a taxi stopped in front of the building and let out a stocky, hatless man wearing a dark blue topcoat. His hair was rapidly graying. He had a somewhat familiar look that did not appear to result altogether from the photograph. At any rate, the agent felt virtually certain he was looking at Burke Hill of Worldwide Communications Consultants.
He watched the man walk in out of the misty gloom, pause to look at the directory, then press the elevator button. After the doors had closed behind him, the agent hurried out into the lobby to see by the blinking lights at which floor the elevator would stop. When the light paused at the number five, he was positive he had his man. Five was the floor where the Korean-American Education Foundation was located.
The snow scene of the Buddhist temple in Dr. Vickers' office appeared more in tune with the season this time. It also set the tone for the meeting, with Burke receiving a rather cool reception from the short, bespectacled foundation director. He did not bother to offer coffee, although at this late hour of the afternoon, that should not be too unexpected, Burke thought.
"I've just returned from six weeks in Seoul," Burke said. "It's quite an interesting place."
"Yes," Dr. Vickers said, pulling off his glasses and swinging them rapidly, "Korea has quite a lot of sights that should be attractive to tourists."
Burke suppressed a smile. "Apparently it's become more attractive lately to your college graduates. I heard reports that quite a number of Korean-Americans had quit good scientific positions over here recently to take similar jobs in Korea."
Vickers was taking on the look of a Southern California forest dweller as the Santa Ana winds whipped the flames nearer to his doorstep. "I… I believe I told you before that, well, yes, maybe we have had a few more than usual."
Burke nodded. "I guess that's part of your job, helping them fill vacant professional slots over there."
Dr. Vickers was holding his glasses in one hand and drumming them on his other arm. "Yes, we… we try to help where we can. It isn't our main job, by any means. Our primary responsibility is to provide good educations for deserving young people."
"I understand Reijeo is getting a lot of them. I presume that's why they're your largest contributor."
He licked his dry lips before he answered. "I think they probably have a greater need. Because of the size of their operation, you understand. It is really quite a huge organization."
"So I noticed. Oh, yes, I mentioned the hackers. Did you find some good ones to interview?"
Vickers smiled sheepishly. "I talked to a few," he said. "I didn't learn too much from them."
"I thought they might have demonstrated how they do it on your computer there," Burke said, pointing.
Vickers' eyes widened in alarm. "Oh, no, no! Nothing like that. Actually, I dropped the project."
"Too bad. I'd like to have read the book." He felt certain he had accomplished his mission. Delivering the message in person proved much more effective than saying the same words on the phone. It was time to move on and let nature take its course. "I'm afraid I can't give you a definitive answer on the foundation contribution yet. Being gone so long has slowed things down. Hopefully I'll have an answer in the next week or ten days." Burke stood up. "It's been a pleasure talking with you again, Dr. Vickers."
He had never seen a man more relieved by the close of an interview. He shook a cold, listless hand, and left. Going down on the elevator, he thought how great it would be to occupy the eye of a fly on the wall in Dr. Vickers' office about now. He stepped out onto the sidewalk and looked around. Traffic had picked up considerably. As the rush hour marched on, the street had become crowded with vehicles. He knew it would be difficult to find a taxi here. He started walking down the street, hoping he might hail one at the next corner.
If Vickers were as frightened as he appeared to be, who would he call? Who was his control? He had expected the foundation director to contact someone in Korea, probably in Seoul. But the thought suddenly hit him that Vickers could be working under someone in the Korean Embassy in Washington. Or even at the Consulate-General here in San Francisco. The NSA was forbidden to intercept telephone calls between locations in the United States.
When he glanced back to check the traffic, he noticed a sandy-haired young man walking some distance behind him. He thought he remembered seeing him come out of the book store as he was leaving Vickers' building. At the intersection, a bus stop discouraged traffic from using the curb lane. Cars and taxis kept their distance as they whizzed past. Tightening his grip on the oversize attaché case he carried, which also contained his shaving gear and a fresh shirt, he headed on up the next block.
He found the going a little slower now, with offices closing, sending hordes of homeward bound workers spilling onto the sidewalk. Many of them carried shopping bags bulging with gifts likely purchased on their lunch hour. Sometime soon he would have to slow down long enough to do a little shopping of his own. Glancing about, he still found no empty taxis in search of fares. He decided his best bet would be around a hotel, if such a thing existed nearby. His intention was to get a room out near the airport, so he would be ready to catch an early flight the next morning.
He stopped to look about for a hotel at the next cross street. As he did, he caught sight of the sandy-haired figure down the block. The well-dressed young man appeared to be checking out a store window. Had he moved in closer because of the crowd? At first he had dismissed the idea of anyone following him. Then he considered what he had done. He had baited Dr. Vickers on the phone from Washington. Couldn't Vickers have reported that to his handlers? Possibly they had set him up for surveillance. Or something worse. He thought of Captain Yun's nemesis in Seoul, Hwang Sang-sol.
The man was much younger than Burke, but he was no bigger. Burke had kept up his exercise routine and felt himself in excellent shape. A plan began to materialize in his mind. He started walking down the side street, keeping his eyes alert to his surroundings. About halfway along the block, he turned to cross the street, glancing both ways as he did, ostensibly to check the traffic. He also checked for the sandy-haired man, found him still about the same distance back.
On the other side of the street, he picked up his pace, moving quickly through the clusters of off-duty workers. Dusk settled in, more quickly with the murkiness of the afternoon. Streetlights came on. Burke noticed occasional short alleyways between buildings, most unlighted. At the next corner, he turned right, then walked on far enough to be sure his tracker would be in view. When he came to another alleyway, he stepped into it, making no attempt to hide his move.