TWENTY-SIX

Sung Kim made three complete circles around the camera store in Towson, Maryland with her radio scanner tuned to the FBI’s Washington Field Office channels before she was certain she wasn’t under surveillance. Knowing they’d be using secure radio channels, she wasn’t expecting to hear the agents talking with one another. Her scanner wasn’t able to decrypt the digital codes that carried their voices, but if the agents were out there, she would know it anyway. Whenever she stopped at a red light, whenever she made a turn to a different street, the brief raspy cough of a carrier wave when they used their radios would tell her all she needed to know.

The timing was critical for this part of the Nakamura job.

Yesterday at this time, Sung Kim had watched from her Volvo wagon in the parking lot across the street from Yardley’s Camera Exchange, as the big brown Konitax Camera distribution truck pulled away from the store and disappeared into traffic on its way back to the warehouse in Rockville. The shipment was there, right on schedule. The first part of the operation was complete.

Now, Saturday morning, she was in the same parking lot as ten o’clock arrived and the store opened for business. She waited until she saw Yardley’s small parking lot begin to fill with cars, then hurried across the street and into the store.

Good, she said to herself, as she saw that the salespeople were busy with the dozen or so customers already inside. She didn’t need a sales-clerk for what she needed. She passed beneath a large yellow banner that read ANNUAL CLEARANCE SALE on her way to the Konitax display at the rear of the store. The freshly unloaded boxes of digital cameras were stacked head high back there, and she moved directly to the stack.

Sung Kim’s eyes ran up and down the boxes, until she saw the one she wanted, the one packed especially for her by someone she would never meet. She had to be careful not to topple the stack as she withdrew the box, before she turned and walked to the cash register up front. On the way, she couldn’t help thinking how well the box had been prepared. It was tricky to get the weight just right, and this time it was perfect.

The middle-aged register clerk with reading glasses hanging from a braided leather strap around her neck smiled as Sung Kim walked up and set the box on the counter. “Did you find everything you needed?” she asked.

Sung Kim smiled back. “I found exactly what I needed.”

The register clerk turned the Konitax box over, found the bar code and ran her handheld scanner across it. Then she frowned and picked up the box, examining it now. Sung Kim saw that one of the corners was very slightly crinkled, hardly noticeable but damaged nonetheless. It was the corner opposite the short black-ink mark Sung Kim had been looking for on the carton.

“Look’s like this one might have landed on its edge, honey,” the clerk said. “I’m sure there’s no damage, but we could open the box and make sure.” She glanced back toward the rear of the store. “Why don’t I just run get you another one?”

“Please don’t bother. These cameras are packed so well you’d have to throw one off a building to hurt it.”

The clerk laughed. “You’re right about that. I’ve never seen a Konitax damaged in shipping, but if we’re wrong you just be sure to bring it back.”