"I'm glad you told me," Burke said. "I'd suspected as much. I don't have any problem with it as long as it doesn't interfere with getting the job done. Just don't let your feelings overrule your better judgement."
"Thanks. I appreciate that. I'll try to keep everything in perspective. I've really enjoyed working with you. Will you be back after the holidays?"
"I don't think so. You can get the rest of the papers shuffled for the bureaucrats. And I'm sure you can wind up HANGOVER without my help. I never did get to introduce you to Captain Yun, though. He'll call when he gets back from Pyongyang. Get with him and go over what he's found. It would be a good idea to tell him about your DEA background. I think you two should work well together."
Burke waved a final good-bye as he headed through the security check point, hoping this would be his last look at Korea for a long while. He would be happy to get back to Falls Church, to Lori and to the new babies, try to pick up life where they had left off nearly six weeks ago. But he had an uncomfortable feeling, perhaps a premonition, that things might not work out as he hoped.
Things were equally unsettling to the north. In the nearly three months since the fearsome blast that had decimated the ranks of North Korea's ruling communist clique, absolute chaos had given way to massive disruption and finally to organized confusion. Organized in that lower level bureaucrats still went about their jobs, but with little sense of ultimate direction. Without the oppressive hands of Kim and his son to hold the Korean Workers' Party together, it had splintered into a variety of factions. Many of the top functionaries, who were seated at the front of the audience that night in September, had been killed or maimed, while others remained hospitalized or able to contribute only token efforts toward governing the country.
Among those who survived without injury, due to his seat in the next to the last row, was So Song-ku of the Central Committee. Although formerly a hard-liner, he had become the soul of moderation. When those who envied the freedom and prosperity of their brothers to the south began to demand liberalization and cooperation with Seoul, So offered sympathy and suggested that the various groups sit down and talk. He helped open dialogue with the Kwak government and worked with liberal elements of the military to make a modest opening in the once tightly closed border known as the DMZ. He encouraged the postal authorities to arrange unfettered, meaning uncensored, movement of mail between north and south.
So also continued his alternate existence as the DRAGON, performing assignments communicated to him from NSP headquarters in Seoul. He normally received instructions by coded radio messages. That cold, windy afternoon in early December, he decoded a transmission that piqued his curiosity. It read:
"Monitor activities of ROK delegation police Captain Yun arriving Pyongyang today. Further instructions to follow."
Washington, D.C.
Chapter 46
Burke waited nervously among the crowd around the luggage carousel. As soon as his bags rumbled into view on the noisy conveyor, he grabbed them off and began to struggle toward the ground transportation exit. That was when he almost literally ran into the sizeable figure of Will Arnold. Will had a sheepish grin on his face.
"Sorry I'm late, Burke. Got caught in traffic. Here, let me help you with those."
"How the hell did you know when I was getting here?" Burke asked as his neighbor grabbed the two largest bags. "I didn't take time to call anybody."
"You've got an efficient staff, man. Your gal Evelyn called Lori at the hospital this morning and gave her all the details."
Burke shot him a worried look. "How is Lori? Has she delivered yet?"
Will started hustling toward the exit. "No, but if we don't hurry, she's liable to."
Will wheeled his Caddy out of the parking lot and headed for the Dulles Access Road. He kept up a steady chatter as they raced toward Interstate 66. First the neighborhood gossip, then the status of things at the defense plant where he worked.
"I ran into the damnedest thing a couple of weeks ago," he said, shaking his head. "You'll be interested in this, since you just came from over there."
"Over where?" Burke said. He wasn't so sure of Will's assessment about his interest. A lot of his neighbor's windy tales struck him as deadly dull. Much of the time he'd nod and smile mechanically while tuning them out.
"Korea," Will said, as though it should have been obvious. "One of my bright young guys was Korean. At least part Korean. His father was an American. Died some years ago. I'm not sure I ever heard why. Anyway, back in October, I believe it was, he came in and told me his mother, who still lived in Korea, was ill and had nobody to look after her. He said she wouldn't come to America so he was quitting to go over there. He could find a pretty decent job in Korea, he said."
Burke's ears perked up, remembering the reports by Mitch Steele and Dr. Shin Man-ki of American-educated scientists and engineers working at Kanggu and Chuwangsan.
"Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, I was at a company meeting and heard a guy from the Guidance Technology Division talking about one of his sharpest people leaving. Damned if it didn't sound like a reincarnation of my man. Right down to the story about his mother. Only difference was he wanted her to come over here but the doctors wouldn't let her travel."
"You mean another Korean-American?"
"Right. An engineer who designed guidance systems for missiles. Hell, South Korea doesn't have that kind of ballistic missile. He's going to find himself out of luck over there."
"How long ago did he leave the company?"
"I believe the guy said it was back in the summer. You know me, I get curious about things like that. I talked to a personnel man at the meeting, asked him if there was any way to find out how many people in the company had Korean ancestry. Didn't really think there would be. But he said because of some problems they'd once had with security clearances, they kept a file of people who had a parent or a spouse born in another country. I told him about my computer man leaving and that I'd heard there might have been some others, could he check into it and let me know. Well, he calls me back the next day and what do you know? Including the Guidance Technology guy, there were three others who'd left in the past six months. My man had his master's, the other three were PhD's. I asked him if it was something we ought to be concerned about, and he said he didn't see why. People are free to quit their jobs and go wherever they want to. We lose lots of people, not just Koreans. I guess that's true, but it seems a shame. I remember the fellow who worked for me saying he went to school on a scholarship from some kind of Korean-American fund in California. Hell, they go to school on our money and then bug out for someplace overseas."
Will wandered on to other subjects, but when they arrived at the hospital, Burke was still mulling over the Korean-Americans who had taken their knowledge of U.S. missile design and manufacturing to South Korea. Men who had undoubtedly received scholarships from Dr. Kim Vickers' Korean-American Education Foundation.
Will directed Burke to the obstetrics wing, where they found Maggie Arnold standing outside the door to Lori's room. Maggie's face gleamed like a four-carat diamond brooch when she saw Burke.
"They're just about to roll her into the delivery room," Maggie said. "She's been in labor off and on for the better part of the day. Dr. Brackin gave her a mild sedative to help her through."
A gurney was wheeled through the doorway just then, steered by a nurse in green surgical garb, her hair hidden by what looked to Burke like a white shower cap. Lori was obviouslyfeeling giddy.
"Burke!" she cried out when she saw him.
The nurse stopped for Burke to take her hand and lean down to kiss her. "Hi, doll," he said with a grin. It was Chloe's favorite expression. "I love you."
"I love you," she said, smiling. Then she looked back at the nurse. "My husband's here, driver. Let's go."
Burke had opted to leave the birthing to Lori and Chloe. He didn't deal too well with gore. He joined Will and Maggie in the waiting room and took advantage of the lull to c
all the office.
"Thanks for setting up the arrangements for somebody to meet me," he told Evelyn Tilson.
"Hey, surely you didn't think I'd leave you stranded out there at Dulles. That's halfway to Korea, boss. Are you a daddy yet?"
"She's in the Delivery Room now. I'll keep you posted. Do you know if Nate is in?"
"I think so. I'll switch you to Toni. Be sure you let me know the minute you hear from Dr. Brackin."
Toni Carlucci welcomed him and told him to hold for Nate.
"Burke, great to have you back. Sorry you couldn't reach me last night. We were at a concert. I understand you're waiting to hear the news."
"Right. It shouldn't be long. Did Jerry fill you in on everything?"
"He relayed what you told him. He said you would go into all the details when you got here. I presume you'll be at the hospital for awhile?"
"Until I'm sure the babies are okay and Lori's settled down."
"Good," Nate said. "I'm about finished up here. I'll see you over there shortly."
Burke wasn't sure whether Nate was coming to hear about the strange developments in Seoul or to see the new babies. He thought it was probably some of both. He chatted with Will and Maggie about the striking contrasts he had found between the way some things are done in America and Korea. He was starting to tell them about eating in a Korean home when Dr. Brackin came through the door wearing a big smile, a surgical mask hanging about her neck like an amulet from some strange order of cloth worshippers.
"What kind of names did you pick?" she asked Burke.
"A boy and a girl."
"Then you picked right, love. A beautiful little guy and his lovely sister."
Burke grabbed her and kissed her.
"Hey, watch it!" she said. "I haven't cleaned up too well yet." The dark skin of her face glistened with perspiration.
"Who cares?" he said. "When can I see 'em?"
"Their godmother will display them for you. Go on over to the nursery window and I'll bring them around."
Will and Maggie joined him in the trek over to the window. In a few moments Chloe walked up with first one tiny infant and then the other. Burke beamed. It had been so many years since his son was born that he had forgotten the feelings that it spawned, first an immense pride, tempered by a deep sense of gratitude that God had permitted him to be the father of these precious little beings, and finally an awesome feeling of responsibility. As he looked at them, he couldn't help wondering what kind of world they would have to grow up in? A world at peace, or an uneasy planet living under the continued threat of nuclear holocaust? He hadn't really thought about what he'd been doing these past six weeks in those terms, but that's what it really came down to, wasn't it? He had been involved in an effort to assure that these little ones, his and Lori's son and daughter, would have the opportunity to reach their full potential without the threat of annihilation hanging over their heads.
The Arnolds left, promising to return later to take Burke home. He went to the recovery room and held Lori's hand as she lay resting in silence, all the effort of child-bearing having completely drained her. She had just drifted off to sleep when a nurse came to tell him that Mr. Highsmith was in the waiting room.
"Is everybody all right?" Nate asked.
Burke smiled. "Super."
"Evelyn said you had a boy and a girl. Have you named them?"
"Lori wanted to name the boy for her two fathers, Cameron Quinn and Istvan Szabo. So he's Cameron Istvan Hill. She let me come up with the girl's name. I chose Elizabeth, after my mother, and Margit for Lori's Hungarian grandmother. She'll pop a bunch of buttons when she hears there's a great-granddaughter named for her."
"I'm really happy for both of you, Burke. I understand our boy Jerry Chan may be tying the knot before long."
"He told you, too, huh? He was afraid we might not approve. She seems like a really nice girl." Burke looked around. "Would you like to go to the coffee shop? We can talk there."
They sat at a table in the small restaurant, which appeared about as antiseptic as the rest of the hospital. The coffee wasn't bad, but not as good as Evelyn's.
"I talked to Kingsley Marshall and General Thatcher about the situation in Seoul," said Nate. "Marshall had just gotten a report from his station chief on the unrest among the military. The President's really concerned. If Kwak has sold out to the Japanese, it would cause a major power shift in the region."
Burke told him what he had learned from Captain Yun, adding that the detective was now in Pyongyang looking for the information that had resulted in Dr. Lee's slaying.
"You'll have an opportunity to brief the President," Nate said finally.
"Really?"
"He's invited a small group of business leaders with interests in the Far East to a luncheon at Camp David Saturday. You and I are included."
"That's the day after tomorrow."
Nate grinned. "He's aware of your situation. You won't have to be there for long. General Thatcher and Kingsley Marshall will be in on the luncheon. They plan to give an overview of the area's status. There might be some questions for you, since you've just returned. After the luncheon, while the others are on a little tour of the area, the President will meet with us, along with Thatcher and Marshall, to get a first-hand report on HANGOVER.'
Pyongyang, North Korea
Chapter 47
The delegates from South Korea were impressed by the sincere interest of their counterparts from the Democratic People's Republic in finding common ground for cooperation. Although the North Korean capital was still a drab, colorless city in comparison to the glitter and glare of ultramodern Seoul, they sensed a dramatic change in the attitude of the people. There was open talk of past misdeeds by the DPRK government, and few kind words could be heard for the late Kim Il-sung and his son, Kim Jong-il.
Satisfied there was no apparent threat to their delegation, the Korean National Police officers adopted a low-key posture and resolved to enjoy the change of scenery, such as it was. Captain Yun began to inquire around as to how he might locate some aging survivors of the anti-Japanese campaign in Manchuria during World War II. He was referred to the party Central Committee, specifically to an official by the name of So Song-ku. As he quickly learned, So was one of those involved in the discussions with the ROK negotiators. He found the short, stocky man in a small bare room that was part of the North's delegation headquarters, located in a dull, gray building near the center of Pyongyang where the joint meetings were being held. He soon noticed something vaguely different about So, perhaps a more relaxed manner than he had noticed in other North Koreans.
Yun introduced himself and explained that he had been asked by a friend to look up some old soldiers from the partisan warfare days in Manchuria.
"I think you'll find there are less than a handful still living," said So, scratching his graying head.
Yun handed him a sheet with six names on it. "Here are the people I was told might still be around."
So took a pen and checked off four of them. "These two are the only survivors on your list," he said, handing it back. "Both live here in Pyongyang. I could have someone take you to visit them, if you'd like."
Without any contacts in the North Korean capital, Yun could think of no alternative at the moment. "I appreciate the offer," he said. "When would be a convenient time?"
"How about this afternoon?"
The Captain agreed, and he was met at his hotel at two o'clock by a dapper young man who greeted him like a long lost cousin. The precisely knotted tie and mirror-like shoes gave him the look of a military cadet. He gave his name as Kim. He was overly polite with Yun, but the domineering way he treated his fellow travelers from the North convinced the detective that he was a member of the secret police. He drove a drab-looking car that Yun decided was probably Russian.
As they drove through the wide boulevards of Pyongyang, Yun was overwhelmed by the contrast with what he was accustomed to. Traffic was sparse. No honking, no impatient
drivers dogging their rear bumper. People on the sidewalks appeared plainly dressed, no splash of color, no variety of Western styles. Instead of billboards and signs advertising the newest model cars, the pleasures of flying KAL, or the tantalizing taste of a popular soft drink, banners hung from buildings and at intersections exhorting the populace with such slogans as one glorifying labor—"Work Is Its Own Reward"—and another proclaiming "Long Live the Fatherland." They drove through the outskirts of the city to a run-down section of modest, aging traditional houses on unpaved roads. Evidently old soldiers in retirement didn't fare particularly well in this communist paradise.
They walked to the door of a small home, where Yun's escort introduced himself to the graying crone who greeted them.
"I am Comrade Kim Chi-yon of the Korean Workers Party," he announced in an authoritative voice. "This is Captain Yun from Seoul. We would like to speak with Comrade Yoon Kwang-su."
She stared wide-eyed at Yun, obviously impressed that he had come from Seoul. She invited them inside, where they found a man with the thin gray beard and typical white jacket and pantaloons of the older generations. Illuminated by the muted glow from a window, he sat half-bowed on the floor, the hunched remnant of a once-stalwart fighter. His skin was wrinkled from age and bore the pallor of a man who passed his declining years away from the merciless rays of the sun and the chilling lash of a malicious north wind.
The woman disappeared as Kim introduced Captain Yun to Yoon Kwang-su.
"I'm a friend of Dr. Lee Yo-ku of Seoul National University," Yun explained to the old man. "One of the Anti-Japanese United Army veterans provided him some material recently, and I was wondering if it might have come from you?"
The Poksu Conspiracy (Post Cold War Political Thriller Book 2) Page 31
