Op-Center

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

When Kim Hwan entered the guardroom, the Desk Sergeant gave him a photo ID. Hwan read the information: Name: Lee Ki-Soo. Age: Twenty. Address: 116 Hai Way, Seoul.

"Did you check it?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. The apartment is leased to a Shin Jong U, whom we haven't been able to contact— this man says he lives in a room and that Mr. U is away on business. He works at the General Motors factory outside of town, but the personnel department is closed until tomorrow."

Hwan nodded, and as the Desk Sergeant prepared to take notes, the Deputy Director studied the man who had come to see him. He was short but well muscled; Hwan could see that in his neck and forearms. He was dressed in a factory worker's drab grays; he played with his black beret, shifted uneasily from foot to foot, and bowed several times when Hwan first entered. But his eyes never left Hwan, and they were strangely unsettling: they had a hard but lifeless glaze, like the eyes of a shark.

Strange combination— odd man, he thought. But today affected many people, and perhaps he was one of them.

Hwan moved up to a circular metal grid in the glass. "I'm Deputy Director Kim Hwan. You asked to see me?"

"You are in charge of this— this terrible thing?"

"I am."

"I saw them. As I told this fellow, I saw three men. They were walking away from the truck toward the old section— carrying bags."

"Did you see their faces?"

The man shook his head quickly. "I was not close enough. I was standing right out there—" He sidled to the door and jabbed with his finger. "By the benches. I was looking for— you know, sometimes they put lavatories out for the public. But not today. And while I was looking, I saw them."

"Are you certain you couldn't identify them? Color of their hair—"

"Black. All three."

"Facial hair? The size of their noses? Thin lips, large lips, prominent ears?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't see. As I said, I had other things on my mind."

"Do you recall what they were wearing?"

"Clothes. I mean, ordinary street clothes. And boots. I think they had boots on."

Hwan regarded the man for a moment. "Is there anything else?"'

The man shook his head.

"Would you be agreeable to signing a statement regarding what you saw? It will only take a few minutes to prepare."

The man shook his head vigorously and quickly closed the small distance between himself and the door. "No, sir. I couldn't do that. I was not on my break when I went to the ceremony, so I slipped out. I wanted to be there, you understand. If my bosses knew, I would be disciplined—"

"They needn't know," said Hwan.

"I'm sorry." He put his hand to the door. "I wanted you to have this information, but I don't wish to become involved. Please— I hope this was helpful to you, but I must go."

With that, the man pushed open the door and ran into the darkness. Hwan and the Desk Sergeant looked at each other.

"Seems to have had a few beers too many before stopping by, sir."

"Or not enough," Hwan said. "Would you type that up and give it to me unsigned? There was some useful information there."

At least, it corroborated some of the facts he had come up with in the alley. He toyed briefly with the idea of having the curious little man followed, but decided the manpower was best utilized where it was, interviewing other attendees, checking video footage and photographs, and searching the area and abandoned hotel for other clues.

Climbing the stairs— he refused to take elevators when he had the time and energy to walk— Hwan returned to his office to consider his next move.

When the Director returned, he would be unhappy with the state of the investigation: their skimpy evidence pointing to North Korea, but no leads to who perpetrated the deeds.

After using his radio to check with the field forces, and learning that they were coming up empty, Hwan decided that to get that evidence quickly he would have to move in a way he'd been loath to, a way that might cost them as much as they would gain.

Reluctantly he picked up the phone