Chapter Twenty-three
The barrow boy's tip had produced the rabbit out of the hat! Now I felt as foolish as the member of the audience who has accepted the conjurer's invitation to step onto the stage. I accepted my role as the stooge and smiled aimlessly.
Like a cloud crossing the moon, the glow faded from No Jung-jong's face. 'Well, Mr Kim .?' he prompted.
At that instant the telephone rang. Without taking his eyes from mine he reached slowly for the receiver.
'Hello .'.
Whoever it was at the other end wasted no time on preliminaries. I couldn't catch any of the flood of words, but I realised that the voice was a woman's. No Jung-jong listened intently, his mouth pursed, and I knew that the tense, urgent voice on the phone was warning him about me. Occasionally I thought I could detect a note in the voice, which seemed familiar.
Whilst the call lasted I assumed an air of detachment, as one does when the person one is with takes a phone call. But I knew I wouldn't get away with it.
There was a sudden click in the earpiece, and with maddening deliberation No Jung-jong replaced the receiver.Half rising, and with every nerve alert, I mentally calculated the distance to the door.
'Just a minute, Mr Kim', No Jung-jong said menacingly. 'Or should I say .
Mr Moon?' His hand snatched open his centre drawer and a pistol was pointing at me before I had a chance to rise from the chair.
My lips were dry but I attempted a feeble smile. 'Not very efficient, are you, No Jung-jong? The safety catch is on'.
As his eyes dropped to the gun I grabbed the tea cup and flung the contents in his face. He gave a small, choking scream and, dropping the gun, clawed at his face. Sweeping the pistol from the desk to the floor, I snatched up the chronometer and ran from the room.