6.
THE NEPHEW
Choi Yong was enjoying his time at the Pyongyang University of Science and Technology, although he had not been there long. In spite of the fact that it was run on what he thought to be very military lines, he felt more secure there than he had at school. Both were strict, but this was an enclosed society, literally as well as physically. It was surrounded by a high fence, and entry was through a gate at the guard post which was permanently manned. The grounds were patrolled by security guards – he was sure they were armed – and the students’ routine was very regimented. They marched to their meals and to their lessons, signing patriotic songs, just as students did at all good schools and universities throughout the world.
In many ways, he missed living with his uncle in the apartment near the Yongbyon nuclear site. He had enjoyed a degree of freedom there which he was not allowed at the university. For instance, he could, if he wished, visit Pyongyang with his uncle, providing they had appropriate permission and written authority, whereas visiting the Capital from the university was simply not allowed in spite of it being so close. At the apartment, he also had limited access to the internet because of his uncle’s position, but that was very restricted now. Even to do research for his studies, he had to use a computer in a special room, where each screen was monitored by one of the guards to ensure that none of the students watched any forbidden material from the West. The fact was that although North Korea was developing a Government controlled Intra-net system, access to the world-wide web internet was strictly forbidden except with special permission.
More than anything, he missed his uncle. They had always got on very well together, and had developed a bond between them that was rare between individuals in his country. His uncle was the only person he was absolutely sure he could trust. It was mutual trust, as well. His uncle had talked openly about his very privileged visit to America, and the huge contrast between life there and in North Korea. They had even discussed the possibility of defecting to a better life there, a conversation which they would never dare to have held with anyone else. Although defection was never a real possibility, his uncle had encouraged him to leave North Korea, even briefly, if the opportunity ever presented itself so that he could form a judgement for himself.
Now, his uncle Shin had been even more honoured to have been selected for a short technical visit to England, and Yong was eagerly looking forward to hearing all about that. His uncle had spoken of the unbelievable level of freedom enjoyed by the American people, and yet had decided that he did not wish to stay there in spite of their attempts to persuade him otherwise. He wondered if his view would change after his visit to England.
Yong knew what a privilege and honour it was to have been selected to attend the Pyongyang University of Science and Technology, which he knew was a unique institution in North Korea. For a start, it was privately funded, mostly by people and institutions outside the country, particularly South Korea, China and America. It had taken years of painful negotiation to agree the project, and even longer to build it, but now it was viewed as a key contribution to the international effort to bring about re-unification between North and South Korea, by producing graduates who would be professionals and leaders in various technical disciplines. He had chosen nuclear physics as his speciality, so that he could follow the career chosen by his uncle. The tuition was good and he already felt that was learning a good deal. All the lessons were in English, apart from those for students studying a foreign language, and Yong had chosen to study English further, rather than Chinese which he had already learnt while at School. The English tutor was really good; a pleasant and helpful lady from London called Miss Ogden. The British Council in Pyongyang had arranged for her to teach at the University. His fellow students were all from a similar background of upper-class parents in jobs held in high esteem by the hierarchy which surrounded the Supreme Leader, but he had made very few friends – certainly not close friends. He had learnt early on in his life that nobody could be trusted.
***
His uncle had always been a major influence on him, even before his father fell from grace and was imprisoned. If it hadn’t been for his uncle, he too would have been incarcerated with his father and mother, as they were all judged to be guilty by association. And it was his uncle’s influence which had gained him a place at the new university. Uncle Shin rarely spoke of his brother, although Yong knew that it was Dr. Choi Shin’s powerful position that had kept him out of a labour camp, from which there would be no return. But in any prison under that regime, Yong knew that 17 years was as good as a life sentence.
He took a brave but possibly rather foolish decision, which he had not previously discussed with his Uncle. This was to be something he wanted to do, and which he had been thinking about for some time. He did not want to be dissuaded from it, or to upset his Uncle in any way. He would tell him afterwards.
He had decided to visit his parents while his uncle was in England.
He was rather surprised when he was granted permission, and given the appropriate paper work. Once again, his Uncle’s position had influenced the decision in Yong’s favour. His parents had been taken to a prison near Pyongyang, so it was not difficult for Yong to get there, by bus.
The place was filthy and smelt appalling – almost of rotting flesh. He was taken into a dimly lit room near the entrance by one of the guards, who stayed with him. Eventually, another guard shoved a man into the room.
It was his father, although he could not at first believe it.
He had changed beyond recognition. This once proud and clever man was bent and skeletal, with sunken eyes, dressed in little better than rags. The man and his son stood apart, and even if they had wanted to embrace, the guard would have prevented them and dragged the man away again. Yong could see that he was infested with lice and bugs.
It was obvious that his father had been brutally treated and tortured, not for his original offence of illegally trading in cigarettes, so he said, but because he was caught trying to bribe one of the guards to give him his freedom. Eventually, having taken all he could, the guard had told on him, to gain special treatment for himself from his own superiors.
You could trust no-one.
The man who stood before Yong could barely speak, such was the toll that the regime had taken on him since then. He cowed in front of the guard who had dragged him into the room, and was plainly afraid of him, judging by his frequent sideways glances.
Yong himself could barely speak either, such was the shock and horror of what he saw. He managed to mumble a couple of hesitant questions to his father, but each time the guard intervened and commanded that he should not reply. The two stood largely in silence, the old man looking at his feet rather than looking his son in the eye.
After a time, he blurted out, “I have not seen your mother for several months. I think she has died or been killed.”
With that, the guard swung a vicious blow to his head and dragged him out of the room. “Don’t come here again,” his father almost shouted. The guard swung a kick at him and he sprawled onto the filthy floor as he was dragged away. Yong could only imagine with horror the fate which awaited him later.
At the same time, the other guard grabbed Yong, who for a moment almost believed he was to be incarcerated with his father. Instead he was hustled through the guardroom and out into the street.
“That despicable enemy of this great country and its people is right,” he shouted after Yong. “No matter how important your uncle thinks he is, the Supreme Leader will immediately decide that you should join his brother if ever you come here again.”
Yong looked back through his tears at the stark building, with its guards and barbed wire. Was that really his father, that ghost of a once proud man? He was so small. He spoke differently. What could they have done to him to reduce him to that barely human state? And his mother – he dared not think what could have happened to her.
Yong Shin made his way slowly towards the bus which would eventually take him back to his University. He wished he had never made this visit, and yet it had only confirmed his worst fears. Now he knew that the many rumours which circulated, in hushed tones, were right. This was a harsh and cruel regime within which he lived. There was no freedom. Nobody could be trusted
He also knew that he had to tell his Uncle about his visit, although he dreaded the thought of how he might react. But he had to know. He had rarely spoken of his brother, Yong’s father, so perhaps he already understood what had been happening.
The more Yong thought about that dreadful place where his father was rotting away, one of the living dead he had heard about, the more he realised how much he owed his Uncle. He already knew that he would do anything for that man, who had always been a father figure. Now he really understood. Without his uncle’s intervention, he would himself be in that prison, perhaps even dead like his mother. Without his Uncle’s help and influence, he would not have received his excellent education, and would not now be studying further at the Pyongyang University.
He would do anything for his uncle. Anything to repay the debt he owed.
But first Yong must tell his uncle the truth about his father. It would be painful for both of them, but it had to be done.
Yong was still distressed and deep in thought on his return to the University. He was terrified on entering the building when one of the security guards ran towards him, shouting his name.
“Miss Ogden wants to see you,” he said. “Go to her office at once. She has good news for you.”
***
When he left London, Dr. Choi Shin realised that he had information which Cooper, and the whole of the Western world come to that, was desperate to have.
He also knew that Cooper could arrange to collect it in some way, if and when he finally decided to hand it over. Choi could not work out how that might happen, but he was equally determined not to defect in order to deliver it. His new colleagues in England knew that, but they could not possibly know how difficult and dangerous it would be for him to collect and then provide them, in some form or other, with the highly technical and very secret information which they wanted.
Choi’s first problem would be getting it all together.
During the flight to Pyongyang, he began to wonder how he might do so. He had to assemble all the relevant and important aspects of the work into an easily transportable format. That would mean taking photographs, copying documents, plans, algorithms and so on. Without a doubt, difficult and dangerous work anywhere in the world, never mind in the paranoid dictatorship within which he lived.
Transferring it to USB memory sticks would be the best, he concluded, and probably the easiest and safest. They were small and easy to handle. He knew they had plenty at his research headquarters, and that he could get access to them without arousing suspicion. Indeed, they had the most modern newly developed examples, which would take several terabytes of information each. Made in China, of course.
The more he thought about it, the more tired Choi felt. In fact, he wasn’t feeling all that well. He put his seat back, to the annoyance of the passenger behind him, and dozed. Probably too much good food and wine, which he wasn’t used to, he concluded. He would go without the meal on the aircraft. Boiled rice and prawns, he noticed, probably both lukewarm at best. He noticed that Moon Pak was reading last week’s Pyongyang Times English language newspaper, full of propaganda about the exploits of their great leader, while his colleague Jang Nam was busily making notes, not doubt for his contribution to their joint report.
Of course, nobody at home who had sponsored their rare visit overseas had any idea that he, Dr. Choi Shin, had managed to visit the UK’s nuclear weapons facility at Aldermaston. That was a piece of initiative on his part which he knew would be warmly welcomed, and would help to secure his future within the country’s elite scientific community.
A community he was probably about to betray, if his friends in England played their part. The fact that it would be for his countryman’s own good in the long term did not make it any easier.
He was looking forward to seeing his nephew Yong again. He had plenty to tell him, but would decide later whether or not to reveal his planned treachery.
He was happy and relieved that Yong was at their apartment in Yongbyon when he got there. But he had no gifts for his nephew. Western trash had no part to play in the glorious culture of North Korea, and imports of anything were strictly banned.
“I was so hoping you would be here,” said Shin, “but I feared you may not be able to get away from the University, knowing how severe they are.”
“I pleaded with them,” admitted Yong, “and because of your importance and where you had been, they relented. But I have to be back on the last bus this evening.”
“I have a lot to tell you,” said his father, “so we shall have a late night I suspect!”
“And I have news for you, too, although I fear not all good news. But first tell me about your visit.”
Choi Yong had been much impressed by his uncle’s account of his earlier visit to America, a country with a life style in stark contrast to his own, and was eager to know how England compared. His uncle, though, was already adjusting to the harshness of his own country compared with his few days of comparative freedom.
“Did you say,” he asked his nephew, “that the authorities at your University allowed you home because of my importance and where I had been?”
“That’s exactly what they said. Indeed, they were almost keen that I should be here to welcome you home.”
Dr Choi was immediately suspicious.
“Tell you what!” he exclaimed, “Let me have a quick wash and tidy up, and then we can go for a walk in the town, and I shall buy you tea. Then we can talk freely all the time.”
So that’s what they did.
“I am surprised,” said Yong, “that you did not want to stay at home and relax after your arduous journey.”
“I’ll tell you why,” replied his Uncle. “Of course I should have preferred to relax at our apartment. But I was suspicious of the fact that the authorities were so keen for you to be there with me on my return.”
“Why was that?”
“I suspect they wanted to hear what I had to say about my visit to England, and that they may have wired the apartment so as to be able to listen in or record our chat. That’s why.”
Yong was silent for a moment, and sipped his tea.
“That had never occurred to me,” he admitted. “But you are right, of course. Thinking about it, they did seem overly enthusiastic. We must check the flat later.”
“Never trust anyone in this country,” said his Uncle.
He sighed.
“In England though, it is so very different. Not just the freedom from oppression, but the freedom to do almost anything without fear. And the people! They are so warm and kind and – how shall I put it – unsuspicious. They trust everyone until they are given good reason not to. Here, it is exactly the other way round.”
“That is difficult to believe,” said Yong.
“Because we know of no other life, that’s why,” explained his uncle. “We live in fear in this country, rather than in freedom, and the sooner you realise that the better. But you never will, I suspect, until you have experienced it for yourself. And you will never do that unless you can get away from here as I have done. If ever you get the chance, go!”
“You mean I should defect?”
“Not until you know what you will be defecting to; you must decide when you have experienced what else there is in this world apart from our closed society built on fear and favour.”
“You have come home from England with much the same view of life in the West as you formed after your visit to America,” opined Yong.
“The two countries are different but similar, much the same as ours is different from South Korea. We share the same culture, but different politics.”
Yong sat thoughtfully for a while, sipping his tea.
“I take it,” he said eventually, “I take it that your visit was successful from the scientific point of view, since you have not mentioned it!”
“It was excellent in every respect,” replied his uncle. “And I personally benefitted hugely from a piece of initiative on my part. I actually visited the British atomic weapons establishment!”
“How on earth did you manage that?” exclaimed Yong, astonished.
“In the end, it was really very simple. I just asked.” Dr. Choi leant forward, and prodded his nephew in the chest. “That’s the difference between them and us as people,” he said. “Here, I would have been thrown into one of our wretched prison camps for the rest of my life. There, in the West, they thought for a while, talked to people, and eventually said ‘OK – why not’. That’s the difference, between us. I talked to them a lot, and at the end they, like the Americans, wanted me to stay. I had told them my fears about the research I am involved in, and how I dreaded that our leaders could use it recklessly. They need the information I have so that they can plan to counter the threat. I refused to stay, as you can see, but I have yet to decide whether to co-operate by giving them the information they need.”
“You know the penalty if you are caught,” cautioned Yong.
“Of course I do.” He leant forward. “I can quite easily get the information together which they will need, although it will take some time to compile. I believe that they will come to collect it if I say the word, and that they may even now have people in this country who act as agents.”
“Spies do you mean?”
“Perhaps. I became quite good friends with one of the officials during my short stay, and I believe he will arrange to keep in touch. He almost said so in as many words when I left.”
“Do you trust him?”
“I trusted them all,” replied Shin. “And they trusted me. I was allowed to go where I liked, to do what I liked, to see what I liked. Once I had dodged our ‘escort’, I could leave the Hotel on my own and without having to gain permission. In this country it is strictly forbidden for foreigners to do that. I walked freely round Oxford, sat at a café drinking tea, visited one of the most famous libraries in the world, and nobody bothered. I was not followed, and I was not asked where I had been or what I had done. If there had been time, I could have taken the train to London, and my hosts would not have been in the least concerned.”
Yong sat back.
“I must go to see for myself,” he said. “And that brings me to a piece of my news for you.”
“You said you had two things to tell me, one good and one bad.”
“The bad news first.”
Yong sighed.
“While you were away, I applied for permission to visit my father, your brother, in the prison outside Pyongyang, and for some reason, probably thanks to your position, they let me go.”
He paused.
“And?” enquired his uncle.
“And I now wish I hadn’t.”
“Because you were horrified by what you found?”
“Exactly.”
“There are rumours.”
“I have heard the rumours, too, but chose not to believe them.”
“Tell me what you found,” commanded Shin. “At least my brother and his wife are in a prison rather than a labour camp. How are they surviving?”
Yong took a deep breath, and told his uncle every detail of his visit, including his own treatment.
Dr. Choi Shin was silent for a moment, swilling the dregs of his tea round the bottom of his cup.
“So the rumours are true,” he said quietly. “Even in the prisons.”
He sighed.
“I am saddened but not altogether surprised by what you have told me. And the people of this country can do nothing about it. The state machine is too powerful and dominates everything that people do – including you and me, even though we fare better than most. We are lucky to be members of the ‘loyal’ taedo.”
“Thanks to you,” said Yong.
“My brother was as well, once, but now is regarded as ‘hostile’, and has been deprived of everything.”
“Those in the ‘neutral’ caste have nothing either, and fear persecution.”
His uncle nodded, and drained his tea.
“I think we both need something stronger.”
Shin ordered two small glasses of Soju, the local firewater.
“I said I had good news as well,” said Yong, and raised his glass. “We can use this to celebrate.”
“We need some good news,” replied his uncle. “Tell me and cheer me up a bit.”
“I am to go to England,” said Yong with a grin.
“I can’t believe it!” exclaimed his uncle, also with a broad grin. “How has this been arranged? Tell me everything!”
“My English tutor at the University has arranged it. There are three of us going, although one I suspect has been selected simply to keep an eye on the two of us, in the same way that you had an official escort in your party.”
“He will need to be watched, and unless you can get away from him, your ability to learn how different things are in a free society will be very limited. But tell me where you are going and when and for how long.”
“We shall be going to Westminster University in London, basically to improve our English, but we shall also be able to continue our specialist studies. We go soon – I don’t yet have a date – and we shall be there probably for about four months, they think. Our English tutor, who is excellent, is returning to the University in London for a short break during her time here, and we shall be going with her, and coming back with her. She has arranged everything!”
“That really is excellent news, although of course I shall miss you. But you must be proud to have been selected and you must also be sure to make the most of your time in London. Not even I have been there!”
“Four months is a long time to be away, but we shall be able to keep in touch, even if only by letter.”
“Which will be opened and censored when they get here, no doubt, so be careful what you say.”
“Everything is thanks to you, Uncle Shin. You have been like a father to me, and I would have achieved nothing without your help and support – and trust.”
“And you, Yong, are like the son I never had.”
He paused for thought, frowning.
“I have to go to the Punggye-ri nuclear test site next week as part of my research work, so I may be away when you leave. I don’t know how long I shall have to be there, but our development work is at a stage when I am needed. I really wish I was not involved in this wretched project with the Chinese. They are using us to do their dirty work for them.”
He raised his glass.
“We must have another of these, in case I am not here to say goodbye when you leave!”
“I dare not,” replied Yong. “It is too strong for me and I have to get away to catch the bus back to Pyongyang. If I am late returning, I may lose my place on the visit to England.”
“Whatever you do, don’t do that. This could be the best thing you have ever done.”
They embraced and parted.
As he watched his nephew hurry across the suburban village square for the bus, Shin decided he had better not have another Soju either. He was already not feeling as well as he should. The effect of the rich food in England, he thought.
***