Chapter thirteen
I took the train and was back in Seoul by half past one. After a glass of beer and a bowl of soup I went back to my flat, wondering what Na was cooking up for me next.
I was soon to know. Na came through on the telephone at half past two. He said: ‘Can you come round here right away, Moon?’
‘Anything doing?’ I inquired eagerly.
Na’s voice was casual. ‘Nothing much. I’m having a bit of a film show in my office. I think you ought to see it’.
I was becoming immune to surprises now, and if Na wanted to have a film show in his office who was I to question it?
Na’s office was thick with cigarette smoke when I arrived. The blinds were drawn and a projector screen had been installed on the wall opposite Na’s desk. On the desk was a digital projector, and a bored looking man in a cheap suit was plugging various cables between it and the laptop that sat next to it. Na stood by the desk with a heavily built man in an immaculate blue suit.
‘Hello, Moon. I’d like you to meet Kim Han-jin’, Na said.
I thought there was something vaguely familiar about the large man. We shook hands and I said uncertainly: ‘Haven’t we met before somewhere?’
‘You saw me this morning’, said Han-jin laconically.
Then I recognised him as the large and truculent Army sergeant whom I had seen at Seong’s Garage that morning. Na I reflected, had his staff well trained: I remembered Jo’s wickedly accurate portrayal of a seedy commercial traveller; Han-jin’s beligerent sergeant had been no less perfect. Na’s men, in addition to their other qualifications, were apparently all experienced actors.
‘We’re going to show you a video’, Na explained to me, ‘and you’ll see what happened at the garage after you left. I want you to tell me if you recognise anyone’. He nodded to the projectionist. ‘Ready to go?’
‘Ready’ he said. He went to a wall switch and turned off the lights.
Fascinated, I saw Seong’s Garage on the screen. There was Seong talking to Han-jin outside the office. Seong was clearly annoyed about something and gesticulating with his hands. Then he jerked his head in the direction of the office and Han-jin went inside, leaving Seong looking up and down the road. Presently Han-jin emerged from the office, carrying a large monkey- wrench, and walked out of vision.
‘This was all taken from inside the lorry, of course’, Han-jin told me, and I realised why it had taken so long to repair the Army lorry’s puncture.
A black Hyundai Equus came on to the screen and drew up by the petrol pumps. Seong shook hands with the passenger as he got out of the back seat. It was obviously a private hire car; a uniformed chauffeur sat in the driver’s seat.
The Equus drove away and Seong led the man towards the Hyundai Genesis parked just beyond the pumps. They stood together, apparently conversing animatedly and looking at the car. Seong’s visitor, I could see, was heavily built and wearing a belted overcoat.
Na’s voice came out of the darkness. ‘This is the important bit, Moon. Take a good look and tell us whether you’ve ever seen this man before’.
As he spoke the video resolved itself into a close-up of the two men standing by the Genesis. I recognised the man immediately. ‘Good God!’ I said with excitement. ‘That’s Martinez – the sea captain!’
Na spoke to the projectionist: ‘Right, that’ll do. Put the lights on’. Then he turned to me, and for the first time I detected a trace of excitement in his voice. ‘You’re quite certain that was Captain Martinez?’
‘Absolutely positive’, I said emphatically. ‘There’s no doubt about it; I’d know him anywhere’. ‘Did this man ever see Jo?’ asked Na.
I cast my mind back to the Dokgo hotel at Sinjang-ri. ‘Yes’, I said. ‘When we handed Arsenio’s things over to Martinez, Jo was there. I remember Martinez shaking hands with him’.
‘Why?’ Na inquired.
I shrugged. ‘He shook hands with everyone’.
I broke the ensuing silence by asking: ‘Why did Martinez want the Genesis?’
‘Presumably, because it belonged to Park Song-yong’.
‘Yes, but why?’ I persisted. ‘Last night your men went over that car from top to bottom; there’s nothing unusual about it’.
‘I bet Mr Seong doesn’t think so’, interposed Han-jin dryly. ‘What d’you mean?’ I asked.
‘He paid you fifteen million won for it, didn’t he?’
‘That’s right’, I said. ‘to be exact’.
‘And what’s it worth?’
‘Oh, twelve million at the outside’.
‘Exactly’, said Han-jin with an air of quiet triumph. ‘And what do you think Martinez paid for it?’
‘I don’t know’, I said.
‘Neither do I’, said Han-jin a trifle grimly, ‘but knowing our friend Seong you can bet your bottom dollar it was well over seventeen million. A shrewd business man, old Seong; I very much doubt if he’d have been satisfied with less than a two million won profit’. He turned to Na. ‘There must be something unusual about that car, sir’.
Na shrugged. ‘Well, if there is, Han-jin’, he said, ‘we didn’t find it. And you know Shin Heon- soo’s methods well enough – he’d find a grain of sand in a bowl of rice … ’