"How do I know who honked?" I relaxed. These two, whatever they were doing in Pak's office, were pulling against each other. "The windows were smoked, and the car was moving so fast it was a blur."

"So how could you be sure it had no plates?" Kim picked up the camera. Unlike Kang's, his hands were calloused and hard. Not from helping farmers but from breaking bricks and boards. Maybe bones, though I wasn't going to ask. Kim's voice emerged from inside a dark cave, where even simple questions were mauled and came out nasty.

"How do we know you didn't fail to take the picture on purpose? How do we even know you really tried?"

"Look." My voice got an edge to it sometimes when it shouldn't, and this was one of those times. I put both hands on Pak's desk and leaned toward the two strangers, moving slowly, deliberately. It was either insubordinate or rude, I didn't care which. Kim's face darkened even more. He wanted a sign of deference, maybe a touch of fear, something to show I acknowledged his status, but I wasn't in the mood to be deferential.

Kang was almost the opposite: He didn't seem to care. He didn't change expression; his eyes followed me like a bear watching a rabbit. Not interested, not uninterested, just watching.

"I don't know about you, but I got up early to go sit on a hill in the dark, and for what? The battery in that camera is dead, like most batteries they issue us." I paused. "The car, a big black Mercedes, was waxed and shining, no mud on the sides, new tires, no identification plates. None, not front, not back. It was coming from the south, incidentally, though no one has bothered to ask." I paused again. Every time I paused, Kim got angrier. The metal in his eyes took on a dull sheen like the sky before a bad storm. "And the driver honked. A real nasty blast, more like a sneer. Why, in the middle of nowhere, on an empty road at dawn, would he do that? Lots of coincidences for just one morning, don't you think?" I glanced at Kang. His face was still blank.