Mr. Won ran up the stairs, burst through the front door of his brother's house and yelled, “Lyin! Lyin!” He kicked off his shoes automatically as the door slammed shut behind him.
“Yes, Mr. Won. I am here in the kitchen. Is everything all right? Lyin wiped his hands off on a towel looped over his belt.
Mr. Won walked briskly into the kitchen. Lyin could see the rage in Mr. Won's face before he spoke. Mr. Won slapped an open issue of an international newspaper on the chopping block island and exclaimed angrily, “I found out why my brother is late!” Mr. Won paced around the kitchen island looking at the floor.
Lyin read out loud, “An Asian man was found murdered in the Cho Estate Museum in the early hours of the eighteenth…” Lyin's voice trailed off.
“Read it out loud! Please, because I don't believe my own eyes. Start again!” Mr. Won began to pace, irritably switching his hands from his hips to the sides of his head and neck.
“Yes, sir.” Lyin read out loud, “An Asian man was found murdered in the Cho Estate Museum in the early hours of the eighteenth, stabbed through the back. An alarm went off at the police station, and the guard on duty confirmed an intruder. Squad cars were immediately dispatched to the scene. No entry alarms had been set off, and apparently no surveillance cameras have identified the perpetrators. The assailant vanished without a trace. The identity of the victim has not yet been released, and there is speculation that the authorities may not yet have that information. A research specialist at the museum said that the murder weapon was a knife of Chinese or Korean royal origin, with a handle and sheath of silver. Red ruby and sapphire inlays adorned the weapon in rows. Detective Martin Hanna and Mr. Cale Dixon, from the research department, arrived on the scene soon after the police had secured the building and grounds. They have not been available for comment.” Lyin averted his eyes, “Mr. Won. I am truly sorry.”
“I know. Thank you, Lyin.” Mr. Won stopped at the island where Lyin had been chopping garlic for a new batch of kimchi. Mr. Won picked up the knife and stared at his own eyes in the reflection from the blade, speaking slowly, “I must go to California and claim my brother's body.”
“Sir, if I may; by your father's request, your brother went to go tell Rayman Stell where his father was being held.”
“I know.” Mr. Won raised the knife and stabbed it deep into the wood of the chopping block, burying the point of the blade. “But that was after my brother was to make sure Rayman's father was dead!”
“Sir, I'm sorry. I don't know that much.”
“I must tell father and hear what he has to say before I go to California.”
“The knife sounds uniquely familiar, silver with gold and rows of red stones. But I thought it was buried with your sister in honor of her death.” Lyin stopped talking for a moment before he changed his direction, “What shall I do, Mr. Won?”
The knife in the chopping block continued to waiver slightly as Mr. Won began to think out loud, “You're right, Lyin. It does sound like a family knife.”
Lyin could see the raging wheels turning in Mr. Won's head and a renewed burning hatred growing.
“There is only one man that I can think of who could have kept the knife. I must speak with Father. Lyin, keep up with your schedule, and go to my house for dinner every night. I'll tell the agima that you are coming and inform my other brothers of our loss. Look after the family. I'll arrange for them to call you if they go out of the house. You go with them. And Lyin,” Mr. Won paused and looked sternly at Lyin, “carry a weapon at all times. Lock the doors and windows on the first floor. No visitors are allowed in this house, and only your family and my family go in and out of my house until I return. No one else. No exceptions. I'll phone you if I need you. Have your passport ready and a bag packed. I will make preparations for you.”
Lyin bowed his head slightly and answered obediently, “Yes, Mr. Won. I will do all you ask.”