Downstairs, I realized I didn’t know how to get back to my hotel from here, because I didn’t know where “here” was. The duty driver was nowhere around, and no one offered me a ride. When I stepped outside and started down the walkway, I felt a tank gun barrel following me. Small-caliber weapons aimed at my back might not register, but a tank barrel-always. At the end of the walkway, a jeep sat idling, with a man in an unfamiliar uniform and a red armband at the wheel. He indicated I should get in, drove at high speed through the tunnel, and pulled over as soon as we emerged.
“End of the line,” he said.
“How far are we from my hotel?”
“Beats me,” he said. “This is your city, not mine. And as far as I’m concerned you can have it.” He put the jeep in gear and roared back through the tunnel.
I tried to orient myself, but there were no landmarks on the horizon to help. Off to the right, several new, tall buildings were going up. In front of me, an entire block had been leveled. A brief walk around convinced me that I was in the far western part of the city, some distance from the Taedong River and a long way from any subway stop that could get me back to the central district, close to my hotel.
When west, walk east. Maybe I’d run across a traffic cop whom I could ask for directions. They didn’t know much, but they could usually figure out which direction the river was. As far as I could tell, no one was following me. It didn’t really matter; in fact, it might be better if there was. If I got too lost, my tail might get tired and give me a ride back to the hotel.
I wasn’t in a hurry, I didn’t need to be anyplace particular, and the weather was good for a stroll. If I had to be in Pyongyang, a bright October morning was as good a time as any. The trees along the streets were turning color, and in an hour or so smoke from roasting chestnuts and sweet potatoes would be drifting from the kiosks. Already the air was painted with faraway hope. It was an autumn sky remembered from years past, always sparkling in anticipation-in anticipation of what I never understood. My grandfather said autumn was a party, that most trees acted foolishly drunk in the fall and then wept at their loss all winter long. He didn’t like evergreens, but he said at least they were sober.
I walked about a kilometer, taking in the sunshine and becoming more and more uneasy. The problem was that no matter which way I turned, Li’s warnings from the other night trailed beside me. No, I didn’t know what I didn’t know, but I was beginning to get a few ideas. Major Kim had extraordinary authority, he was from the South, and Pyongyang had the indefinable feel of a tiny planet beginning to wobble on its axis. There were more babies, more children being pushed in strollers, more couples walking together. The traffic ladies weren’t where they ought to be. There were fewer of them, and they were doing their ballet in the smaller intersections. They looked the same as ever-same blue uniforms, same pouty lips-but none of them blew their whistles when I crossed in the middle of the street instead of taking the underpass. Even the cranes at the construction sites had changed, the old, stubby dinosaurs replaced by long, graceful booms. It wasn’t only how things looked. It was how they felt, how they fit together. A city can change in five years, I thought, but not like this. It wasn’t until I went up a long flight of stairs and crossed high over a train yard that the growing panic in my chest subsided. I stopped and looked down. Here, at least, the grime was familiar.
From the train yard, I knew, it wasn’t far to the subway entrance. A tall man leaned against the railing, watching the traffic.
“Don’t tell me,” I said. “You’re waiting for a bus.”
Li kept his eyes on the traffic. “My car is on the next street. Let’s go for a ride.”
“Let’s not. I’m getting out of here, compliments of Major Kim.”
“I’ll take a wild guess. He said he’d send a car for you tomorrow at your hotel.”
“He did.”
“And you believed him?”
“The man gave me soup for breakfast. How can I not believe him?”
“Never take soup from strangers, O-always sage advice. Let’s not stand around. It makes me nervous.”
I followed him to his car. “What makes you think Kim won’t have someone right behind you?”
“He will. He already does.” We pulled onto a busy street. “But he won’t for long. These people are very sure of themselves, very sure we are idiots.”
We turned left into a small alley, raced through the courtyard of an apartment complex, flew across a bridge, and ended up behind three small trucks in the parking lot of a blue-roofed market overflowing with people.
“Out, Inspector. You’re going to do a little shopping. Don’t look around; go right inside.”
“Am I missing something? I thought you worked for Kim.”
“See you later.”
Inside, the market was a crush of bodies. For a moment, in the fruit section, I was stranded next to the bananas. Bananas! I gawked at them. Since when did normal people even in the capital have bananas to eat? Then a man pulled on my arm and I broke through the masses into a small office. The door shut behind me.
“You can wait here.” The man let go of my arm. A middle-aged woman with a baseball cap sat at a desk working a calculator. She frowned at the numbers. “Too many fucking zeros,” she muttered.
“Busy place,” I said. It was a cinch I was trapped, that Major Kim would come through the door at any moment, with one of his tanks close behind.
“Major Kim, if that’s what is worrying you, has meetings today.” The woman didn’t look up as she spoke. “He has a nine o’clock. Also, today is Thursday. He gets a haircut on Thursdays.”
“What about his minions?”
The woman turned and appraised me carefully, from head to toe. “His minions aren’t looking for trouble. They live a cushy life up here, and they don’t want to spoil things. If they make us mad, we’ll see that things get difficult for them. So they ease up when they sense we’re serious. Self-preservation ranks high on their list of priorities.”
“So, are we serious?”
The woman turned off the calculator and put it in a small cloth case before she stood up and looked directly into my eyes. “We are, Inspector. We are deadly serious. Are you?”
The man whispered in the woman’s ear. She gave him a little nudge and locked the door after him. “A question, Inspector.” She moved closer to me, so close that the brim of her cap touched my forehead. “There’s a question pending. Do you want to answer it? Or shall I answer it for you?” She was round, very confident about who she was.
“You asked the question,” I said. “Maybe you should answer it. Seems only fair.”
“You don’t act serious. You don’t sound serious. I don’t think you are. But I think you will become serious, Inspector, sooner than you imagine. And I’ll tell you why-because there is no other way for you to survive.”
“Business is good?” I didn’t think I wanted to stay too long with this confident woman. I certainly didn’t want to slip into an extended conversation with her about survival, definitely not about my survival. “Maybe you should put up extra lights. Everyplace else in the city has more than enough. That way you can see how much the ladies behind the counter are stealing.”
“The real crooks are always somewhere else, Inspector. Do you know what is going on in your Ministry these days?”
“It isn’t my Ministry. I’m retired.”
“So you say. You gave me some advice. Now I’ll give you some: Open your eyes; look around.” She finally stepped back. “Someone will be in touch.” She unlocked the door and indicated I should leave.
I figured Major Kim would be waiting outside, but there was only a crowd of people around a table loaded with shoes. None of them looked my size, so I headed toward the exit. When I finally made it into the fresh air of the parking lot, an elbow jammed into my ribs.
“Got a match?” It was the bellboy from the hotel, grinning. “Didn’t think you’d be here with the rest of us poor stiffs. Want to buy something? I can show you around.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” I started to walk away, but he grabbed my shoulder. “Not so fast, Inspector. You want to stay right here for another minute or two.” He nodded toward the street that lay beyond the parked cars. Major Kim was craning his neck, searching the area.
“Is there another exit?” I shook off the bellboy’s hand and stepped back toward the market entrance.
“On the other side.”
Three young women formed a screen around me, pushed through the crowd, and deposited me on the other side. The bellboy followed close behind. “There are a couple of taxis lined up near that apartment house across the street,” he said, “but I’d stay out of cabs if I were you.”
“You’re not me.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, I’m lucky that way.”