Inspector O 02 - Hidden Moon (33 page)

“Talked sort of strange, but they were Korean, not like your friend here.” He turned toward Boswell. “No offense.” He turned back to me. “One of them asked if the path went very far upstream, and how deep the water was.”

“How many of them were there?”

“Three went up. One of them walked funny, like he was dragging his leg. He was taking short breaths, sort of painful. Only two of them were talking. They were saying something about snakes. I pretended not to notice.”

“How many came back?”

“Guess.”

We walked down the path in silence; the car with the security men was gone but there was a note on my windshield. I crumpled it up and threw it away. That bastard didn’t even acknowledge my presence, and he’s leaving me notes?

Boswell looked at me over the top of the car before he got in. “Whew.” He shook his head. “Warn me next time, would you?”

“You mean the war story? That was nothing,” I said. “You should see the ones without legs.”

He pointed at the wad of paper I’d thrown on the ground. “Aren’t you going to read that note?”

“Why bother? It’s from that guy who was standing in the road. He didn’t look very busy. What do you think he was doing?”

“Keeping an eye on us?”

It occurred to me that Boswell might have hit on something. Han might just have been keeping track of where the two of us were. Well, if SSD—or whoever he worked for—had enough manpower to toss around like that, let them choke on it.

“Me, most probably,” I said. “I think I’ve seen him around. He’s from a different section altogether. The paperwork will never get to our office. He won’t file it, anyway. Too much trouble.”

“What about those two uniformed guys up the path?”

I shrugged. “They were probably sent to watch the one in the road.”

“You’re kidding.”

I grinned. “Yeah. Get in. Let’s not stand here all the dooh-da day.”

Boswell looked surprised. “Where the hell did you learn that, Inspector? Did you know it’s from an old American song?”

“I know where it’s from. I have a degree from the University of Karaoke. You ever heard ‘Red River Valley’? Very sad song, some people tear up, especially when they’ve had a lot to drink. I can sing it on the way back.”

The superintendent shook his head. “Perhaps another time, Inspector. I’m not in the mood for a sad tune right now.”

I took another route, not too much out of the way, but I didn’t want to go by the steam shovel again. Partway back into the city, we passed through a village. It was covered with coal dust from a factory set behind the fields, and even in the bright sunshine the houses and the inhabitants carried a grimness that made me wish Boswell had stayed in his hotel room. His eyes were closed, and I thought he might be asleep, but then he opened them and said, “Looks like an old town I used to patrol at home. Not even the rain could make it clean.”

“What did your embassy say?” I asked casually.

“About what?” He turned to look out the window.

“About the threat. You’ve told them already, so they could send an alert back, I assume.”

“No, Inspector, I told no one, least of all the embassy. I don’t want anyone to know, not yet.” He rolled down the window and put his hand on top of the car. “I’m the person on the scene. That’s how it’s done.”

“Sure,” I said. “Makes sense.” It didn’t make sense. Unless he had his own communication system, how was he going to get the information back to his capital? Carrier pigeon? The embassy was the only place he had for secure communications, unless he had something in his luggage that was exceptionally well concealed. News like this couldn’t go back over an open phone line. I thought about it. Maybe his security service didn’t trust the embassy people. No reason it should; I’d never heard of a security service anywhere that didn’t consider its foreign ministry personnel as anything but a running wound.

As the road turned north, we drove toward a clump of forsythia bushes, a brilliant explosion of yellow, next to a group of three or four plum trees in blossom. “Now that,” Boswell said, “is what I like to see in the spring, don’t you, Inspector? Some signs of life. Very thoughtful how they plant these things, to give some color this time of year. Wait, it looks like a monument just up that hill. Let’s see what it is. Maybe I can take a picture.”

“I know what it is. You don’t need a picture of that.”

“It’s a park or something.”

“No, it’s a marker. It commemorates a visit.”

“Historical?”

“I suppose, if you care to count the past fifty years as history.”

I sped up to get past so he wouldn’t ask to stop.

“Well, it’s nice anyway, the trees and all.”

I pressed down harder on the accelerator. The car jumped.

“What’s the matter?” Boswell reached for the dashboard to steady himself. “You don’t like a bit of color in April for these poor folk?”

“I do. I just don’t think it should be all banged together this way. People should appreciate nature for itself.” I stared straight ahead. “Not connect it with . . . other things.”

Boswell looked at me, then turned back to concentrate on the scenery. Finally, he shook his head. “Did you say something?” he said quietly. “I didn’t hear a word.”

“No, nothing.” My eyes never left the road. “Must have been the wind.”

M
y head was heavy, but I lifted it anyway. The darkness of the room made me instantly alert. Somewhere, just beyond where I could see, the man in the brown suit was watching.

“Welcome back, Inspector. I saw a movie once in the West; the actress said, ‘We’ve got to stop meeting like this,’ and everyone in the theater laughed. I didn’t find it funny then, but I think I see the point.” He took one of his measured steps forward and clicked on the lamp. The tips of his shoes shone. “In all the world, you and I must meet to talk again. Here. I find that depressing, actually.” He jangled some coins in his pocket. “Let’s begin.”

“What if you and I have nothing to say to each other?”

The club nuzzled against my neck, pressing my head to the side.

“Last time was only a warning, Inspector. This time you might be crippled.”

I tried a more positive tack. “You said you had decided I was the wrong man.”

“That was then.”

“Does my ministry know I’m here?”

“Why should it matter?”

“So, they don’t know.”

“No, actually, we don’t ring up employers, although I know of a few instances where next of kin were notified. Or lovers.”

“Why am I here?”

“Good, straight to the point. I was getting there myself. What is this with you and the British? First in Prague, now here, in your own capital?”

“I already told you about Prague. Check the files; that’s why people keep them, isn’t it? The Scotsman was dropped in my lap by the Ministry. I never saw him before, I had nothing to do with his showing up, and I’ll be happier than anyone when he leaves.”

“Perhaps, Inspector. That isn’t what this file says, however.” A paper appeared out of the gloom, then disappeared again.

“It could be wrong; some files are less reliable than others. I should know.”

“We’ll see.” He paused, and I heard pages being ruffled. I would have thought that he had the file marked exactly where he wanted the questioning to go, but he must have lost his place. “Let’s spend a moment on your professional life.” Another page or two turned; they sounded like dry leaves.

I thought of Yang and licked my lips. “How about another glass of water?” I needed a moment to lock all the doors to my memory.

“No, no water, Inspector, until we finish. Then you can have as much as you want.” I didn’t like the way he said that. There was a low laugh from behind me. I didn’t like that, either.

“Alright, what do you want to know?”

“The file says you come from a troubled office. Your former chief inspector was a good friend of yours. He died under suspicious circumstances, is that right?”

“You know exactly how he died, but I wasn’t there, so I can’t add anything.”

“He was shot by Military Security. Not a deserving end for a loyal Ministry of People’s Security official, would you say?”

“I told you, I wasn’t there.” I didn’t want to talk about Pak.

“It must have made you bitter. Thoughts of revenge ever cross your mind?”

“You want me to say yes? Will that make it easier?”

The club tapped on the floor a couple of times behind me, but otherwise it was quiet.

Finally, the man in brown crumpled a piece of paper and threw it between us. “We’ll leave Pak alone for a moment, Inspector. Let’s start with a clean sheet. Your new chief inspector, Min. Just between us, would you say he is competent at what he does?”

“I don’t rate his competence. He rates mine. We get along pretty well; he gives orders, I follow them.”

“Much of the time I suppose you do, though some might disagree. But I’m not really interested in the particulars of your ministry’s operations. I’m interested in people. Do people interest you, Inspector?”

Here we go, I thought. I knew what was coming next.

“Your colleague, Yang. He is an interesting case, I’d say. The sort of person who attracts the attention of anyone concerned about security. The poor man was practically paralyzed with grief when he lost his family. Yet he was kept on in the capital. His transfer orders out to the countryside were revised; by whom and for what reason was a mystery. Who do you think did that?”

“I was as surprised as everyone else. But he’s getting better.” I remembered what I had told Min. “It just takes a little time, that’s all.” That was the extent of my wiggle; if the subject of the Blue Paper came up, I had no idea what I was going to say.

“You often entertain women in your apartment?”

“Entertain who?” Having the subject changed so abruptly was a surprise. I thought for sure he would want to dig some more about Yang. “No. The old lady who guards the building would find out, and then I’d be in trouble. Everyone would talk.”

“Even foreign women?”

“None, of no description. Who is peddling this stuff?”

“Not even from Kazakhstan?”

I sat back in the chair and closed my eyes. “This is a waste of time, you realize that.”

The club hit my right arm, just below the shoulder. It made my fingers ache, then my wrist, then the pain shot up the back of my head. I took a breath and exhaled slowly.

The man in the brown suit moved forward into the light so I could almost see his face. His mouth was contorted. “Damn you, Inspector, just answer my questions, just do that.” He worked to gain his composure, shook his head, then stepped back into the darkness.

“What did you discover up at the shrine?” His voice had returned to normal, but there was an edge to it that hadn’t been there before. He was interested in the shrine.

“Not much. You spend your days following me around?”

The club tapped the floor, but the man in the brown suit held up his hand. “How old is that shrine?”

“How should I know?”

“Let me put it another way. When was it last reconstructed?”

“Not long ago.” That was what had been bothering me about the place. It was too new.

“When?”

“Recently.”

“What makes you think so?”

“The lumber.”

“Go on.”

“The boards were warped, they weren’t dried long enough, and they weren’t milled. The Japanese had mills, older lumber came from better trees, and there was time to season it.”

“Conclusion.”

“I’m going to say this carefully, because I haven’t had a chance to think about it. Alright with you?”

“Go ahead.”

“There aren’t a lot of mills around these days, for whatever reason. And most lumber isn’t seasoned; the logs are cut up and the wood is used before anyone has a chance to give it a look.”

“Conclusion.”

“Could have been a few years ago, but I’d say more recently.”

There was a silence. The man in the brown suit shifted his feet, a sign that the questioning was going to take a new direction.

“What do you know about Kazakhstan, Inspector?”

“Nothing. No, really, nothing. I hadn’t even thought about it until a few weeks ago. Of course, you mentioned those trees.”

“Did you know that Trotsky was exiled there?”

“Is that a fact?”

I didn’t even feel the club, not then. Maybe I heard the swish it made, but probably not. That might just be part of a broken memory. I couldn’t tell. I don’t remember any more questions. Or how I got back to my own room.

Min was there when I woke up. His round face was creased with worry, and I saw a twitch at the corner of his mouth. He stared at me with dull eyes.

“Did you miss me?” I started to sit up, but Min pushed me back down. I didn’t have the strength to resist. I didn’t want to sit up anyway.