a sour look from the supply clerk. “I didn’t know people at your level could get these tickets,” was his only comment.
Chapter Three
I left the sacks in the trunk of my car and carried back a small bag to the front gate. The gaunt guard wouldn’t look at me. He frowned at the bag and then waved me into the hut. The general sat alone at the table. He had taken off his parka, though it was even colder in the room than it was outside. I put the bag down in front of him. “It would please me if you shared my dinner,” I said. He didn’t react. I put down the envelope. I hadn’t opened it; I wasn’t even tempted. Jenö had passed it to me, but from Pak’s reaction, I could tell it was from someone I had never met and didn’t especially want to.
The general quickly opened the bag, divided the contents into six portions, and called out to the guards. As they came in, one at a time, he handed a portion to each of them. When that was done, he stood and carried the third portion along with the envelope through a doorway into a dark room at the back of the hut. With the door shut, I could hear no more than a murmur of voices, someone coughing, and a sound of a dog barking once, softly, as if muzzled.
“My adjutant,” the general said when he emerged again. “He’s not well.” That left three portions. He nodded and gave one to me. The second he put in his pocket. “Come with me, Inspector,” he said. The last portion stayed on the table.
Outside, as soon as we were beyond earshot of the gate guards, he stopped. “You seem awfully sure of yourself,” he said. “Passing things to people you don’t know. It’s not wise.” It was cold enough for the parka, but he’d left it behind. He was going to make it clear to me that he was tougher than I was.
“I’m not worried. In Pyongyang, a colonel threatened to have me shot.”
“Son of a bitch!” he shouted so loud that the gaunt guard whirled around to see what had happened. “At our last staff meeting, we were told colonels couldn’t shoot policemen. Only generals could.” He laughed; it didn’t seem to be something he did very often. “I wouldn’t have shot you.”
“I think I knew that.”
“Even so, one of the guards might have pulled the trigger. They don’t need my permission to shoot. Their standing orders are to keep out of this compound anyone—anyone—who doesn’t carry special orders. You don’t have anything like that. You don’t even have regular orders. Out here, your ID is garbage.”
“That’s what I’ve been told. If you don’t mind my saying, your soldiers didn’t seem ready to shoot. They’re surly enough, but not killers, I’d say.”
“Only a few of them carry live rounds. You wouldn’t want to find out which ones, believe me. Anyway, you don’t know for sure that those were the only guards watching, or whether my weapon was the only one trained on you. All you know is what you saw.”
“Ah, reality,” I said. “You’re right, I only know what I saw. I am fairly sure, however, that I saw you pick up that envelope and carry it into that back room. You didn’t have it when you came back. So, can I see this facility or not, General?”
“You shouldn’t be here.” The general kicked a stone to the side and started walking. “No one should. Not even the army. The place is empty. It’s falling down. And you still haven’t told me what you want.”
“Someone needs to look around, with your permission.”
“Someone without authorization, obviously. What if I say no?”
I didn’t reply. Of course he would say no. How could anyone in his right mind say anything other than no?
The general took a pair of gloves from his belt and put them on. He was tough, but he wasn’t crazy, I decided. The cold was immense.
“Let me ask the question another way,” he said. “Maybe it will help you formulate a response that goes beyond a dumb stare. What is this about?”
Jenö had been vague, and Pak, after he’d heard my account, hadn’t gone beyond saying I should make the contact but not get myself killed in the process. I didn’t think either of those explanations would be edifying.
“When a general asks a question, a general expects an answer. You must have learned that