"Hell, half the scientific types down there probably studied at Cal Tech or MIT," Duane said.
Remembering the Korean-American Education Foundation, Burke knew he could be right. But that was no excuse for taking the risk of blowing the company's cover. "Damn it, Duane, we've gone to great pains to structure everything about this organization to prevent its being compromised. Steele told you the Koreans won't say a word about what's going on to him. If the security is as tight as it appears to be, an American nosing around that area would get a quick trip back to Seoul. Probably in the custody of NSP agents. The next place they'd be asking questions is right here in this office."
Duane planted his fists against his hips in a combative stance. "I'm an operations man, Mr. Hill," he said, grim-faced and formal. "I was sent over here to gather hard intelligence. I can't do it sitting in a damned office in Seoul. I know exactly how Mitch Steele felt when he told me if the desk jockeys would leave him alone, he'd get that project finished."
Jerry held up his hands in a halting gesture. "I think you're both right," he said. That brought a sudden silence and looks of contemplation. "Burke is right about the reaction to an American, Duane. There's too much anti-U.S. rhetoric these days. We've already encountered it on multiple occasions. Plus the natural suspicion these people have from years of constant reminders of the threat from the north. They'd stonewall you at best, call in the authorities at the worst."
Duane was about to protest when Jerry stopped him with another raised hand.
"And you're right, we need somebody checking into what's going on down there. But it has to be somebody who won't attract suspicion and blow our operation. Obviously, that means me."
Burke sat for a moment, completely nonplused. If it was all that obvious, why hadn't he thought of it? The young man's outburst had rubbed a raw spot. Was Duane right? Was he thinking like a desk man? His job was to supervise people in the field, not act like a field agent. But, though similar, Jerry's assignment as a field manager was different. He had to consider when the circumstances dictated that he become personally involved in an operation.
Burke eyed Jerry. "Do you have a plan?"
"Frankly, no. Not at the moment. But I will shortly."
Burke glanced back at Elliston. "Well, I hope it's something we can all be happy with."
The look on Duane's face said he was a long way from being happy.
"I have a plan for you," Jerry said to him.
He proposed contacting Kurt Voegler. They would express an interest in doing business with Reijeo, and ask Voegler for an introduction to some of their executives at whatever after-hours spot they frequented. In an informal setting, lubricated by soju or maggolli, they could innocently probe for information on the big conglomerate's activities to the south.
"Get Brittany on it in the morning," Burke suggested. "The newspaper files should have something on construction of the plant. With the unusual aspect of building inside a mountain, surely the papers would have covered it. She can also check open sources on what they're supposedly involved in down there. That would give you some facts to spice up the conversation."
Duane suggested they call Voegler as soon as possible. Then, apparently feeling he'd done all he could, he left for the hotel.
Burke promptly got on the phone to Washington. Toni Carlucci advised him that Nate had a congressman on another line. While waiting, he could talk with his assistant, Evelyn Tilson, who had a message for him.
"Morning, boss," she greeted him. "Looks like a glorious day in these parts. How are things in the Land of the Morning Snooze?"
She sounded a bit too spirited, he thought, straining to appear cheerful. "Good morning to you, Evelyn. It's getting on toward bedtime here. I understand you have a message for me."
"You're right, I surely do. I've been waiting for you to call."
Now she sounded like someone dancing around the edge of an abyss. "So what's the message?" he asked, turning up the volume.
"It's one of those good news, not-so-good news situations. The good news is that your expected twins appear to be in good shape. The not-so-good news is that Lori has been ordered to stay in bed."
"What happened?"
"She wanted me to let you know when you called. She was afraid if she did the calling and had to leave a message, you might get all shook up."
Burke sat there glaring at the phone. If Evelyn's intention was to keep him from getting worried, she was certainly going about it in the wrong way. "What happened?" he repeated.
"Some bleeding, she said. Not bad, but enough that Dr. Brackin thought she should stay off her feet."
"Anything else?"
"No, sir. That's it."
"You're sure?"
"Scout's honor."
"Okay. I'll give her a buzz. She knew it wasn't my night to call, so I guess that's why she called you."
"When are you coming home, boss? It gets awfully dull around here with nobody to pick on."
His voice softened. She was a hard one to be angry with. "In two or three weeks. The Korean government's doing its best to make life miserable for me. Whenever I think I've about got things worked out, some nut comes up with a new rule or a new regulation or a new form. I'm way past catch twenty-two. Must be up to thirty or so."
"I have the utmost faith in you, Great One. Remember, illigitimis non carborundum."
He laughed. It was an old joke. "Make the bastards grind." But he wasn't so sure who would wear whom down. She switched him back to Toni, who said Nate was waiting. After activating the scrambler, Burke filled him in on Duane's visit to Taesong. He decided to leave out the part about the shouting match. He did mention shooting down Duane's idea about a free-lance reconnaissance foray, and Jerry's decision that he should go.
"Duane still has some growing up to do," Nate said in a fatherly tone. "With a little maturity gained in the field, he'll make a fine intelligence pro. I suppose Jerry is the logical choice, though I prefer to keep the managers managing as much as possible."
"I agree," Burke said. "But that looks like our only chance to dig out the real story."
"That part about the crates from Israel and France doesn't leave much room for doubt, does it?"
"Not for me. But the fact that Dr. Nam has been working on this thing for so long worries the hell out of me. I've got a feeling they could be a helluva lot farther along than General Thatcher imagines. Anything new from the satellite watchers?"
"Not from that area. But at the missile training site, they picked up a launch vehicle that resembles the one for our ground-launched Tomahawk."
"The missile that was so deadly in Iraq?"
"That's the one," said Nate. "Of course, having a launcher and a missile are two different animals. Kingsley Marshall's analysts don't credit them with the ability to build it. They may have the technology but not the basic science. When it comes to design work, they buy it over here, or in Japan. We gave them Honest Johns and the Nike-Hercules. They've improved on those, of course, but they shouldn't be able to build a sophisticated missile from scratch. At least that's the CIA's estimate. We really don't know for sure."
"Unfortunately," Burke said, "in this case, what we don't know could hurt us badly."
Burke waited until he was back at his hotel room to call Lori. She answered on the first ring.
"You must have the phone in bed with you," he said.
"That's the only thing, with you off on the other side of the world. You must have talked to Evelyn."
"Right. How are you feeling?"
"I'm resting comfortably, and wishing like the devil I could get out of here."
"It's hard to keep a good woman down."
"Burke, I can't lie in this bed for four weeks. I'll go stir crazy."
"What did Chloe say?"
"She said it didn't look too bad, but if I stayed on my feet it could get worse. Then I might go into labor early and she might have to do a section. She wants the babies to stay put for at least another two weeks
.'
"Then you'd better stay put in that bed, lady. Do you have any help available?"
"Maggie is wearing a bare spot between our houses. She's a dear and I appreciate it, but I hope she won't continue to overdo it. Chlo knows a lady who'll be coming in starting tomorrow. She's to clean house and fix meals. I feel like a pampered bitch."
For someone as active as Lori, he had no doubt it was rough. He wished he could be there to help her through it. But with things here looking grimmer by the day, wishing was the about all he could do. He chatted on for a few minutes, trying his best to cheer her. "It doesn't look like I'll be able to get back for another two or three weeks," he said. "But I'll call to check on you every day from here on."
She had caught the edge in his voice. "Are things not going too well over there?"
He gave a mirthless laugh. "You might say we've got problems we ain't even heard about yet."
"Stick in there, tiger," she said. "I'll be here when you get back."
Chapter 37
Song Ji-young lived with her mother in an attractive two-story brick home not far from the Hyatt Regency Hotel. Her father was an architect and had designed the house himself. Built along a steep hillside street, it had an expanse of windows that faced the downhill view. The colorful roof was of blue tile. It was near the Itaewon shopping district and not far from the former U.S. Army post at Yongsan. With the troops recently departed, there were numerous vacancies in the apartments that had catered to military families. On learning that Jerry Chan was apartment hunting, Miss Song offered to take him to see some of the available apartments on Saturday morning.
She picked him up in front of the Chosun at ten, and they headed south toward the Namsan Tunnel in her small blue Toyota. Jerry noted, not for the first time, that she was quite an attractive girl. He liked her taste in clothes, which accented an attractive figure. This morning she wore a bright red jacket over a frilly white blouse.
"How is your mother?" he asked as she steered skillfully through the traffic.
"I think she has decided not to become a yollyo. She's almost fully recovered now and thinks of lots of things she would like to do."
His Korean vocabulary was fairly extensive, but she had caught him on this one. "I'm not familiar with 'yollyo,'" he said.
She grinned. "In times past, a woman in her position would usually become either a kwabu—a woman who lives alone after her husband's death—or a yollyo, one who drowns or hangs herself."
Jerry frowned. "She didn't really consider—"
"No, not really. She still has hopes of becoming a halmoni.'
"Grandmother."
"Right. Were you ever married, Mr. Chan?"
"Hey, I know it isn't Korean style," he said, "but we're working for an American company, so let's adopt American informality. Just call me Jerry. Would it be all right to call you Ji-young?"
She gave him a brief look of uncertainty, then shrugged. "I suppose so."
"To answer your question, no. I've never been married. The jobs I've had kept me so busy I hardly had time for a girlfriend, much less a wife."
"That happened to me, too," she said. "My parents and a couple of old friends tried to arrange a marriage for me and their son. He was interested in another girl, and I was too busy with graduate school. We talked them out of the idea."
He was surprised some other young swain hadn't steered her toward the altar. Though he had known her for just over a week, she was the sort of person who made you feel you had been friends for ages. She was quick-witted and confident, willing to take on any task and eager to learn as much as possible about her new job. Unfortunately, that eagerness had its drawbacks in this operation.
After they had agreed the first apartment was not worth the rent being asked, they headed for the next location. Ji-young turned suddenly serious.
"Jerry, the part of Worldwide's operation we're not supposed to talk about, you know, the anti-terrorism thing, isn't it dangerous? I mean, for the people involved?"
He gave her a cautioning frown. "You're right. We don't talk about it. To anybody."
"I was just thinking, since you're the manager, maybe that means you're involved. I wouldn't like to see you get hurt."
His face relaxed into a smile. "Don't worry about it. Nobody's in any danger. Particularly not me." At least I certainly hope not, he thought, remembering the trip he planned to Andong the coming week.
"I'm glad to hear that," she said.
He looked out at the building they had stopped before. "Is this the place we're looking for?"
It was a modern three-story building that had a penthouse on top with trees. The owner lived in the penthouse. Each of the other floors contained two three-bedroom apartments. The first-floor vacancy was neat and clean, with fresh paint and almost-new carpeting. The price was reasonable.
"U.S. colonel live here," said the owner, a former ROK Army officer named Chung. He was dressed in traditional white pantaloons and a loose-fitting blue jacket, ready for his hwan-gap, the auspicious Korean sixtieth birthday celebration. Having completed his zodiacal cycle, he would be treated like royalty, offered rich food and drink and showered with best wishes by his children and grandchildren, who would bow low in his honor.
Jerry decided there was no need to look any further. This apartment would be perfect. Mr. Chung had enough furniture in storage to furnish the place. He could move in the following week.
As they were driving downtown to the hotel, Jerry thanked Ji-young for her help, then, with a sudden inspiration, asked, "Could I take you to dinner this evening?"
"I would enjoy that," she said, smiling.
Burke Hill had two items on his agenda Monday morning. He took care of the first by stopping at Brittany Pickerel's disgustingly tidy desk, a marked contrast to the clutter of his own. All of her papers and files were arranged in neat, orderly stacks, like platoons of soldiers lined up for review. She had finished her analysis of the consumer survey and was scheduled for a session with the rest of the staff that afternoon. They would discuss the final plans for the opening salvo of Funland USA, a PR campaign designed to give Koreans a warmer feeling for America and her citizens.
"How was your weekend?" Burke inquired.
"Great. I took in the Changdok Palace Saturday. Spent a few hours at Namdaemun Market yesterday." She shook her head, eyes widening. "You wouldn't believe all the things they have in that place. And the way they sell it. Boggles the mind."
He nodded, sober-faced, wishing he could share her enthusiasm. "A lot about this place boggles the mind," he said wearily. He had spent much of his weekend mulling over the painfully slow progress of HANGOVER. "Have you been through today's Koryo Ilbo?"
"Still nothing." She had been assigned to comb the newspaper daily for any evidence that the editor had changed his mind about the circumstances surrounding Damon Mansfield's ill-starred encounter with Ko Pong-hak.
"Not a word?"
"Either they've ignored what you told them, or their mills grind exceedingly slow."
"Thanks," he said. "I think I'd better have a chat with the miller."
On the way to his office, he asked Miss Song to get Editor Kang Han-kyo on the phone. When he reached his desk, he punched "Y" on his telephone number finder and noted the listing for Captain Yun Yu-sop. That call would take care of the second agenda item. But first he wanted to know where things stood with the newspaper editor.
When the call came through, he recognized the carefully enunciated voice that had seemed so polite yet distant at their meeting in Kang's office.
"Good morning, Mr. Hill. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"
The pleasure part remained to be seen, Burke thought. "I was a little curious," he said. "Have you learned anything else about our strange Mr. Ko? You know, the Ministry of Culture and Information's martial arts expert."
"Mr. Ko," Kang repeated, as though refreshing his memory. "Yes, I determined, as you were told, that he was a member of the Korean Taekwondo team
."
"What about his occupation?"
"It appears that he was involved in construction work for several years. More recently, however, he headed a construction workers union that supported the Democratic Unity Party. That's the party that put President Kwak in power."
"So he got his ministry job via the political route," Burke said.
"So it would seem. I also came up with the answer to the question posed by Mr. Chan."
Burke rolled his eyes thoughtfully. "What question was that?"
"How we knew that Mr. Mansfield had been suspended for fighting while playing basketball."
"Oh?"
"We received a letter from an anonymous reader about two weeks prior to the Embassy reception. It complained about activities of some U.S. diplomats, said we might be interested in the background of one. Included was a clipping from an American newspaper about Mr. Mansfield's suspension for fighting."
"How convenient," Burke said. "Quite a coincidence, wouldn't you say?"
"Yes, rather too much of a coincidence. I think you were correct in your belief that Mr. Mansfield was, how did you put it, set up?"
"Right. So now you can print a new story with the correct facts."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Hill. I cannot do that."
Burke bolted upright in his chair. "What do you mean you can't do it?"
"I doubt the Ministry of Culture and Information would take very kindly to such a story."
"Who gives a flip what they think? This is a democracy, isn't it? Somebody in the Ministry was no doubt responsible for this deal in the first place."
"Unless Mr. Ko were to face criminal charges or publicly state his true role in this incident, we have only speculation. Informed speculation, to be sure."
"Just write the facts as you gave them to me. Let your readers draw their own conclusions."
The Poksu Conspiracy (Post Cold War Political Thriller Book 2) Page 24
