"You'd do well to keep a low profile," Jerry added. "I'd suggest you stay at a cheapie place I used in Chiangmai called Top North Guest House. I heard about it from some Army guys. They have a few airconditioned rooms, but you won't need one this time of year. It won't be like anything you ever saw in the States, though. It ain't a Hilton. Hell, it ain't even Motel 6, but it's livable. You'll find a lot of trekkers heading out of there for the hill country."
"If Ahn's involved in narcotics traffic, wouldn't I run into a problem snooping around after him?"
"You won't be snooping. Just come right out and tell Caron what you want. Ahn likes to see and be seen. He's a Mafia-style character, one of the town's better-known citizens, contributes to good causes and all that. It'll just make things quicker and simpler to work through Caron."
"I guess a taxi driver can find the Top North Guest House for me."
Jerry started to laugh but choked it off with a grimace. "Damn those knives. Forget the taxi. You won't find anything but tuk tuks and trishaws around Chiangmai. Call Top North from the airport. They have a van that'll pick you up."
"How do I get around?"
"You'll be in walking distance of the business district. If you need to travel any farther afield, you can take what in Thai is called a samlor, a three-wheeled motorcycle with a canopy and a bench seat in back. The slang term is tuk tuk. Just hang on and be ready for a wild ride."
He gave Duane a few instructions on things to be done around the office, then turned back to Burke. "I almost forgot. You'll find a phone number in my middle desk drawer for Lieutenant Yun. He wanted you to call him if you came back to Seoul."
Burke had instructed Miss Song to make his plane reservation while An Kye-sun was out of the office. He also arranged a little disinformation campaign with the rest of the staff. After he left for Thailand, if An should want to know his whereabouts, they would tell the inquisitive Korean writer that Burke was making a call on the Bartell Engineering manager at the Taesong Nuclear Power Plant near Pusan. Duane reinforced the deception with a call to Mitch Steele, advising him that an agency bigwig from Washington would be in the area and "might" drop by to see him.
It was early afternoon when Burke got around to calling the number for Yun Se-jin.
"I was really shocked to hear about your father," he told the Lieutenant. "We had become very good friends in the short time I knew him."
The young man seemed strangely distant. "Did you know what my father was doing in Pyongyang?"
"Yes. He had asked me to help him out on a few of the cases he was working. I had managed to get him a copy of a missing book manuscript co-authored by Dr. Lee Yo-ku, one of the murder victims. I'm a former special agent with the FBI, and we found we had a mutual friend in Quantico, Virginia."
"You were with the FBI?" Lieutenant Yun's voice sounded perplexed and uncertain.
"Yes. It's been some years back. But your father seemed to feel the need to confide in someone. For whatever reasons, he chose me. I know he was reluctant to tell his prosecutor everything he knew. Actually, I guess I talked him into discussing some of the critical points with the guy. What was his name, Park? Now I'm not so sure I did the right thing."
"Why do you say that?" Se-jin asked.
Burke debated a moment whether he should go any further. It was like dipping a toe into a swimming pool and wondering whether to take the plunge. Finally he decided to dive in. The young man deserved to know the shady circumstances surrounding his father's death. Maybe he could do something about it. "He mailed me a photograph and a note from Pyongyang, disguised with the return address of an old World War II soldier who apparently gave him the picture. I can't imagine him doing that unless he had reason to believe someone might interfere with his plan to bring it back here."
There was a long pause before the young policeman replied in an apologetic tone. "I think I have done you an injustice, Mr. Hill."
"What?"
"I believed you had something to do with my father's death, because of a letter he wrote me from Pyongyang. Now I understand what he meant. I think we had better meet somewhere and talk."
A letter to Se-jin. He hadn't thought of that. What had Yun said? "When will you be avaiable?" he asked.
"This evening after I get off duty. Should I come to your office?"
Burke doubted anyone would be watching him at this juncture, but he decided to take no chances. "No, I'd rather make it some out-of-the way place. Could you hold on a moment?"
He called Miss Song into the office.
"Do you have a key to Jerry's apartment?" he asked.
Her face colored slightly as she stammered, "He thought… he said I should have one in case… "
Burke smiled. "No explanations needed. I have a man I'd like to meet somewhere private. I thought that might be a good place."
"I'm sure Jerry wouldn't mind," she said.
"Thanks." He waved her out. "Lieutenant, could you meet me at our manager's apartment, not in uniform, say around eight?"
Yun Se-jin said he would be happy to and asked for the address.
Burke arranged to visit Jerry Chan at the hospital early in the evening with Brittany Pickerel. An undauntable young lady with an iron constitution, she had bought a car and was gamely learning to do battle with the Seoul traffic. On leaving the hospital, he instructed her in the slippery ways of shaking off surveillance. Although it was hardly a performance worthy of the CIA limousine driver in Washington, it was good enough for the task at hand. He had her deliver him to the Hyatt Regency on the slopes of Mt. Namsan. After a careful check of traffic in the area, he caught a cab outside the hotel and had the driver let him out a block from Jerry's apartment. He stood a few minutes in a sheltered doorway but found nothing unusual either in the street or along the sidewalk. Then he hurried through the frigid evening down to the apartment building, arriving shortly before time for the appointment.
The knock at the door sounded precisely at eight. Punctuality always made a good first impression on Burke. He found the young man's face almost an image of his father. Like Captain Yun, he was compactly built but perhaps a bit taller. And he lacked the metal framed glasses and the slowly receding hairline. Those would probably come with age.
When Burke noticed how stiffly Lieutenant Yun sat on Jerry's sofa, he realized he had already forgotten his Korean manners. A little softening up, get acquainted talk was needed. He told the young officer a bit about Worldwide Communications Consultants and the reason for his rather sudden return to the States after Captain Yun's departure for Pyongyang.
"You have a new set of twins?" Se-jin said in obvious surprise.
Burke grinned. "Even old men get lucky sometimes."
"I didn't mean—"
"Don't worry, I'm not sensitive about it." It was not entirely true, though he made a point of shrugging it off whenever the subject of age came up. "We've only been married a couple of years. I understood from your father that you're engaged to a young policewoman."
Yun nodded. "Lieutenant Han Mi-jung. My father was not too happy about it, though. He held to the old ways of arranging marriages."
"I know. He told me about it."
Yun had a slightly puzzled look. "Frankly, Mr. Hill, I am quite surprised at the way he confided in you. It wasn't at all like him."
"I suspected as much. But we thought a lot alike. And I was someone unaffected by the politics over here, a complete neutral. By the way, what did he say in that letter he wrote you from Pyongyang?"