“Sons of bitches,” he muttered. The aide put down his pen.

“I take it the inspector should not pack his bags just yet.” The man who wasn’t really a driver didn’t sound surprised.

“Handwritten instructions from the Top.” The aide and the security man glanced nervously heavenward. “He stays.” The ambassador gave me a malign look. I didn’t know him at all; our paths had never crossed before, and if he had passed through my sector in Pyongyang, I hadn’t noticed. But he definitely didn’t like me. “There are wheels spinning, Inspector. I strongly advise you stay clear of things that don’t concern you.” He paused. “Mountain lakes are deep, just remember that. Perhaps it would be good for you to start wearing your badge. It might help with identification.” The aide closed his notebook and slipped out of the room. The ambassador turned to a young woman who had been lounging near the window. “The talks should resume the day after tomorrow. Have the delegation pass a message to the other side tomorrow morning telling them we have new instructions. Let them fuss with that idea for twenty-four hours. Don’t say anything about the reappearance of the wanderer.” Another malign look was flung in my direction.

In the hallway, I passed Mr. Roh. It was time for our talk. “I’m going out for some fresh air,” I said. “I hear the fountain in the park, the one near the rose garden, is nice in the afternoon light.” He nodded and kept walking.

2

A smart young man—that was what I concluded when I saw Roh sitting on one of the white benches beside the fountain about an hour later. Smart, a little reckless, maybe a potential security risk. That’s how it would go down in his file if anyone spotted him here talking to me. A security risk because he was out meeting with a security person from another office without checking first with his own. And I knew he hadn’t checked with his own, because they never would have let him come here alone to sit with me. So he was a risk, and it wasn’t my worry. It meant he’d answer some questions, as long as I gave him a comfortable lead-in. His head was down and he might have been reading the book in his lap. But he wasn’t; he was waiting. As soon as he heard my steps on the gravel path, he looked up.

“Nice weather,” I said. “A good day to sit underneath pine trees.”

“This could get me into a lot of trouble,” he said. “The word going around the halls is, the ambassador doesn’t like you.”

“But you decided it was worth the risk. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

“I was curious. People have been wondering about you ever since you showed up.”

“Have they? And why should that be? I’m just a servant of the people, doing the people’s business.” He was smart and he was curious, but he knew enough not to trust me yet. That was alright. I didn’t like people who trusted me too quickly. They could go the other way just as fast.

Roh closed the book. “The people’s business. The people. The people.”

“Our people. You know, the ones tightening their belts, again. The ones who would rather have guns than candy. I’d rather have guns than candy, wouldn’t you?” I looked down at my belt. “I have at least two notches to go.”

“Every day, I push aside the plate of candy in front of me. More guns, that’s what I want, I tell the cook. That’s why we’re in Geneva, isn’t it? To make sure when my mother goes for her food ration, she can be told, ‘Here, have some more guns.’” He swallowed hard. “You’re going to report me for that, aren’t you?” He reminded me of my source on the campus back home, the girl who liked Rachmaninoff. I hadn’t expected him still to have that much of an edge. I assumed being in the Foreign Ministry would have smoothed it off.

“All diplomats talk funny as far as I’m concerned. Especially inexperienced ones like you. I’ve stopped paying attention. But maybe you can tell me something. Why don’t we go for a stroll? It’s easier to talk when you’re moving. I learned that somewhere. Even in a job like mine, sooner or later, you learn things. You don’t realize until it’s too late that you learned something; and then you don’t remember where, or how, or why. There’s no voice that automatically pipes up: