He held a cup of snack bar coffee in one hand and fumbled for his keys with the other. Once inside, I shut the door behind us.
“I need everything you’ve got on the recent security violations.”
He placed his coffee on a desk and sat down. “You guys finally starting to take this stuff seriously, eh?”
“Let’s just say I’m taking it seriously.”
He fiddled with the empty plastic in his mouth. “Had any strange lately?”
I took a quick step forward, leaned across the desk, and lifted him by his khaki lapels halfway out of his chair.
“I have a serial killer on my hands,” I said, “and people I know and love have been killed, and I’m not going to put up with any more of your shit. You start giving me the information I want and you start giving it to me right now!”
I didn’t think Strange’s gray pallor could grow any grayer but somehow it did. The stained cigarette holder tumbled from his lips.
“Okay,” he croaked. “Okay.”
After that, things went a lot smoother. I asked the questions, and he answered. When he didn’t know something he picked up the phone and called one of his buddies in the far-flung network of army security wienies.
The picture I put together was composed of suspicions and anomalies that would never stand up in a court of law. But these guys knew their business and they took it seriously. What they had wasn’t enough for them to pass along an official report to the head shed, but it was enough for me.
I ran my theory about the tunnels and the nuclear devices being placed beneath the DMZ past Strange. He had no direct knowledge of it, but it didn’t seem too farfetched to him. Even if it wasn’t true, it was the type of scheme the North Koreans would believe in-and would want to check out.
On the wall of Strange’s office hung a large map of Korea. We charted the places that had been hit by Shipton. His method of operation seemed pretty straightforward. Somehow, he obtained inside help-maybe a combination to a filing cabinet or a copy of a key to a door-and then, either by putting on a uniform and impersonating an American officer or by using his commando skills, he gained access to the information he wanted. Each place he had hit was a potential gold mine for certain types of information: orders for heavy equipment, disposition of explosives, personnel records for mining engineers, acquisition of contract excavators.
Shipton knew exactly what he was after and he’d gone about it systematically. We were looking for any missing pieces of his puzzle, the parts Shipton still needed to fill in. If we could figure them out, we might be able to anticipate his next move.
Strange shook his head. “Looks like we’re too late. He’s already put it all together.”
“Except for one thing,” I said.
“What’s that?”
“The actual location of the tunnels.”
Strange ran his finger across the map until it pointed to an area here, at 8th Army Headquarters, in the south of Seoul.
“What’s that?” I said.
“Geological Survey.”
“Have they reported any security problems?”
“Not a one.”
I lifted his clipboard off his desk and thrust it at him. “They’re about due for their annual security inspection, aren’t they?”
He gulped. “As a matter of fact, I was planning on doing that today.”
“Good.”
He reached for his cap.
I read the Stars amp; Stripes and drank about four quarts of coffee in the snack bar. I didn’t even bother to call the office. They knew Ernie was in intensive care and the Nurse was dead and I was after her killer. If they couldn’t figure out why I didn’t report in, screw them. At noon I called Strange.
“They’re clean,” he reported. “But mighty nervous.”
“About what?”
“They’re handling documents with a higher classification than they’ve ever received before.”
“How high?”
“Top Secret Crypto.”
Crypto. Secrets transmitted in a cryptographic code so highly classified that even talking about it was a crime.
“When did they get them?” I asked.
“Yesterday. And they have a suspense date of five days.”
Which meant their survey work had to be completed and turned in to the head shed in five days. “What happens then?”
“What do you think happens?”
“That’s what I’m asking you.”
“They select the final list of sites.”
I thought it over. “And after the site list is out of their hands?”
“First it goes to the Eighth Army commander for his approval. After he chops off on it, it’s locked up down in the War Room, four stories below ground, armed guards twenty-four hours a day, tighter than a chaplain’s ass.”
“Good work, Harvey.”
He paused a minute, then said, “Had any strange lately?”
I told him something. About women and debauchery and long nights. I don’t even remember what it was now.
That night Mr. Ma didn’t seem surprised when I asked for another meeting with Herbalist So. Two hours later, I was in the patio behind the teahouse, sipping on herbal tea, when I was graced with the presence of the King of the Slicky Boys.
His bodyguards stayed just out of earshot as I told him what I knew and what I suspected, leaving out the details of my conjectures on the classified information. So nodded thoughtfully as I talked, but when I mentioned Ernie he raised his hand.
“We already know about that. And the unfortunate death of the young woman. The question is, Agent Sueno, what do you plan to do about it?”
I let my fists unknot, took a deep breath, and outlined my plan.
While the Top Secret information was at the Geographic Survey office it was vulnerable. Shipton and his North Korean handlers would certainly know this. Once the decision on where along the DMZ to implant the nuclear devices was finalized, and it went back to the War Room, it would be much harder-probably impossible-to obtain. Now was the time to strike.
What I proposed to Herbalist So was that he find a way to feed this information to the North Koreans. I doubted that the slicky boys had direct contact with the North Korean Communists, but when you’re buying secrets-and the penalty for dealing in secrets in Korea is death-there’s going to be a tight network that handles the sale of such dangerous information. Over the years, the slicky boys, although they might not deal in such information themselves, would’ve developed conduits into that network.
When I proposed it, So didn’t bat an eye. I’d been right. He knew how to contact them.
If a way could be arranged to feed the information indirectly to Shipton, then I could be waiting for him at the Geographic Survey office with a nice MP escort when he arrived.
Herbalist So seemed to like my plan, as far as it went, but wanted to make modifications. He assured me that once Shipton and his handlers were put onto the Geographic Survey building, they would check the scene out carefully before acting. Any sign of increased security, any sign of extra checks at the front gate, any sign of stakeouts or extra security personnel planted in the area, and they wouldn’t take the risk.
For a North Korean agent-especially one as. valuable as Shipton-to be caught right in the middle of the 8th Army Headquarters complex was something the North Korean Communists would avoid at all costs. The international repercussions would be too great.
If I couldn’t wait for him, I asked, how could we catch him?
Herbalist So had an answer.
I would enter the compound, he said, clandestinely. Like a thief in the night. No one, including the authorities, would be aware of my presence. Not until it was too late.
I had no idea how I could do this but he told me not to worry, I would be contacted. An escort would be provided.
Finally, I agreed. I wasn’t happy with it but he was right. It was probably the only way.
We settled on details and, in Western fashion, shook hands.
“We will contact you,” he said. “When the moment arrives.”
I bowed deeply to him and he bowed back, then left with his boys. I finished my tea and wandered out into the empty street. At each intersection I searched for the Chinese woman. She wasn’t there.