The Expediter (5 page)

The answer dawned on Ri all at once. “Because they wanted to be seen.”

In the bright muzzle flashes they were able to catch a few more details of the shooters’ faces, especially the taller of the two.

“Definitely Korean,” Ri said.

Pak rewound the tape and watched the shooting again. “What’s wrong with what we’re seeing?” he asked half to himself.

Ri shrugged. “They fired eight times, you can count that from the muzzle flashes, which jibes with the number of shell casings found. And they were damned good shooters. They never missed once. Better than I could do.”

“Better than any of our cops could do,” Pak said.

“Unless they got lucky.”

Pak stopped the tape at the clearest image of the two shooters, and it dawned on him what was wrong. “The one on the left. His uniform doesn’t fit him.”

“Those guys get their lousy uniforms from the same place the Army does.”

Pak looked up. “Have you ever seen a Korean so well fed that his uniform was too tight?”

For a second Ri drew a blank, but then all of a sudden his face lit up. “Holy shit, you’re right. South Koreans.”

“Yes. And who do you suppose sometimes trains South Korean snipers?”

“Who?”

“The CIA.”

“They wanted to be picked up by the surveillance cameras to make the Chinese believe that it was our people who did the shooting,” Ri said. “But why? What’s the point?”

It was ingenious, Pak had to admit. Bold, with a very small chance of success, and yet the bastards somehow got across the border, probably through one of the tunnels down south, made it all the way up here, and found uniforms somewhere.

“To start a war between us and China,” Pak said. “I need to know if any of our cops have gone missing in the past twenty-four hours. Not just here in the city, but anywhere in the country.”

“If they’re from the South maybe they brought everything with them,” Ri suggested. “Less risky that way.”

“They’d have made sure the uniforms fit like they’re supposed to. Baggy.”

“I’m on it,” Ri said and he went to his desk and started telephoning.

Pak rewound the tape again to the beginning and tried to watch from a fresh perspective, as if this were the first time he was seeing it. The guards came out of the embassy. The car arrived and the driver opened the rear door. The guards opened the gate and the general came out. Moments later the shooters stepped into view and opened fire.

He rewound the tape. The guards came out, the car arrived, the guards opened the gate, the general came out.

And it struck him. The shooters not only knew that a car was coming to pick up the general, they knew the exact time it would be there, and that was impossible. He suspected that only a handful of people could have known such details. A few in the Chinese Embassy, and in the Guoanbu back in Beijing, and a few on Dear Leader’s staff.

He would have bet his life that Dear Leader’s staff had not been compromised, and it was inconceivable that the South Koreans had the wherewithal to penetrate Chinese security to such an extent they could have come up with intel that good.

But the assassination had taken place.

The tape came to the shooting and Pak studied the images of the two figures. The one on the left was the largest, and his uniform was too tight, but the one on the right was slightly built, more typical of a North Korean. His uniform was a loose fit.

Only a few spy agencies anywhere in the world had even the remotest possibility of penetrating Chinese intelligence: Russia’s FSB, Britain’s MI6, Israel’s Mossad, and America’s CIA.

Russia wouldn’t be interested in starting trouble between China and North Korea, nor would Israel. England had some commercial interests on the peninsula, but South Korea’s chief partner was the United States.

Pak stared at the television screen but the images weren’t registering. Dear Leader was insane, there was little doubt about it. But he was
a wily politician who had been trained by his father, practically from birth, to run the country. Maybe his constant warning that America was bent on destroying him and North Korea was correct after all, and not just the ravings of a madman trying to turn attention away from his failed policies.

Ri hung up the phone, an odd expression on his face. “You were right,” he said. He glanced up at the clock on the wall. “And we’ve got twenty-five minutes to catch them.”

“Catch who?”

“The bodies of two cops were fished out of the river around dawn, their necks broken. They were fully dressed, but their AKs had been fired. Eight times.”

“Who were they?”

“Doesn’t matter, Colonel. What matters is that they were assigned patrol duty on Yanggak Island.”

“Yanggakdo Hotel,” Pak said. “Someone from one of the tour groups.”

“That’s right,” Ri said. “And the next flight to Beijing leaves in twenty-five minutes.”

At Sunan International Airport, Soon and his roommate, a slightly built South Korean from Inch’on, were first off the bus, and along with Kim and others were herded into the departing passengers’ hall.

The airport was busy this morning handling the four tour groups plus a smattering of North Korean and Chinese businessmen who had
their own separate line. This close to finally getting out, everyone’s spirits had improved markedly since the hotel lobby.

“I thought Beijing was horrible, but this place is in a time warp,” Sue said softly. “I’m glad we’re getting out.” They were in line to get their boarding passes.

“Me too,” Kim whispered back. Her heart was pounding, her legs weak, and her palms wet. She felt like a wreck.

Mr. Tae came over. “What was that?” he asked politely. He was a small man with thinning gray hair. He’d taught English in high school before he was given this job.

“I was telling Kim how interesting this visit has been,” Sue said. “The time went fast.”

Mr. Tae nodded his appreciation even though it was obvious Sue was lying. “Maybe you will come back someday.”

Sue nodded. “Maybe.”

Kim forced a smile and nodded. She felt stupid, as if everything she was thinking was showing on her face. But Mr. Tae merely smiled at her, and walked back to the head of the line to make sure no one in his group was running into a problem.

“Guys like that have got to wonder why people like us come here,” Sue said. “I mean I can understand why you’re here but the only reason I came was because of the thesis I’m writing on the two Koreas.”

“Did coming here help?” Kim asked, for something to say.

“Not really. I could have gotten almost everything I needed from the Internet, except for the feel of the place.”

After their names were checked against the passenger manifest they were issued boarding passes and Mr. Tae led them through a gate where they surrendered their bags and were given claim checks. Before the luggage was loaded aboard the plane every piece would be opened and searched by an army of men, then sealed with customs tape.

Just before immigration, Mr. Tae handed back their passports from which the North Korean visas had been removed. “As you have seen
for yourselves, we are a peaceful nation of humble people. My sincere wish is for you to take that message home with you.”

“Thank you,” someone from the group said, and everyone else nodded their assent. He’d been a pleasant guide, not as strict or demanding as they’d been told some of the others could be.

The airport was going to be the most difficult time, Soon had warned her back in Seoul. “You’ll have to keep yourself together, no matter what’s happened to that point. They’ll know that a Chinese general was gunned down in front of his embassy, but we’ll be okay if they haven’t found the dead cops.”

“What if they do?” Kim had asked. “They’ll know that it’s someone from the hotel.”

“In that case the airport will be locked down, probably all morning while they check us out. But our papers are legitimate, we’ll leave no fingerprints or DNA, and if no one spots us swimming across the river there’ll be no way for them to single us out.”

“What about the cameras at the embassy?”

“Pyongyang is dark at night. Depending on the situation in the street it’s doubtful they’ll pick out much more than the fact that we’re wearing police uniforms.” He took her in his arms. “They won’t see our faces, I’ll make sure of it.”

“I’m frightened,” she admitted.

“You’d be a fool if you weren’t,” he said. “One step at a time, babe. One step at a time.”

Kim looked up out of her thoughts in time to see her husband heading down the hall right behind his roommate to the door out to the bus that would take them to the Russian-built Tupolev jetliner, and her heart soared. They were actually going to make it. She forced herself to remain calm.

Sue presented her passport, boarding pass, and baggage claim check to the uniformed immigration official, a pinch-faced little man with round steel-framed glasses and a scowl. He studied the documents and then looked up several times from the passport photo to intently study
Sue’s face. Finally he checked something against a list, and handed her paperwork back.

“See you on the bus,” Sue said over her shoulder and headed down the corridor.

Kim laid her papers on the counter and fought the urge to hold her breath. Armed soldiers were stationed in the airport, so if something went wrong there would be no possibility for her to run. Without Soon she felt alone and vulnerable.

The immigration agent took a long time comparing the information in Kim’s passport to a list on a clipboard. She had developed an urge to use the bathroom on the way out to the airport, and now the pressure was almost overwhelming.

“Have you been to Chosun before?” the official asked using the North Korean word for the country.

“No,” Kim stammered. “This is our . . . my first trip.”

“Do you have relatives here that you tried to meet?”

“I may have relatives here, but I don’t think so. I’m from Chinhae, in the south. We have been fishermen for many generations.”

“I know where Chinhae is located,” the official shot back harshly.

Mr. Tae was at her shoulder. “Is something out of order?” he asked pleasantly.

“This foolish woman is attempting to give me a geography lesson, instead of answering a simple question.”

“I’m sorry,” Kim said. “I didn’t come here to meet anyone.”

The official wanted to argue, but he closed her passport and slapped it down on the counter. “Go home.”

Kim gathered up her papers. “Thank you,” she told the official. She turned to Mr. Tae. “Thank you,” she said and hurried down the corridor.

A brisk wind was blowing across the tarmac when Kim emerged from the door and walked across to the big yellow bus. The air stank of burned kerojet and something else she couldn’t identify.

The same aging Tupolev jet that had brought them here from Beijing
was sitting on the apron one hundred meters away, its forward hatch open and boarding stairs in place. Their luggage was already starting to come out of the terminal. A couple of Air Koryo crewmen were doing a walk-around inspection, while a fuel truck topped off the tanks. The jet looked as if it was unfit to taxi to the runway let alone take off. The paint scheme was peeling, mottled patches showed along the fuselage where sections of the aluminum skin had been replaced, and something that looked like oil had leaked on the ground directly beneath one of the engines.

Kim resisted the urge to turn around and look back at the terminal, but she was certain that she could feel eyes on her back. Someone in the terminal was watching her from one of the windows, waiting for her to make a mistake, waiting for her to incriminate herself, waiting for her to suddenly make a mad dash for the bus.

Soon and his roommate were seated together near the back of the bus seemingly engaged in deep conversation. Kim walked back and sat down next to Sue a few rows forward.

“To tell the truth I’m more frightened of flying out of here in that thing than getting stuck here,” Sue said.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Kim mused, and Sue laughed.

When the bus was full they were held for a couple of minutes, until the refueling was done and the truck lumbered away, before they were taken across to the aircraft.

Kim snuck a quick glance back at the terminal but no one was coming after them, and then she was following Sue up the boarding stairs and into the shabby jet.

They were seated in one of the middle rows, and a few minutes later Soon appeared in the crowded aisle with his roommate Yi Hwang-jap, and she looked up, risking a shy smile as her husband passed. His eyes narrowed slightly, but the gesture spoke a thousand words; they were almost home free, all she had to do was hang on for a little longer and they would be together again in Seoul.

“He’s cute,” Sue said, and Kim was startled.

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“Is that why you couldn’t keep your eyes off him this entire trip?”

Kim had no answer, and after another few minutes the hatch was closed, and as the jet’s engines came to life one of the attendants began explaining the emergency procedures.