Chapter Twenty-two
I opened the door and entered a room carpeted with much-worn linoleum. The damp-streaked walls were partly concealed by faded posters depicting China, and, slightly askew, a calendar advertising a fine art convention. The furniture consisted of one wooden-backed visitor's-chair, a filing cabinet, and a desk. Behind this sat a middle-aged man, eating rice cake with obvious relish. His face was as round and colourless as a December full moon; his black hair was parted just above one ear and sparsely combed across a bald dome.
'Mr Kim Sang-woo?' he inquired, through a mouth full of cake. I nodded, and he waved the cake at the wooden-backed chair. 'Have you got the catalogue?'
I'd taken the precaution of leaving Doyle's copy in my car. I now produced the one Jaw-long had given me and put it on the desk. No Jung-jong pulled it over to him, scrutinised the sticker, then looked over at me inquiringly.
For a moment I was nonplussed, realising that what I said next was probably the pay-off. I decided to throw the ball back into his court. 'I haven't quite made up my mind about which antiques .' I broke off with a slight smile.
Apparently I'd said the right thing. No Jung-jong nodded, took another bite at his rice cake, and with a splutter of crumbs began to reel off a list of names. 'Well, we've got traditional furniture, bronzes, porcelain, silks .'
My mind flashed back to the barrow boy! With forced composure I said, 'I think I'm interested in a - Bronze Dragon'.He gulped down the remainder of the cake and explored a tooth with his tongue while he studied my face. 'How many?'
It seemed I'd backed a winner with the first half of the barrow boy's tip - Bronze Dragon. Now I gambled that the time of the race was significant. 'Let me see . I should say . well, four-nineteen'.
No Jung-jong's small mouth stretched into a smile. 'All right, Mr Kim', he agreed affably. 'What would you say to joining me in a cup of green tea before we get down to business?'
What I needed at that moment was a soju. Also, I wanted to avoid answering questions. 'Thanks all the same', I said hesitantly, 'but why waste time by going out now?'
'I keep it on the premises', he replied genially, leaning back and pulling out a drawer of the filing cabinet. 'Doctor's orders. "Feed your ulcer, Mr No Jung- jong", he said. "Have a bite of something and a green tea every two hours"'. He produced two saucerless breakfast cups and a vacuum flask from the drawer and placed them on his desk. 'Hot as the devil, sweet as sin, eh, Mr Kim?' He chuckled, unscrewing the lid of the flask and pouring the steaming liquid into the cups. Passing one across to me he went on cheerfully; 'Now then, we'll get down to business'.
He took a key-ring from his pocket, selected a key, and unlocked a drawer in his desk. The palms of my hands grew damp as I watched him.
'There we are!' he said, bringing out an object and placing it on the desk beside the flask.
I had last seen its exact counterpart beside the dead body of Doyle . No Jung- jong moved the gbrightly decorated chronometer on to his blotter and beamed at me expansively.