Dead End Deal (27 page)

Yeonhee blushed. “Yes.” Then quickly added, “He’s an important man. Maybe he knows people who can take care of it.”

Made sense. More importantly, he didn’t have a better idea. “Worth a try.” Then remembered her complaint the other night, of Jung-Kyo’s jealousy. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”

For a moment the question seemed to embarrass her, but it quickly vanished. “If he can do it, he’ll do it for me.”

Jon wasn’t so sure it was a good idea, yet didn’t see another option. “Okay, give him a call and ask.”

She dialed a number, listened, apparently got no answer, so dumped the cell back into her purse. “He didn’t answer his cell and it’s too late to call his office. When he’s out drinking with friends he doesn’t answer or just can’t hear the ring. I’ll try his office in the morning, when I know he’s at work.”

Gayeon stood and held out her hand. Yeonhee fumbled through her purse a moment and came away with a set of keys she handed her.

Jon held up his hand to stop whatever was about to happen. “Wait a minute. Where’s she going?”

Yeonhee seemed surprised at the question. “She stays at my place. We stay here.”

Sort of what it looked like might happen. “Not a good idea. The police already know about you. If Park came to the lab he might come to your place too. They find her there, they’ll know where to look next.”

Yeonhee shook her head as if disappointed in herself for not having thought of this. “Know what? You’re right.” Then rattled off a few words to Gayeon.

Gayeon glanced at Jon and smiled.

“What?” Jon asked, frustrated being unable to understand one word they said.

“She wants you to take the bedroom. We sleep here.”

“Where?” He scanned the room, seeing nothing to sleep on. “On the cushions?”

Yeonhee laughed at him. “Yes. On the floor. Koreans sleep on the floor all the time. Is not a problem.”

“That’s not right. She’s our hostess. I’ll take the cushion and you two take the bed.”

Yeonhee shook her head. “No. You’re her guest. You get the bed. She already changed the sheets. To do otherwise would not be polite.”

The cramped, hot bedroom contained a double bed, a dresser, a small square bedside table with a thin black tensor lamp and a CD player on it, and barely enough room to navigate around the bed. It reminded him of the stateroom he and Emily shared on a cruise. Wearing only shorts, he stretched out on the top of the bed, turned off the small lamp, and listened to the hushed voices of the two women chatting softly in the other room. For the first time in what seemed like days, he could luxuriate with his thoughts. As he lay still, trying to relax and allow sleep to come, he became aware of other sounds. A toilet flushed upstairs, sending a rush of water down a pipe in the wall. Outside a dog barked. A door slammed. A jet passed overhead. Soon heavy fatigue dragged him into deep sleep.

42

Y
EONHEE CROSSED HER
arms and leaned against the door jamb, watching Jon sleep. She debated how best to wake him, resisting the urge to do so with a gentle kiss on the cheek or by running her fingers through his brown hair. Seeing him sleep seemed pleasingly intimate, a sight she would only experience if they were “involved.” What would it be like to be involved with him? Would he be jealous, like Jung-Kyo? She thought not. He was more confident of himself than Jung-Kyo. Behind her, in the living room, Gayeon moved quietly, straightening up cushions and preparing the table for breakfast.

Before falling asleep last night she debated the best way to approach Jung-Kyo about the passport. And now this issue still weighed heavily on her mind. No matter how delicately she worded the request, there was no way to actually get a passport without mentioning Jon’s name. Eventually. As soon as she did, Jon would be at Jung-Kyo’s mercy. Which would, she felt certain, be a problem. . . . Not to mention the things he’d accuse them of . . .

So, she decided to make the proposal in stages. First step would be to ask if he had the proper connections to obtain a false passport. If so, she would line everything up before actually giving him Jon’s name. The passport picture would be the easiest part and could be done before that. And if Jung-Kyo pushed her, as she knew he would, there would be every reason to be evasive. If he knew the document was for Jon—or any man, for that matter—he’d make a scene.
That
she could handle. What worried her most was the possibility he’d notify the police immediately. And be totally self-righteous when he did it. Then justify his jealous action by claiming the police were, after all, hunting Jon. Jung-Kyo was like that: always making excuses for what really amounted to petty jealousy. But, it was more than that. It was a control issue. He always had to be the one to control the relationship. If the tables were turned, if it were Jung-Kyo who needed help leaving the States, how would Jon react? Very differently, she suspected.

She settled for simply saying, “Jon, wake up,” and not touching him.

W
HEN JON CAME
out of the small bathroom after washing up, Gayeon was at a two-burner hotplate brewing tea and cooking rice. Yeonhee, wearing a pair of back jeans and a Chicago Bulls sweatshirt, was dishing out three servings of kimchi with a set of long silver chopsticks. Breakfast, Korean style.

They sat on cushions and ate at the low table but didn’t talk.

Breakfast finished, Yeonhee began to straighten up the kitchen while Gayeon took her turn in the small bathroom. This gave Jon an opportunity to telephone the embassy again. It required two separate conversations with low-level bureaucrats before finally being transferred to the consular officer, Warren Hamilton. Last night while waiting for sleep he debated how best to approach the subject and decided simply to throw himself on their mercy.

Jon started with, “Mr. Hamilton, Jon Ritter. Did Bundy tell you I called yesterday?”

“He did, and I’m well aware of your situation. As I understand it, he gave you some very
good
advice. Have you looked into his suggestion?”

A lead weight settled in his gut. Hamilton had just landed a pre-emptive strike. The man had no intention of helping Jon leave the country.

“Are you recording this?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then, for the record, I didn’t kill anybody. If the police have evidence to the contrary, I would love to see it. I’m being framed.” His well-planned speech suddenly vaporized in a blitz of emotion. “Can we meet face to face? I need to tell you my side of this.”

“Why? What good would that do? This is a legal issue that doesn’t involve the State Department at all,” Hamilton said emphatically.

“At least give me a chance to explain my side of this. I didn’t murder those patients. My whole research career was dependent on their outcome. The last thing I wanted was a complication. Okay, this sounds paranoid, but bear with me: an anti-abortion group is trying to ruin me. They’re responsible for this. You can verify this with one quick phone call to the Seattle field office of the FBI. Ask for Special Agent Gary Fisher. He’ll confirm every word of this.”

“Dr. Ritter—”

“No! Listen. Please. If those two patients
were
murdered, then the Nuremberg Avengers are responsible. They did it to destroy me and my work. Look at their website. Ask Fisher. They murdered Gabriel Lippmann when they attacked me a week ago. Fisher and the Seattle Police can verify this because it’s true.”

“Let me—”

Why wouldn’t anyone listen to him? “Verify it! Please! Call Fisher. He knows. He’ll vouch for what I just told you.”

“Hold on,” this time even more emphatic, not giving Jon a chance to interrupt again. “Let me explain something before you go any further. None of what you’re telling me matters.”

The words floored him. “Doesn’t matter? What the hell do you—”

“Let’s cut to the chase. I may be a bureaucrat, but I’m not stupid. I know what you’re asking. You want me to facilitate your exit of this country. In other words commit a crime.”

“Right. Exactly! I’m being framed for a murder I didn’t commit. Why should I want to stay here and . . . ” What could he say to be convincing? “You’d be asking the same thing if you were me.”

“Let me explain a few facts. I work for the State Department. I, and all the other personnel stationed here, have nothing to do with the Korean judicial system. We cannot, and will not, interfere with their system in any way. Rightly or wrongly accused, you will need to deal with them on their terms. If this means you must stand trial in a court of law, so be it.”

Abandonment, betrayal, and anger swirled through Jon’s mind. Anger came out on top. “Don’t hand me that holier-than-thou shit. I remember a news story from several years ago . . . a US citizen working for a contractor in some place like Mongolia ended up charged with killing a man. I don’t remember the exact details, but I do remember the government allowed him to return home until the trial. He later went back to that country to be proven innocent of any crime. Why can’t you arrange the same type of thing for me?”

“I too remember that case. For your edification the dispute centered on whether the death happened to be an on-the-job accident. That’s significantly different from your situation. In your particular case, the police claim premeditated first-degree murder, for which you were detained, but then you orchestrated an armed escape from detention.”

Why isn’t he listening to me? “
How could that possibly be? What could possibly be my motivation? Why would I do that? The only thing I did involving the patients was observe surgery. In fact, I never met either of them until the moment I walked into the OR, and then they were under anesthesia.” Not exactly the whole truth, but he wasn’t making headway otherwise.

“So you say. The Seoul police provide quite a different version. Correct me if I’m wrong, but here’s the official police version: you came to Seoul with the very specific intent of conducting research you were prohibited from doing at home. You pressured your friend Jin-Woo Lee into helping you. Then you instructed him to intentionally deceive Tyasami hospital personnel into believing you were conducting quite a different surgery than scheduled so you could conduct your research. You’re saying this is all a pack of lies?”

Jon was speechless. Factually, Hamilton’s version was closer to the true than his version. But the way he told it made his actions sound so . . . slimy. And not even close to his intent. Pressure Jin-Woo? No, not at all. That was a lie.

Hamilton said, “Given these facts, you are hardly an uninvolved observer.”

Jon had to say something to defend himself, to set the record straight. “Even if what you say is half true—which it isn’t—that doesn’t mean I’m guilty of murder.”

Hamilton gave an I’m-losing-patience-with-you sigh. “I don’t know how to get this across to you more clearly than what I just told you, so listen to me again: the State Department will not provide you with any under-the-table assistance in fleeing the country. Please resign yourself to that fact and move on. It’s just not going to happen. Understand?”

“Please don’t just leave me dangling in the wind.”

“Dr. Ritter, listen carefully to what I’m telling you. You’re in a foreign country and at the moment you’re a political hot potato. So hot, in fact, we can’t even consider bending rules for you.”

Whoa, this is new
. “What do you mean, hot potato?”

“Don’t be naive. Or have you not been watching the news?”

News? What news? “What are you talking about?”

“You haven’t followed the story of the rape? Up near the DMZ?”

Vaguely remembered hearing something on CNN . . . “What does that have to do with me?”

“Then let me spell it out for you. Last week two American G.I.s allegedly raped a fifteen-year-old girl from a small village near the border with North Korea. The story hit the local news and then immediately went viral. Facebook, Twitter, you name it, it’s there, and the Korean press is having a political field day over it. They want to cut the dicks off those two service men and frankly, who can blame them?”

“What has that to do with me?”

“If you have to ask, you are not listening. The political climate in this country is not ripe for cutting Americans any slack. No matter what the circumstances. If anyone at State helps sneak you out of the country, we, meaning the United States government, could be in for a great deal of grief. We can’t afford that now. Lest you ask, I’ll give you one very good reason. Korean Air is on the verge of ordering thirty new Dreamliners. At the moment, they could go either way, Airbus or Boeing. And this is but one example.” He paused dramatically. “
Now
do you see the bigger picture, Doctor?”

Disgusted, Jon hung up, leaned back against the wall, and blew between pursed lips.

What about Richard Stillman?

He thought about that a moment, sat bolt upright.
Why not?
The man was well connected. Maybe that meant he had some connections over here. He looked at Yeonhee, still straightening up the apartment. She seemed uncomfortable with asking her boyfriend to help, so why put her through the hassle if Stillman could solve the problem? Yeah, maybe he could help. Worth a try. He picked up the new cell phone and dialed.

“Yo, Jon!” Stillman sounded surprised. “What’s up, dog? When I didn’t hear from you after surgery I tried calling. No answer. I’ve been worried sick about you.”

Jon quickly highlighted the story, starting with the phone call from Feist.

When Stillman heard the part about Jon’s escape from the police he laughed, said. “Some cop probably got a new asshole for letting that happen.”

Jon wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “Here’s the problem. Park has my passport and I can’t board a flight without one. The embassy refuses to help, so it looks like the only way I’m getting one is illegally. But I don’t know anyone to ask for help. Any chance you might know someone in Seoul with the right connections for that?”

“Hold on, let me think.” Stillman hesitated a few beats before, “Matter of fact, I do. There is this ex-pat friend who lives in Seoul. Bet he can help. Where exactly are you?”