A Corpse in the Koryo

13

The sun coming through the window woke me, just after 5:00 p.m. The storm had passed, and the trees outside were sparkling. Manpo was still ugly, but the hills had softened in the early evening light. The road down to the river was not crowded. I was late for my meeting, but if they wanted a new truck, they'd wait a few minutes, whoever they were.

What they knew about the compound in the hills, and what else they might want for the information, was anyone's guess. I could throw in another basket of fish if necessary. Hell, I could throw in two baskets.

Twice I checked but could not spot anyone following me. Either the Military Security squad was eating dinner, or they had improved their technique after what happened to Chong.

A few empty Chinese trucks bounced past, racing to get back across the river before dark. Along the road, there were patches of vegetables- plots the farmers tended on their own, so they worked late there, or sat and smoked if they wanted, leaning against fences they put up to keep out passersby. I stopped to ask the farmer nearest the road for directions to the Chinese restaurant. He didn't respond. When I asked again, this time in a less pleasant tone, another farmer ambled over. "No sense getting angry. He can't hear a word you're saying."

"What's his problem?"

"No problem, he just can't hear. More of a blessing, I'd say. Easier to be content if you don't have to listen to a lot of nonsense in meetings."

He paused and searched my face. "Your first time in Manpo?"

"Does it make a difference?"

"No difference. Just asked. Hard to be from here and not know where that restaurant is."

"So you know where it is?" I realized I'd made a bad mistake.

This might be a farmer, or it might be someone else. For sure, he kept an eye on the road, made it his business to talk to people. For all I knew his friend had perfect hearing. And there was no doubt they'd marked me.

"Over the next hill, the road meets a dirt path along the river.

There's a guard post, mostly young kids. Just ignore them and look for the steps."

"Thanks. And thanks to your friend." As I turned to go, the deaf farmer gave me a smirk.

The sun was setting and still there was plenty of road in front of me. I didn't really want to be at the river when it was dark. The truck traffic was down to one or two, carrying laborers standing in the back, enjoying the breeze. A few waved to me, as if being in the same place at the same time, even here, created a temporary bond. I waved back.

The third truck that passed me going toward the river pulled over, and two men in the back motioned for me to hurry. "Get on if you're going to Old Liu's or you'll miss dinner." I climbed up into the truck bed, just as the driver accelerated. Kang was sitting in the corner, smoking.

He nodded, motioned for me to sit beside him, then looked up at the sky. "Clear night. You planning to walk straight to hell?"

"I thought I was supposed to go to the river for a meeting. Incidentally, you never told me how I was supposed to get into that compound we saw this morning. You people must be very big on improvisation. In the Ministry, we like to plan things just a little. Especially when there are machine guns around."

"Swell. But there's a change of plans." The truck swerved, turned around, and headed back toward town. "You catch the next train to Pyongyang. Pak needs you at home. A body showed up at the Koryo. A foreigner."

"What about helping you?"

"I told you, change of plans."

"But my fish."

"Inspector, you've got no fish. And this truck has bald tires, not to mention a bad transmission."

"I suppose I'm not from Wonsan, either."

"Keep away from the border. You were never here."

"I need to pick up my bag."

Kang shifted his weight, and I saw my bag was under his leg. "The train leaves at two in the morning. More or less. When it stops at Kang gye, stay on. If anyone invites you off, do us both a favor and ignore them."

"What about my bill at the inn?"

"Never mind the inn."

"But the clerk."

"The clerk won't care."

"You know, he gave me-"

"Forget what he gave you. He's dead."

"When?"

Kang's lips tightened, and he shook his head slightly. "Don't ask me.

Probably before they stuffed some filthy video in his mouth. At least I hope so. He gave you something?"

"Didn't you just say to forget what he gave me?"

"Don't be dense, Inspector. A name card, a piece of paper."

"You mean this?" I reached into my shirt pocket and pulled out the card with the old train schedule on it.

He took it from my hand. "You never saw this, or anything like it."

"The clerk passed it to me, but he didn't say who it was from."

"You gone deaf? You never saw this card. It wasn't for you."

"It was from Grandma Pak, wasn't it? I didn't connect it at the time, but the clerk mentioned her name."

"Back off, Inspector. Let it be."

"She works for you?"

"You don't let up, do you?"

"What's in Najin?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

I almost laughed, until I saw he had unbuttoned his coat.

The truck rattled up to the front of the railroad station. Kang handed me my bag. "Good luck. Don't worry, I wouldn't have killed you, I'm not deranged. A little too much to think about, that's all." As I took the bag, I noticed it was heavy. Kang sat back. "A jar of blueberry jam," he said.