I thought of the man at the Foreign Ministry whose ambassador had disappeared. "So what? He'll find nothing, because there's nothing to find."
"Really? Mun already knows we recently entertained a visitor of dubious credentials."
"We didn't entertain him. He was assigned to us."
"And you didn't go out walking with him?"
"What has this got to do with anything?"
"Sometimes, Inspector, I think you must have been hatched in another galaxy."
"No, I meant, what does all of this have to do with being snatched by Sohn and sent away on another airplane? If I fly into Beijing, I'll be landing in the middle of this mess. You don't want that, do you?"
Pak went into statue mode: no response, not even any sign of comprehension.
"For the record, the chief inspector declines to answer."
"Ask Sohn."
"Do you actually think he will tell me anything?" I already knew what Pak would say, but I let him say it.
"Probably not."
4
The next day was the coldest on record. I read once that people in some countries get accustomed to the cold. Iceland, maybe. Not someplace I needed to go. I'd never convince myself to crawl out from under the quilt to go in to work in Iceland.
"Get something hot to drink," I heard Pak say as I passed by. He didn't complain that I was later than usual. He left me alone until afternoon, when he walked quietly down the hall and stood at my door. He must have been waiting for a few minutes for me to look up from the plans I was studying. The plans were for a built-in bookcase, which appealed to my sense of fantasy. Built into what?
"You'll want to keep those in the bottom drawer for the next few months. I think we're going to be busy."
I looked up. "What?"
"Sohn is coming back in a few hours with a more complete set of orders. The Minister personally rejected what he tried to push on us the other day. The Minister doesn't want to dip into his special fund anymore." Pak stepped inside. He leaned against the wall in an effort to appear nonchalant. "Try not to antagonize the man again. I know that's what I said before, but apparently I wasn't clear. Just listen to what he has to say, even if he raises something near and dear." Pak paused to let that sink in. "Let him throw his weight around, something you failed to do last time he was here. He is one of the few who has kept his balance during this push by the army. We may need his protection someday, so don't-do not-get under his skin."
"Why do I keep getting the feeling that you two know each other?"
"His skin, O, stay out from under it."
"I've forgotten again. Tell me again, whose backside do I worship this week?"
"The wind blows, we bend like one of your trees. Bamboo, maybe. Bamboo bends, doesn't it? Nothing too difficult. You should try it sometime."
"Bamboo. It's not real wood, you know." I didn't say the rest of what I was thinking.
"Bend, O, for once in your charmed existence, bend."
"I'll tell you the truth. I still don't like him. It's not a snap judgment, I've given it a lot of thought during my sleepless nights. He doesn't look very smart. The back of his head resembles an anvil."
"Inspector, I'm not interested in wood, or anvils, or even your exotic sense of the sublime. Whatever his physiology, he still is a key piece of the machinery of the Center. That means he has power. And to some people, there is nothing more beautiful." A car drove by. We both stopped to hear whether it was turning into our driveway.
"So, who's behind him?" The car had passed without stopping. "That's the question. The party is losing its grip, and the army is getting very cocky. Maybe I forget to tell you, I had a nasty run-in with a colonel a few weeks ago."
"Did he take down your unit number?"
"No, he was in a hurry. He only wanted to make sure I knew he could wipe the floor with me anytime it suited him." My thoughts trailed off. Another car went by.
"We'll worry about the army another time. Just let Sohn say his piece and go away. That's all I ask. I think I fixed things; don't say anything that will get them unraveled. It's delicate, but he has to show up one more time for appearance's sake, and then he won't bother us anymore."
"Nice thought," I said, "but it's hard not to stare."
"Don't think about his ears."
"I'm still so tired I can't see straight. Why did they pick me? I keep wondering."
"We've been through that, Inspector. Maybe they pulled your name in a random drawing-how should I know why you got tagged?"
A horn blared. Pak moved to the window. "It's Sohn."
"You stay," I said. "This time I'll go down to receive the man. I'll be humble and crawl behind him up the stairs."
"No, humble is not your strong suit. Anyway, I don't want him marching up here like the king of Siam. I want to be in my office when he calls from the gate. Same routine. He'll argue with the guards for a while, but then he'll have to ask me to rescue him."
The snow had started falling again, and it was almost dark when I heard the bear once more coming up the stairs. The door to Pak's office slammed. Was reality what I remembered had happened or what was happening now? What if they were the same thing? Angry words and sharp barks emerged, even sharper than the first time. Finally, Pak's door flew open. I was half dozing in the hall, just where Pak expected me to be. "Come into my office," he said. "There's someone here you may remember."
I started to clear my throat, but Pak shook his head, so I just coughed politely and stepped inside, meek as a goat about to meet a bear.
PART III
Chapter One
I had been relaxing on the bench only a couple of minutes when a tall, thin man sat down beside me. He wore a felt hat with a feather stuck in the band. It wasn't a whole feather, or if it was, it was from a very small bird. The hat didn't do much for him, but he didn't seem to care. The sun was up and the clouds were clinging to the western horizon, so it looked like it might be a nice day. Even so, the lakefront was practically deserted. Only a few people were out for solitary morning strolls, probably waiting for the cafes near the lake to open. Along the path where I sat there were several other benches, all vacant, but the man in the feathered hat clearly wanted to be on this particular one. This bench, and only this bench, would do.
Maybe it was his usual place to sit early in the morning; maybe he often put on that green felt hat and came here to think about his life. Maybe in taking up his normal spot, I was interfering with a rite that had by now begun to define his existence. It seemed churlish of me to do so, and I almost got up to move. On second thought, I told myself, maybe being overseas, in unfamiliar surroundings, was causing me to philosophize myself into a corner. I'd only been here a day; it was too soon to feel guilty.
The man didn't say anything at first, just sat looking out at the water with a completely relaxed air. He took off the hat and laid it on the bench so that it sat between us, the feather pointing at me. Then he pulled a croissant from his pocket and tore off a piece, which he chewed slowly. He stood up and threw the rest to the swans, who had assembled in the shallow water near the shore, about ten steps away. The strollers had gone past, and there wasn't anyone else around except an elderly couple with a child, very subdued and with a serious look on his face. I wondered if the child had been vetted, or maybe the swans. This was a setup. I could feel it in my bones.