Mortal Allies

CHAPTER 48

Eddie was screaming, “Objection! Objection!” loud enough I thought he’d give himself a hernia. I wished he would. I’d love to see him crumple to the floor in a ball of excruciating pain.

The two technicians ignored him and shifted the TV so everybody could see it, and then began preloading a black videocassette. Carruthers looked over at Golden.

“What is it?”

“If this is evidence from Bales’s wife, it’s inadmissible. A wife may not be compelled to testify against her husband.”

“If it was compelled,” Carruthers said. Then he glanced over at Mercer. “Was it?”

Buzz shrugged. “In a manner of speaking. They didn’t let her sleep for five days.”

Kip stood up. “Actually, I think Major Golden is confused. The testimony is not against the accused, Thomas Whitehall. It concerns a key prosecution witness.”

Carruthers scratched his head a moment. “The point may still be relevant. Compelled testimony from the wife of a witness could enjoy the same protections.”

Then I popped up. “May I help clarify a point for the court?”

Golden glowered, but Carruthers nodded.

I said, “Mr. Mercer, could we have the full name of the woman on the tape?”

Buzz jovially said, “The name on her military dependent ID card is Jin May Bales.”

“Is that her real name?”

“Nope. Her real name’s Lee Chin Moon.”

“Where’s she from?”

“The papers she filed with American military authorities say she was born in Chicago, Illinois, and came here in 1995.”

“Was that factual?”

“Nope. Lee Chin Moon never set foot in the United States. She spent her whole life in a special camp in North Korea, at least until a submarine landed her off the east coast of the Republic of Korea.”

“Are you saying everything she reported to the military authorities when she and Bales applied for marriage was false?”

Buzz chuckled, then matter-of-factly said, “Very nearly. Except for the block she stamped that identified her as a female. She is in fact a female. I’ll attest to that.”

“And how would you describe their marriage?”

“It wasn’t a marriage. It was her cover. She was actually the controller for Choi and Bales. She was sent down here to run their operation when it was determined to be an intelligence gold mine.”

“I’m sorry, why’d they send her down here?”

“To run this whole operation.”

Even I had to shake my head at that one. “She was in charge of this?”

“Yep. They gave her a legend as Choi’s sister, then made it foolproof by having her marry Bales. A pretty slick solution, if you think about it. She’s living right on an American base as an officer’s wife, she’s controlling the man she lives with, and Choi gets to stop by and visit his ‘sister’ as often as he wants. And nobody’s suspicious.”

At this point we could have become embroiled in one of those lengthy arguments that you often see in bigamy contests about whether a marriage is still legal even if one of the participants used a false name – but really, what would be the point?

Eddie was squirming and trying to come up with something to object to, but I guess he finally realized he’d only make an utter fool of himself. I wanted to see him try anyway.

Carruthers said, “Play the tape,” and Eddie kept his mouth shut.

Minister Lee himself reached up and turned out the lights.

The TV screen flickered as the tape cued, then a picture popped up of a woman seated on a white chair in the middle of a white room. A wool blanket had been thrown over her body to cover her nakedness.

She looked filthy and exhausted, and her hair hung down in oily straggles. She was still breathtakingly beautiful.

For about thirty seconds, there were some exchanges between her and a man who was hidden from the camera. They were speaking in Korean, so I didn’t understand what they were saying, but her voice and her demeanor were pleading, and the man’s voice was sharp, overbearing, harsh.

She finally hung her head in resignation and allowed it to bob up and down in an exhausted nodding motion.

The man said, “Describe your relationship to Michael Bales.”

He made her go through everything Buzz Mercer just told us, only it was infinitely more compelling to hear it from the lips of this woman taped into a chair. Carol Kim had been right. Her English was excellent, right down to the midwestern twang. But it should be. Like Choi, before coming south she’d spent her whole life in that special camp that Kim, the KCIA man, had mentioned, being taught English by former American POWs.

Then came questions about her responsibilities, and it turned out her role in the conspiracy included controlling the traitors Bales and Choi caught inside their net. In fits and starts, and often speaking haltingly, she said she told her traitors what information her masters in North Korea wanted, she collected their products, and on market days she went downtown and dropped them off with a contact who sped them up north.

Then came the part we were awaiting.

“How was Michael Bales enlisted?”

She stared at the floor. She seemed to be having trouble recalling it, maybe because she was exhausted, or maybe because she didn’t want to get Bales confused with all the other Americans they’d entrapped.

Then she said, “This happened months before I arrived. Bales went to Itaewon one night to the King Mae Bar. He drank heavily and went upstairs with a prostitute. Bales likes… well, he likes rough sex. We had problems with him even after he was recruited. That night, though, Bales beat the whore as he screwed her…” She drew a few quick breaths like she needed oxygen to keep talking. “He drove her nose bone into her brain. She hemorrhaged and died. Choi came to investigate. Bales immediately identified himself as a police officer and Choi recognized how valuable he could be.”

“So they struck a bargain?” the unseen questioner asked.

“Yes… a… a bargain.”

“It was that simple?”

She nodded.

“Then what?”

“Who cares about the death of a whore? Who complains if her killer is never found? Her pimp? Choi wrote in the criminal file that Bales was there as an investigator, rather than a suspect. After two months he closed the case as unsolvable.”

“Didn’t you worry that Bales might flee or go back on the bargain?”

“There were always second files. I sent them north for safety. I could get them if… well, if I needed them.”

“What did Bales do for you?”

Her chin fell on her chest, but her eyeballs looked up and stared at her questioner. “I’m tired… uh, ask me later.”

The questioner screamed something at her in Korean, and while I had no idea what he said, she obviously did, and it brought her chin right off her chest.

The questioner said, “Now, answer the question. What did Bales do for you?”

Her head rolled backward, like she was trying to get blood flowing in her brain. “The first year… background checks on targets. He could access military personnel and FBI files. That was helpful.”

“Anything else?”

“After a few years, he helped with entrapments. Choi would call him when he found a target. Bales would… he would help persuade them. The Americans, they became worried when he arrived. He would help pressure them.”

“Did you give him money?”

“Some money. We sent it to a foreign account. It was not important to him, though.”

“Why?” the interrogator asked.

Her chin fell on her chest again, but this time she kept talking, although her voice was trailing off. “He is very egotistical. Choi arranged to make him look like a super-detective.” She then chuckled to herself, like it was a big joke only she got. “Very funny, really. Bales’s superiors began relying on him to handle most of the cases committed off base. And when Bales’s tours ended, they were eager to see his time extended in Korea.”

“Tell us about the American Keith Merritt.”

“No,” she said, her voice becoming very weak. “It is time to sleep… You promised.”

The screen suddenly went dark, but the sound was still on and you could hear the noise of footsteps, then four loud whacks, and the woman yelping from pain. Then the picture returned. Her cheeks were red, and she was staring at her interpreter with a mixture of resentment and anger.

The interpreter barked something in Korean and she nodded her head.

She said, “He came here weeks before the rest of them. He was nosing around. He interviewed Bales two days after he arrived, so we began watching him. Then, uh, later, he and Carlson… later they returned to interview Bales together… He was handed a glass of water. Bales took fingerprints off it. He sent them to the FBI. He wasn’t an attorney. He was a private detective.”

“Who tried to kill him?”

“Other people handled it. Two agents from Inchon. We didn’t want to risk having any of our people identified.”

“Why?”

“At first he focused his efforts on trying to prove Lee was a homosexual. Later, he suspected Whitehall was framed. But he had no facts.” She stopped and stared at the floor a moment. “Still… we began to worry. Would he start looking at Bales and Choi?”

“How did you learn this? Did you bug his room, too?”

“No, only Whitehall’s apartment in the months before his arrest. Melborne was a detective. We thought, maybe… he knew how to check. We used other means to eavesdrop on him.”

Her head slumped forward again. We saw the interrogator’s back move toward her, and then he shook her a few times, harshly enough that her head flopped back and forth. She seemed to come back to consciousness.

She said, “We overheard Merritt discussing his suspicions with Carlson, Whitehall’s lawyer.”

“And how did Melborne arrive at that suspicion?”

“He was guessing. But it was too close.”

“So you lured him to Itaewon?”

“Choi thought of it. One of our people called Merritt and said they needed to talk. Melborne was told to walk down the street and shop. Our man told him he had seen his picture in the paper. They would meet and talk.”

There was a brief pause and I wondered about Melborne’s discussion with Katherine about a frame-up. How come Katherine never mentioned those suspicions to me? Was that why she’d told us to employ a frame defense?

Then before I could think any further about it, the unseen voice said, “Tell us about Whitehall.”

Again she hung her head, as though she needed to work to recall the details. Considering that she probably hadn’t slept in five or six days, I was amazed she could do anything except babble and drool.

Then the camera went dark again, and there were the sounds of more slaps and yelps, then her whimpering and saying something in Korean that sounded like begging, then the interrogator’s voice sounding harsh and uncompromising.

The woman came into focus again. “We learned of Whitehall’s affair with Lee four… maybe five months ago. They thought they were discreet. The fools. When an apartment is rented to an American, the landlord must report it to the precinct.”

“Is that how Choi knew?”

“He always watched for that. Usually the Americans are seeking a place to keep their mistresses, to conduct affairs.”

“Why didn’t you try to recruit Whitehall?”

She looked directly into the camera. “He was too unimportant. He held only a minor position on base. I directed Choi to have some assistants see what Whitehall was doing.”

“And you discovered Lee No Tae?”

She nodded. “Two, sometimes four times a week they would meet in the apartment. Eventually, we bugged it.”

“Whose idea was it to murder Lee No Tae?”

For a brief millisecond, you could see a spark of her earlier defiance. Or maybe it was pride.

“I ordered it.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? To drive the Americans off Korean soil.”

“Why that night?”

“They were about to separate. It would be our last chance.”

I inadvertently turned and looked to the back of the room where Minister Lee was seated. His eyes were on the television screen. His arms were crossed and his face was expressionless. I didn’t even want to imagine what he was feeling.

“How did you get inside the apartment?”

“We didn’t.”

“You didn’t?”

“Lee always awoke at three-thirty to go back onto base. Privates have to be present when their sergeants go through the barracks to awaken the soldiers. Otherwise he would’ve gotten into trouble.”

“So he was killed outside the apartment?”

The camera focused on her a moment until it was evident she was sound asleep. Her chin was back on her chest and you could tell by the way her breasts were moving that she was in la-la land. The film went through the dark-again-whack-ouch-whack-ouch-whack-ouch routine, then there were more words in Korean, then her face came back on the screen.

“We killed him in the stairwell. Lee put up a fight. He even struck Choi several times. Finally, though, the men held him. They beat him for a while. He had to appear roughed up.”

“How was he killed?”

“Choi pulled his… uh, belt out of his pants and strangled him.” She paused and her lip curled upward, ever so slightly. “It turned out, when Lee dressed, he took the wrong belt. It was Whitehall’s. Lucky,” she mumbled.

The interrogator said something sharp, like he didn’t think there was anything the least bit happy about any of this. She stared back at him, her face completely exhausted, but something in her eyes let you know she thought she’d won one here.

The questioner said, “How did you get him back into the apartment?”

This time I already knew the answer before she gave it.

“A key to the apartment… in Lee’s pocket. Whitehall gave it to him, months before. Choi used it then, then, uh, laid his body next to Whitehall’s. The door had an automatic lock. It relocked when they closed it.”

“How did you make it appear the body had been raped?”

“Choi brought along a…?” she suddenly appeared perplexed, then said some word in Korean.

“A dildo,” the hidden voice translated for her.

She nodded. “They inserted it and left it in his body for twenty minutes. Choi has investigated many sex crimes. This was his idea. It was a nice touch.”

This time when I turned back around and stole a look at Minister Lee, he was staring down at the floor and there were tears rolling down his cheeks. I felt a shudder of pain for him. One of the few facts about this case I’d been able to establish on my own was how much he and his wife loved their son. No parent should have a child murdered. Worse, no parent should ever be forced to listen to one of the murderers recount the tawdry details of the crime.

The questioner asked, “Then Choi returned to the precinct?”

She shook her head.

“Where, then?” the man yelled. “Where did he go?”

“Home. He waited there for the call. Bales waited with me.”

“You mean Bales was there?”

“Of course. He enjoys these things. As I told you, he is a sadist.”

Then the hidden questioner and some other hidden male voice exchanged a few words in Korean, and the screen went dark.

It took the minister a few seconds to turn the light back on. When I turned around to look at him, his back was just going out the door.

The rest of the room was silent. Eddie was slumped over in his chair looking like death warmed over. That’s one of the many things I don’t like about that bastard. He really didn’t give a damn that a man had been brutally murdered, or that an innocent man had been framed. He was feeling despondent that he wasn’t going to win this case.

Carruthers surveyed the psychic carnage in the room, then asked everybody to leave except the two opposing lawyers and me. It took nearly a minute for the rest of them to clear out, until all that was left were raw emotions, one judge, and three lawyers.