Counterfeit Lies

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

As Park’s people cleared the room, there was a collective inaudible sigh of relief the meeting had ended without incident. Gabe tracked them out the door and watched as Park and his security team entered a dark GMC Yukon parked on the street.

The CIA operative walked back into the restaurant, where Yeong was talking quietly with the other two members of his three-man security detail. Concern still covered Yeong’s face.

“Were you satisfied with his answers?” asked Gabe in Korean as he approached Yeong.

“I’m not certain. Did Cho ever strike you as the type of man who would cooperate with the police?”

“No. I thought of him as a loyal soldier,” said Gabe.

“I do not understand why Park would have suggested otherwise,” said Yeong, shaking his head.

Gabe knew the real answer. Few living in Beverly Hills were willing to trade a luxurious lifestyle for a crowded cell and prison cuisine. The thought of being sent back to a minimum-security lockup was enough to turn Cho into an informant and spill all he knew about his closest associates.

“You knew him best and you’re a wise judge of character. Did you ever see a flaw in this man’s core?” asked Gabe, knowing the irony since an undercover government operative was asking the question.

“I never saw any such flaw, but I wonder if Park did and had Cho killed to prevent a problem in the future?”

“Wouldn’t he have told us tonight if that were so?” asked Gabe.

“No, I don’t think he would and he certainly hasn’t reassured me of his innocence in this matter,” said Yeong.

“So why Cho was murdered is still a mystery?”

“Yes, it is.”

Gabe saw an opportunity to get out of the restaurant and deliver the information he collected. “Do you want me to see what more I can find out from Li, the guy on Park’s security detail I was standing next to during the meeting? He and I did the advance before everyone else arrived. I got to know him. His family and mine are from the same Pyongyang neighborhood.”

Henry Yeong thought for a long moment before answering. “I don’t think that’s wise. We’ll leave it for the police. I’ve asked on the street and haven’t found any satisfactory answers, but further inquiry might lead the police back to me.”

“Then we’ll abide by your decision.”

Candy approached as Yeong and Gabe completed their exchange. “If nothing else I go home unless you want me lock up.”

“No, Candy, we are fine. I will have Gabe close up. Thank you for being here tonight. You can go now.”

She bowed and before departing rewarded the CIA operative with one of her sought-after smiles.

Turning to Gabe, Yeong said, “You seem anxious to leave. Were you planning to accompany her?”

“No, sir,” said Gabe, perhaps too quickly, for he really was hoping to get off duty and report to Wilson.

“You don’t mind closing up, do you?”

“Of course not,” said Gabe, reconciled to a delay in delivering the explosive information he had just obtained. At least this will give me a chance to “bag” Yeong’s lair for more intelligence after they leave.

“Make sure you turn off the lights in my office upstairs,” said Yeong.

“Yes, of course,” Gabe replied with new respect for the North Korean agent’s powers of perception. To reassure Yeong he had nothing else to do tonight, Gabe hastily added, “I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast. Would it be okay if I made something before locking up?”

“Certainly, just clean up your mess,” said Yeong in English.

In Korean Gabe responded, “Now you sound like my mother,” bringing a laugh from everyone.