"I was coming to that. But just in case you might hold any hopes about using what you have heard…" He dropped the cassette on the concrete floor and proceeded to pulverize it with his heel, then walked over and kicked the chair beside Burke. The topcoat and gun fell to the floor.
The tape certainly would have been nice to hold in reserve, but right now Burke was more concerned about how he might extricate himself from this trap. And at the moment he knew his only hope was Duane Elliston. Depending upon how fast he had moved up the street and across the junk yard, he should be getting here about now. Burke decided to keep Hwang occupied, his attention drawn away from the door.
"Were you driving the army vehicle that struck Captain Yun?" he asked.
"It was quite simple," Hwang said. "I used a phone call to lure him back to the hotel by himself, much as I did to get you here. And you are alone now, Mr. Hill. You may walk over to the door and see for yourself. Slowly, please."
Burke stood and walked toward the door, a new sense of dread crushing down on him. Hwang kept his distance. There was nothing in reach that might serve as a weapon. Besides, the trim, muscular man was at least twenty years his junior, no doubt in excellent physical condition, an expert in the Eastern ways of hand and foot fighting. No matter, the cool assassin would fire that silenced automatic the moment he made the slightest threatening move.
"Look out the window," Hwang said as Burke reached the door.
He leaned close to the dirty pane and saw a crumpled heap in the glow cast by the light behind him. Shifting his head to eliminate its shadow, he stared again and recognized Duane's coat, his sandy-colored hair. His face was buried in the snow.
Though their disagreements had been legion, this was the last thing he would have wished for Duane Elliston. The sight of the lifeless body came as a shock, a high-voltage jolt that momentarily stilled his heart and took his breath. It also ended any hope of a rescue. Brittany would wait an hour before attempting to contact Lieutenant Yun, and by the time he could get out here, it would be too late. Hwang Sang-sol did not impress him as a man of great patience.
"Your watchdog will bark no more," said Hwang. "I have followed your movements the past few days. He was always lagging back, searching for someone like me. I understand you might have had other helpers, but one was sent to the hospital."
That left Travis Tolliver, strictly a blue employee and about as much help in circumstances like this as a pork barbeque caterer at a bar mitzvah. Burke decided it might be worth mentioning, however. Maybe give Hwang second thoughts. He turned to face his tormentor.
"There is one other you didn't take into consideration," he said with a jaunty look that didn't match how he felt.
"Mr. Tolliver," said Hwang, nodding. "Not involved in your protection. I called his apartment shortly before your arrival, just to make certain. He is there with his wife."
Burke frowned. "An Kye-sun was apparently more diligent than I gave him credit for." Too bad they hadn't fired him sooner, before all the damage was done. He must have given the private investigator, Yoo Hak-sil, a complete rundown on everybody in the office.
"I don't know who provided the information," said Hwang with a shrug. "Only that it was available when I needed it."
"No doubt you dealt much higher in the ranks. Perhaps all the way to the top, with Colonel Han?"
Hwang smiled. "Ah, yes, Colonel Han. A very interesting old gentleman. Very knowledgeable. I could have made a nice living just off of the work he provided. But enough chit-chat, Mr. Hill. Return to your chair and place your arms behind it."
Burke looked at the cold eyes and at the pistol aimed at his chest. He had no choice but to obey. The alternative was instant death. He told himself that as long as he took whatever measures were necessary to stay alive, there was always a chance of finding an opening, a disruptive sound like an auto horn, a momentary lapse of attention, an awkward position that might be exploited. But it sounded more like a fairy tale, a child's wish list for Christmas. He crossed slowly to the chair and sat down.
Hwang took a small roll of gray duct tape from a pocket, moved behind Burke, and taped his wrists. Burke glanced around enough to see his captor appeared adept at taping with one hand while the other gripped the pistol.
"You mentioned Ahn Wi-jong on the phone," Burke said as he felt any opportunity for retaliation quickly slipping away. "What happened to him?"
"Mr. Ahn is next on my list. The Colonel realized his mistake in sending amateurs after him earlier. Seoul this time of year is a bit too cold for my tastes. I'm sure Chiangmai will be much more enjoyable."
When Hwang walked back around in front of him, Burke saw the gun had been laid aside. His feet and legs were still free. If the man would only come close enough that he could swing a hefty kick, perhaps aimed at the groin. That should cause him to double over, then he would proceed to kick with all his might at any target, head, stomach, kidneys. He could look for a sharp edge to work at the tape.
As though reading his mind, Hwang moved to one side of the chair, grabbed Burke's leg and taped it to the chair leg. When he moved to the other side, Burke attempted to kick at him with the remaining leg. Hwang dodged with a deft move, then seized his leg and taped it with care.
Burke took a deep breath and tightened his jaw in frustration. He had never felt so helpless. Or hopeless. Remembering Hwang's opening remark, "We have work to do," he knew he was a prisoner on trial. Undoubtedly there would be some questions, and whatever his answers, the sentence would be the same—death.
From somewhere beneath the black garments he wore, Hwang produced a shiny, thin-bladed, razor-sharp knife. He waved it slowly in front of Burke's face.
"I have a few questions, Mr. Hill. If you refuse to answer, or reply untruthfully, I will be forced to rearrange your features. I assure you, it will be very bloody, and very painful."
Burke recalled Captain Yun's description of the corpse of Mr. Chon, the old fruit vendor.
"I heard what you did to Mr. Chon," he said, showing no emotion.
"The old man was a fighter, a master of self-hypnosis. He resisted to the end. I've never seen an American with Mr. Chon's type of toughness. I think you will be wise enough to cooperate. What my employers want to know is who you are working with in this effort to subvert the Korean government?"
Hwang was right, of course. Burke knew there was no way he would be able to withstand all the pain Hwang could inflict. He would have to give some answers. Then he had an idea. If he was going to die, why not send a message that might convince these people that the odds were against them. They faced a formidable, implacable foe. They would never get away with their audacious plan.
"You want to know who I'm working with? I'll tell you. I'm working with the President of the United States. He knows what's going on here and he's determined to stop it. You might kill me, Hwang, but that won't end this country's problems. They're just beginning."
Hwang frowned at him, eyes narrowed. "Enough of this, as you say, bullshit. There must be other Koreans working with you. Names, please?"
Burke shook his head. The sonofabitch didn't believe him.
Hwang deftly flicked the knife across Burke's forehead, bringing a stream of blood that trickled down his nose and into the corner of one eye. He blinked and lowered his head, seeing the bright red drips falling into his lap.
"Names!" barked Hwang, waving the knife beneath his chin.
The only names he had were Lieutenant Yun and his two friends, who had helped out at the kisaeng house. Maybe he could make up some names, stall for time.
"Captain Lee of the Seoul Police Bureau," Burke said almost in a whisper, hoping it would sound as if uttered in despair.
"Full name."
"I don't know his full name. Just Captain Lee."
"Liar!" Hwang slashed at his neck, drawing blood again.
Burke shut his eyes and tried to visualize Lori. This would be a hell of a Christmas present for her. She had lost her father to vicious kille
rs, and now her husband. That was his only real regret, what it would do to her. He didn't want to die, of course, but somehow he thought he could take that but for what it would do to Lori. And the twins. And his son, Cliff.
His eyes suddenly blasted open at the crashing sound of glass breaking. Then he realized it had been caused by a shot and looked toward the door, where the window had shattered. He saw the barrel of a gun in the opening and heard the crack of another shot.
The first bullet struck near Hwang, who immediately sprang back, then reached for an ankle holster. As he started to pull out a small gun, the second shot rang out, striking the floor beside his foot. He jerked his hand and the weapon slipped from his fingers. He ducked aside and darted toward the darkened interior of the building as the door behind Burke swung open and Lieutenant Yun Se-jin burst through. His face seemed frozen in a hardness that Burke had not seen before.
"Is that the man who killed my father?" he asked, pointing his pistol in the direction Hwang had fled.
"Yes," Burke said, "but be careful. He may have other weapons."
The Lieutenant glanced at Burke and saw the blood on his face and neck. He rushed over and grabbed the knife Hwang had dropped.
"What has the bastard done to you?" he asked as he slit the tape that bound Burke's hands and feet.
"Not nearly as much as he planned to," Burke said with a deep sigh. He looked around and found Hwang's gun, shoving it beneath his belt, then grabbed the Smith & Wesson off the floor. He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed his neck and forehead. It was smudged red with blood.
"I'm going after him," Lieutenant Yun said, starting toward the darkened interior.
"Wait!" Burke held up a hand. "He may get away out the front. Why don't you run around the building? If you don't see him, break into the front entrance and I'll keep him from getting out this way. Maybe we can find a light switch and get him in the open."
"All right. Be careful, Mr. Hill."
The young officer sprinted to the door and disappeared outside.
Burke decided he was too much of a target standing there beneath the light of the office area. The opening to the main part of the building, through which Hwang had darted, was about six feet wide. Burke moved over to the wall where he was hidden from the opening. Looking around the room, he spotted what appeared to be a circuit breaker box with a row of switches beneath it.
Blood had trickled into his eye again, and he held the handkerchief against his forehead, trying to stem the flow.
Keeping his gaze on the darkened opening, he darted behind the counter where the circuit breakers were located. With his head down, he moved beneath the electrical box and reached for the switches.
The first one turned on flood lights in back of the building. Burke saw the light through the shattered window. The next two produced nothing he could see, but the one after that brought a flash of light in the front section of the building. Looking through the opening beyond the counter, he saw a row of bulbs along one side of the high ceiling.
About that time he heard a crash toward the front, which he took to mean Lieutenant Yun had forced his way in. It was followed by a shout in Korean and a gunshot. Burke flipped the last of the switches, which turned on a bank of lights on the other side of the open ceiling.
As he started through the opening that led into the cluttered open bay, jammed with stacks of boxes, mounds of rags and other scrap materials, he suddenly confronted the black-suited Hwang, no more than fifteen feet away. The Korean had no gun, but his right hand was drawn back, holding what appeared to be a knife. His hand thrust forward in an odd snapping motion aimed at Burke.
Instinctively, Burke dropped behind a row of boxes as the blade whizzed just above him and struck the wall with a loud thunk.
Burke shifted to one side and jumped up, gripping the Smith & Wesson in both hands, aiming at the dark figure with the hand drawn back, gripping another weapon.
Multiple sharp cracks echoed through the open bay as Burke fired repeatedly. One of the slugs caught Hwang Sang-sol just above the bridge of his nose and he slumped to the floor. At that moment Lieutenant Yun sprang out from between two rows of shelving ready to fire his own gun. Yun lowered the weapon when he saw the blood on the assassin's face.
He looked around at Burke. "I'm sorry it was you instead of me, but thanks for avenging my father."
Burke shook his head slowly and dropped the gun on the counter. "It wasn't vengeance, Lieutenant. It was plain old self-defense." He pointed back to the metal blade buried in the wall. "That one almost got me."
When he looked down at the floor beside Hwang's body, he saw the object the assassin had been about to hurl at him. It was a sharp-pointed shuriken, or "thowing star," similar to a weapon used by the old Japanese samurai.
Yun leaned down to check the limp form. "He's committed his last homicide." He tilted the face up and looked at it. "Damn! I know this man. He has an apartment next door to my fiancée. They knew him as Mr. Min, a technical representative with Reijeo Electronics who traveled all around the region."
"Great cover," Burke said. "Ties right in with everything else."
"Did you learn anything about the murders?"
"He had a tape that was playing when I came in, but he smashed it with his heel. I wish to hell I had—"
He stopped in mid-sentence and rushed over to where his coat lay on the chair. Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out the microcassette recorder and checked it. It was still recording. He pressed the rewind button for a few moments, then switched it to play. Hwang's voice demanding "names" came clearly through the small speaker.
Burke grinned. "I've got it all here. I forgot about this thing. It was running the whole time."
He sat down on the chair and reached a hand up to gently touch where his forehead had begun to hurt, almost as though it had been scorched by fire.
"We need to get you to a doctor to check those cuts," Lieutenant Yun said. "Did you know your friend was lying out back, dead?"
Burke nodded, then looked up, frowning. "How the hell did you happen to come here?"
"In going through some papers and things my father had at home, I came across a small notebook with a lot of odd entries in it. Names and dates, money amounts, some cryptic notes. Dad had written 'Mr. Chon' in the front of it."
Burke's face lit up as he remembered. "I was with him when he got it over at the Namdaemun Market from the widow of Mr. Chon's grandson."
"When I looked through the notebook, I saw where he had written 'Hwang' with a question mark beside an entry for So Chi-ho. I checked out the name yesterday and found he is the owner of Namyong Iron and Metal Company. I intended to question him, but hadn't had time. Then I got the message that you were going out there."
"And you figured we were in trouble," Burke said.
"I knew you were in trouble. I rushed out here and found the body beside the door. Then I looked in the window and saw the man threatening you with a knife. I fired at him through the window, but the shot was deflected enough that it missed."
"It was close enough to save my neck, literally," Burke said, suddenly feeling overcome with exhaustion. The adrenalin was gone, and the thought of Duane Elliston lying out in the snow left him with an emptiness inside. He knew how an army commander must feel after the loss of one of his troops. Was it the result of something he had done wrong, or something he hadn't done? Should he have waited to reach Lieutenant Yun before they started out tonight? It was something he would have to live with.
"What are we going to do about Hwang's body, and Duane out back, and all the blood around this place?" Burke asked, looking around the room. "With what we have to do tomorrow, we damned sure don't need anybody asking a lot of questions about this."
"I agree," the Lieutenant said with a worried look. Then his frown softened. "Superintendent General Choi, my father's old friend who arranged for him to go to Pyongyang, might be able to help. The men under his command have been involved in special operations. Perha
ps they could clean up the place and dispose of Hwang's body. Choi may have some connections who could get your friend quietly to a hospital or morgue. I'll turn in the Smith and Wesson and take responsibility for using it when the time comes to make a report."
An hour and a half later, Burke was back at the office with Lieutenant Yun. Superintendent General Choi, after a judicious bit of explanation by Se-jin that the dead Korean was his father's murderer, had sent a trusted squad over to clean up the place and dispose of the bodies. Duane was in a hospital's temporary morgue, listed as an accidental death, where his body would await instructions from the American Embassy.
After they had finished discussing plans for the following morning, Lieutenant Yun asked if there was any way to make him a copy of the cassette tape with Hwang's voice on it. "It might be a good thing to have more than one copy around, just in case."
"Good idea," Burke said. "We have all sorts of recording equipment around here. I'll make you a copy."
After the Lieutenant left, Burke placed a dreaded call to Washington.
"I have some bad news," he said when he got Nate on the line.
"Not Jerry again?" Nate asked.
"No, it's Duane. He's been shot."
"Bad?" Nate asked.
Burke breathed a sigh. "He's dead."
He told Nate what had happened.
"Oh, God," Nate said softly. "I hate to have to call his father. Josh Elliston has already had enough disappointments for one lifetime. I guess it's some consolation that you got his killer."
"It's no consolation for me," Burke said. "I shouldn't have let him talk me into going that way."
"Don't blame yourself, Burke. There are too many other things that could have gone wrong either way. You'd better go back to the hotel and get some rest. It wouldn't be putting it in the extreme to say the job lying before you is one of epic proportions. The rest of the world has no idea of the vital importance of what we're asking you to do in the morning. Let's hope they never have to find out."
After he had hung up, Burke sat behind Jerry's desk and stared at the flowered panels of the folding screen that stretched across one end of the office. But his thoughts were concentrated on what Nate had said. Oddly, it had never entered his mind to consider the task that lay before him on anything other than a personal level. He had viewed it as a difficult confrontation between himself and another man, his chief worry being the possible danger it posed for his personal safety. Now he was being cast as the key player in an epic encounter with global ramifications. He wasn't sure he was ready to shoulder a load of that magnitude.
The Poksu Conspiracy (Post Cold War Political Thriller Book 2) Page 45
