Korean Tiger by Dave Barraclough - HTML preview

Chapter fourteen

I was just thinking about going to bed when my front doorbell rang. It was Kim Joo-young,  who was so obviously under the weather that I poured her a drink immediately.

She subsided rather wearily into a chair. ‘God, what a day! We had a matinee this afternoon – one of those charity things’. She drained her glass, then opened her handbag. ‘I’ve made out that list of Park Song-yong’s friends for you, Han-sang’.

‘Thanks’, I said. I glanced at the list, which almost covered both sides of a sheet of notepaper. ‘I say, you’ve really gone to town. Everyone Song-yong ever knew must be here’.

‘Well, you said you wanted me to put down everybody I could think of. That’s what I’ve   done – even down to his char’. She leaned forward and said seriously: ‘Han-sang, why did you want that list?’

I sat on the arm of the sofa. ‘I’m trying to find Song-yong. In fact, I’ve got to find him – it’s more necessary than ever now’.

I could see that her eyes were troubled. ‘Yes, but why? Is Song-yong in trouble? Are the police after him?’

‘No’, I said, ‘not the police’.

‘Then who is?’ When I did not answer she went on persistently: ‘And another thing – what did you mean when you said it was more necessary than ever to find him now; why now?’

I looked in the direction of the hall; I was remembering how Jo had staggered … stumbled forward … and died at my feet. I also recalled Jo’s terse dictum that in his peculiar profession it was often a good thing not to know too much. Joo-young naturally wanted to know everything. ‘I meant exactly what I said’, I answered at length. ‘Someone else – not the police – was looking for Song-yong. He was murdered’.

Joo-young looked shocked. ‘But I don’t understand! Do the police know about this – this murder?’

‘Yes, they know about it’.

‘Han-sang’, she appealed to me, ‘who was this person?’

‘A friend of mine’, I said. ‘He was helping me to look for Song-yong and someone stuck a  knife in his back. It was as simple as that, Jo-young’.

She laughed nervously. ‘I don’t believe you. You’re joking’.

‘I wish to God I were’, I said. ‘It happened all right. I saw the man with a knife in his back, and that was no joke, believe me’.

‘When did this happen?’ she demanded. ‘Last night’.

‘But it isn’t in the papers’.

‘No’, I said, ‘and I doubt if it will be’. I moved closer to her. ‘Joo-young, please don’t think I’m being difficult about this, but – ’ I broke off as I caught sight of a briefcase on the floor near the sofa. ‘Is that yours?’

‘I brought it here’, she said, ‘but it’s not mine’.

I looked at the briefcase more closely. ‘I’ve seen that before somewhere’, I said. ‘Quite possibly’, she said. ‘It’s Song-yong’s’

‘Then why did you bring it here?’

‘I went down to the cottage yesterday and found it in one of the cupboards. I was rather curious about it because –’

‘Here, just a minute’, I interrupted. ‘What’s all this about a cottage? I didn't know you had a cottage, Joo-young’.

‘It’s in Taeanhaean National Park ’, she said. ‘We’ve had it over six months now’. I raised an eyebrow at this. ‘We?’

‘Song-yong and I. We used to go down there for the odd weekend’. ‘I never knew about this’, I said, and then regretted the remark.

She shrugged rather helplessly. ‘I wanted to tell you, but Song-yong wouldn’t hear of it. He  said it was our secret retreat and he didn’t want anyone to know about it’.

‘I shouldn’t have thought I came under the heading of just anyone’, I said with a hint of self- pity.

‘Darling, I know’, said Joo-young contritely. ‘I feel awful about it, but Song-yong was adamant. He was terribly secretive and corny about the whole business’.

‘Well, let’s forget about it’. I said a trifle shortly. This cottage probably explained a lot of Song- yong’s lost working days, I thought sourly. Then I sternly relegated the misfortunes of Messrs Moon and Park to the back of my mind. I pointed to the briefcase. ‘You say this was in one of the cupboards?’

‘Yes’, said Joo-young. ‘You see, after you asked me for that list I wondered if there was any other way I could help you to find Song-yong’.

She smiled rather wanly. ‘Strange as it may seem, I want him back myself. Anyway, I knew he’d left a few clothes and things down at the cottage, so I drove there last night’.

I examined the briefcase. ‘Have you opened it?’

‘No, I can’t – it’s locked. You can try if you like’.

The lock seemed pretty strong, but not too strong to be forced with a screwdriver. I got one from the kitchen and started to force it. As I worked I said: ‘Did Song-yong ever take any business papers down to that cottage of yours?’

Joo-young produced a wry little smile. ‘Song-yong wasn’t terribly fond of work anywhere, let alone in the cottage. That’s why I was rather intrigued when I found the case. I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen it before, somehow a briefcase and Song-yong don’t seem to mix’.

‘I see what you mean’, I said grimly. I gave a final wrench with the screwdriver and the lock yielded. I opened the case and took out a framed picture. ‘Well, I’ll be damned!’ I said involuntarily.

‘What is it?’ inquired Joo-young curiously. ‘It’s a photograph’.

‘Well’, exclaimed Joo-young, ‘this gets odder every minute! What on earth would Song-yong, of all people, be doing with a picture in a briefcase?’

I did not reply. I was staring unbelievingly at a picture of a tank – a tank and in front of it its crew. Beneath the photo was the inscription:

The Battle of Inchon 15 – 19 September 1950