Bamboo and blood

2

In the midst of nowhere, in the middle of what should have been a small, narrow valley of rice fields backed up against a frozen river and lines of tall, ragged hills, a triple barrier cut across the land. On the outer perimeter, an electrified wire fence held up with thick concrete posts; inside that, electrified wires running close to the ground; finally, inside that, coils of barbed wire. The two electrified barriers probably weren't live. There wasn't any electricity out here, unless they had their own generator. If they did, it wasn't running. Generators hum, but everything was quiet. No birds, no people, no nothing.

A bridge stretched over the river, but I decided to park and go ahead on foot; the pilings didn't look strong enough to take the weight of my car. On the far side of the bridge was a wide gate. In front of it stood an army guard, sunken cheeks, sunken eyes. The eyes glanced at my ID.

"Wait," was all he said before he disappeared into a hut just inside the gate. I waited. It's best not to seem impatient when standing outside a military gate in the middle of nowhere. To pass the time, I flexed my shoulder. It was stiffening up, probably because on my way here, I'd had to back downhill nearly half a kilometer when one narrow road over a mountain just stopped. If anyone had reported the country was minus one road, it hadn't made its way to the Ministry's transportation office.

A second guard walked up and looked me over. He seemed more alert than his companion; maybe he wasn't used to visitors flexing at the gate. His expression was distinctly veiled. Not just one of those slack looks country people give you; this one was more careful than that. It was calculated, carefully designed to have no sure meaning. I remembered my conversation with Jeno. Which schoolboy would this have been? The one that hung back? The one that turned his head away?

Off to the side, about ten paces away, was an elevated guard post, big enough for one man and high enough for him to be a couple of meters above anyone at the gate. It was meant for a third guard to watch the other two and to make sure that if anything went wrong, there was backup with a clear line of fire. But it was unoccupied.

The first guard emerged with my ID. He handed it back without any reaction. No eye contact; no gesture that I should pass; no refusal. In my days in the army, ambiguity hadn't been one of our options. We told people yes or no; pass or go away. Those were the choices. Things apparently had changed. I decided the absence of a clear negative was positive enough, so I started through the gate.

"Halt!"

I stopped. Quick movements after a command like that were never wise. There was a pistol aimed at my chest. The man holding it had on a thick coat with a hood. It was the kind officers in special favor wore, but I couldn't see any insignia.

"A problem with my ID?" I glanced back casually at the two guards. Their weapons weren't drawn, which I assumed was a good sign-unless that, too, had changed.

"I want an explanation, and make sure it's convincing. Your ID tells me who you are, not why you want to get onto my facility." He didn't emphasize it, but he didn't have to-"my" facility.

"Official business."

"Official business." The pistol didn't waver. "Whereas, apparently you think I'm on holiday." The officer took a step toward me. "This isn't the sort of place your ministry has any business, official or otherwise."

"Not normally," I said. This man was too self-assured to be a colonel. Colonels are jumpy, even senior colonels. He must be a general, though I didn't recall generals being so short on support staff-adjutants and so forth. It wasn't usual for generals to hold pistols on visitors; that's why the lower ranks existed. Whether he was the man Jeno wanted to meet remained unclear. If he didn't shoot me, we were off to a good start.

"Your ministry has no business out here at all, not ever." His tone was brusque, but his finger had come off the trigger.

"In this case, it is something important. Not normal important. Very important."

"Of course. Why would anyone drive out from the warmth and comfort of Pyongyang if he didn't have something very important to do?"

I hadn't seen any tire tracks on the road up to the gate. It was hard to imagine a general without a staff car, or a jeep. The colonel in Pyongyang didn't have a driver. This man didn't even appear to have a jeep. "Our conversation might be more productive if one of us didn't have a weapon pointed at his midsection."

The barrel dropped a hair. "Better?"

"I take it you're not going to allow me to carry out my mission."

"Very impressive word-mission. A solo mission, at that. Why are you by yourself? I thought the police traveled in packs."

"Maybe you're not the only ones shorthanded these days." I nodded at his empty guard post. Pointing would have meant moving my hands, and I didn't want to do anything that put his finger back on the trigger.

He didn't take his eyes off me. "I have to send some of them home. I've fed those I could with my own rations, but it's not enough. So I send them back to their mothers to cluck over them. As if their families have more food than we do." He holstered the pistol. "You can sit in the hut if you like while you try to explain why you're here. Then I'll decide what to do with you."

"Do you mind if I go back to my car to get something?" The general didn't reply, and the guards, after watching his face, stared at nothing.