Dead End Deal (15 page)

At 7:51 Jin-Woo’s Hyundai crested the drive and pulled in behind a black limo in the process of loading luggage. Jon was out the hotel door and into the passenger seat before the doorman could react. With nothing more than a good morning nod, Jin-Woo started driving them back down the winding road of Walker Hill.

Jin-Woo led Jon through a tall double door into an air-conditioned room with a high ceiling, wood paneling, thick carpet, and a withered, gray-haired woman behind a desk. After a nod at Jin-Woo, the secretary muttered a few hushed words into the telephone. Then, with a bow, ushered them into an adjoining office with parquet floors covered by beautiful oriental carpets. A short bald man stood with one hand on an imposing mahogany desk. The CEO wore an impeccably tailored gray suit with a starched white shirt and prep school tie. Jon estimated his age somewhere in the mid-forties, which would put his father, one of their patients, somewhere in his sixties. The CEO greeted them in Korean, then waved them toward two couches on opposing sides of a hand-carved teak table.

Jon and Jin-Woo dropped into the nearest couch, and the CEO settled into the one across the table and crossed his legs in a straight back posture that struck Jon as a somewhat feminine. The CEO and Jin-Woo began chatting in Korean while casting occasional glances at him, which Jon found unnerving. This continued for several minutes until suddenly the CEO stopped talking. Several seconds of silence ticked past, making Jon wonder if he was supposed to say something now that both men were looking at him expectantly. Jon turned to Jin-Woo, “Something wrong?”

Jin-Woo exchanged a few words with the CEO before telling Jon, “He asks if you had a pleasant flight to Seoul.”

Jon smiled at the man. “Yes.”

Jin-Woo asked, “He wants to know if your accommodations are satisfactory?”

“Yes. Quite satisfactory, thank you.”

“I explained this is not your first trip to Seoul and you have visited my laboratory before and I have visited you several times to watch you operate and to learn from you.”

As Jin-Woo spoke, the CEO studied Jon with a dead-pan expression, which only stoked Jon’s anxiety. What was he thinking? Most unnerving was not having a clue if the guy understood English. Was this some sort of test of character?

Jon said, “Please tell him how impressed I am with his medical center and the quality of staff here.”

The CEO pushed out of his couch, opened a desk drawer, and came away with a small box wrapped in sky blue paper— the same blue as Korean Air jets, the national color—with a silver ribbon and bow. Smiling, he bowed and presented the box to Jon.

“A gift to you,” Jim-Woo explained.

With a bow, Jon accepted it, “Thank you.”
Shit. Should’ve known this might happen. Why didn’t I think of this and pick up a gift at the hotel? Too late now
.

Jin-Woo pulled a thin, wrapped package from his coat pocket and handed it to the CEO with a bow and a few words, then turned to Jon said, “We go now. He thanked you for the gift.”

That’s it? The interview’s over?
Jon hesitated, embarrassed and confused.
What do I do now?
Jin-Woo gave a gentle tug on his sleeve.

Without a word, Jin-Woo led him through the outer office to a hall with a bank of four elevators, Jon hurrying to stay alongside him. “What was that all about? I thought we needed to discuss the study and his father. Thanks, by the way, for covering me. What was it you gave him?”

“A pen.” Jin-Woo punched the down button. “He makes decision later today after he and I talk.” He made a show of checking his watch, which didn’t do a hell of a lot to convince Jon the interview went well. “I have much to do today. I will meet you at your hotel, six o’clock. I will make dinner arrangement.” The elevator to their right dinged and the door slid open.

Jon stood with one foot in the elevator, the other in the hall blocking the door from closing, fighting growing irritation at not having the slightest idea what just happened or would happen later. “Wait wait wait. What just went on in there? I thought this was supposed to be an interview. What was it?”

“That was the interview.” Jin-Woo repeatedly punched the button for the lobby level and motioned Jon into the cage, where an elderly woman stood watching them. “I will organize the taxi to take you back. Please wait for my call.”

After hesitating a moment, Jon realized there was nothing more to do, so he reluctantly stepped in and released the door. “At least give me some sort of hint. Is he for or against this?”

Jin-Woo shrugged. “I do not know. He and I will talk at two. I will call after.”

Jon’s gut knotted.

N
IGEL FEIST BOWED
to the chief of Tyasami security, a dour pit bull with wire rim glasses, no fat, and the attitude of a Paris Island prison guard. “Captain Sun, thank you for taking time from your busy schedule to meet with me.”

Sun returned a curt bow, “My pleasure,” and inspected Feist’s bogus FBI credentials. With a nod of approval he handed back the wallet.

Feist pointed at the open office door. “Mind if we close that? What I need to discuss is in strict confidence.”

“Yes, of course.” With the door shut, the small, utilitarian office seemed to close in on Feist. One gray metal desk with nothing but a handheld radio in a battery charger, a matching metal bookcase full of books and folders, a desk chair, a straight back visitor chair. “Please, have a seat.”

Seated, Feist leaned forward and lowered his voice. “What I am about to tell you must remain in strict confidence. Do you understand?”

“Certainly.”

“We have reason to believe an American doctor named Jon Ritter is planning to conduct a series of experimental brain surgeries here with one of your surgeons, Dr. Lee, Jin-Woo.” Feist adhered to the Korean custom of putting the family name before the first name. “The surgery is so experimental Dr. Ritter was forbidden to do it in the United States.”

Sun appeared confused. “I am sure you are mistaken. I do not believe this is allowed here.”

Feist nodded solemnly. “You’re right, of course. Under normal circumstances, it would not be. However, our intelligence source believes Dr. Lee plans to schedule them under false pretense so that they would appear to be routine surgery for Parkinson’s disease. Once the patients are in surgery they will, instead, do the experimental part.”

Sun’s brow furrowed even more. “Why do you tell me this? I have no control over medical issues, just hospital security. Your concerns must be discussed with the appropriate department head, the chief of staff or medical director, someone like that.”

“Under normal conditions, that’s exactly what I would do. But before I dare risk damaging Dr. Lee’s excellent name I need to confirm that the information is correct. What we do know for sure is that Dr. Ritter arrived in Seoul yesterday and was met at the airport by Dr. Lee. Our intelligence cannot yet verify when exactly the surgery will take place, but I suspect that detail will be decided within a day or so. What I need is for you to monitor Dr. Lee’s hospital admissions and scheduled surgeries. Let me know immediately what surgeries he schedules. If I see what appears to be the experimental ones, I’ll discuss the matter with the chief of surgery. May I count on your assistance?”

Sun didn’t hesitate. “Yes, of course. We always help the American government.”

Feist stood. “Excellent. I’ll be back in touch. And please, let’s keep this very confidential. I would hate to be mistaken and damage Dr. Lee’s excellent reputation, especially as it reflects on Tyasami Medical Center.”

21

J
ON WAS BACK
in his room at the Sheraton by ten-thirty with nothing to do but wait to hear back from Jin-Woo and try to contain his anxiety. He tried reading but couldn’t concentrate on the words so finally threw the Kindle onto the other bed, propped himself up on pillows, and turned on the TV. Not much to see other than what seemed to be Korean soap operas. No English programming, not even CNN Asia.

Finally, he went out for a stroll around the hotel and then killed some more time having lunch at the coffee shop. The meeting between Jin-Woo and the CEO wasn’t until two o’clock but Jon was back in his room by one-thirty. He sat at the window looking at the view, waiting long minutes for the phone to ring.

Finally, when it did ring, Jon had it against his ear before it could ring again. “Yes?”

Jin-Woo said, “I will fetch you for dinner. Five-thirty. Okay? You will be ready?”

“Yes, but what about the decision? What’s happening?”

“Can’t talk now. Five-thirty. In front of the hotel.” Jin-Woo hung up.

Shit!
Jon dropped onto the bed and rehashed the exchange. Did Jin-Woo’s tone imply anything? No. Now he had more time to burn and really had nothing to take his mind off how slowly the minutes passed. Well, he’d rather be moving than sitting here staring out the damn window. A moment later he was out the door.

He started off by wandering around the expansive marble lobby but realized there was nothing much to see on this level. The lower level contained a variety of shops he wandered through regardless of the merchandise. But he wasn’t a shopper and had exhausted them all in ten minutes.

He strolled outside into a warm sunny day and followed the meandering drive downhill to a residential neighborhood where he dawdled away another twenty minutes wandering side streets. As the minutes passed, his anxiety slowly morphed into a fatalistic
que sera sera
mindset. After all, he’d done everything within his power to keep his research alive. At this juncture, its fate was truly out of his control. Continuing to worry would be counterproductive, accomplishing nothing while stressing him more. Realistically, considering all the complications over the past few weeks, he was lucky to be alive and in good health. For which he was truly thankful.

Showered and dressed in a black blazer and lightweight mock tee, Jon exited the hotel lobby to await Jin-Woo at the loading zone curb. A doorman approached to ask if he wished a taxi. Jon declined, thanked him, and moved further along the circular drive to wait. Two minutes later Jin-Woo’s black Hyundai glided to the curb.

I
N THE PARKING
lot Nigel Feist straddled his rented motorcycle and watched Ritter exit the sliding glass doors to the loading zone, exchange words with one of the doorman, and wait. Two minutes later a black Hyundai arrived with a woman in the back seat. Feist recognized the driver as Dr. Lee. He started the engine and slipped on his helmet.

J
ON WAS REACHING
for the passenger door when he noticed Yeonhee smiling at him from the backseat. Two years ago, she and Jin-Woo came to Seattle for a six-month training stint in his lab. At the time, Jon wondered if they had a thing going but never asked in spite of his curiosity, especially because of meeting Jin-Woo’s wife at a symposium a year earlier. Jin-Woo had made it known to Jon that in spite of being married, he had a girlfriend.

Yeonhee was as stunningly beautiful as ever, with large almond eyes, oval face, and black hair pulled into a relaxed ponytail. In the lab Jon had often seen her wearing glasses, but tonight she didn’t, opting, he suspected, for contacts. From the moment they met, he’d been attracted to her, but he’d never acted on it because he was dating Emily at the time. As he opened the door, she leaned forward and held out her hand. “Hello, Jon.”

He smiled and shook her hand. “Yeonhee,” then, “Jin-Woo,” and slipped inside, thinking her handshake meant Jin-Woo brought good news. Maybe.
Don’t get too optimistic, pal
.

Beaming, Jin-Woo extended his hand. “Good news. CEO says okay. Tonight we celebrate.”

Yes!
Jon slumped into the black leather, took a deep breath, held it a beat, slowly blew out. “Thank you,” A feeling of huge relief and joy surged within him. Finally! He and Wayne would have a chance to learn if their ten years of hard work would pay off. He turned to Jin-Woo and repeated, “Thank you.”
There’s no way to let him know how much this means
.

As he drove the windy two-lane road down Walker Hill, Jin-Woo said, “I bring Yeonhee so we can start making plans on how you want to begin in the lab tomorrow morning. We will celebrate, sure, but we have business too.”

Jon simply nodded, his mind fully preoccupied, listing all the preparatory tasks that needed to be finished in the next twenty-four hours before they could actually begin transforming cultures of stem cells—the ones that would be implanted in the brains of their patients.

F
EIST SECURED THE CHIN
strap of his helmet, kicked the stand up against the cycle, and waited, the engine vibrating gently against his thighs and up through his tailbone. A moment later, Ritter’s tail, the suspected Avenger, pushed through the lobby doors and hailed a taxi. Then they were scooting down the curving road like a caravan: Ritter in the slant-eye’s black Hyundai, the Avenger in a taxi, and Feist on his cycle.

J
IN-WOO BECAME UNCHARACTERISTICALLY
silent as they drove, probably, Jon figured, distracted by thick rush hour traffic. At the bottom of the hill, they turned toward the downtown business district of serious-looking buildings and neon. So far Jin-Woo said nothing about their destination, but at this point it didn’t matter; Jon was content to gaze at the passing scene rather than forcing conversation. Dinner would be devoted to planning the tasks to be done tomorrow.

Seoul’s sidewalk scene appeared similar to any major US city at this time of day as commuters made their way home for the evening. A man in a blue suit with a black attaché case hurried into a subway station. A withered
mamasan
shuffled along the sidewalk, shoulders sagging from bulging grocery bags in each hand. A street vendor was hawking his wares. It dawned on Jon then that his silence might be considered rude, so he said to Yeonhee. “How have you been?”

Before she could answer, Jin-Woo jumped in with, “She is engaged to a big guy with Hyundai.”

“I am not!” Yeonhee grabbed the corner of Jon’s seat and pulled forward, closer to the separation between the front seat head rests. “He’s just a guy I see.”