Chapter 48
“Monsieur Park, you’re moving up in the world,” Capucine said.
“Good. I go now? Embassy send ambulance?” Without the morphine Park again looked exhausted and drained. Even more yellow and brown spittle had caked on the sides of his mouth.
“No. You misunderstand. You are now also accused of the murder of Président Delage.”
Park’s head sagged. “That stupid. Why I kill anyone? Just here to get informations,” he muttered.
Chapellier, his hands cuffed behind his back, appeared at the door held by two uniformed gendarmes. As he was led in Chapellier recoiled at the sight of Kim. “My God, what happened to him? What’s going on here? I thought I was just going to answer questions. You’re going to let me go, right?”
Chapellier was placed in the chair next to Capucine at the side of Kim’s bed.
“Nguyen, I need you to corroborate some parts of your testimony with Monsieur Kim present,” Capucine said. In his corner the stenographer typed silently.
“Of course. Anything. Will you let me go after?”
“Let’s worry about that later. You stated earlier that you told Monsieur Kim that you had learned that Président Delage was going to go to the authorities to stop the security leak in Project Typhon. Is that correct?”
“Totally and absolutely correct. Kim, if that’s his name, got really steamed up about the thing. I told him that that clown Lionel—my boss, remember—was just puffing himself up and the président wasn’t going to see anybody, but Kim wanted to know everything. ‘What exactly did Lionel say?’ ‘Are you sure he didn’t say anything else?’ Yadda yadda.”
“And Park said he could fix it?”
“Absolutely. He said I was to go into the office with Marie’s badge that Saturday because he would have taken care of everything.”
Capucine made a gesture with her head. The two policemen removed Chapellier.
Kim lifted his head, which had fallen over on his chest. “This stupid. Will become an act of aggression against the Republic of South Korea. Nguyen’s accusation ridiculous. He trying to drown own crimes by accusing me. He knows I cannot be arrested but that something very, very bad will happen to him. So he make up story to look like little fish. Little fish who escape when big fish caught. I insist you call embassy and tell them what happening. You must.” For the first time there was a hint of entreaty.
The door buzzed opened again and two other gendarmes entered escorting Giselle, handcuffed, who was placed in the chair Chapellier had just vacated. Her hair had become even more tousled, her eyes even darker and more deeply set, her skin even more translucent and pure. She exuded the appeal of an injured gazelle. Capucine felt an inexplicable rush of desire to take her in her arms and shook her head in irritation.
At her first glimpse of Park Giselle registered shock, but it was quickly replaced by an expression of repugnance, as if she had caught him committing some disgusting act in the bathroom. She pushed back in the chair as if to get as far away from him as she could.
“Mademoiselle Dupaillard, is this your boyfriend? The man you know as Dac Kim Chu?” Capucine asked.
“Yes. It’s Dac Kim. What happened to him? Was he in an accident?”
“He’s under arrest for murder. We’re trying to determine if you’re his accomplice in the crime. The stenographer will take down everything you say and then you will sign it. You should know that it is highly likely that your deposition will be used in court.”
“Oh my God!” Tears of genuine panic ran down her face.
“You told me before that Park asked you about the famous people who booked reservations at Diapason. Who did you tell him about for the week that preceded Friday, October eleventh?”
“Well, we had Georges Leprieur that week—you know, the big fat movie star. He took a table for eight. He always makes a lot of noise but Chef loves him and takes him into the kitchen to show him around. And, let’s see, we also had Grazella Camões, that Brazilian supermodel who is about a hundred feet tall. She always talks to me. She’s so beautiful. That was it. Oh, wait, I’m so dumb. We also had Président Delage, of course. That’s what all the fuss was about. I’m so stupid.”
“And you told Dac Kim all this?”
“Yes. He was only interested in Delage. I don’t think he even knew who Leprieur was. I would have thought he’d be interested in Grazella because he likes girls a lot and likes us to watch a ton of porn; but, no, he got all excited when I told him about Delage, no one else.”
“How do you mean, excited?”
“You know, ‘What time is he coming?’ ‘How many are going to be at the table?’ Stuff like that. He just asked me a lot of questions. He couldn’t stop asking questions. Well . . . he got excited the other way too and told me I was the best girl ever and had made his life a lot easier. It was funny how Delage got him all excited. And then he asked me to . . . well, I’d better not go into that.”
“Did he ask you about the week’s menu?”
“Of course. He always did that. Sometimes I even snuck a menu out for him, but don’t tell anyone. And I also told him about the amuse bouches that weren’t on the menu. That week it was an oyster sorbet with a lemon sauce. Isn’t that crazy? They let me taste it the first time they made it. It was really, really good.”
“I’m sure it was. Did Dac Kim comment on that?”
“Yes, he did. It was later in the evening, you know, so he was pretty knocked out, but when I told him about the sorbet he said something like, ‘This just keeps getting better and better.’ At the time I thought he was talking about me. That was because he wanted me again right after he said it.”
Kim, who had been staring straight ahead at the wall, roused himself. “You stupid hag, that all lies. You invent whole story. Why I be interested in corrupt bureaucrat? Your only brains are in ass. You only think with that!” Park spat on the floor. Capucine was amazed that he was able to produce the requisite fluid.
“How can you say that? I’d never seen you so happy. That was the day you asked me for my key to the restaurant so you could draw the layout. Don’t you remember?”
“Ancient hag with claws! Wait until they set me free. I show you your place.” Kim’s color had partially returned and he strained at his handcuffs, growling deep in his throat, striving to rise, his neck corded with the effort.
“Mademoiselle Dupaillard, that’s going to be all for now,” Capucine said.
“Does that mean I can go home?”
“Not quite yet.”
When Giselle had been taken away Capucine turned her chair around and sat down, splaying her legs and crossing her arms over the chair back. In her close-fitting pants and baggy-sleeved white silk blouse she looked like a Napoleonic light cavalry officer anxiously waiting for a cockfight to begin.
“Park, those two witnesses will be all we need to get you sentenced for premeditated murder. You had motive, you had means, you had opportunity, you’ll get convicted. It’s a tight case. Under the circumstances it will take more than your ambassador to get you out. It would have to be an agreement between the heads of our two nations. It will come out that you are an intelligence agent, that’s obvious, and I doubt very much the government of South Korea will want to argue to the French government that the murder of the head of one of our largest industries was an act of state. Think of where that will leave you. They’re going to need a fall guy and it’s going to be you.”
“You talk lot about international relations for cop.”
“I hold a degree in political science.”
“Diplomatic immunity sacred. Have been told by my superiors. You must let me go.”
“Don’t be silly. You’re reasoning like a child. A few years back a deputy ambassador from the Republic of Georgia got drunk and killed a teenager in a car accident in Washington. Not some sleazebag spy like you with a trumped-up diplomatic job but the actual deputy ambassador. The Americans asked the Georgians to waive his immunity and the guy is now serving a twenty-one-year sentence.”
“South Korea not former Communist country. Different.”
“Right. Remember a few years ago when there was a demonstration in front of the Libyan embassy in London and some nut inside strafed the crowd with a submachine gun and killed a young policewoman? A cop shooter—just like you. The mild-mannered British bobbies laid siege to the embassy for nine days hoping to starve the man out. In the end he escaped and went home. So the British broke off relations with Libya. Know what happened?”
“No.”
“The Libyans admitted responsibility, tortured their fake diplomat, and then made a big production of hanging him.”
Park began to look worried.
“And if I talk to you, what I get?”
“It’s more what you don’t get. If you cooperate it will be taken into account. Your government will be consulted. There will unquestionably be a negotiation. Your sentence may be reduced. There is even some possibility that part of your time will be spent in a Korean prison. I don’t know how much slack your government will cut you but it’s bound to be a better deal than if you go to prison kicking and screaming.”
“Still not like going home now on plane.”
“Park, there’s not a chance in hell of that happening. You’re in a lot of trouble. Talking is the best thing you can do now. The worst thing for you is to get thrown into the bin as a cop shooter. Which is exactly what’s going to happen this afternoon if you do nothing.”
Kim paused for nearly a full minute. His head sunk progressively lower on his chest until Capucine began to wonder if he was losing consciousness again. Finally he looked up and said in a barely audible whisper, “I remember other cases of diplomats arrested. But get sent home after negotiations.”
“Yes, deals can be made. But unless you cooperate, we’re not going to be making any.”
“Okay. I like make deal, then.”
“The only way that could work is for you to tell your story in full. Then we’ll take it to the French government and see what happens. In fact, you have no choice. If you get sent to court on a flagrante delicto charge it will be impossible to cut any deals.”
Kim shook his head as if angry flies were buzzing around. “Yes, yes, yes. Okay, okay, okay. Why shouldn’t I tell story. Just get me home faster. Back to duty quicker. Give me painkillers. Make talk easier.”
An hour passed. The doctor had come, tut-tutted cynically, changed the dressings, and added four new drip bags alongside the big plasma sack on the IV. “He’ll be a new man with that stuff,” he said, “for a while, at least. You might even have to hold him down,” the doctor had laughed.
The small clinic room filled with people. The last to arrive was Tallon, producing the usual tension among the officers present. Kim had responded well to the stimulants and looked at each new arrival with interest.
“All right, let’s hear it,” Capucine said. The stenographer straightened up and lifted his hands ready to type.
“I am a major in the NIS, the South Korean intelligence service. National Intelligence Service is like French DGSE and French DST combined. NIS work in Korea and abroad. I am specialist in industrial espionage. I joined long ago when service called Agency for National Security Planning and objective to keep out agents from North Korea who want steal our industrial informations. We best service in world in industrial espionage. Best. When attend five-year training course at the ANSP I also go to Yeungnam University and get master’s degree in engineering.
“Korea does not need foreign technology. It is the reverse. But sometimes foreigners get good idea and we don’t want good idea to be wasted in the hands of lazy incompetents. The NIS often act in those cases.”
He paused. “Can have water? Throat is dry.”
Capucine held a plastic cup with less than an inch of pale liquid to his lips.
“It’s tea. The doctor says if you have too much liquid you’ll throw up. Go on.”
“As said before, assignment to obtain gasoline catalyst from Renault. For me is only one way to do this properly. With assistants on inside. Espionage services in West no longer like to use assistants. That is very wrong. In old days of ideological conflict it easy to obtain loyal and faithful assistants happy to die for cause. More difficult now. So CIA and everyone else now like only computers. Easy, safe, go home at five o’clock. But never get everything. And not fully understand what get.
“No. Must be assistant. But that now hard. Have to be bought. Have to know how to recruit. Have to know when they about to desert.”
For the first time Tallon intervened. “Look, buddy, we’re not here for a tutorial on espionage while you’re sucking up free drugs. Tell your story and be quick about it.” Capucine shot him an irritated look.
“Well, I tell policewoman,” Park said, nodding at Capucine. “Arrive in France, recruit three possible assistants, and put one in right department Renault. For a while the informations come satisfactory. Then assistant get greedy. They always do. Important informations all in one department. Assistant not have access. Find girlfriend in section who let him in to get final informations. He want large bonus for this. Then he invent other story, claim management of the company find leak, so we need to get final informations immediately before everything shut down. In end, we never get informations.
“Police follow secretary who deliver informations and try to arrest me. Case a failure. Important I not get arrested. Fired shot over head of policewoman to scare away. Big, big mistake.” Progressively Park’s head had been sagging on his chest. Finally his chin rested on his sternum and spittle dripped from his slack mouth.
“The fucker’s faking,” Tallon said. “But get the doctor just in case. Lieutenant, what the hell happened here? You said he was all set to spill the beans and you wanted to make him more comfortable. So he’s had a happy little trip and all we get is laughed at. Get this guy back on the rails and call me when he’s really ready. I don’t want to hear Chapter One of the NIS espionage primer again. Got that?” Tallon strode to the door and made an irritated gesture with the tips of his fingers for the guard to open it. He stalked out, swearing under his breath. Gradually all the other occupants followed, leaving only Capucine and the stenographer, and of course, Park.