“Looks like this place hasn’t been used for a long time,” remarked Jim. “There isn’t any sign of activity anywhere around here.” Continuing to explore, they peered through the dusty and smeared panes of glass and observed an empty hall.
Denny looked up at the sign containing Korean Hangŭl characters over the front door and said, “It says Entertainment Center.”
“Well, it doesn’t look like any entertainment is going to take place here anytime soon or even a meeting.”
“This is where many big meetings and parties have been held,” said Denny, “and only a select few come here.”
They returned to the car, got in and drove off. “I want to see how the city is laid out,” said Jim. “I also want to interact with some locals. Can you help me with that?”
“Sure,” Denny gazed out the window. “We could go to bar that has reputation where secret people meet, but it’s too dangerous for you. Men from all over always gather there to meet, some good but mostly bad. Besides Koreans, there are Russians from the KWP (Central Committee and Political Bureau), KGB and the Chinese are all known to congregate there.”
“Not a problem,” responded Jim with a grin. “That’s my kind of place.”
“Okay, we learn city on way.”
Denny shared stories about many of the buildings and people. Jim was developing a bond with Denny. He was the right choice as a partner in Seoul. Jim parked the car in the small parking lot next to the ‘The Friendly Fountain,’ a neighborhood bar and club. Jim and Denny entered the bar. The place reeked of beer and cigarette smoke and they climbed up on bar stools near the middle of the 12-foot smooth high-gloss bar. Two men sat at the far end, the rest of the bar was empty. There were several rows of tables but only three tables were occupied with men of different nationalities.
Denny ordered two glasses of yakju [distilled liquor] from the lone balding bartender. Soon the bartender returned and placed the glasses on the bar. Although Jim and Denny appeared to be involved in a private conversation, Denny listened to the conversation at a nearby table and whispered the translation to Jim.
“Look, Westerner.”
“Yes, man from embassy, I think.”
“Who is he?”
“I think Wilson…we need him.”
Jim said in a relatively strong voice, “This is a nice place and it’s good to get out of the embassy for a while.”
Denny cringed and gazed at Jim with surprise “You want them know?” he whispered.
“Yes, definitely,” Jim responded with a smile. He picked up his glass and brought it to his mouth, took a sip then puckered his lips and squinted his eyes. This was what jet fuel must taste like. However, he managed a forced smile when he returned the glass to the bar.
A man from a table got to his feet holding his glass and sauntered over to the bar next to Jim. Denny focused on him with wide eyes and bit his lip. The short Asian man wore a Western suit. He smiled when he approached Jim and said, “You American?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Kim Woong-Nanyg,” he said with a fake smile. “It’s always a pleasure to meet American.”
Jim swiveled in his chair toward Kim, smiled, and hooked his left arm over the edge of the bar. “I’m Jim Wilson.” He shook Kim’s hand.
“How long you been here?”
“I just arrived yesterday and I’m trying to learn my way around your fine city.”
Kim continued smiling. “I’d be glad to show you around Seoul…I know the city quite well. You want to do that?”
“Sure, that sounds great.” Jim then raised his left arm and looked at his wristwatch. “I’d love to now but I have an appointment soon. I’ve got to go or I’ll be late.” He slid off his bar stool.
“Well, how about tomorrow…say around six P.M.,” Kim said boldly. “Would that be better? We’ll have nice dinner too. Please, I insist,” He reached out and shook Jim’s hand.
“That sounds good. Why don’t you pick me up at the Bando Hotel at six?”
Kim smiled, “Good, tomorrow at six, Bando Hotel,” and returned to his table.
Jim looked at Denny and said, “Denny, stay here a while longer. The men might feel more open to talk without me here. Find out what you can. I’ll be at that market we passed on the way here. Also, check the neighborhood and see what you can find out about these guys. Meet me at the market.”
“Okay Jim, see you in thirty minutes.”
As Jim began to walk toward the door, he looked at the still-smiling Kim, smiled and with a slight wave said, “Tomorrow at six,” then exited the bar.
Jim left the bar and returned to his car. He drove slowly through the store-lined street until he arrived at the market. He traded the smell of beer and cigarette smoke for dead fish and rice when he entered the market. Jim’s posture perked up when he saw the intense stares by several Koreans in the store. He felt out of place while they followed his every move. Most of the produce bins were empty, or with only a few items remaining. Jim approached the proprietor, a short stocky man wearing a white apron.
“Hi,” said Jim with a smile as the man bowed slightly. “Where’s all the food?” stretching out his arms and making a sweeping motion pointing to the bins.
“Go South,” the smiling man replied through a few missing teeth.
“Why go south?”
The proprietor pointed north, smiled then said, “Because of you.”
“Me, what do you mean me?” Jim shot back with raised eyebrows as a sudden surge of coldness struck his core.
“Because you’re here. You need to go home.”
Jim’s mouth dropped open and he didn’t know what to say at first. He looked at the Korean who stood his ground and returned an intense fevered stare. “We helped liberate your country,” said Jim. “We saved you from the Japanese.”
The Asian gritted his teeth while his face and neck turned red. “The Japanese have been here since they invaded our country in 1910. Now you’re here, no difference. You are now the conqueror. Go home, Yankee.” The Korean turned and scurried to the back room and disappeared.
Jim waited a few moments but the man never returned. Jim was baffled as he left the market, continuing to feel the stares of others in the store. Jim sat in the car and waited for Denny. He received many strange looks from the pedestrians walking by.
Denny approached the car and climbed into the passenger seat.
“Okay, Jim, let’s go.” Jim started the engine and pulled out into the street.
Jim discussed his market episode with Denny, “Do all the people here feel that way?”
“Many do.” Denny remained quiet and gazed out the windows.
Jim pulled over and stopped the car, looked at Denny and said, “I need you to go back to the Henderson meeting place and look for any activity. Then return to the bar. Find out who is running things here for Russia...in any capacity. Find out what their daily habits and patterns are. Go mingle through the city by yourself and see what you can find out. You’ll probably get better results if you are by yourself anyway. Take the car. I’m going to walk back to the embassy. I have much to accomplish tonight.”
“Okay, Jim. I find all information.”
Jim exited the car and began to walk as he heard the car pull away behind him. After reaching the embassy, Jim spent the next hour in the storage and armory room. He took a box of 9mm ammo and took another pistol while he surveyed the weaponry. There were machine guns, rifles and pistols, plus all he ammunition anyone could possibly want.
Jim returned to his office and wrote some notes about the day’s activities. Suddenly there was a knock at the open door. Jim looked up and motioned to Denny to enter and sit down. Denny sat down in the chair in front of Jim’s desk.
“What did you find out?” Jim leaned back in his chair and began to tap his lower lip with his pencil.
“Kim Woong-Nanyg is a businessman who operates between Pyongyang and Seoul.”
“Oh, between the North and the South…interesting.”
“Those men at the table left soon after you did. Many people in city are worried about the North. Families are moving south.”
“Why do you think people are moving south?”
Denny sat silently for several moments, then said, “I don’t know…not for sure.”
“What about—”
A sentry knocked at the door. Jim waved him in and the sentry walked directly to Jim’s desk and handed him a note. Jim opened and read it.
Jim
Please see me upon your return.
-Rich
Jim looked at the sentry and said, “Thanks, that’ll be all.” The sentry responded with, “Aye, Aye, Sir,” and left the room.
Jim turned to Denny and rushed his words. “Sorry, but I need to attend a meeting now.” Denny got up, and without saying a word, left the room.
Two days later
Reanna was still in the St. Louis jail. An officer arrived and opened the cell door, “Come with me, Miss Dolinsky,” and Reanna walked with him back to the same interview room, where she was left sitting at the table. A fiftyish-year-old man with thinning salt and pepper hair and dull eyes, wearing a well-worn black pinstriped suit with a white shirt and tie entered the room without making any eye contact with Reanna. He pulled out a chair from the table and slowly sat down. Reanna’s stomach was churning and she clutched her hands and observed his every move.
He reached into his pocket and brought out small narrow glasses and placed them on his nose. He reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a small notebook and fountain pen and leaned back in his chair. He then studied Reanna and said, “I’m Richard Ports, FBI Special Agent. I understand you want to make a telephone call, is that right?”
Reanna’s eyebrows met and she said impatiently, “I told all of this to your other agent this morning. Maybe you should check with him.”
“Oh, and who might that be?”
“Daniel Duffy,” Reanna shot back. “I told him everything.”
“I’m sorry, Miss, but we don’t have any Daniel Duffy working with us. What did he look like?”
Reanna leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms and scrutinized Ports. She said, “He was a tall thin man with dark hair and wore a new gray suit, white shirt and tie. He had a small scar on his left cheek.”
“Nope,” said Ports. “It doesn’t sound like anybody in our office.”
In an emotion-choked voice, Reanna said, “He showed me his credentials and badge. He has to be from your office.”
“Nope,” Ports repeated.
“I told Agent Duffy everything,” Ports wrote it in his notebook as if he was capturing every word. Ports wrote so slowly that Reanna wanted to write everything down for him but she just bit her lip and remained silent.
“All I have to do is make one telephone call which will clear everything up. Would you allow me to do that?”
Ports kept flipping through pages of his notes, momentarily stopping then continuing. He sat upright and squinted at Reanna. “You can make your call, but I will be listening on another phone. Is that acceptable to you?”
“Of course,” Reanna said with a slight grin.
Richard Ports requested a duplicate telephone be placed in the room and soon, an officer returned and placed it on the table and plugged the wire into the wall jack. Reanna picked up the telephone receiver and told the long distance operator the number she wanted while Ports listened. He opened his notebook and wrote down the number that she called. Then picked up the second telephone receiver and held it to his ear.
As the telephone began to ring, Reanna looked up at Ports and said, “That’s MacDonald’s private number.” After two rings, the phone was answered: “Hello.”
Reanna bolted upright and with a big smile said, “Mac?”
“No, this is not Mac.”
“Well, who is this?”
“No, who is this?”
“This is Reanna Wilson. I need to talk with MacDonald.”
“I’m sorry, he’s not available.”
“He’s always available at this number. I must talk with him,” said Reanna, her smile turning to a frown as her nostrils flared.
“Look, I don’t know who you are, but MacDonald is in the hospital. He had a heart attack.”
“Let me talk to someone else in the section.”
“One moment, please.” She was put on hold.
“Hello,” the voice came from the other side. “We do not have any record of a Reanna Wilson…sorry. Please get off the phone and disregard this number,” and then she heard a click and a dial tone.
Both Reanna and Ports hung up their telephones. Ports looked at Reanna and slowly shook his head no, “Nice try, lady.” He got to his feet and called, “Officer.” When the door opened and an officer entered, Ports said, “We’re done here,” and Ports exited the room.
“Wait…wait,” shouted Reanna as Ports disappeared through the office. The officer returned Reanna to her cell where she sat alone and broke out into tears.
One of those men was an imposter, but which one? One must be a spy but how did he know she was here. she gave him information about Jim. Oh Jim, I’m sorry…so sorry.
It was late
afternoon when Jim knocked on the open door frame and entered Palmer’s office. Palmer was sitting behind his desk writing. He looked up, “Come on in, Jim. Sit down,” as he motioned with his arm to two husky chairs next to the wall.
Jim sat down in one and after Palmer slipped the paper he was writing on into a folder, he got to his feet and joined Jim in the other chair.
“Well, how was your first full day here?” asked Palmer, while Rich poured two cups of coffee from the carafe on the small serving table.
“I didn’t see any activity at Henderson’s meeting location…none. That’s strange, especially with the short lead time before the meeting. How come nothing’s being done?”
Palmer snickered and looked at his hands, then focused on Jim. “That’s Bill Nickerson…the pompous ass. He has a mind of his own and can’t be told anything. He always reminds me to stay in my own lane and stay out of his way. Have you found out anything else?”
“Not too much really.” Jim shook his head. “Some people don’t seem friendly while others are okay. It’s strange…like the people from the north and the south co-mingle in this large city. It would also appear that the North may be planning to invade the South.”
“No way,” Palmer shot back. He appeared to be looking for the right words. “I think you’ve been misled. I know there’s unrest out there, but attack…no way! What about Denny, does he feel that way?” Richard gave a heavy sigh and leaned back in his chair.