Park breathed out a small smoke ring and punctured it with the cigarette. "Wasn't he involved in some kind of scandal? What about his family, his associates? No one has any idea?"
Yun shook his head. "There were rumors of a scandal, but no charges were ever filed. Again, no evidence of foul play. Also no evidence that there was no foul play."
Park was fast exhausting his patience. He had better things to do than listen to Yun Yu-sop spin tales of woe all afternoon. "Are you telling me then that all of these men died, mysteriously, as you put it, but with no sign of a crime committed?"
"Please, Prosecutor Park," Yun said, palms spread open, "bear with me a little longer."
"Only a little," he said.
"In February, a ROK Army colonel from Seoul was killed when his automobile plunged into the sea off the end of a deserted dock late at night in Inchon. A fishing boat nearby heard the impact and investigated immediately. They found a most peculiar thing, the car's lights were not turned on. The end of the dock was well marked with warning signs, but there were no skid marks. Later that month, two prominent doctors with medical training in the United States disappeared while in Hong Kong to attend a meeting of physicians. As with the Assemblyman, they left no trace."
"I'm familiar with that case," said Park, stubbing out his cigarette. "Dr. No had been treating my mother. He was a good physician, but a bit too cozy with the Americans, I thought. And what about the Japanese? Wasn't there speculation the Yakuza had kidnapped them over a narcotics deal?"
The Yakuza were Japanese mobsters, heavy into running narcotics.
"Rumor," said Yun. "Possibly spread to confuse people. The Metropolitan Police Bureau had no indication whatsoever that either of the doctors was involved with drugs. They were both widely respected in the medical community. As you are well aware, Yang Jong-koo was slain in March on arriving home from his hotel late one night."
"Quite aware. I believe I adequately expressed my concern at the outset, concern that you haven't found the robbers who murdered the owner of one of our major hotels."
"As I've stated before," Yun persisted, "I have never accepted the robbery theory. True, his billfold with a considerable amount of cash and his expensive watch were taken. But robbers don't normally knock their victims to the ground beside their cars, then shoot them through the temple, execution style."
Park screwed his round face into a distasteful frown. "I regret to say that our criminal element has learned too much from American gangster movies and TV shows. It's ironic that such a fate should strike the chairman of the Korean-American Cooperation Association, don't you think?"
"I find it too coincidental that Yang's driver came down with food poisoning just before time for him to drive his boss home."
"You think the driver was involved?"
"No. We checked him out thoroughly. He ate a bowl of kimchi a little earlier. Something could have been slipped into it."
Park shook his head. "Is that all you have to go on?"
"There's more," Yun said. "I've just learned of a possible suspect. But I need to determine if he was in Seoul at the time of the murder."
Park glared at him. "If not a robber, then what?"
"A professional assassin."
"Assassin? Ridiculous. What did Yang ever do to deserve the punishment of a paid killer?"
"I'm not sure. But I believe the same man visited the home of Yi In-wha the day he was murdered last month."
A well-known businessman, Yi headed a large firm that was the central component of one of the top chaebol business groups.
"What are you getting at, Captain Yun?" The prosecutor's face turned a dangerous shade of red.
Yun spoke hurriedly. "That list contains the names of nine men who have been murdered, killed in questionable accidents or disappeared under strange circumstances. Six of them, including Chairman Yang, were directors of the Korean-American Cooperation Association. The other three—Editor Chi, the Assemblyman, and Dr. No—were the most prominent voices calling for continued close relations with the United States."
For a moment, Park looked clearly shocked. Then the old venom came rising back to the surface. "Are you telling me there is a conspiracy afoot, a conspiracy to elminate people who advocate that we remain cozied up to the Americans?"
"That's certainly the way it looks to me," Yun said, nodding.
Park's thoughts were churning. He didn't really consider himself anti-American, or anti-Western. He resented the condescending way many of them tended to treat Koreans, but, on the other hand, he had picked up a lot of useful ideas from his American contacts. There was no question that America had saved South Korea during the Civil War. Still, the leaders of the new government were strongly opposed to outside influences, American or otherwise. How would his superiors react if he should confront them with such an alleged conspiracy as this? Who could be behind it, the communists? Maybe it had been directed from the North. Everything had happened prior to the startling assassination of Kim Il-sung and his son. If Kim was behind a conspiracy, shouldn't that be the end of it? But what if he wasn't? Could others be targeted for elimination? Now that he thought about it, he had to admit there were only a few small voices raised in opposition to the pull-out of the remaining U.S. troops, or to the apparent decision to downgrade American economic relationships. The emphasis on exports was being shifted to Europe, and there was that effort to create a replacement trading partner in Israel. Finally he calmed himself with the thought that Yun still had no concrete proof that a conspiracy actually existed. He couldn't ignore the Captain's reputation, but why the hell did he have to keep coming up with such outrageous theories? Then he remembered something else. Yun spoke excellent English and had attended the FBI National Academy in the United States. Could that be influencing his judgement?
"Captain, you do realize I would have to take something like this all the way to the top of the Ministry? I'd need a case as solid as this desk before I dared do that." He paused to light another Turtle Ship, using the break to make a final consideration of the possible consequences if he should kill the investigation now and then be proven wrong by yet another murder. "All right. I'll give you thirty days to come up with enough evidence to convince me, and the Minister of Justice. Otherwise, I'll take steps to see that you're replaced on these cases. Understand?"
After supper that evening, Captain Yun retreated to the small room in his home that served as an office and sanctuary, away from the abominable talking box his wife was addicted to, soap operas providing the major fare on Korean TV. He sat down and began to consider what he had learned about the elusive suspect called Hwang Sang-sol. Momentarily, he wondered about the reasons behind Hwang's travels from Seoul to Beijing two days before the bombing that had ended the dictatorial rule of Kim Il-sung. Yun had no reason to suspect any connection between Hwang's itinerary and the event in Pyongyang. Still, he couldn't help but wonder.
Falls Church, Virginia
Chapter 9
Autumn had begun to work its colorful magic in Northern Virginia by the time Burke and Lori arrived back home. Their house sat on two acres at the edge of a hardwood forest, and the view from the wall of windows in their den was nothing short of spectacular. The kaleidoscope of color made Burke feel as though he were back in the mountains
The expanding bulge of the twins had become a bit too burdensome for Lori to join him, but he was out early most mornings. Dressed in sweat shirt, jeans and Rockports, he walked at a rapid pace through the quiet neighborhood that was just beginning to stir. Though he had put in quite a bit of vacation time traipsing through Budapest, that had been stop-and-go walking, not the exercise variety. It didn't give the same effect as a solid thirty minutes at a fast clip.
The air was cool on his face, the sun just peeping over the treetops. The smell of wood smoke from half a dozen chimneys triggered fond memories of his old cabin in the Smokies. He had almost completed the circle back home, his breath coming in deep drags, when he heard someone call
his name.
"Hey, Burke!" It was Will Arnold, heading up his driveway after the morning paper.
Burke glanced at his watch. It was time to stop anyway. He strode over to pick up the newspaper and tossed it to Will as he approached.
"Morning, neighbor," Burke said. "I trust you're fully recovered from your venture to Hungary."
"I've all but forgotten it. Been busy as hell helping put together a bid on a new Air Force project. I had some geniuses in from a lab at MIT offering advice."
The mention of the laboratory triggered something in Burke's brain. "What do you know about hackers, Will?"
"They can be quite an annoyance. They can break in and mess around with your data, or plant viruses. You're not having hacker problems are you?"
Burke shook his head. "No. I just heard some talk about them. One in particular called the 'Hanover Hacker.' I figured a computer genius like you would know all about it."
"Oh, the Hanover character. He was a sharpie. Got himself into a lot of trouble with the German government. We had a notorious case over here two or three years ago. A hacker, college student I believe, fed a virus into a network. It screwed up two thousand computers, university, industrial, military. Turned out his father was a computer security expert at the National Security Agency." Will stopped and slapped the newspaper against the palm of his hand. "Say, that reminds me, I've got a copy of an item that was on an electronic bulletin board a few months back. A guy out in California was looking for expert hackers to interview. Said he was writing a book. He offered to guarantee their anonymity. As you might expect, most of those guys aren't too interested in publicity."
"I probably wouldn't understand what they were talking about," Burke said. "But it sounded like a fascinating subject."
"I'll save that EBB item for you. I know it had the guy's address. Seems like it included his name also. If you're really interested, you might drop him a note about his book. It should be finished by now."
Burke didn't tell Will but he wasn't all that interested. He thanked him and headed on back to the house for breakfast. When he got to the bedroom, he found Lori lying in bed, awake but showing no inclination to venture beyond the covers.
He leaned down and kissed her. "Time to rise, sunshine. It's back to work we go, ho ho, ho ho."
She grimaced. "You'll never pass for a dwarf, my dear. And it isn't back to work for me, anyway. I have an appointment with Dr. Chloe. Remember? She wants to be sure I didn't abuse myself or our wee ones during the trip to Hungary."
"I thought it was tomorrow. Does that mean I'm breakfasting alone?"
Slowly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Perish the thought. That sounds like some kind of quote from the Bible. 'Man cannot live by breakfasting alone.'"
Burke shook his head. "The lady's sharp this morning. After you finish with the godmother, call and let me know what she says."
He had great faith in Dr. Chloe Brackin. She was not only Lori's physician, but her best friend. Chloe and her husband, Walt, a neurologist, were a tall, handsome black couple who lived in another area of Falls Church. Chloe's specialty was gynecology. The cost of liability insurance had kept her out of the baby business when she first went into practice. Now that she was established, she still took only a few select obstetrical patients. With Lori, Chloe referred to herself as "the godmother."
Evelyn Tilson was a luxury Burke had not known prior to his affiliation with Worldwide, an assistant. More precisely, an executive assistant. A divorcee in her mid-forties, she was a sharp-witted, and at times sharp-tongued, blonde who served as secretary, scheduler, grammarian, counselor, alter ego and, when she deemed it necessary, conscience. She was even willing to make coffee. He was not always fully prepared for some of the services provided, but he rarely found her counsel faulty. She had put in a dozen years at Langley before resigning as secretary to a division chief she found impossible to tolerate. Burke found her invaluable for her knowledge of the inner workings of the intelligence establishment.
Evelyn's frown threw up a caution flag as he entered her office. "I have no 'need to know' what you called the Chief about from Berlin, oh Great One, but you apparently stirred up one devil of a hornet's nest."
Burke rumpled his brow. "What's happened?"
"Toni tells me Mr. Highsmith has been wearing out the scrambler to Langley. And he's had an unusual number of those hush-hush, supposedly casual meetings at his club with who knows whom."
Nate used the Federal Club, an exclusive private club in downtown Washington, for occasional meetings with the DCI, among others. Burke glared at her. "If you know all this, who the hell else does? Sounds like a security leak to me."
"Come on, Mr. Hill," she said, pursing her lips. "Only I am privvy to those secrets, which I purloined for your benefit."
He held up a hand in surrender and headed through the door to his office. "I stand corrected, Evelyn. How about some coffee?"
She followed behind him. "You're also expected in the Chief's office as soon as possible. My coffee's better, but best you try Toni's for now. He's already called to see if you'd come in."
His call from Berlin might well have stirred a flurry of activity, he realized, but the flap should have been around Langley and 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Not here. Why should it concern him? Maybe Evelyn was putting two and two together and getting five.
When he walked into Nate's stylish office suite down the hall, he was greeted by the wide, open smile of Toni Carlucci, a petite woman dressed conservatively in a simple outfit of navy blue. Toni was about as complicated as a rubber ball, and her step had every bit as much bounce to it. She was noted primarily for a fierce loyalty to her boss and an unflappable demeanor. If the hornet's nest had been stirred, it certainly didn't reflect in Toni's relaxed manner. How Nate Highsmith had managed to hold onto her through all of the various twists and turns of his career over the past twenty-five years, Burke wasn't sure.
She held out a steaming cup bearing the Worldwide logo. "Good morning, Mr. Hill. Evelyn said you'd like some coffee."
He accepted the cup with a shake of his head. "That woman is so efficient I can't even sneak up on anybody. I understand Nate wants to see me."
"He's waiting. Go on in."
Burke gave a single rap on the heavy wooden door and opened it. Nate was on the phone. The scrambler, in fact. He motioned Burke to take a seat. Outside the windows, a vast canopy of blue sheltered the Washington skyline.
"He just walked in, Kingsley. I'll bring him up to speed. Get back to you later."
Nate put down the phone, leaned back in his plush executive chair, locked his fingers behind his head and grinned across at Burke. "You really threw the White House into a swivet. General Thatcher's been burning up the line to Langley."
Burke caught the import of Nate's parting comment to Kingsley Marshall. "Is that what you're to bring me up to speed on?"
"Right. The President wants answers to three questions. First, are the South Koreans really working on a nuclear capability with Israel's help? And, if so, second, how far along are they? And third, what do they intend doing with that capability once it's acquired?"
"I trust all the spooks at Langley are hard at work on the answers," Burke said.
"Remember my description of that meeting in the Oval Office when I was asked to set up Worldwide? The President talked about the world being a terribly fluid place at present. Ideologies constantly shifting, a seemingly endless state of turmoil within and between various nations. He said the result was the CIA finds itself frequently caught with assets of uncertain reliability."
Burke took a sip from his cup, then flinched as the liquid scalded his tongue. "Damn! This stuff's hot enough to start World War III."
"Let's hope that doesn't apply to your mission to South Korea." Nate's tone made it plain he was not being entirely facetious.
"My mission? They're tossing this thing back to us?"
"Correct. With all the recent changes in Seoul, new govern
ment taking over, key people shifting about, a cooling attitude toward the United States, uncertain loyalties all around, the Agency isn't sure who they can trust."
Burke couldn't believe Ben Shallit's revelation was coming back to haunt him so soon. With only about two-and-a-half months to go on Lori's pregnancy, this hardly seemed the time to be flying off halfway around the world. "Where do we stand?"
"The Association and Technology groups are working to line up enough business to justify opening an office in Seoul," Nate said. "Marshall offered to cover the expenses until we can generate sufficient billings."
The company was organized around client groups, each headed by a senior vice president. The branch office managers held the title of vice president.
"What do you plan to do about a manager?"
"I've picked Jerry Chan," he said.
"He's Chinese, isn't he?"
"Right. And the only management-qualified person we have with any knowledge of Korean. I've got him in a crash course to improve his language proficiency. Since we don't have access to a Korean, he's the next best thing. Korea is something of an anomaly. They're probably the most ethnically-pure country in the world. A small minority of Chinese are virtually the only non-Koreans among the population. They get along better with Chinese than with Japanese."
"That figures," Burke said. He took another sip of coffee, being a bit more prudent this time. "How does the client situation look?"
Nate leaned over his desk and opened a blue-covered folder. The blue indicated it was a public relations file. An amber cover marked a file as classified. Besides giving the Amber Group its name, the colors were used around the office to reflect the status of anything from a phone call to a project to an employee.
"I used my good offices to get the ball rolling," Nate said, studying a page in the file. He had the diplomat's knack for steering people and events in the direction necessary to achieve his goals. "Hollis Wentworth, an old friend of mine, heads a company that's active in the Korean market. At my prodding, he contacted a few others like McDonalds, Kentucky Fried Chicken, Burger King, a couple of airlines. We're working on organizing a new association of American companies doing business in Korea, particularly ones that deal with the public."
The Poksu Conspiracy (Post Cold War Political Thriller Book 2) Page 6
