His lips tightened.
“What happened to the other two?” We bounced over a railroad crossing. “Went on vacation and left you with the chores?”
We were well into the city by now. The driver made a sudden right into a narrow street and pulled over. “Shut up.” He swallowed hard and stared at me.
“Sure,” I said. “I’m only making small talk.”
“Well, don’t.”
We drove slowly another thirty meters down the street before he honked the horn, just a tap. A light went on over a gate, the gate opened, and a tall man wearing a long black coat appeared. He motioned for the driver to get out. The two of them spoke briefly, keeping their voices low. The ferret disappeared inside the gate; the man in the coat got behind the wheel.
“Long time, Li,” I said, and looked away. We’d worked together for a while, but then there had been trouble-hard to remember exactly what-and he was sent away to the east coast. It hadn’t been an amicable parting, a few days of nasty looks and tough words before his orders showed up. He came back to Pyongyang, assigned to the Minister’s retinue, shortly before I left for good.
“Friendly, as always, Inspector. You bring a change of clothes?”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning after a few weeks maybe you’ll get tired of that shirt you’re wearing and wonder about changing into something else. Another shirt, maybe even a tie, would help. It’s a nice touch to change clothes occasionally when you’re with other people and not pretending to be a monk on a mountaintop.”
“Who said I was pretending to be a monk? The deal was I go away and they leave me alone. I kept the core of it real simple so there wouldn’t be any problem with misinterpretation-no complications, no loopholes or contingency clauses. I go up on the mountain and stay out of everyone’s way. They don’t bother me; I don’t bother them. It was supposed to ensure peace and quiet all around. You know that was the deal; you were there when we signed the papers. I’ve lived up to my end all these years.” I brooded for a moment. “Why did you send a ferret to get me?”