"I am the oldest kisaeng there," she replied. "I am only allowed to play and sing now."
"Do you perform for President Kwak's party on Tuesday nights?" Burke asked.
"Oh, no," she said, frowning. "They use only the younger girls."
Burke raised an eyebrow. "It sounds like you're being discriminated against because of your age."
She looked down at her slender fingers. "Yes, it is true. I will probably lose my job soon. I am not sure what I will do then."
Burke led her on with questions and comments that revealed her unhappiness over the way she was being frozen out. By the time he admitted that they were interested in more than just information for a book, she was ready to cooperate. She had talent as a sketch artist, and she made precise drawings of the pavilion used by President Kwak and his cronies.
When they left well after midnight, Burke had everything he needed. Miss Koh had confirmed his suspicions and given them all the details necessary to carry out his plan.
Chapter 65
The morning dawned bright and sunny and seemingly not as cold as in recent days. But the news reports painted a much darker picture for the Japanese islands to the east. Brittany Pickerel informed Burke of the weather forecast on her arrival at the office. She had become his chief morning news source, since the shutdown of the Armed Forces Network radio and TV stations had forced him to rely solely on the English language newspapers. He couldn't seem to find the time for much newspaper reading. That was particularly true today, as he had a long list of materials to round up before noon.
"There's a really bad storm heading out of Siberia toward Honshu, the main island," Brittany said.
"Isn't that where Tokyo is?" Burke asked.
"Right. The forecasters say they might get the heaviest snowfall they've seen in decades."
Mid-December was when the frigid Siberian air masses began to descend on Japan from the northwest. Originally filled with cold, dry air, they would pick up moisture over the Sea of Japan and dump most of it as snow on the west side of the islands and the western slopes of the central highlands. Tokyo, on the east, usually escaped the snow. But this storm appeared so massive that the capital was unlikely to be spared.
"Let's be thankful it's not in Korea," he said. He was anxious that nothing interfere with the progress of his plan. "Ask Duane to come in here, please."
When Elliston had closed the door behind him, Burke held up a sheet torn from a ruled pad. "I think I have everything we need here. Take a look."
Duane checked it over, then jotted a couple of other items at the bottom. Maybe they were necessary, Burke thought, but it was more likely Duane's penchant for one-upmanship. Whatever you do I can do better. He shrugged it off, determined to make the best of what he had been forced to accept.
"Okay," Burke said. "You know where I'm going. I want you to stay well back so you can pick up on any surveillance."
"No problem. When are the guys due in from Washington?"
"Tonight. They couldn't get a direct flight, so it's taking a little longer."
Hwang Sang-sol, dressed for his old role as a telephone installer, had arrived early at the building on Taepyong-ro and found a convenient spot to observe the flow of people into and out of the lobby. He had seen the two American men, one his target, arrive and take the elevator up to the Worldwide Communications Consultants floor. It was not long before the target had returned to the lobby and departed.
Hwang waited. He did not like to rush things. The timing in Pyongyang had forced him to take risks he preferred to avoid. He didn't intend to have that happen here. When the other American got off the elevator a short time afterward, Hwang followed him at a discreet distance.
With the last item checked off his list, Burke had the boxes loaded into a taxi and told the driver to take him to Pagoda Park, the small island of green where reading of a Korean Declaration of Independence had launched the ill-fated freedom movement of 1919. He didn't bother looking through the rear window as they plowed through Seoul's late-morning traffic. He knew Duane would be well back in the pack, watching to see if anyone had picked up his trail.
He found Lieutenant Yun waiting at the rear of the park near the ten-story Wongak-sa Pagoda, modeled after one at the Wongak-sa Temple. In the summertime, the small area was a haven for elderly men, bearded and traditionally dressed, who would spend hours playing baduk or reading newspapers. Now the patrons were few, mostly tourists looking for the monuments to the independence movement. Burke helped transfer the boxes from the taxi to Yun's car.
"I'll go pick up my crew and get started," the Lieutenant said.
"Have any trouble recruiting them?"
"No. One is a classmate from the Police College. The other is his brother. He's a professional at electronic installations. We all went to the same high school."
"What did you tell them?" Burke asked.
"The truth," said Se-jin. "That it was part of an unsanctioned investigation regarding my father's death. They're both very discreet."
After Se-jin had left, Burke lingered around the park a few minutes, taking in the statuary and ten bas-reliefs that depicted the epic struggle for independence from the Japanese. One which the United States had failed to support, he recalled.
Lieutenant Yun and his friend were dressed nattily in their uniforms as they called on the manager of the Jang Jung Gak, wearing stern and officious looks.
"We are with the Presidential Security Force," said Se-jin. "The president wants some new wireless communications equipment installed in his pavilion, in case the need should arise for instant secure communications with officials of the government."
The manager, Chang Oh-san, a stocky man in dark glasses who had the dyspeptic look of a frequent fretter, asked with caution, "What will be required?"
"Nothing will be required of you. We have our own installer. The equipment will be completely hidden from view, so your normal patrons will never know it's there."
Mr. Chang's frown remained unmollified. "Will it take long?"
"No. We'll have it installed and be out of your way as quickly as possible. Well before your people will need to get ready for this evening."
"All right. Come with me."
"One moment," said the Lieutenant, staying him with a raised hand. "I must caution you that this is to be kept completely confidential. The equipment's presence must not be mentioned to anyone. I'm sure you know the penalties for divulging state secrets."
Chang's frown darkened. "My lips are sealed," he said.
The back of Yun's borrowed van was unheated, but the electronic gear generated enough warmth to make it tolerable. He had parked it on the next street over from the Jang Jung Gak around dark. Duane Elliston sat with Brittany Pickerel in her small car about fifty yards away on the other side of the street. Yun, his technician friend and Burke Hill were huddled around a small TV monitor attached to a videotape recorder. The signal came from a mini-dish antenna on top of the van, camouflaged to look like a box strapped to the roof.
"Good picture," said Burke, grinning. "Just like the eleven o'clock news."
"We tested it before leaving this afternoon," Se-jin said.
The picture showed a wide-angle view of the interior of the president's pavilion at the kisaeng house. Floor cushions surrounded a low table, which was being set with a variety of dishes. The girls could be heard chattering through the speaker.
"You're sure the security people won't sweep the room for electronic devices?' Burke asked.
"According to Miss Koh, they take the place apart periodically, but the normal check is just a visual one. We'll soon know. Here comes security."