Bamboo and blood

Chapter Six

"His name is Sohn and he's from the party," Pak said. The next morning, we were in my office, and Pak seemed a little ill at ease. It wasn't unusual these days. All of us were that way-a little ill at ease all the time. Bad stories were coming in from the countryside. Here in the capital, people were disappearing from offices, food was scarce, heat was random, electricity was unpredictable and even when there was some, it didn't last very long. No one pretended things weren't bad, though we didn't talk a lot about it. The question was whether we would get through it.

"Am I supposed to be impressed with his party status? Because I'll tell you frankly, I'm not. Not these days. You know him, maybe?" As I spoke, Pak drummed his fingers on my desk. In better times, that would have meant he was impatient. Or in some cases, usually in the spring when it was possible to smell the earth again, that little gesture meant he was full of energy, ready to go for a long walk along the river. Now, more and more, he did it because he was nervous and depressed. "How much longer are we supposed to stand around and snap at flies?" I said. "He should have been here a half hour ago. I can't wait all day. I have things to do."

"Like what? That report you haven't touched? Just relax, Inspector." I almost laughed out loud-him telling me to relax. His fingers had settled into a slow, steady drumbeat, sort of funereal. I realized he might keep it up the rest of the week if I didn't figure out some way to get him to move his hand. "Try not to antagonize him," Pak said, and his fingers went thrum thrum. "You can annoy me all you want, but for him, I need you to sit quietly and listen to what he says. Let him throw his weight around." Thrum.

"I'm losing track," I said. "Who's on top these days? I can't keep score. Is the party up or down? Is the army the army of the party, or does the party emulate the military? Which is it this week? Why don't you draw me a chart?"

"Forget that. This is no time to be choosing sides. Who knows where things will be in another six months."

Six months, I thought. Long time. He must have been thinking the same thing. We just sat there for a minute or so, wondering.

"I'm not going to like him," I said finally. "This Sohn character will rub me the wrong way, and you know how I react when that happens?" I'd just asked Pak if he knew the man. He'd heard me, but he hadn't answered. I was getting a funny feeling about where this was headed. I didn't need to look six months down the road to see trouble. It might arrive in only a few minutes.

"Let's be clear, Inspector. Your personal evaluation of the man is at the bottom of my list of worries. Very near the bottom. I need you to let him say whatever he is going to say and then, without answering back or doing anything more than nodding politely, let him leave. Down the steps, out the door, good-bye Comrade Sohn. Got it? The phone call I received this morning from the Ministry said you were to be present when he showed up. You're present. I'm just making a tiny addendum-behave."

I didn't have anything to say to that, so I looked out my window. A car went by outside, and I listened to its tires on the snow. A cold, very gray day. The sound of a car slowly driving down an empty street. It was enough to put you to sleep, that and the drumbeat from the desk. I almost didn't hear Pak. "… you're staring off into space again. I don't understand these mood swings of yours all of a sudden, Inspector. Cut it out, will you? Things are bad enough without your constant moping."

"What do you want from me? I don't take to cheerful suffering." I instantly wished I hadn't said that. Pak's life was worse than mine. The only suffering I had was watching other people driven to their knees.

Pak considered for a moment. His fingers went quiet, then resumed. "Not to repeat myself, but let Sohn do the talking. All you have to do is listen. That's the sum total of what I need from you. Silence." He picked up a pencil, which ended the problem of the drum. "Or am I asking too much?"

"So, you do know him. Is he the someone for whom you're suddenly doing favors?" No response. "Alright, it's not a problem. I'll let him do the talking. I'll be mute. I'll be a stone. I'll stare at his ears."

"Don't." Pak looked alarmed. "Whatever happens, don't do that."

"Don't stare? Why, will he disappear in a thunderclap? Who pushed me into this, anyway?" Silly question-it was fairly obvious by now that this man Sohn was behind it. "The Ministry has a whole roster of inspectors, a lot of them in the senior ranks. Good ratings, high marks in loyalty and performance. Why me?" Also a silly question.

"How should I know?"

I didn't like the look that wasn't on Pak's face. "Ever since our visitor showed up, we've had nothing but trouble," I said. "You think that has something to do with this party guy?"

"How should I know?"

"How should you know? You keep saying that. You know plenty that you don't tell me. If you owe him something, that's up to you to handle. Don't drag me into it." A horn sounded as a car pulled into our building's driveway. I looked out the window. The car was black, and it had party plates. "It's Sohn."

"I need to be in my office," Pak said, bouncing out of the chair and hurrying down the hall. A moment later he was back, with a tired smile around his eyes. "I just realized, he'll be outside the gate for a while. The new guards are going to give him a hard time. He'll show them his party ID and they'll stare at it. There, see?" Pak pointed out my window. "One of them dropped it in the snow, and the other stepped on it."

"Mind if I watch, too?"

"No. I don't want him to look up and see you." Pak stepped away from the window. "Actually, he shouldn't see me, either. He'll get out of the car"-a door slammed-"and start threatening them. Then he'll demand to use the gate phone."

The phone on Pak's desk rang. Pak pressed a button and routed it into my office. He put the receiver carefully to his ear. "Yes, comrade. I'm happy to give them orders to let you in, but I don't control them, as you know." He listened, but not with any tension in his posture. "No, not at all; I'm not denying you entry. It's just that I don't control entry. They do. No, it wasn't my idea to have it done that way. Who can I call to fix it? I can call the Ministry, but then they'll have to call the army. That's the new… yes, of course, I'll be right down." He hung up the phone. "The guards will back off when they see me, at least I hope so. Otherwise my feet will get cold in all that slush."