Chapter Three
The plane ticket arrived the next morning, together with the altered passport. I was relieved to find that I wouldn't be travelling under an assumed name. Na, had simply changed my occupation. It now read 'Journalist' instead of 'Engineer'. A typed note inside the passport said: 'You are commissioned to write articles for a trade paper. Engineering stuff as you know the lingo. Take a video-camera with you. And use it. Destroy this'. It bore no signature. It didn't need to; Na Sang- wha's personality was stamped all over it.
The following morning I was at Incheon airport well ahead of departure time. I hung around the bookstall, keeping an eye on the stairway up to the lounge.
When she did come I drew a quick breath. Her photograph hadn't flattered her. She was hatless, and her raven-black hair was cut short and combed in a fringe round her ears and forehead. It suited her neat-shaped head. She had a fur coat draped across her shoulders, over a dark suit; and her legs looked as though they'd stepped straight out of a stocking advertisement. Even if I hadn't been on an assignment I'd have been watching her every movement with … well, interest.
As she came beside me at the bookstall a faint perfume I couldn't put a name to accompanied her. I felt like a bloodhound who'd been given a glove to sniff and told to follow that scent. If I'd had a tail I'd have wagged it.
She bought a copy of Vogue. She had a quiet, low voice that must have made Yun Hyeok's day when she telephoned him.
I let her board the shuttle ahead of me, then found an empty seat three rows away on the opposite side of the aisle.
Just as we were about to leave, a latecomer came panting towards the shuttle and scrambled aboard. He was obviously an American; he wore a baseball cap, T- shirt, jeans, and a pair of red Converse All Stars. Yet there was nothing brashabout him as he came in favouring all and sundry with a shiny grin. He took the one vacant seat, next to Kim Su-mi.
He seemed to be on easy conversational terms with her before we reached the terminal, and I felt vaguely envious. He was about my own age, I judged, though he was obviously cultivating a more youthful appearance than his years.
When we reached the terminal I was first out of the shuttle and into the passenger lounge. But when it came to board I waited for Kim Su-mi to leave ahead of me, then followed her into the aircraft. As I half hesitated beside her double seat she looked up and smiled at me.
'Oh … I'm terribly sorry. Are these in your way?'
She reached out and collected her handbag and magazine from the place beside hers.
As I seated myself and thanked her the doors of the plane closed. From the back the calm, aloof voice of the airhostess reminded us of the safety procedure, and to fasten our safety belts.
When we were airborne and had released our safety belts I produced a packet of mints and, after a momentary hesitation, held it out to her. She took one with a slim-fingered hand, the nails crimson and a trifle too elongated for my liking. Not that I could fault her otherwise. As she engrossed herself in the magazine I mentally scored myself a few points up on I'm. From what I'd gathered he'd trailed her the hard way, lurking behind newspapers as he'd trampled after her through museums and art galleries. Then suddenly I felt a moment of misgiving. After all, I'm was an old hand; yet he chose to keep out of sight of his quarry. Could there be some flaw in my own tactics? Would I find myself in a situation I couldn't handle?
A quarter of an hour before we were due to land I felt bound to create an opening that might lead to some clue as to the purpose of her journey.
'Why anyone comes to China for a holiday defeats me', I said off-handedly.
'Only a business trip would drag me here'.
'That could be Yun, my fiance, talking', she said with mild exasperation.
'Mention holidays to him and he immediately thinks of [eju Island'.
'At least you can be sure of the sun there', I said urbanely. 'I suppose China has its points. But the weather's usually foul'.
'Oh, nonsense! I've been to China several times and the weather's been marvellous'.
'You've been very lucky, that's all I can say'. I pushed it as far as I dared without arousing her suspicions. 'What's the attraction when the cherry trees aren't in bloom?'
'Pagodas'. Her eyes mocked me for a moment. 'Oh, well - just to satisfy your curiosity! It's the museums and art galleries. Shanghai is the city of museums, you know'. As though to emphasise that the attraction wasn't male she played with her engagement ring, then quickly changed the subject. 'So you're on a business trip?'
I nodded. 'I'm a journalist. I write technical articles. Mostly on engineering subjects. That's the reason I'm going to Shanghai. They've got hold of a new technique in glass curtain walling that my trade paper's interested in'.
'Rather outside my province, I'm afraid', she said, smiling. 'Hello … I think we're coming in to land'.
Almost immediately the Captain's voice came over the intercom informing us that we were due in at Shanghai Airport in a few minutes' time, and would we fasten our seat belts, please? The weather in Shanghai', he added, 'is fine and sunny'.
Kim Su-mi wrinkled her nose at me. 'There … you see?' She opened her handbag, brought out a mirror, and began to do unnecessary things to her face. Presently she said, over a lipstick: 'Thanks for helping to pass the time so pleasantly. Perhaps we'll run into one another in Shanghai'.
Smiling, I hoped not too ironically, I said: 'I'll look out for you'.
The plane nosed down towards the flat Chinese coastline. Away to the right the towers of Shanghai were silhouetted against the blue sky of a perfect spring afternoon. Crossing the city, like a sinuous snake, was the Yangtze River.
I let Kim Su-mi precede me through the Passport Control and Customs. Here, instead of having her smart blue and yellow striped suitcase put on the airline bus trolley she picked it up and walked quickly to the main exit. I grabbed my own case from the trolley and hurried after her, arriving at the exit just in time to see a sheer-nylon sheathed leg disappear into a taxi. I signalled the next in the rank but lost it to the American. From his gesticulations with his bag I had the impression he was instructing the driver to follow the other cab.
A moment later I was going through the same performance myself. My driver didn't speak Korean but luckily we both knew enough English for me to get the idea quickly across. With a cheroot wagging from his lips he said, 'Certainly, sir', in a flat, expressionless voice.
In Shanghai we followed the other taxis along a busy street beside the Yangtze. As we approached the most impressive of its many bridges the cabs we were following slowed and drew in to the kerb. Leaning forward, I told my driver to carry on past them. 'Okay, sir', he called back as I ducked down to avoid being recognised by the woman and the man who were now on the pavement, exchanging surprised greetings.
At the next corner I stopped my taxi, and as I paid off the driver I thought some light-hearted comment on the situation was called for. There was always a chance that he might report the incident to the police, and then I'd have a plainclothes man on my tail. So I mumbled something about a pretty girl on the plane and wanting to find out where she was staying. I needn't have bothered. All it got me was a shrugged, 'Why not?'
I went down the street that ran at right angles to the canal until I came to a small hotel. It wouldn't rate a single star in a hotel guide. But the tiled floor of reception was freshly polished, and you could see your face in the metal surface of the reception desk.
They gave me a room, austerely furnished but spotlessly clean, overlooking the street. After I'd unpacked my shirts and the one other suit I'd brought, I took a quick shower. When I'd dressed I went out and bought a street guide.
In an unpretentious bar I thumbed through the guide, and took my bearings from one of the maps. Eventually I found Tian Zi Fang without much difficulty, and I memorised the route to it from my present position. Then I paid for my beer and went out to give the Chinese Dragon a looking over.
It was a typical Chinese restaurant, with low tables. I'd always found the trick is to watch the customers at the outside tables before you decide to enter. If they look like locals, and there are no camera-slung tourists among them, you can be pretty sure the food will be good and the charges reasonable. The Chinese Dragon passed the test. However, I did not go inside.
I rambled around for a couple of hours, still getting my bearings. A mist drifted in from the sea and mingled with the pollution to form a yellow smog and, since I badly needed a drink and some food to take the chill out of my bones, I decided to return to Tian Zi Fang. It was splattered with neon-lit bars and restaurants. I was too eager to get into somewhere to be choosey, so I turned into the first door I came to.
What little atmosphere the restaurant possessed was laid on for the tourist trade. Waitresses in fake silk dresses with pigtails draped over the shoulders; a long bar with a bartender who'd have answered to 'Harry' in any international tourist-haunted bar. Just to be in on the act I flung back a couple of local beers in rapid succession, then, feeling like a refuelled dragon, sat down at a table.
After the beer the menu was overcrowded and elusive, so I settled for the house speciality, a dish of rice and pork, which was rather better than I had expected. By the time I had another beer in front of me and a cigarette alight I felt able to give some thought to my first day's trailing of Kim Su-mi.
So far, I was inclined to agree with I'm. She'd discussed herself quite freely on the plane - mentioned her interest in the art and antique business and referred to her fiance with the naturalness of a girl who had nothing to hide. I thought about Yun Hyeok. A stockbroker seemed an unlikely fiance for a girl who was mixed up with the kind of people that Na's department was interested in. I sipped my beer. Yun Hyeok was a damned lucky chap!
I returned to the conversation on the plane. She hadn't shown the slightest evasiveness when I'd questioned her about her frequent visits to Shanghai. Or had she? Abruptly, I stubbed out my cigarette, remembering how she'd evadedthe subject when I'd pushed my questioning almost to the point of rudeness. I lit another cigarette and expelled the smoke from my lungs upwards. That was it. She'd turned the conversation to what I was doing in Shanghai as a riposte to my own boorish inquisitiveness.
A man's voice, ordering a round of drinks, suddenly reminded me of the American. Where did he fit into the picture? He could be a lot less the innocent tourist than he looked. In which case, there were two of us trailing Kim Su-mi. Alternatively, there might be no more to it than the usual reason why a man chases an attractive girl. Not relishing either of my half-baked conclusions, and the last one the least, I paid my bill and returned to my hotel.