Pyo watched the scene unfold. He said listlessly to Seungtae, “They got through.”
“The next meeting point must be Tehran Boulevard. The kids that crossed Dongho Bridge and the ones that crossed Hannam will merge and turn the area inside out,” Seungtae said while checking a text message. “Now they’re saying, ‘Bitches, stop them at all costs!’”
Outbursts of anger had started up again in the control room. Seungtae turned down the walkie-talkie’s volume.
Pyo asked, “What do we do?”
“They’ll return north across the river for sure,” said Seungtae. “They’ll end where they began. Maybe Jongno or Jongmyo or Gwanghwamun. Those are good places for them to break up later because of all the possible escape routes and alleys. Even if we can’t get many of the kids tonight, at the very least we’ve got to get that guy Jae. If we don’t manage to get him this time, he’ll grow even stronger and by the next Independence Movement Day, we’ll have an even more uncontrollable number of bikes creating havoc.”
A new order came through on Seungtae’s walkie-talkie. He made his disapproval clear, saying, “That’s too dangerous. I can’t be responsible for that.”
So many orders were coming from different places—the chain of command itself needed traffic control. If problems surfaced, whoever had been at the scene could end up taking the blame. Soon the final order came in. Seungtae conveyed it to his subordinates, who asked the same question he had. Who would be held responsible if something went wrong?
A report came in that the rally was now heading north. Seungtae already knew which bridge they would cross. Seongsu. They could be taking Yangjae Highway north, but at a certain juncture they would have to shift and cross Seongsu Bridge. Once again the police set up a barricade.