"This is my headquarters. That is my headquarters staff." He pointed at the two guards who had moved from the gate to stand by the door. "After the incident with that corps on the east coast-" He stopped suddenly. "You know what I'm referring to?"
"I try not to pay attention to military matters, especially those outside the capital. It overloads my circuits."
"Someone in the Fifth Corps went crazy, or maybe they came to their senses. Anyway, it looked like the beginning of a rolling coup." He watched my eyes. "Don't pretend you hadn't heard. It was crushed, and the rest of us had to readjust to fill in the blank spots. My division has twice the area to cover and half the staff. I am to guard these facilities and a few others close by. They moan to each other at night across the emptiness. That's all they do."
"I'm still puzzled about the glass." That, and why I was out here in the first place.
"The glass? It's a mystery, isn't it? You're a policeman, why don't you find it for me?"
"Can't you replace it? At least board up the empty panes."
The general looked over as his adjutant shuffled out of the back room. He shut the door before I could see what sort of dog was in there. Not too many guard dogs are put up in staff headquarters, even if they're only huts. "The inspector thinks we should board up the windows, Major."
The major coughed weakly and sat down on a chair against the wall. "Are you the one who brought the food?" He coughed again. "Did you bring any cigarettes?"
The general turned back to me. "Fixing the windows will protect the overturned and rusted machinery, the rotted floors, and the corroded pipes from… from what?"
"Forget I mentioned it." The major needed cigarettes like Pyongyang needed one-way streets.
"No, please," the general said in a suddenly solicitous tone, "it is instructive to hear from Pyongyang. Always good ideas."
"To tell you the truth, General, I'm not here to comment on your facility."
"A relief to learn that, isn't it, Major?"
I didn't remember sarcasm as a strong point of military service. Maybe the times had brought it out. "My apologies. No one is in a good mood these days, and I should have been more careful."
The general nodded at a chair. "Sit down if you want."
"You said this was a component assembly point."
The major stirred slightly, and the general frowned. "It was what it was; it is now something entirely different. Let's call it a symbol and leave it at that."
"Whatever you call it, I'm authorized to bring a visitor here."
"This should prove interesting because I have no authorization to receive anyone."
"You received me."
"No, at the moment you're still under guard." He patted his pistol.
I took out the document Pak had given me and unfolded it carefully. "This is a special situation."
The general stared at the paper. "More notes. Are you mocking me, Inspector?"
The major coughed and put his head against the wall.
"Not at all," I said. "I'm serious."
"If I had a telephone that worked, I'd call the chief of staff," the general said. The major lifted his head. "Or perhaps not," the general continued. "Why not the first vice marshal?" He looked at the two soldiers. "Get me the first vice marshal on the double." Neither of the guards budged, though the major groaned softly. "No, wait. We ate the last dispatch pigeon a week ago, didn't we?" The soldiers smiled slyly.
The general took the paper, read it quickly, and tore it into small pieces. "Wonderful to see you, Inspector. Nice to break the monotony. Now get out of here." He put his pistol on the table. "Drive back to wherever you came from. Tell them that all is calm in the countryside, and that they can safely let us continue to sink into the earth."
The game wasn't over, and we both knew it. "There are several sacks of rice in the trunk of my car, General. I put them there for traction in case the road was icy, but it's clear, so I won't need the extra weight on the drive back. The lock on the trunk is broken."
No one moved a muscle.
"I need to be back in Pyongyang by sunset, so I'll have to drive fast."
The general nodded; the two soldiers disappeared. After a minute or two, I heard the trunk of my car slam shut.
"I hope to see you again, General."
"Have a safe trip," he said, but he didn't walk me to my car.
Going back, the roads were no better than they had been coming. There was no reason they should be, since most of them were one lane.
When I drove into Pyongyang, it was past dinnertime. I went straight to the Koryo. Jeno was pacing around the lobby. As soon as they saw me, the hotel security men disappeared behind the pillars and went for something to eat.
"Where have you been?" Jeno pounced. "I thought you'd be here hours ago. Do you have any idea how many times the electricity went off while I was waiting?"
I was hungry and tired from the drive. "Next time bring a flashlight if it bothers you."
"Did you get permission?"
"Can I at least have time to sit down before you start on me?" I went over to the doorman's chair and sat. "Hard to tell what we got. The military says no instinctively. In this case, it may have been less than categorical. The fellow on the scene is interesting, that much I can say with confidence."
"Now what? Do we go or don't we? Without seeing the place I'm not prepared to proceed."
"Proceed? With what?" He started to reply, but I stopped him. "Don't tell me, I don't want to know. That's your business, and you can have it. Give me a day to think over what comes next. It will take me some time to fill up again, anyway."
"With gasoline?"
"No, rice. This will cost you."
2
The next morning, Pak was writing furiously. He always wrote furiously. Before they stopped making requisition forms, he put in a request every month for a chalkboard. "I want to beat the hell out of something when I write answers to these idiots," he would say. "Chalk is good. A chalkboard is perfect. You can pound on it for hours, and then when you're done, you erase the whole damned thing."
He stopped and crumpled the piece of paper that had borne the brunt of his pen. Then he cursed, smoothed it out, and started writing furiously again. He didn't look up when I knocked on his open door. "Get packed," he said simply. He read over what he had written. "Damned craziness." He put the crumpled paper in a file folder with a black band around it. "Well." He finally raised his head. "Are you packed?"
"For what?" I hadn't gone back to the office that night after seeing Jeno It was late, I was cold and tired, and the tale of my conversation with the general could wait until morning. Nothing, I figured, would happen in the meantime.
Pak pointed at the folder. "For this." Apparently, I had been wrong. Apparently, a gear somewhere had become unstuck overnight.
I looked at the folder. There obviously wasn't much in it. It must have been only a small gear. "I don't know what it says."
"Of course you don't. It's a secret, very closely held in the Ministry. I am even instructed to keep it from you. Can you believe that?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"You are ordered to New York effective immediately."
"What?" My mouth doesn't generally drop open, but for this it did.
"You have an aisle seat on Saturday's plane to Beijing. There you wait for a visa, which may or may not be forthcoming from the Americans, and then onward as soon as possible to New York. 'Onward as soon as possible.' I sound like a dispatch cable."
"I can't do that." I was thinking fast but not coming up with much. The last thing I wanted to do was to fly over the Pacific Ocean to New York.
"Give me one good reason you can't."
"I have to take our foreigner to that site he mentioned. Don't you want to hear a report of what happened when I was up there? I'm not sure whether the note you signed made a dent, but at least they didn't shoot me." I was going to have to come up with something better, much better. The only problem was, I couldn't think of anything.