by James Church
"But you're still here." I watched him sink down further against the wall. He'd almost given up; it was over and it didn't matter anymore.
"You were waiting for Lena to join you." Nothing, he didn't move a muscle, but in his stillness I could see I was right. "You were going to Lake Keitele." I heard myself say it even before the thought had formed in my mind, because it was suddenly so clear. "And your daughter, that's really why she was here, close to the border. Because you knew the day would come. You've been getting ready for years. Even now, someone's waiting across the river for you. In a nice shiny black Mercedes.
It's Pikkusaari, isn't it? And that other Finn, the corpse in the Koryo, he was part of your operation, too. That's why they dumped the body in that particular room. They knew you used it sometimes. It was Kim's way of playing with you, of telling you that he was closing in."
Kang shook his head. "No, not across the river. In Harbin."
I heard it click into place. Not organic, mechanical, just like Pak said. "Hyesan-Musan-Najin-Harbin. The train schedule, the one you took from me in the truck. That was your escape route, wasn't it?
Where were you going to meet Lena, in Najin?"
"The clerk in Manpo was supposed to give me that schedule. Why he gave it to you, I'll never know."
"That's why they killed him. They were after you. How can you live with so much of other people's blood on your boots?"
Kang shifted his weight. It was more of an answer than I had expected.
"So
what made you think you could sacrifice me and Pak? Because you did sacrifice him. He had an Israeli pistol in his hand when he died, only it wasn't his. The one he had was Czech, the same one in your shoulder holster right now."
For a moment I thought Kang wasn't paying attention. His head was cocked slightly, like a dog listening for something on the wind, far away. He looked at the front door, then turned to me. "It seems you're wrong about many things, Inspector. Pak was my friend."
"I heard you the first time."
"And you were so mad you couldn't shoot straight. So I'll say it again, and if you want to put a bullet in my heart, go ahead." He opened his jacket. I could see he hadn't unbuttoned the strap over Pak's pistol. "My heart is in the usual place." He paused. "Pak and I served together. Twenty-five years ago, a different time. We were in a squad run out of a little fishing port, at Sinpo. Remember in Manpo when I told you about those rumors my people had picked up on plans for a political settlement--and lots of money--if these old cases of abductions of Japanese were resolved?"
"You're wandering."
"You want to hear what I have to say, or do you want to pretend this is an interrogation? Pak and I were assigned to a routine agent operation in Japan. We did it all the time, almost with our eyes closed. Go in, insert an agent, get out. Only it didn't stay routine. It went bad. One night, the beach where we landed was supposed to be deserted, but it wasn't. Someone panicked, a little boy got hurt. We could see lights in the distance, police cars coming up the road. Pak argued with me to leave him behind, to cover our exit. I told him I wasn't leaving anyone, not even the boy. 'The boy needs a doctor.' He said it over and over. I can still hear him. 'Leave the boy.' But there were five of us in that team. We'd trained together for years. I was in charge, and I made the decision. When we got back home, Pak resigned. He never blamed me.
I saved his life, against his will. He always said it was his fault for giving me the choice. He raised the boy, his only son. On the list of cases the Japanese want resolved, the boy is number one. They don't know he's dead. As far as they're concerned, he's still a child."
"And when they have stories on him, the Japanese papers run a picture of a five-year-old kid, holding a cat."
A jeep pulled up in front of the shop. The doors slammed even before the squeal of the tires stopped. Kang moved closer. "Shoot me, quick, or they'll say you were helping."
I turned and fired at the door. "Around back. Get out, now."
Kang didn't hesitate. He moved over the broken chairs, passed his hand over the bloody book, and disappeared in the dark. There were two shots in quick succession. Then the jeep started and drove away.
"Isn't this is a little awkward, Inspector? I'm supposed to pay you."
"It's not money. It's a copy of Kim's passport. He travels under the name ofYun.And he's been promoted." The Irishman didn't move; he was the type who would wait until I left to reach for the envelope. "Go on, take a look. A good photo, he's not squinting. Easy to pick out of the crowd."
"Bad haircut?" He looked thoughtfully at me for a moment.
"He's yours, Richie. Your people can cold-pitch him. He'll have to report it. If he doesn't and they find out, he's dead."
"What if they don't find out?"
"Don't worry, they will."
"And if he does report it?"
"No one will believe he turned you down. They'll tear him to shreds trying to make sure."
The Irishman stood up. "Cheers, Inspector." He walked over to the floor lamp, switched it off, and then turned to me. "Icy outside, Til bet.
Watch your step."
"Jesus." The Irishman closed his notebook. "They aren't going to be happy to hear this. Kang shot by Military Security. What a mess." Fie turned off the tape recorder and tucked it in his coat pocket. "Hell, and bloody hell."
"That's it. Nobody's happy these days." I pushed my chair back. "I'm going tomorrow if I can get a reservation on the train. Unless it's already tomorrow."
"I thought you had enough of trains."
"See you around sometime, Richie."
"Would that be an offer?"
"Hardly. I'm not the type to defect. And you know I won't work for you. I wouldn't work for Kang. Why would I want to serve the queen." I pulled an envelope out of my back pocket and threw it on the table. "A present."
My hotel was not far, but I took a few wrong turns, partly to see if I was being followed, partly just to walk in the night air. I figured the Irishman would sit in the dark awhile, sipping his tea, wondering what I hadn't told him. It was his job, to listen for what people didn't say. He must have heard loud and clear the word I never said--revenge. They'd probably look for Kim; maybe they'd find him, maybe they wouldn't.
Trying to track him would keep them busy enough so they'd miss what else I had left out. It wasn't much.
It was quiet until dawn, not peaceful, but the heavy silence that weighs on the hours, so that you crave the smallest sound besides your own breathing, crickets or even just the wind to show that the night is rolling unbroken, that it will end. When the sun finally came through the rear window, I peered outside. The dirt path from the back door went down a small slope W.-M
to a slender, solitary birch tree. A man slumped against it, his legs across the path and his feet, bootless, on the grass beyond. He gazed toward the mist lifting from the hills, only his eyes never blinked. A breeze came up, making the tree's top branches sway and the leaves dance with a sudden, nervous energy that scattered the light across the ground. I must have stared a long time, but not because I needed to be sure. From the moment the sun came through the window, I knew it would not be Kang.
The girl's book I left where it was, and the flowers, too. As I shut the front door behind me and turned toward the station, I thought I spotted a line of geese heading south. They were flying straight as an arrow, high in an autumn sky that was as blue as anything I'd ever seen.
January 2003, Prague
Be sure to catch
Inspector^-
in James Church's
next mystery
Things in North Korea are never as they seem for Inspector O.
Called in to solve the city's first bank robbery, O finds himself entangled with a beautiful bank manager, a sharp club owner, and a mysterious man in a brown hat. They all have agendas, none of which involve O solving the robbery.
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