Chapter six
Promptly at three the following afternoon I found myself in a large modern room, furnished in sleek teak and chrome. There were no fewer than three flat screens arranged precisely on his desk, as well as two telephones on the designer desk, which matched the modern feel of the room. Behind the desk were a number of roller maps, which could be displayed in the same manner as one would pull down a blind.
Na Sang-wha rose from the desk, and bowed. As I returned the complement I studied him cautiously. At first glance he appeared very ordinary, if not nondescript. He could have been anything: a bank manager, a tax inspector, a lawyer, or a stockbroker. He wore a sober and well-cut formal city suit, and was indistinguishable from a thousand other men in their early fifties who commuted daily to Seoul.
‘How nice of you to come, Mr Moon’, he said cordially. ‘Do sit down and have a cigarette’.
I said, ‘Thank you’, and took a seat in a comfortable leather chair. Na pushed a cigarette box towards me, then took a cigarette himself. As he lit it he regarded me thoughtfully through the smoke, and I found his very direct stare vaguely disquieting.
‘I was sorry to hear about your company’, he said at length. ‘You must have had some very bad luck’.
‘We certainly had our share’, I replied non-committally.
Na exhaled smoke towards the ceiling and leaned back in his chair. ‘I’ve got a proposition to put to you, Mr Moon’, he announced. ‘It’s rather an unusual one, but I think you’ll find it interesting’. He waited for me to speak.
‘I’d like to hear it’, I said.
‘Perhaps I’d better explain myself a little more fully’, went on Na. ‘I’m in charge of a department – ’
I interrupted him. ‘A Government department?’
‘Yes’.
So that was it. The civil servants wanted some know-how on the cheap. ‘I’m afraid I’m not really interested in working for the Government’, I said, trying to sound polite.
Beyond a very slight elevation of his eyebrows Na’s face registered no reaction. ‘Really?’ he murmured. ‘May I know why?’
‘They don’t pay enough’, I said bluntly. There was no point in wasting time.
Na examined his fingernails and eyed me with that faintly disconcerting stare of his. ‘In general, I agree with you’, he conceded. ‘Civil Service emoluments on the whole are far from princely. But there are exceptions to that rule. My department is one of them’.
I leaned forward. ‘Exactly what is your department?’
Na did not answer at once. He drew on his cigarette and expelled a long stream of smoke. Faintly irritated, I persisted: ‘Well, Mr Na – what is it? Don’t tell me that you’re the Secret Service!’
‘That’s a rather melodramatic description’, said Na, ‘never the less, I suppose it’s as good as any. Given our situation we need to keep one jump ahead of our friends in the North. Their intelligence has been good at times, but we like to think that ours is rather better. Unfortunately, we still have our enemies: we’re trying to keep one jump ahead of them. Perhaps our business could best be described as being nobody’s business’. Na’s smile was more friendly now, and be regarded me almost benignly.
‘Are you Angibu’ I asked, my curiosity now aroused. ‘Not exactly’.
‘National Intelligence Agency?’ I pressed.
‘No. I told you. We’re a Government department. That description may not appear to be very illuminating, but we do have access to – er – certain funds that the taxpayer knows nothing about. We also have very broad – er – powers. Have I explained myself to your satisfaction?’
‘No’, I said rather rudely. ‘How do I know all this is true?’
Na sighed gently. ‘On this desk you can see two telephones. Perhaps you’d care to pick up the second one from the right and ask for the Chief of Police. It’s a direct line’.
Feeling slightly foolish I picked up the receiver.
‘Go on’, encouraged Na, ‘ask for Commander Lee Young-suk’.
I shot a look at Na, but his expression registered only sincere goodwill. I said into the mouthpiece: ‘Commander Lee Young-suk, please’.
A man’s voice said: ‘Just a moment please, Mr Na’.
Presently another voice came on the line: ‘Hello, Sang-wha. What’s up?’
Na took the receiver out of my hand. ‘How’s the new grandson, Young-suk?’ he said, and held the instrument so that I could hear the reply.
‘Is that all you’re ringing up about?’ the voice on the other end inquired. ‘That’s all for now, Young-suk’, said Na.
‘Well, bugger off’, was the discouraging reply. ‘I’ve got work to do, even if you haven’t’. The Colonel rang off with a truculent click.
Na placed his fingertips together and looked at me inquiringly. ‘Does that satisfy you, Mr Moon?’
‘Yes’, I said weakly. ‘What exactly do you want to see me about?’
Na leaned back in his chair. ‘Mr Moon, you were recently in partnership with a man called Park Song-yong. Apart from your business arrangement, I understand that Park borrowed money from you from time to time’.
‘As a matter of fact he did’, I said. ‘How did you know that?’
He flicked open the file on his desk and went on: ‘If my information is correct, you lost four hundred million won in this business. Apart from that, Park owes you – personally, not your firm – three hundred and fifty million won’. He closed the file and regarded me with perfect equanimity.
‘Correct’, I said, ‘but while you’re about it you might add another two-hundred thousand won to that total’.
It was Na’s turn to look surprised. ‘Another two-hundred thousand won?’
‘Yes’, I said. ‘Some days ago I had a letter from Park Song-yong, asking me to meet him at a place called Sinjang-ri – its on the east coast. The letter implied that our business worries were over and that I was going to get all my money back’. I shrugged. ‘He didn’t turn up, and to crown it all I had my wallet stolen. There were two-hundred thousand won in it. I doubt if Song-yong stole it himself, but I thought I might as well put it on his bill’.
Na was smiling again. ‘Why not, indeed? I see what you mean’.
‘I’m delighted to hear it’, I said with scarcely veiled irony. ‘Incidentally, it was a very nice wallet’.
‘Quite so’, said Na casually. ‘I’ve been admiring it’.
To my utter amazement Na took my wallet from his inside pocket and pushed it towards me. ‘I think you’ll find everything quite in order’, he murmured.
I picked up the wallet and checked through the contents. Everything was there. But there were still a lot of things that I had to know, even if Na did have a direct telephone line to the Chief of Police. ‘I’m still a bit bewildered’, I said. ‘What exactly is this job you’re offering me?’
A new voice, with a familiar ring, spoke from the doorway. ‘We want you to find Park Song- yong for us’.
I swung round. Standing just inside the door was a man I identified with some difficulty as Jo Yun-je.
At first I thought I must be mistaken, for this was an entirely different Jo. Gone was the seedy, facetious, and shabbily dressed fishing gear salesman that I remembered. This new Jo had immaculately kept hands in place of the nicotine stained fingers and somewhat grimy nails that I had seen in the Dokgo hotel. The straggly moustache had been clipped with military precision. The ultra-refined and catarrhal voice was now crisp and incisive; the voice of a man accustomed to command. Jo Yun-je, I subsequently learned, had won the National Security Order of Merit in a skirmish in the demilitarised zone and spent the rest of his career in one of the less orthodox branches of Military Intelligence.
I looked from Jo to Na in blank-faced astonishment.
‘I think you know Jo Yun-je’, said Na. ‘he’s a colleague of mine’. I blinked. ‘A colleague of yours?’
‘Yes. We work together in this department’. I stared at Jo, who grinned at me.
‘I know I said I was supplying fishing gear, my man’, he said, and once again I heard the nasal, snuffling voice of Jo Yun-je of Busan. Then Jo smiled pleasantly. ‘I expect you must have thought I was pretty ghastly. Incidentally, I’m sorry I had to take your wallet. I hope it didn’t inconvenience you’.
In spite of myself, I summoned up a wry smile. ‘Like hell it didn’t’, I said. I turned to Na. ‘Are all your employees expert pick-pockets?’
‘Some are better than others’, said Na lightly. ‘But Jo is by the way of being our star turn in that direction’. He went on more seriously: ‘I expect you think we’re being unnecessarily mysterious, Mr Moon’.
‘I must confess to being a little confused’, I said. ‘Exactly why did you get me here this afternoon?’
‘We’ve told you why’, said Na quietly. ‘We want you to find Park Song-yong for us’. ‘But Song-yong hasn’t disappeared!’ I exclaimed.
Na raised his eyebrows. ‘Really?’ he said. ‘Everything seems to indicate that he has’. He looked at me with faintly frigid amusement.
‘Well’, I said lamely, ‘what I mean is, he’s just gone off somewhere. Of course, you don’t know Park Song-yong like I do. This sort of thing happened all the time when we were in business together. I never knew where he was from one day to another. He’ll turn up sooner or later’. ‘We don’t want him sooner of later’, said Na soberly. ‘We want him now’.
‘Have you tried to find him?’ I asked. ‘No’.
‘But why not?’
After a momentary hesitation, Na said: ‘Because we have no wish to arouse curiosity in – er – certain quarters’.
‘But surely’, I pointed out, ‘my inquiries will arouse a certain amount of curiosity somewhere’. Na shook his head. ‘I don’t see why they should. After all, you have a perfectly legitimate reason for wanting to find him: he was the direct cause of your business going bust and he owes you money’.
‘Which makes you the ideal man, from our point of view’, interposed Jo. ‘Besides, you know Park Song-yong. You know his haunts, his habits, his friends – everything about him’.
‘I’m beginning to wonder just how much I do know about Song-yong’, I said thoughtfully.
Na leaned forward across the desk. ‘Do you want the job or don’t you?’ There was a new note of challenge in his tone.
‘Aren’t you taking a bit of a chance?’ I said. ‘After all, you know practically nothing about me’.
Na produced a cold little smile. ‘Don’t we, Mr Moon?’ He opened a drawer in his desk and took out a manila folder. ‘On the contrary, we know a great deal about you. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here’. He put the file down on the corner of the desk, in front of me. ‘There’s your dossier’, he said quietly. ‘Read it’.
I read it. It was my dossier all right. After I’d finished reading I put the file down on the desk and said, with what I hoped was a touch of sarcasm. ‘This is my Life, Moon Han-sang’.
‘We try to be thorough’, said Na easily. Then he leaned forward and his voice became more incisive. ‘If you decide to accept this assignment we’ll pay you double your previous salary and expenses. Well?’
I looked from Na to Jo in bewilderment. I could see that Jo was smiling.
‘I must have your decision now, Mr Moon’, Na said, ‘one way or the other’.
I made up my mind quickly. ‘All right’. I said. ‘I’ll find Park Song-yong for you’. ‘Good’, said Na.
With a slight feeling of irritation I came to the conclusion that there wasn’t much change to be got out of this mysterious couple; they knew damned well I was going to say ‘yes’ because they knew exactly how broke I was.
Then a sudden thought struck me. ‘You must tell me one thing’, I insisted. ‘Well?’ said Na.
‘Why are you so interested in Park Song-yong? Why are you so anxious to find him’.
I saw Na and Jo exchange a quick look. Then Na said: ‘Park had an appointment with someone in Sinjang-ri’.
‘Certainly he did’, I said dryly, ‘with me’.
‘Not primarily with you, Mr Moon’, corrected Na smoothly. ‘You were invited to Sinjang-ri merely as a cover for Park’s meeting with someone else’.
‘Who was this someone else?’ I demanded. ‘A man called Arsenio’, said Na.
‘You mean the Cuban sailor that died?’
Na nodded. ‘Exactly. We think that Arsenio was meant to be put ashore at Sinjang-ri, but the shipwreck upset the plan and the rendezvous didn’t come off’.
‘But I don’t understand’, I said. ‘Why should Park Song-yong want to get in touch with Arsenio? It doesn’t make any sense to me’.
‘We can’t tell you that at the moment’, said Na. ‘However, find Park for us and then we’ll tell you’.
‘We have one clue, Moon’, said Jo. ‘We think it’s an important one. It’s in your wallet’.
I took out the wallet and looked through it. Then I held out the garage ticket. ‘You mean this?’ I said.
‘That’s it’, said Na.
I turned to face Jo. ‘So that’s why you took my wallet’.
Jo nodded. ‘I’ve checked with the garage and found out that that ticket is for Park’s car’.
I remembered Song-yong’s car well: it was a Hyundai Genesis Coupe. Song-yong had wanted to trade it in for an Equus and put it down against expenses for income tax purposes, but I had managed to dissuade him.
‘It is a Hyundai Genesis Coupe 200?’ I asked.
‘That’s right’, said Jo. ‘It was left at the garage with the key just over a week ago. It was originally left for only one night; then the owner telephoned the garage to say it wouldn’t be picked up for another week or so. They don’t know Park at the garage, they simply go by the ticket. You’ve got one half – the other’s in the car’.
I looked at the ticket. ‘I see’, I said slowly.
‘Our theory is that Arsenio had the ticket, just in case something went wrong and Park didn’t show up at Sinjang-ri’.
‘In other words’, explained Na, ‘we think that Arsenio had an arrangement with Park whereby if Park didn’t turn up Arsenio was to come up to Seoul and pick up the car’.
‘And the car would lead him to Song-yong?’ I hazarded. ‘Exactly’, said Jo.
‘But we could be wrong, of course’, added Na. This admission surprised me a little: they had been right about everything so far.
‘It certainly seems to explain why Arsenio had the ticket’, I observed. I took another look at it. “The Namdaemun Garage” – that’s the large one near the market, isn’t it?’
‘That’s right’, said Jo.
‘Well, I’ve got the ticket’, I said, ‘so I’d better start by picking up the car’.
Jo led me down a long corridor to a small room where an elderly, bespectacled and clerky man sat at a desk, surrounded by filing cabinets.
‘Evening, Heon-ik’, said Jo. ‘This is Mr Moon Han-sang. Add him to the system and give him two million won to be going on with. He’s with us, with effect from today’.
The man called Heon-ik nodded and went to a safe. From it he produced a bundle of notes and counted out two million won. He then turned to his computer and entered my name, address, telephone number and date of birth.
‘Just look into the camera would you?’ he asked pointing a pocket camera at me. The world turned white for a fraction of a second, and then my face appeared on his screen.
‘Great, that’s the paperwork sorted out’, he said.
I left the office in Sejong-daero feeling happier than I had for a long time. It struck me that Na Sang-wha ran a very efficient organisation.