The Investigation (22 page)

He rubbed his wrists. ‘Is this about Sugiyama again? I thought it was all over.’ He looked exhausted.

‘It might be all over for Sugiyama. But not the books in the underground library.’

‘Books? Underground library? Whatever do you mean?’

‘Don’t bother denying it. I saw it with my own eyes!’

His lips tightened.

I pressed harder. ‘You joined Choi’s escape plot. But he didn’t mention you, even when he got caught. Why is he protecting you?’

Dong-ju’s eyes flickered slightly.

‘At first I thought he was shielding you from punishment. But that’s not it, is it? There’s a bigger, more important reason. That secret in the tunnel.’

He looked wary. He finally opened his dry lips. ‘What did you find out about Sugiyama?’

‘The dirt on his trousers isn’t the same dirt found in Choi’s tunnel. So that means there was another tunnel. Then I found that there were books in the censor’s library
that had just vanished. Old government publications and publicity about the Empire.’

He didn’t refute my point; his eyes blazed.

‘What I want to know is the truth,’ I pressed.

‘There’s no such thing. Even if there is, you won’t get it.’

‘Well, then I have no choice but to report the missing books to the warden. He’ll rip this place apart. It’s only a matter of time before they find the hidden
library.’

He looked down in resignation.

‘Who stole the books?’ My voice trembled.

‘What’s the point of talking about that? Nothing’s going to change.’

‘Choi’s life is on the line.’

He hesitated, then met my gaze reluctantly. ‘It was Sugiyama’s job to burn books. But – well, he was a craftsman. He actually made them.’

Sugiyama’s hatred for books bloomed into a burning admiration; eventually he was moved to steal them. When Sugiyama discovered Choi’s escape plan, he marched him
and his gang into the interrogation room; they left with swollen eyes and broken wrists. Sugiyama’s club had extinguished their hope. They were forced to confront reality – their clumsy
escape attempt was doomed, Choi couldn’t be trusted and they would never leave this prison. Now they would have to destroy the tunnel they’d dug.

Dong-ju was the last person to be called into the interrogation room. Sugiyama was seething with rage. His facial muscles were contorted, as though each and every one was rebelling against him.
But his voice was calm when he began to speak. ‘You used to go around reciting poetry and literature. Now you’re putting your life on the line for a stupid plot.’

‘I might be an idiot, but I’ve never joined their plot,’ Dong-ju protested. ‘I knew what Choi’s plan was, but I didn’t believe it would ever succeed. Even if
it did, that’s not how I want to leave.’

Sugiyama glared at Dong-ju suspiciously. ‘So why did you keep getting yourself sent to solitary?’

‘To dig my own tunnel.’

‘There’s another tunnel?’

‘It branches off Choi’s tunnel in the middle and comes towards the censor’s office.’

‘So that’s not an escape tunnel.’

‘I told you, I’m not leaving this place through a tunnel. I remain oppressed whether I’m in here or outside. Why escape hell for something worse?’

‘Then what were you doing?’

‘I wanted to escape in another way.’

‘Where?’

‘Into books.’

Sugiyama snorted, but deep down he knew what Dong-ju was saying. Dong-ju could live in imaginary cities and villages. It suddenly struck Sugiyama that he might actually be insane for thinking
Dong-ju made sense. Every night he himself was drawn to the library by an irresistible curiosity, and when he was reading his terror dissolved. ‘What do you mean?’

Dong-ju studied Sugiyama, weighing his options. ‘Your office and library are the only places with books in the prison.’

Sugiyama shook his head. ‘But that’s because I burn them here.’

‘I was tunnelling towards your office so that I could steal a book or two when you weren’t there. I could smuggle it into solitary and bring it back before you missed it. That way I
could read at least a handful of books, if I spent a week in solitary.’

‘That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I would know if someone’s creeping into—’ He stopped. A thought suddenly came to him. ‘If it’s
the library, fine,’ Sugiyama reasoned carefully. ‘But don’t you dare touch my office! The library has a basement that was used in the past for all interrogations. When the prison
expanded, we shut that one down and moved into this bigger room.’ His head was reeling; he couldn’t believe what he was saying. ‘You can make your library there. It’s small
and damp and smells of dried blood, but it should do.’

Sugiyama wondered if he was committing treason. ‘Where would we get our hands on some books?’ He knew someone would notice if books started vanishing.

Dong-ju spoke cautiously. ‘I would think the government publications slated for incineration are guarded less carefully. If we can get those, I can find a way.’

‘You don’t have to risk your life for those, you can request to read them in your cell.’

‘No, we’re going to make new books out of them.’

‘How?’

‘I know a Korean prisoner on the coal transportation team. If I can obtain a few pieces of coal, grate them down and mix the coal dust with some heating oil, I can make charcoal-black. We
can then black out the pages. The paper is old, so it’ll take well to colour. The oil will act like a fixing agent, so it won’t smear, either.’

‘You’re going to black out the pages? What’s the point of having a black book?’

‘You can write on black paper with white ink.’

‘Who the hell has white ink?’

‘We can make the white ink with coal ash and oil. It won’t be ideal, but if we write on the black page at least we’ll be able to read it. If you assign me to the work team
charged with keeping the guardroom heated, I can make both.’

‘Even if you make books and find ink, how will you write them?’

Dong-ju just smiled.

Sugiyama wasn’t sure what to do. But he knew he couldn’t refuse. He was being sucked in.

‘I’m sure there are hundreds of confiscated books,’ Dong-ju said cautiously. ‘I’ll translate the Japanese books into Korean.’

Sugiyama felt himself flush. ‘You want to steal confiscated books? It’s a death-wish!’

‘No, no. I won’t steal them. That would be too obvious. I’ll just borrow one a week. I promise to return it, after I’m done translating it.’

‘Why would I let you do that? For free? I’m no Jesus Christ!’

‘You’ll be paid handsomely for your contribution.’ Sugiyama snorted. What could he expect in payment from a prisoner?

‘Do you remember telling me that I had to start writing poems again?’ Dong-ju asked. ‘That’s what you’ll get. I’ll write poems and translate them into
Japanese for you. What do you think? Is that fair?’

Sugiyama didn’t hesitate. He caught himself nodding fervently.

A sudden worried look passed over Dong-ju’s features. ‘Why are you trying to help me?’

‘I’m not.’ Sugiyama stared at him. ‘I’m just trying to help myself.’

‘You might be accused of being a traitor.’

‘You’ve become as powerful as Choi,’ Sugiyama explained. ‘My goal is to keep you inside these walls. I’m agreeing to your plan so that I can keep you
here.’

Dong-ju let it go. Beauty would yet purify the underground torture chamber, once soaked with Korean blood and tears.

I shook my head in disbelief. Dong-ju had turned against Choi with Sugiyama’s help. Choi had killed Sugiyama while also protecting Dong-ju. The three created a
labyrinthine tangle. Where to start unravelling the knot?

‘Did Choi ever find out about your betrayal?’

Dong-ju nodded. ‘At the end of summer he came to me after a stint in solitary. His eyes were burning with rage. He’d discovered my tunnel. He tried to strangle me, shouting,
“Why did you dig your own tunnel, you rat?” I told him it was a way to freedom, just like his tunnel. I mean, who was to say that either one would work? And I knew he wouldn’t
kill me or report me. I don’t know how I knew that, but I did. He said, “We’re both digging to get out of this place. I guess it’s good to have more than one route. All I
can do is hope that my tunnel will save me.” I said a prayer for our two tunnels to free us in our separate ways. We didn’t say anything else about the subject after that.’

‘Choi kept your underground library secret this whole time,’ I mused. ‘He must have known that talking about your tunnel wouldn’t help his cause.’

‘For all Koreans, Sugiyama was someone who deserved to die. At first, I thought Choi killed him, too.’

‘Are you saying he’s not the murderer?’

‘When Sugiyama died, several Koreans saw Choi in the underground library. He couldn’t have killed him.’

‘Then why didn’t they say anything?’

‘Because Choi was going to be executed anyway, for his escape plot. Why send another to his death? I’m sure everyone wanted to protect whoever it was that killed Sugiyama.’

Dong-ju’s words struck me as if I’d been winded. Had I accused an innocent man? He was going to die because of me. How would I prove now that he didn’t kill Sugiyama? I had to
start all over again. ‘Then who killed Sugiyama?’

A dark smile appeared on Dong-ju’s pale face.

Was that the smile of a murderer wearing the mask of a poet? Suspicion and fear spread like a vine in my head. Was Dong-ju lying to me? He had fooled Choi, after all. ‘You blamed Choi to
hide the fact that you killed Sugiyama!’ I cried. ‘Your tunnel led to the inspection ward, which is connected to the central facilities!’ My voice trembled.

Dong-ju assumed a cold expression. ‘And why would I kill him?’

‘Because he found out about the underground library! He knew you stole those books. You silenced him to keep your secret safe. You murderer!’ My voice choked with rage. I wanted to
punch him. He’d made me falsely accuse another man.

He looked at me sympathetically, as though he understood.

I walked along the dark corridor. My boots were as heavy as lead. Dong-ju’s insistence that Choi wasn’t the murderer confused me. If Dong-ju had killed Sugiyama,
he’d committed a perfect crime. Choi was already accused of it. But Dong-ju went out of his way to insist that it wasn’t Choi, even though he must have known I would suspect him next.
Or perhaps he was urging me, in his subtle way, to find the real murderer, chastising me for accusing an innocent man. I was back at the beginning, inundated with questions, without a single
answer. Titles on those black books swam into my hazy, muddled head. Government publications had been smuggled into the underground space to be reborn as new books –
The Birth of an
Empire
became
Les Misérables
,
Regulations for Actions in War
became
The Poetry of Francis Jammes
.

I took the incineration log and a lamp and headed to the inspection library. I lifted the wooden board; dust and the dank odour of mould washed over me. I ran down the stairs. I pushed aside the
construction materials and found the waist-high entrance to the tunnel. I examined the wall, bringing the lamp closer. Inside the tunnel I noticed sharp marks from a shovel carved in the hard dirt
wall; the way they were cut into the dirt showed that the digging had commenced from the library. So Sugiyama had not only supplied the books. No wonder he had dirt on his uniform. Dong-ju had been
telling the truth. Sugiyama hadn’t stumbled upon the secret plan; he’d had a crucial role in creating it. Sugiyama Dozan, that feared guard of the Empire, had wilfully betrayed
everything it stood for.

Who was he really? And who exactly had killed him?

The next day I dragged myself to Maeda’s office, feeling embarrassed, fearful and guilt-ridden. Maeda was stirring lumps of coal in the furnace with tongs, his cheeks
ruddy.

‘I’ve discovered something new in regard to the murder of the guard,’ I announced.

‘And what is that?’ he asked, bored. ‘Did Sugiyama’s ghost tell you something?’

I swallowed hard. My lips felt stuck together, as though a spider had spun a web in my mouth. ‘I believe we have the wrong man.’