"Five minutes to presstime, Mr. President," Burke Hill said.
Kwak had never waived the white flag, but he knew instinctively what he had to do now. He would not have his name blackened. He could not stand to have his proud and distinguished record of service laid waste before his eyes, like a fertile field of grain ravaged by birds and insects. He took a gold pen from its holder.
"No!" Colonel Han protested.
"I regret it, my friend." Kwak's voice took on a plaintive note. "But we have lost."
At that moment the intercom on his desk buzzed insistently. He had given instructions not to interrupt except in a dire emergency. He lifted the phone, listened a moment. His face began to glow with the beginnings of a smile.
"Maybe all is not lost," he said. "It appears our National Police have discovered the erring ways of one of their own. They have come to arrest Lieutenant Yun and rid us of his conspiring American friend. Send them in," he said into the phone.
Burke's mood plunged from euphoria to despair. He had known highs and lows in his time, but this was his first brush with victory instantly plunged into oblivion. What had happened? Had the top brass learned about their deceptive tactics at the kisaeng house, the slightly irregular tidying up operation last night at the Namyong Iron and Metal Company? After coming so close, was HANGOVER being cut down by the same people who had agreed to hush up the murder of Yun Yu-sop?
The door opened and in walked a ranking officer of the Metropolitan Police Bureau, accompanied by half a dozen heavily armed policemen in riot gear. The officer approached the NSP director.
"Colonel Han," he said, "I am Superintendent General Choi. I have a warrant for your arrest signed by the Seoul Chief Prosecutor. You are charged with murder and conspiracy in connection with several homicides, including Yi In-wha, Dr. Lee Yo-ku, and Captain Yun Yu-sop."
Recovering quickly from the shock of Choi's appearance, Burke looked at his watch, then down at Kwak Sung-kyo, who seemed to have lost all capacity for speech. "Sixty seconds, Mr. President."
Kwak lowered his head and began to sign his name.
"I'd better call Mr. Kang," Burke said. "Then you need to get the Minister of Defense and alert him to the change in plans." He lifted the phone on the president's desk and punched in the number for the editor's private line. When Kang answered, he said, "Kill the story, Mr. Kang. Mission accomplished."
As the policemen were snapping handcuffs on the still-bewildered Colonel, Burke turned to Lieutenant Yun, a puzzled look on his face. "This wasn't part of the plan."
Yun smiled. "I know. But after I left your office last night with the tape, I got to thinking about what might go wrong. I decided to invite Superintendent General Choi to the Blue House for a little insurance. When he heard the tape of Hwang, he decided it was time to do something about Colonel Han."
"I figured it was the least I could do for Captain Yun," said Choi. "He would have really enjoyed this."
Burke looked back at President Kwak, who was quietly hanging up the phone. "Did you reach the minister?" he asked.
"Yes. He will notify the various international agencies that the test is being cancelled."
"What about Chuwangsan?"
"He is notifying them to cease operations. I suggested they issue Christmas leaves for everyone."
Burke nodded. "I'll notify Washington that you've complied with the agreement."
"It is a bit late for me to change, Mr. Hill. I'm an old man. I've lived all these years for a chance to get back at the Japanese for what they did to us, particularly to my father. My real plan for vengeance began thirty years ago. The man my mother married was the founder of Reijeo. He died after the economy really begun to boom and my stepbrother took over. Because of my position in the army and close friends in the government, I was able to make suggestions that fit in with my plan. During one troublesome period with the North, I convinced my stepbrother to launch Operation Pok Su." He shook his head, a pained look on his face. "I have let my countrymen down. Please complete your mission, gentlemen, and let me gather my thoughts."
Should he be left alone, Burke wondered? But this was not Japan, which had a tradition of suicide in cases of dishonor. He followed the others through the door.
Two burly policemen led a handcuffed Colonel Han into the outer office. Burke set his briefcase on the table where he and Se-jin had waited and looked over the signed documents. Everything seemed to be in order. He turned to Superintendent General Choi and asked how he managed to get his armed band past the Blue House security.
"It took quite a bit of talking. I finally convinced them that it was our responsibility to go after one of our own. I told them that Lieutenant Yun was unstable and had committed some serious breeches of bureau policy. I said we were shocked to learn that he had come to see the president." He gave a brief chuckle. "They said they were somewhat concerned about you in the first place."
They were still talking several minutes later when President Kwak's secretary looked up with a worried frown and spoke to Superintendent General Choi. After exchanging a few words with her, Choi turned to Burke.
"She can't get him to answer his intercom."
The officer knocked on Kwak's door and listened. Apparently hearing nothing, he knocked again, then opened the door slightly. He rushed inside.
Burke followed to see what was going on. He saw Kwak slumped over with his head resting on his desk. When Choi walked over to check on him, he exclaimed, "Eom-ma-ya!"
Burke frowned. "What's wrong?"
Choi pushed the president's shoulders back against the chair and Burke stared in alarm. His earlier fear had proved correct. A short sword, the ceremonial type used by the Japanese samurai for hara kiri, had been plunged into Kwak's stomach and cut to the side. His clothes were covered with blood.
Choi shouted something to his subordinates that caused a clamor in the outer office.
"They will call for a doctor and an ambulance," he said to Burke. "He may have lost too much blood already. Apparently the defeat was more than he could take. But as much as he hated the Japanese, it's odd that he would choose this way to go."
Burke recalled reading in Dr. Lee's book a story, thought to be legend, of Lee Horangi-chelmun taking the sword of a Japanese official who had committed suicide after several failures to capture the Poksu group. Could this be the trophy he had kept all these years?
Falls Church, Virginia
Chapter 71
Burke arrived back in Falls Church three days before Christmas. He made it with only a couple of hours to spare before time for Duane Elliston's funeral. The lady who had been helping Lori had gone home to Florida for the holidays, but Maggie Arnold volunteered to babysit so Lori could accompany him. The service was held at a large, formal-looking church that appeared as sterile as a hospital, except for the massive bank of flowers arrayed about the sanctuary. It reminded Burke of Lori's room on the obstetrics floor. He made a habit of avoiding funerals like the plague, except where attendance was mandatory, as in this case. He thought the Irish had probably put the best face on it with their wakes. Make it a celebration.
At the cemetery, Nate introduced them to Joshua Elliston, Duane's father. Though a contemporary of the Chief, he looked at least fifteen years older. Burke wished he could offer some sort of comforting words, such as the fact that Duane gave his life in an effort to protect one of his fellow men. But he couldn't even hint that they had been involved in anything other than a public relations campaign. The cover story they had come up with to satisfy the needs of officialdom was that Hwang Sang-sol—they used his real name, Suh Tae-hung—had attempted to rob the two Americans, assaulting Burke with a knife. Lieutenant Yun had intervened and shot Suh, but in the scuffle Suh's gun had accidentally discharged and hit Duane.
After the elaborate bronze casket had been lowered into the waiting chasm, Nate walked back to the car with Burke and Lori. "I talked to General Thatcher this morning," he said. "Prime Minister Hong Oh-san has taken control of th
e government after Kwak's death and sacked those involved in the Pok Su operation. He sent a message to President Giles inviting American nuclear experts to help safely dismantle the Reijeo facility at Chuwangsan. He thanked the President for making no public outcry about the affair."
"I presume they won't mention any of that at Colonel Han's trial," Burke said.
"That would be a safe assumption."
"I don't think I told you, but I'll have to go back to Seoul to testify against him," Burke added.
Lori stopped dead in her tracks. "You what?"
"Don't worry." He took her hand and squeezed it. "It won't be anytime soon. I underwent a long interrogation after we left President Kwak's office the day before yesterday, or whenever it was. My timing is all screwed up. Anyway, I had to tell everything I knew about Captain Yun's cases and Hwang's activities. I was told I would be needed to testify in Han's trial, to corroborate the story on Hwang's tape, among other things. The prosecutor didn't want to let me leave the country, but Superintendent General Choi came to my rescue. He personally guaranteed my appearance and said it would be criminal not to allow me to return home to my family for Christmas."
"Thank God for Choi," Lori said with a sigh. "I'm glad somebody appreciates what you've done, and the sacrifices you've made, enough to show some compassion."
"Speaking of appreciation," Nate said, "you can expect a call from the President."
The following day was mostly a blur for Burke. Worldwide Communications Consultants would be closed on Christmas Eve, so the obligatory party was held that afternoon. He was suffering the aftereffects of jet lag, and a couple of glasses of spiked punch left him thinking nap time.
Evelyn Tilson had all the gifts from his list neatly wrapped and stashed in green plastic bags.
"When I throw these over my shoulder," he said deadpan, "they'll think Santa has traded his sleigh for a garbage truck."
"Never happen, Boss. They'll say there goes Scrooge, hauling the office silver home for the holidays."
He shook his head. "I'll let you figure how to get this home." He signaled a couple of boys from the mail room, who brought in a large box with a huge red bow around it.
Her blue eyes widened like a pair of Delft saucers. She pried at the box, ignoring a torn fingernail, until she had one side torn open to reveal a laquered Oriental chest with mother-of-pearl inlays and large brass ornaments. She grabbed Burke, hugged him and planted a wet kiss on his cheek.
"All is forgiven," she said with a smile as broad as her face. "I've always wanted one of these."
Cliff Walters arrived on Christmas Eve. He said he had a reservation at a nearby motel, but Burke and Lori would have none of that. He was given a guest room far enough away from the twins to avoid middle-of-the-night serenades.
Burke and Cliff sat up late in the evening talking. Cliff told him that apparently the White House had blocked any effort to move in on Dr. Kim Vickers after their encounter that night in San Francisco. Instructions had come down from FBI Headquarters the following day to maintain the surveillance but take no action that might raise any suspicion on the part of Dr. Vickers. Then, two days ago, they received word to close in and make the arrest of both Vickers and his hacker. The foundation director had been a nervous wreck and promptly confessed to working on behalf of the Korean government.
"Turns out he had been recruited by the late President Kwak back in the sixties," Cliff related. Then he eyed his father with a quizzical grin. "That sudden decision to go ahead with the arrest wouldn't have had anything to do with your winding up your business in Seoul, would it?"
Burke shrugged. "One of these days I hope I'll be able to tell you."
Christmas morning brought a blanket of fresh snow that turned their lawn into a Currier and Ives print. Burke put a large log on the fire in the family room and they opened packages around the tree. Afterward, he made waffles for breakfast, his lone culinary claim to fame these days. They were sitting at the table finishing their coffee when the phone rang.
"This is the White House operator," a voice said. "Could I speak with Mr. Burke Hill, please?"
A few moments later, the President's jovial voice came over the line. "Merry Christmas, Burke. If anybody deserves one, you sure do. I want to thank you on behalf of all those people who will never know why they owe you such a massive debt of gratitude."
"Thank you, Mr. President," Burke replied. "Happily, it's turned out to be a great Christmas for me. And I appreciate the praise, but I'm sure others could have done the job better. At least we accomplished what we set out to do."
"Indeed we did. There won't be any Rose Garden press conference this time, of course, but you and your wife are invited to join me and my wife for dinner one evening soon. I'll have someone get back to you on the details. Say, I don't want to keep you from your family any longer, but you have our best wishes. Enjoy the holidays, my friend."
Lori was beaming when he looked around at her.
"Well, what did he say?" she asked.
"What kind of dress will you wear to the White House dinner, dear?" he asked.
It was two months later when Burke was summoned back to Seoul for the trial of Colonel Han Sun-shin. They assured him that his testimony would take no more than a couple of days and then he would be free to return to the States. Lori went with him. The day after he completed his testimony, they attended the wedding of Jerry Chan and Song Ji-young. It was a traditional Korean ceremony at a wedding house, with both bride and groom dressed in colorful regalia. A surprise guest was Damon Mansfield. The new regime had apologized for Mr. Ko's actions at the Embassy party, and Mansfield had been reinstated as Cultural Attaché.
They ate lunch afterward with the newlyweds and a group of Song Ji-young's friends. It was a lively, noisy affair. When they were about ready to leave, Jerry asked them to wait a moment. He had something to show them. He went out to his car and came back with a box that contained a wedding gift from one of his Korean acquaintances.
"I thought you'd enjoy this, Burke," he said, opening the box.
He pulled out a framed print of Taoist ideographs and held it up.
Burke smiled and Lori gave him a puzzled look.
"Isn't that what I saw at Dr. Lee's house?" Burke asked.
"Probably," said Jerry. "Pok Su. Chinese for happiness and longevity."
Burke nodded. "I believe I like that better than poksu in a square."
About the Author
After following a snake-like career path that writhed about from newspapers to magazines to speechwriting to advertising to PR to association management, I settled on novel writing after retirement. I'm having a blast. My PI characters do things I'd never dare attempt. The reviewers love 'em, and so do the fans. Most of my stories are drawn from life, from all the weird and wonderful things that go on around me. Since I've been observing this for the last 87 years, there's no shortage of stuff to draw on. Lately I've been working on a trilogy of Post Cold War thrillers, of which The Poksu Conspiracy is the second. My interest in the clandestine world stems in part from my time as an Air Force intelligence officer in the Korean War, a field I then pursued in the Air National Guard until retirement as a lieutenant colonel. For more about me and my writing, go to:
http://www.chesterdcampbell.com
The Poksu Conspiracy (Post Cold War Political Thriller Book 2) Page 47
