Robert Ludlum's (TM) the Janson Equation, page 19
“One of my oldest and closest friends,” he’d said.
She reached out for the receiver.
“This is Kincaid.”
“Ms. Kincaid,” the voice on the phone said, “I will be blunt. You and the people you are with are in grave danger. I need to bring you in.”
“Bring us in?”
“I am told that your pursuers know that you are at the Grand Hyatt hotel. An assassin is on his way. You have ten minutes, fifteen at most.”
“We can’t come in,” Kincaid protested.
“Listen to me.” The man’s voice was stern, authoritative. “You have no choice. You must get out of there as quickly and quietly as possible. There is a safe house just across the road. It is in an eleven-story apartment building. You can see it from the hotel. Take the stairs and go to the top floor. From there you can watch the entrance to the Grand Hyatt. The apartment number is eleven-E. At this moment the door is unlock—”
“I’m sorry to cut you off,” Kincaid said, “but we finally have a lock on the boy. And we have to pursue him immediately.”
Following a moment of hesitation he said, “My men can handle that, I assure you. Where is the boy?”
“He’s…” Kincaid turned to ask Park Kwan but suddenly thought better of it. Bad security, Janson would say. If he found out she’d told anyone—even an old friend of his like Nam Sei-hoon—where Wyckoff was, she’d never hear the end of it. “He’s…” She paused again. “I can’t exactly say right now, but I’ll know soon.”
There was a lengthy silence on the other end of the line. Finally the man said, “All right. Pursue your lead. But please use extreme caution.”
“We will.”
“And you are leaving the hotel now, I presume?”
“We’ll leave right away, I promise.”
“Good. Let me give you a number where you can reach me.”
* * *
SIN BAE FROZE the screen. There she was, Kang Jung. He was amazed again to find how much she looked like Su-ra.
In the days following their arrival at Yodok, Sin Bae had learned more and more about the ghastly conditions in which he and his family were expected to live. The prison camp stretched for miles in every direction, ten villages packed to overflowing with nearly three thousand people.
Malnutrition was rampant; no one had enough food. A fellow prisoner who possessed little training and no medical supplies played the role of doctor. Many, especially children and the elderly, died of simple colds. And the latrines—outhouses consisting of nothing more than shacks over holes in the ground—were far too few in number. The putrid stench of urine blended with excrement hung everywhere.
As he grew older Sin Bae realized he no longer wanted to live.
But he knew his death would mean the death of his mother and father and eventually his sister, Su-ra. So he exerted himself even harder and grew stronger each year. He ate frogs and salamanders and earthworms for nutrition. He stole clothes from the freezing and rice from the starving. In order to survive he became something less than human.
Because by the age of thirteen, Sin Bae no longer wanted to die.
The phone in Sin Bae’s hand lit. He held it to his ear but said nothing.
Ping said, “Change of plans.”
Sin Bae looked down at the body at his feet, covered with the overcoat he’d borrowed from the apartment across the street. He frowned in frustration.
Ping said, “You are going to follow them from the hotel. They will lead you directly to the boy. You are not to engage them until the boy is in sight and his identity is confirmed.”
“Understood,” Sin Bae said softly.
“The little man will take care of the packages you are leaving behind. But you must hurry. The three are leaving the hotel now.”
THIRTY-THREE
Just over 120 miles northwest of Seoul, Paul Janson entered the Pyongyang safe house with trepidation. He took a quick look around; the apartment resembled the one in which he’d just met the young woman but was even smaller. After making certain that all of the curtains were drawn, he took a seat at the uneven dining room table and waited.
Several minutes later he heard light footsteps on the stairs outside the door. He stood and ducked behind a wall in case someone came in shooting. After all, thanks largely to Berman’s stubbornness, Janson still wasn’t quite sure whom he’d met at the other apartment or why he’d been invited here.
But the young woman’s voice was the next sound he heard.
“Hello?” she said tentatively.
Janson stepped around the corner. “You never mentioned your name.”
“Mi-sook.” She didn’t ask for his in return.
“You’re sure this place is clean?”
“Certain of it. Jin-ho has it checked for the listening devices twice weekly.”
“Where is he now?”
“On his way. I alerted him as soon as you left.”
Janson tried to keep the puzzlement out of his voice. “Alerted him to what exactly?”
“That you arrived.” When Janson didn’t reply, she added, “We have been expecting you.”
“Expecting me,” he repeated.
“Yes, of course.”
Janson’s mind, moving sluggishly from lack of sleep, tried to process what was happening, but his gaze was repeatedly diverted to the small cot in the rear left corner of the room.
His chin felt all but glued to his chest; his eyelids weighed as much as each of his arms.
“Please,” Mi-sook said, motioning to the table Janson had been sitting at before she entered the apartment. “Have a seat. May I to offer you some tea?”
“Just water, please.”
He ran his hand up the right side of his face, through two or three days of unchecked growth. He considered how he must look to her. He’d rubbed a handful of fresh powdery snow on his face just before he entered the safe house but otherwise still wore all the scars of his hellish trip through the tunnel, the DMZ, the Reunification Highway, and beyond.
They sat together silently.
Before Janson could finish his glass of water, he heard footfalls in the hallway again. This time the steps were much heavier, sounded much more purposeful.
“It is OK,” Mi-sook said, noticing Janson’s reaction. “It is only Jin-ho. He was close by when I called him.”
Yun Jin-ho entered the apartment with an urgency that sharply contrasted Mi-sook’s reasonably laid-back demeanor.
“I cannot believe you are here,” Yun exclaimed as soon as his eyes fell on Janson. “I was certain you had been killed trying to enter the country.”
“Why is that?” Janson said, wondering for the first time if news of the soldiers’ deaths in the DMZ had already reached the palace.
“There were reports that a foreign spy had been executed at a checkpoint on the road to Kaesong.”
Janson’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach as he pictured the driver of the food truck being shot and killed on his way back to his family in South Korea. An incredible weight suddenly pressed against Janson’s sore shoulders.
“When?” was the only word Janson could manage.
“Two days ago,” Yun Jin-ho replied. “The foreigner was carrying false papers he apparently purchased or stole from a South Korean worker at the industrial park.”
Janson was struck with a dual wave of relief, first that the man he’d bribed wasn’t the victim, and second that he’d heeded Jina Jeon’s advice not to enter the North directly through Kaesong.
But this news presented a different quandary. If not Janson, who exactly were Jin-ho and Mi-sook expecting, and why?
Better, Janson decided, to extract that information before telling them who he really was and why he was there.
“Who told you to expect me?” Janson tried.
Yun Jin-ho’s pliable facial features scrunched up; doubt entered his eyes. According to Kang Jung’s information, Yun was on the back nine of middle age, but life in North Korea had added decades to his face. “The boy, of course.”
“The American,” Janson said, framing it as fact rather than question.
Yun Jin-ho hesitated. “Yes. The senator’s son.”
Janson allowed himself to breathe again. “When was the last time the boy got in touch with you?”
“A few days ago,” Yun Jin-ho said, his sinewy body full of nervous energy. “I had been expecting another message. When I didn’t hear from him again, I was sure something had gone terribly wrong. Then I heard about the incident at the checkpoint in Kaesong and I was sure my worst fears had been confirmed.”
“So then you didn’t hear about the girl,” Janson said, remembering how cut off from the rest of the world all North Koreans were.
Yun Jin-ho shook his head, genuine concern washing over his previously puzzled face. “The young man’s girlfriend? No. Has something happened to her?”
“I’m afraid so,” Janson said. “The girl was murdered in a hanok in central Seoul.”
Yun Jin-ho’s eyes fell to the floor as he slowly lowered himself into the seat across from Janson, the nervous energy he’d displayed just moments ago seemingly sucked from his body by news of Lynell Yi’s death.
“Murdered,” Yun said. But it wasn’t a question.
Janson continued. “The boy managed to escape. But he immediately became the primary suspect in his girlfriend’s death. He had no choice but to run.”
Yun Jin-ho looked up at him with misty eyes. While his hair remained jet black, it was visibly thinning and his hairline was badly receding. “How was the girl killed?” he asked.
Janson said, “She was strangled.”
Yun Jin-ho slapped his palm against the top of the wooden table. “I told the boy they were in grave danger.”
Mi-sook laid a slender hand on Yun Jin-ho’s forearm. “It is not your fault, my dear.”
Yun Jin-ho said to Janson, “Where is he now, the boy?”
“We don’t know. My partner is back in Seoul, searching for him. Needless to say, we’re trying to find him before the police do.”
Yun Jin-ho and Mi-sook exchanged uneasy looks.
Then, without warning, Yun Jin-ho suddenly cried, “If the boy is not found, then all is lost! I possess only one side of the equation.”
“The equation?”
Yun Jin-ho buried his face in his hands. When he finally removed them, his voice was hoarse, his sallow cheeks wet with tears. “I managed to gain access to plans here in the North. But I know nothing about what is transpiring in the South. It was too dangerous for the boy to send the details at the time.”
“The details of what?”
Yun Jin-ho abruptly rose from his wooden chair, which tipped over and struck the floor with a loud clank. His sadness had suddenly morphed into complete despair. “Tell me. Did he send it with you? Did the boy leave you the flash drive?”
Janson measured his words carefully and spoke calmly. “All the boy left behind was a brief message. The message said, ‘Contact Yun Jin-ho in the DPRK.’”
Yun Jin-ho listlessly rotated his body so that his back was facing the table. Janson stole a glance at Mi-sook, who now had tears in her eyes too.
“Without both halves of the puzzle,” Yun Jin-ho said softly, “we are helpless to do anything.”
“My partner will find the boy,” Janson said, hoping the man would be able to rein in his emotions long enough to help him. “So let’s start with the half we already have.”
Yun Jin-ho glared at Janson over his shoulder. He cleared his eyes of tears. “Before I help you,” he said with a new edge to his voice, “I need to know that you will still honor our deal.”
Janson lifted an aching shoulder. “I wasn’t told about any deal.”
As soon as Janson observed their collective reaction, he regretted his words. Damn his mind for moving so languorously.
“Who are you?” Yun suddenly shouted as his body spun back around. His words now held the unmistakable tone of an accusation.
Mi-sook gently pushed her chair back from the table as though she was suddenly afraid.
Janson stood. Hesitantly, so as not to alarm them. But he needed to be able to defend himself in case one or both of them pulled a weapon.
“My name is Paul Janson,” he said. “I was hired by Senator Wyckoff and his wife to find their son.”
Mi-sook shook her head sadly.
“So you know nothing of what is happening,” Yun Jin-ho said with a heavy sigh. A feeling of futility as thick as the fog in the demilitarized zone had fallen over the entire room.
Janson tried to cut through it. “In the past few days, my partner and I have learned a hell of a lot. We don’t have the entire picture yet. That’s why I’m here. I need your help.”
With narrowed brows Yun Jin-ho said, “And the deal I made with the boy? What of that?”
“If you tell me the terms, I will do my best to honor it.”
Yun Jin-ho turned to Mi-sook, who grudgingly nodded.
The spy drew a deep breath and exhaled audibly. Then he bent over and lifted the chair he had knocked over and sat.
“Then have a seat, Mr. Janson,” he said quietly. “You and I have much to discuss. And time is not on our side.”
THIRTY-FOUR
Quickly,” Kincaid said in the hotel room. “We don’t have much time. What did your source tell you about where we might find Gregory Wyckoff?”
“According to the signal,” Park Kwan said, “it appears the boy is traveling to Beijing.”
Kincaid shook her head, nonplussed. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
She paused to give it more thought. If Gregory Wyckoff suspected that the State Department was involved, he wouldn’t be running to the American embassy in Beijing.
“Maybe he anticipated the police getting hold of his image at the mall,” she said. “Maybe he’s using the phone as a means of misdirection.”
Park Kwan appeared doubtful. “If he is, it’s an elaborate ruse. It would mean he sent the phone on a train heading west, then bought it a one-way ferry ticket to China.”
Kincaid frowned. “But why Beijing?”
“Edward Snowden ran to Hong Kong,” Kang Jung interjected.
Kincaid suppressed a smirk. “I think we’re dealing with a very different kind of person here. With a very different agenda. Wyckoff’s not running because he committed a traitorous act against the most powerful nation on earth. He’s running from an assassin and because he’s being falsely accused of murder.”
Kang Jung pursed her lips but refrained from engaging Kincaid in a debate about Snowden.
“There is other evidence of his intentions, I am afraid.” Park Kwan motioned to the phone. “I was told that Wyckoff made several calls from the stolen cell phone, none of which was to his family in the United States.”
“Where to, then?” Kincaid said, fearing the answer.
“Most of the calls were to Chinese government officials in Beijing. Two were to an unknown cellular phone in Shanghai.” He turned to Kang Jung. “He also visited Chinese government websites.”
Kincaid bit down on her lower lip. “Why go west to China when he can just as easily go east to Japan? At least Japan’s an ally.”
“But,” Kang Jung said, “Japan is an enemy to North Korea.” She placed her hands behind her back and lowered her head to her chest, pacing as she spoke. “This is beginning to make some sense. Wyckoff’s last message to Cy was to find a South Korean spy in North Korea. We assumed it was to gain information. But what if Wyckoff was actually trying to warn the North? A South Korean spy at the palace may well have been his best and only chance to find someone receptive to the warning. Anyone else in the North would have dismissed it as an American ploy. The only enemy North Korea hates more than Japan is the United States.”
“So once that door closed for him,” Park Kwan thought aloud, “he went to the next best thing.”
Kang Jong nodded. “North Korea’s only ally.”
Kincaid looked from Park Kwan to Kang Jung and finished their collective thought. “Beijing.”
“Precisely,” Park Kwan said.
Kincaid placed her thumbnail in her mouth. “But to warn them of what?”
Kang Jung clenched her fists at her sides. “That is exactly what we need to find out. And the only way we are going to accomplish that is by following Gregory Wyckoff to China.”
Park Kwan nodded. “The young lady is right.”
Kincaid gazed down at the girl. Her first thought was We can’t take this thirteen-year-old to Beijing. But then, what else could they do? Kincaid was responsible for the kid’s safety; they couldn’t just leave her in Seoul.
“What did your mother say when you spoke to her?”
“Grandfather’s fine. He was never taken to the hospital. He was never even ill.”
“I mean you. What did she say about you?”
“I told her I was safe as long as I remained with you. She’s worried, but she trusts me. She told me not to leave your side.”
Park Kwan said, “I spoke to her mother too. She’s keeping safe, staying with relatives in Jeollanam, and she’s counting on us to keep Jung safe as well.”
“Then we’d better get moving,” Kincaid said. “Because Janson’s friend in the NIS just warned us that we’re in danger.”
“You mean…?”
Kincaid nodded. “This hotel has already been compromised.”
THIRTY-FIVE
Mi-sook had returned to her parents’ apartment, leaving Janson alone with Yun Jin-ho at the safe house. Once Janson summarized his and Kincaid’s involvement in the case (from the phone call he received from the senator aboard the Embraer 650 on his way to Honolulu to the moment he arrived at the door to the safe house in Pyongyang), Yun Jin-ho nodded and said, “It is as you suspect. The young translator overheard something that got her murdered. Exactly what that something was, we still need to find out.”
“The question is,” Janson said, “who can we trust?”
In relaying the events since his and Kincaid’s arrival in Seoul, Janson had left out his dealings with Yun Jin-ho’s handler, Nam Sei-hoon. In time, he’d ask for the details of how Yun had been recruited and how he maintained contact with the South. But for now, Janson wasn’t entirely sure where the spy’s loyalties truly lay.
