Chapter 12
"Can you join me for lunch?"
Holly had been walking out the door the next morning when the Dumok called.
"Yes, of course," she said, excitedly. Immediately after the call Holly went back into her apartment and changed into her nicest black suit. Holly had trouble concentrating at work but finally it was time.
The street suddenly turned wider and the center divider became as broad as the roads. There were manicured lawns and palm trees waving high above. Everything looked bright, clean, spacious. Even the cars and light posts and street signs looked different.
"Oh, we are in Beverly Hills!" Holly exclaimed. While Holly’s best friend Heather Hart hung out in Beverly Hills, for Holly it was her first time. The Dumok stopped at an alley on Dayton Way, a half block from Rodeo Drive. A valet opened the door. The sign read: Grill on the Alley.
They walked down a few steps to a subterranean level. The restaurant was mostly white, with dark wood booths on three walls and tables in the middle. Opalescent glass further separated the booths for privacy. The linen was crisp white with black napkins, but the most impressive were dozens of perfectly framed and placed small sketches and water colors on the walls. The variety was such that the collection could only have been accumulated over many years.
"It's a pleasure to have you back, sir," the host said as he showed the Dumok to one of the best tables in the restaurant.
An hour later their lunch plates were cleared away and they were relaxed, the Dumok swirled his wine glass, contemplating the deep yet soft red and watched the translucent glycerin edges curve on the glass like waves breaking on the shore. Holly was like the glycerin, he decided. She was translucent, about to skim the surface of his dark and rich past. The Dumok hesitated, enjoying her sweet smile and excitement. He realized he enjoyed her company and wanted to hang on to the moment, but the food was finished and the time had come.
The Dumok looked at Holly, the past separating them like the glass partitions that separated the dining booths, the light and shadows dancing on the outside but the details blocked by the white walls.
"Nara Song is my wife," The Dumok said, then immediately regretted his brusqueness. Holly's feelings for him were so transparent. Then he was quiet.
Holly’s heart thumped in her chest, but she waited patiently for the Dumok to continue.
The Dumok took a deep sip of wine, inhaling the rich perfume, and drank, his eyes flashing darkly. "Many years ago, I was the senior aide to a highly respected - and much feared - Ambassador in Korea. An imposing figure. Stern, quiet. I felt like I was being judged with a glance. Always formal and gracious but you never entered the room without being sure you had every possible answer ready in your back pocket. His mild disapproval was scarier than a regular person's rage, and could be communicated with a simple motion of his eyebrows or a change in his breathing. I learned to recognize the warning signs early on."
As the Dumok spoke, his face changed colors, from the clearest sake to the darkest vanilla-charred bourbon cask.
"He asked my opinion on serious matters and always gave me his full attention and listened carefully, never interrupting until I was finished whether or not my analysis was sound. If I was off base, he would find a way to make me discover the mistake myself, for which I was grateful."
Holly hung onto every word. She remained silent, afraid to break his mood of reflection, to lose this chance to understand the river flowing under the ice.
"Rumor had it he was quite fond of me. Trust was built from days of sitting in hotels and conference rooms and plane rides from one continent to another. I became his confidante and he in turn won my loyalty and trust. Nonetheless, it was still a great surprise when the Ambassador assigned his daughter to me and she became my charge."
The Dumok paused. The server poured more wine.
"Do you know of the late French film director Jean-Pierre Melville?"
Holly shook her head.
"Well, the quote I am thinking of is, 'Where there are two, one will betray'. Melville had been in the war, and France was full of betrayal in those days. It is this quote that made me ponder my own relationship with the Ambassador. He was as wily and complex a man as I've ever known. I wonder, even after twenty years, who betrayed who?"
A dark cloud passed over the Dumok's face, but he continued. "Nara Song came from the kind of family who would arrange her marriage to an equally influential family. She was the only daughter of the Ambassador, and she was as wild and willful as she was learned and beautiful. My 'assignment' was to escort her to parties, galas and balls - and keep suitors away. She had no shortage of suitors with whom she toyed for amusement. She became weary of my interfering and resorted to pouting and defiance, and when that didn't work, she did the one thing I hadn't prepared myself for. She turned her charms on me. Soon enough I found myself drinking too much and having transient affairs with inappropriate women to distract myself. In short, I wanted her - and of course she knew it."
"Yes, of course," Holly said softly.
The Dumok smile ruefully. "That made things worse. Now that she knew she had my attention, Nara tortured me endlessly."
Holly fidgeted uncomfortably.
"One night, I had finished playing cards with a couple of my colleagues when she showed up in my room."
Holly stiffened, apprehensive of what was to come. The Dumok paused, searching Holly's face, but then continued.
“You're just a voyeur!” She taunted me with all the contempt a young girl can muster. “'All you do is watch me. You don't do anything! You must not be a man. A real man would have done something by now.'”
Holly gasped. She couldn't help herself.
The Dumok shrugged with resignation. "She was absolutely maddening. I was fed up with her. Truly. She was exciting, infuriating, and demanding and I was under her spell. You can imagine the rest. There is nothing new under the sun. Soon her belly swelled. Finally, I mustered the courage to present myself to the Ambassador and tell him the news. Of course, I would do the honorable thing and ask for her hand in marriage."
Holly smiled slightly. "Of course."
"I was determined to marry her, not out of obligation, but because I was so damned besotted. I was tortured at having betrayed the Ambassador's trust and feared that I would gain a wife and lose a career with the same stroke of the sword. I was shaking when I talked to him, my voice high and hollow."
"I have trouble believing that."
"Believe it. I was of course younger then, and yes, I was shaking. When I went to tell him, the Ambassador's face betrayed nothing. Judgment Day will come and his face will be stone, that one. I still remember as if it were yesterday. He walked to the side-board and poured two drinks and gazed at me with his hard stone eyes. It was an election year and he did not want a scandal."
Holly nodded, clasping her hands.
"The pregnancy could not be hidden," the Dumok continued. "Nara was too far along. It was decided that I would be dispatched to Taiwan for one year. He had been thinking of it anyway. There was plenty of trouble between Taiwan and the mainland over our relationship with Taiwan. While I was gone, Nara would quietly have our child. I remember drinking a toast to his future grandchild," the Dumok paused, reflecting. "I married Nara on Saturday and left for Taiwan on Monday."
The Dumok's mouth was a tight thin line. His hard eyes caught the glint of the light from a chandelier. He stared out into vast nothingness. "A year later," he continued, "I went back to Seoul to commence my married life and greet my child, only to find that I had been discharged from my position. I was also notified that my wife, Nara Song, and my child had died during childbirth. Apparently, the news of their deaths had been withheld so as to not interfere with my official duties."
Holly gasped.
“Korea, after the war time was exactly like that,” the Dumok leaned forward. “The Korea of my youth… was hardened like a piece of burnt glass that you might pull out of a fire that has been melted and b
urned over and over again.”
He pinged the edge of his wine glass with his finger, the perfect ringing sound faded slowly. His eyes flashed darkly as he stared into his empty glass. “That would have been the end of it – except the rumors that she was alive have never died, and I weary of them.”
The Dumok gestured silently for the bill. "I would like to bury them once and for all."
The Dumok folded his napkin on the table and rose. "Shall we walk a little and work off the lunch? I’m sorry I talked so long to say so little.”
Holly smiled. She didn’t mind. Given the choice, she would happily sit at the Dumok’s table and listen to his stories for hours.
The Dumok and Holly walked towards Rodeo Drive, admiring the window display of Louis Vuitton next door, pretty scenes of hot air balloons floating over the Ile St. Louis in Paris. Then, the Dumok surprised Holly by going inside.
"May I help you?" asked a sales girl in a black blazer and slacks.
"May I see that one, please," the Dumok said, pointing. It was the most exquisite handbag Holly had ever seen. Holly picked up the purse tenderly and stroked the beautiful leather.
"It's a monogram vernis leather and closes with a padlock," the salesgirl explained, a classic of the House." There was a distinct perfume of expensive leather. "This one is Indian rose. It comes in four different colors." Holly peeked at the price tag and quickly handed it back.
"May I see that other one, please? The... smaller... red one?"
"The color is pomme d'amour," the sales girl said in her modulated tone. Holly peeked at the tag again. How could a handbag cost so much? It was more than three month's rent! Holly looked at the smaller handbag. Two month's rent, definitely.
"Why don't you pick one you like?" the Dumok asked. Holly politely declined, insisting she did not want such an extravagant gift, but the Dumok would not be dissuaded. In the end, Holly was careful to select the most inexpensive handbag she could find in the store, a lovely "Speedy" monogram handbag, insisting it was her absolute favorite.
"A little business, next, if you can bear my company just a little longer?" The Dumok smiled at Holly. It was impossible to say no.
They drove to San Pedro, the port near Long Beach, and parked at the wharf, where a cargo container of very expensive cars were being loaded. The load included 7 Series BMW's, AMG Mercedes, Porsche 911s, a Panamera, and a 4 door Maserati. The last was a Bentley coupe in a dark green. The Dumok read over the manifest and signed off. He turned to Holly and said, "I am going to Seoul for a couple of weeks. The green Bentley is mine. I like to take it when I travel. One of my many idiosyncrasies."
"Thank you for such a truly magical day!" Holly piped happily as she climbed out of the Dumok’s car. Holly waved until the car was out of sight. There was pure exuberance in her heart as she pushed open the door.
Kate Hong's bright, electric eyes swept over the handbag, at once mocking and dismissive.
"An entry level Louis Vuitton," she sniffed. "He bought you the cheap bag."
Kate turned away with one of her infamous glances. It was so Kate Hong. "It will end badly, if you get involved with him," Kate said in her imperious way. "Mark my words."
Holly ignored Kate and walked down the hallway with her new handbag. Kate's laughter followed like the sound of tinkling bells.
Chapter 13
Kate Hong was not happy. Holly hadn't said a word about her lunch with the Dumok and instead closed the door to her office and had not resurfaced for the past two hours. Kate slipped Mi Rae a twenty dollar bill to report any phone calls or visits from the Dumok. Kate said nothing to Mi Rae about the missing photo.
"Watch Holly like a hawk," is what Kate had said. Then, Kate Hong called Choi. "You didn't come today? I need those passports."
Choi mumbled something incoherent.
"Have you eaten?" Kate asked. "Let's go out tonight, I need to get those passports and pay you anyway."
"Ok," I'll pick you up," Choi said.
They went to a hole in the wall restaurant on Oxford Street. It turned out to be a bad choice. It was crowded and the tables were not being bussed, despite the long line of people who were in front of them waiting. There was no hostess. There wasn't even a sign-in sheet. However, it was, as Kate could tell from the pictures of plastic food taped to the window, still cheap. Kate pressed her arms to her sides, stiffly, her nose tilted upward. One look of Kate Hong spoke volumes. It was clear that she was past eating at old haunts. Plus, Holly Park, the nobody, having been taken to Beverly Hills for lunch and shopping by the Dumok was simply too much for Kate Hong.
"I feel like lobster and prime rib," Kate insisted, pouting. Choi studiously ignored the remark, fixating on the menu on the wall with even greater intensity.
"Let's go to Lawry's Prime Rib over in Beverly Hills." Kate's voice was loud, and bright. She spoke in a way that everyone around her could hear, her bullying beauty ever present.
Choi sighed. It was in his interest to keep things sweet with Kate. "That's a fine idea," he said as graciously as he could manage. He had no energy to battle Kate, and if he angered her, she might change her mind about paying him for the passports. But having got her way, Kate's entire personality changed instantly.
"How delicious!” she exclaimed, as if she hadn't just bullied the change of plans. Kate Hong put her hand through Choi's arm and squealed, delightedly, "How I love Beverly Hills!"
Kate's mood shimmered over dinner. She carried the conversation in her bright, lively tone as she murmured over the thick cut of prime rib, poked at the lobster with her fork, and clapped her hands with delight at the spinning salad bowl, and soaked up the last bits of gravy and mashed potatoes with an extra helping of Yorkshire pudding.
"That's quite an appetite you have," Choi said with sincere admiration.
"We are in Beverly Hills!" It was her one opportunity and Kate Hong ordered the most expensive items on the menu, planning to take the leftovers to lunch in the Lawry's take-out container for the girls to see the next day.
Choi ate a few thin slices of the admittedly excellent beef and his salad. He was a fussy eater at best, and this American restaurant was not his style, but it paid to go along with Kate. Choi watched Kate with a quiet absorption. Kate was fire. She had been since they were lovers. But that had been a long time ago. He appreciated the heat and the beauty of the flame. Despite their long history, theirs were still waters that ran deep and for every stroke of the metronome, their beat came up the same. Kate eyed Choi between mouthfuls of prime rib. When he finally relaxed a little she slipped him an envelope with the cash for the passports. He relaxed even more, and actually sat back against the booth, smiling. The moment was right.
"The Dumok hired Holly Park, the new lawyer in my office,” Kate piped, her eyes dancing. The mention of the Dumok, spoken aloud, seemed to release a coil deep inside Choi. His face disclaimed any knowledge, and he continued eating but his smile vanished.
"He wants her to find someone named Nara Song," Kate was like that. She liked to poke at embers to see what would catch fire. Choi had said nothing about having missed her at her office, or about the photo Kate was sure he had stolen. She wanted to know why. Choi took another bite of prime rib.
"I wonder who Nara Song is?" Kate said in her bright, metallic voice. "Perhaps a doehme? But then, the gangsters would go after her. The Dumok would not need a lawyer for that." There was still no reaction, but Kate Hong knew Choi too well. He wasn't reacting so she pushed a little more, her eyes fastened on his face, watching closely, and tried a different angle. Kate needled in her clear bright voice.
"Holly Park is a nobody and speaks Korean like a four year old child," Kate mimicked Holly’s bad Korean then laughed, harshly. When Choi didn't laugh with her, Kate's tone changed. "Actually, the Dumok is quite clever in selecting her as his lawyer," Kate tried again, in her calculating way. "Nobody would suspect that she is doing anything useful. Holly may actually be close to finding Nara Song, too." Choi picked up one for
k and turned it around and around in his hand, rhythmically. Kate tossed a glance, and her eyes sparkled in victory. She had hit on something big. But it turned out to be the wrong thing to say. The coil deep inside Choi released. Even Kate Hong could not anticipate what happened next. In fact, she was too busy talking to notice. Choi moved around the booth to the other side where Kate was sitting and reached over and grabbed her by the arm.
"What are you doing?" Kate looked up, alarmed. "Let go of me! You're hurting me!"
"I said we're leaving!" Choi shouted.
"Lower your voice, please." Kate hissed. "You are embarrassing me."
"We're leaving."
"Let go--"
"Now!" Choi shouted, pulling Kate up, and knocking over a waiter. Glass shattered. Onlookers stared at the commotion but Choi didn't care. He tightly held Kate's arm as he led her out to the front of the restaurant.
"Let go of me!" Kate wretched herself out of Choi's grip. "What is wrong with you?" Kate cried.
"Leave it alone for god's sake," Choi thundered. "Please, just leave it alone."
Onlookers moved away nervously. Kate wretched her arm loose from his grasp, straightened herself and marched out, head held high, stopping only to grab a handful of after dinner mints on the way out. As mad as Kate Hong was, part of her still enjoyed the drama. Outside the restaurant Kate Hong turned, to Choi, eyes blazing. "What is wrong with you!" Kate cried as she swung at him. Kate's voice was metallic, loud and accusatory. "I was kidding! Holly didn't really find Nara Song! Can't you take a joke?"
Kate wouldn't let it go. "Let me guess. You screwed Nara Song, too, like you did me, once upon a time, playing the big shot to a helpless and innocent girl new to this country, and Nara Song turned out to be the Dumok's girl, that's it!" Kate laughed wildly, like a hyena, pelting after-dinner mints at him. She should have let it go. But Kate Hong could never let anything go. "Let me guess. You're afraid of the Dumok because you screwed her. The big, bad Dumok, well, you should have kept it zipped up!"
The Virgin Whore Trial: A Holly Park Legal Thriller Page 5
