A Corpse in the Koryo

5

The next morning it was raining and windy. I rode my bicycle to the office. The traffic lady was not there, but my satisfaction at crossing the intersection aboveground was short-lived. An army truck spewing black smoke threw up a sheet of water as it passed me.

Pak looked up from his desk as I stood in his doorway. "You are puddling on my floor, Inspector. Go dry yourself off, and get some hot tea. They might still have some in the traffic unit." As I turned to start down the hall, he stopped me. "Where are you going?"

"You told me to get some tea."

"Forget the tea."

"So, you heard about the car."

"The car has been taken off our books. There isn't much left of it, anyway. The damage you did to the left fender by driving into that ditch has disappeared. Likewise the left fender, along with much of the left side of the car. I hope the gas tank wasn't full."

"You mean it exploded? Who turned the key?"

"No one, as far as I know. Must have been a stray radio signal. Very sloppy job." Pak looked back down at his desk and I thought I was dismissed, but he looked up again. He pursed his lips, which he only does when he is thinking about how to say something delicate. "Kang is an ally. We have very few. He has helped us. He asks for our help, we give it, no matter what, and not just grudgingly."

I nodded. No sense in fighting this again, especially when being noncommittal would suffice. "Tell Kang I'll give it some thought."

Pak closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "You still need to go to Hyangsan looking for pine needles?"

"The pine needles aren't the key, but if they match what was in the cuffs, we can rule out a lot of territory. If I go up there today, even with the rain, I can stay in the hotel and make friends with the staff. Those records may be gone, but the staff's memory isn't wiped out by power failures."

"Unless they've been warned off, like the people at the Koryo."

"I told you we shouldn't take this case. Didn't I tell you no one could solve it?"

"I have great faith, Inspector, that you will solve it. And do you know why? Murder is bad enough, but having a foreigner murdered in the capital is worse, and not finding the murderer is worst of all. If this case isn't solved in a hurry, there will be pressure from the Foreign Ministry.

They will yowl for days about how it is harming our relations with the Finns, and to stop their yowling, the Center will lean on our Minister, and the Minister will lean on me. And you do know who I will lean on, Inspector?"

"I can't do miracles."

Pak smiled. "As long as we understand each other."

"You left out one player in all of this. Kim. Kim doesn't care about yowling, and no one can lean on him or Military Security."

"So, you think he's already gotten to the staff at Hyangsan?"

"No, I don't think he has. When Military Security lands, they land hard, but as far as I can tell, they don't get ahead of the game very of t ten.

"Don't be so sure, Inspector. They cultivate a reputation as plodders so they can turn up where you least expect them."

"And that's what I'm going to do. Turn up where they don't expect us. For sure, once Kim hears I'm up there, he'll gag the staff, but for now, he thinks we're fumbling around the Koryo. In fact, why don't you go over there today and tramp through the halls. Make it look like we're closing in on a suspect."

"Any other requests, Inspector?" The question was tinged with annoyance, but Pak was already reaching for his jacket.

I thought a moment. "Get us a new teakettle, would you? I don't care what color it is, as long as it boils water. In fact, get a real plain-looking one. Maybe no one will steal it."

Pak stopped and started searching his pockets. "Have you seen my notebook? I had it with me last night. I didn't leave it in your office, did I?" He frowned as we walked across the hall into my room. "It was nearly blank. Damn, I hate losing new notebooks." He frowned again.

"There were two pages from my meeting with the Minister, and a few odds and ends from what you found at the morgue."

My stomach got a funny feeling. "Anything about the pine needles in the trouser cuffs? Or the two sets of keys?"

"No, the main thing was what that doctor told you. Ethnicity is not an identification. Something odd about it, so I wrote it down."

"Maybe your notebook is sitting in the same in-box as the Hyangsan Hotel's records."

Pak nodded. "Maybe. From now on, those scraps of paper you call notes stay on your person, even if it means bathing with your clothes on." He smiled absently out my window. "Those notes from the Minister's meeting will curl their hair. The vice minister was droning on, and I can't stay awake when he does that. So my notes had him saying something more provocative."

"You want me to take the train to Hyangsan, or can we get another car so soon? And do we trust the local guy up there?"

"Take my car, but stay out of ditches this time. The local guy's name is Song. His family is from Japan, actually. He speaks some Japanese.

That's why he's at Hyangsan, to handle visitors. I trust him this far"- Pak held his hands not too far apart-"but no farther. He means well, and he may be a little help. Use your judgment."

As he threw me a set of keys, Pak said matter-of-factly, "Don't turn to look, but there's a black Mercedes outside on the street that wasn't there a minute ago. Pretty blatant." He picked up my umbrella from where it was propped against the wall. "This thing leak?"

"I don't know. I found it the other day."

Pak nodded toward the window. "They must be awfully concerned to play us like this. I'll lead them around the city and then to the Koryo.

You wait a few minutes to make sure they don't double back, then zip out of here. They won't have anyone else standing around outside in this weather. Keep in touch."

I walked over to my file cabinet and pulled an armload of old files off the top. My desk is close enough to the window so that anyone in the street could see me, if that was what they wanted to do. I dumped the files on my desk, sat back in my chair, and lit a cigarette. Except when I'm traveling, I rarely smoke, but I figured from the street it would look like I was settling in on a rainy morning. With luck, they'd pull away before I had to take more than a few puffs.

Below in the courtyard, Pak made a show of trying unsuccessfully to start his car, got out, and used the telephone at the guard post to call the duty driver. It didn't take long for an old jeep to pull up; Pak climbed in, and they drove away. From the corner of my eye, I could see that the Mercedes wasn't moving. The motor wasn't even running.

They knew my car was in pieces, and it looked like Pak's was out of commission. I wasn't going anywhere in the rain, even if it was lightening up to a steady drizzle. So why were they sitting there? The driver and his partner were probably arguing about what to do, whether to follow Pak or stay and watch me. Unless one of them pulled rank, they were liable to sit and argue all morning. Just as I resigned myself to being a prisoner in my own office, the window on the driver's side opened and a cigarette, barely smoked, was thrown onto the street. The tires spun, then caught the wet pavement, and the big car shot away from the curb. Our guards craned their necks to watch for a moment, then pressed back under the small overhang in a futile attempt to avoid the downpour that had just begun.