"And what do we do? Stay here forever?"
"No danger of that, is there. You may lose a couple of days, but sooner or later we always get a train. What's your rush, anyway? Where do you need to get that can't wait awhile?"
I thought it over for a minute. He took my hesitation for evasion.
"You know where you're going? Or is it a secret? Let's see your ticket."
I patted my pockets, looking for the paper that Kang had given me at the last moment. "This will get you on the train," he had said. "It might even get you some fruit or dried fish." I asked if it would work for a cup of tea. Kang laughed as the truck pulled away. "Plenty of tea in China," he shouted, and waved his hand. Just before the truck disappeared around the corner, his head popped up again. "Books," he yelled, "in French."
15
"Your grandfather used to take the train all the time from here." I looked up suddenly. The stationmaster was peering at me intently. "You don't much resemble him. Except when you're not listening."
"Don't you have a station to supervise?"
"See, that's what I mean. When you talk to people, your face gets official, kind of hard, but when you're staring off, like remembering someone, then your face falls into place. It's the eyes, I suppose. You have his eyes."
What was this? Suddenly every old person I met thought I had my grandfather's eyes? "I don't know what you're talking about. How about you just tell me when a train is due?"
He laughed and put his hand on my shoulder. "Tough guy. I remember when you were little. Just after the war. Things were dirty and confused. People milling around what was left of this station, looking for relatives, military police barking orders, Chinese everywhere, and I mean everywhere. There was one wouldn't leave my office. I told him he couldn't see the train schedules. Didn't matter how good an ally they was, the schedules belonged to us. We might not have much left, I said, but what we got is ours, and the schedule was not his business. He said troop trains were moving and transports and food, and if he didn't get the schedule, there would be a mess and I'd get shot."
Suddenly I was interested in this old man. He was telling a story I'd heard from my grandfather a dozen times over the years. "So," I said, "you pulled a big revolver from your belt and laid it on the table."
He was quiet a moment. "That table, your grandfather made it for me before the war."
"It was maple, with round legs, and golden oak trim inlaid along the top."
"That Chinaman put his boots on the table. I told him, 'Boots off the table, now, or your brains go on the floor.' "
"What did he do?" I knew, but I wanted to hear the old man tell it.
The stationmaster rubbed his eyes. He took off his hat and scratched his head, enjoying the memory. "The bastard told me to screw myself. Then he spat against the wall and left my office."
"My grandfather said that table had a secret drawer."
"It still does."
"You have that table? Here in the station?" I wanted to touch the wood, know what my grandfather had felt as he sawed and smoothed and found the heart.
"Why don't you come and see?" We crossed the main hall, stepping around people sleeping soundly on the floor, their packs of Chinese goods held in their arms like lovers. The stationmaster took out his key to unlock the door to his office, then stopped. The door was open. He gave me a puzzled look, stepped into the room, and groaned. There, on the table, was a fish, gasping to breathe, pinned by a knife meant to gut a goat. I pulled out the knife, and the fish flopped to the floor.
"My table…" The old man's voice was dull. "All these years. .. ames Church
A CORPSE IN THE KORYO
I had that table all of these years, and now this." He looked at the knife in my hand, then at the fish. "Train's due at midnight, one o'clock more likely."
"Can I use the phone?" He stared at me dumbly. "The phone." I shook his shoulder, not too hard. "I need to make a call."
"Railroad connection, not for outside."
"I know, I know, but I can use it anyway."
He peered at me as if I were far away, or maybe he was. "That's a Military Security knife."
"They hanging around? You seen any of them?"
He glanced down at the fish. "Don't be here when I get back," was all he said, and then he was out the door.
As soon as I picked up the phone, I got an operator. It was the same one I'd had in Kanggye.
"You again," she said.
"Get me Pyongyang."
"How's the weather in Manpo?"
"About to storm. Look, this is urgent."
"Sure, I know. You guys are all alike. I thought we were going to have dinner."
"Yeah, a good meal. Bet you know some nice places, too."
The line was bad, but not so bad she couldn't catch my tone of voice.
"Funny thing," she said. "I can lose this connection real easy. Happens all the time. Oops. I hear static. That could mean a system failure.
My orders are to disconnect and shut down. That way we don't cascade."
"You don't what?"
"I don't know. That was what they told us last Saturday. One girl had to admit she'd been talking to her boyfriend, a Colonel Yun in Haeju or something, and next thing you know, wham, a cascade. Is she ever in trouble."
I didn't say anything.
"You're not mad at me, are you?"
I coughed lightly.
"Listen, I'm sorry. There is really a lot of pressure around here.
They scream at you when you lose a connection, as if this crummy equipment can ever work two calls in a row. It's Russian, you know what I mean? Built like those old Soviet ladies. Not like those Russian girls today, so pretty. I saw one on TV the other night. They seem to be doing okay these days, if you know what I mean."
I gave her a number.
"That same police line."
"I need to report a crime."
She whooped. "From Manpo? Man, I'd never get a free minute if people reported every crime in Manpo. Hang on, here we go."
There was a faint click, a moment of silence when I thought she had cut me off, then Pak's voice nice and calm on the other end.
"You're late, you're absent without leave, you're missing in action, where the hell are you, and why the hell are you still on the border?"
"More important, did you have any idea what is going on up here, before you packed me off? Military Security just sent me a message. I think it was a death threat."
"A what?"
"A fish with a goat knife stuck in its guts."
"Very subtle, those guys." It was silent for a moment, and I thought we'd been disconnected. Then Pak said, "Spare me the details right now. Put a full report on my desk when you get here. You can write it on the train. You'll have plenty of time, and nothing else to do."
"If we ever get a train. It's all locked up."
"Some Comrade Big or another." Pak was normally more discreet than this on the phone. "Anyway, it's not your concern. Your business is here. I have a dead body, a foreigner, a Finn from the looks of it. I'll tell you when I see you, and it better be soon." A series of clicks, a dead space, then a buzz.
The operator got back on the line. "That was a cascade."
"Somebody's boyfriend somewhere."
"You're not a colonel, are you?" There was a note of alarm in her voice.
I laughed. "Not even close."
"Dinner. Don't forget."
There was no sense replying because the phone started buzzing and then a new, tinny voice on the other end shouted that this was railway communications equipment, reserved for railway business, it was a breach of security to use it for personal business.
"We need a train," I barked.
A pause, then a suspicious "Who is this?"
"Never mind who this is, friend. Military Security says the train to Pyongyang better be here in three hours, or files start getting pulled."