“His only friend. I’ll tell him everything you did to free him. He’ll know. Every detail.”
I’VE GOT TO GET HIM FREED. THEY’RE NEVER GOING TO LET ME TALK TO THE PRESIDENT. I’VE GOT TO DO IT MYSELF. FLY OVER THERE MYSELF. Lloyd picks up the phone and barks into it. I WANT THAT CAR NOW. AND I WANT A HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS. IT’S A HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS NOW.
“I’ll need a few more minutes. The plane is taking a while, Lloyd.”
Lloyd pulls the phone to the window, looks out. WHO’S THE MAN WITH THE RED HAT? HE WASN’T THERE BEFORE. AND WHAT’S THAT ARMY TRUCK DOING? IF YOU’RE THINKING ABOUT—BACK OFF WITH THAT TEAR GAS. THERE’S A PREGNANT GIRL IN HERE, REMEMBER.
“Stay calm, Lloyd,” I call over to him.
LOOK, I KNOW WHAT I SEE. DON’T TELL ME WHAT I SEE. I KNOW WHAT MY EYES ARE LOOKING AT.
“Let me see, Lloyd. Do I have your permission to see?” I offer and approach the window when he waves me over.
The light is blinding. I shield my eyes and see dozens of police cars, more than I imagined. Their lights are spinning round and round. There are people in uniforms and some with their hands up, holding back people with microphones and vans with antennae on their roofs. In a space up front is a man looking at our window.
“You’ve seen too many cop shows, Lloyd. I want to work with you. These things take time.”
AREN’T YOU TIRED OF SAYING THAT? I’M SICK OF HEARING IT.
“Look, once you let the other three girls walk out like you did with Daiyu, I’ll have the car with the money left outside. We can continue to look for your friend. I promise you I’ll keep working on that. He matters to you, doesn’t he, Lloyd?”
NO. I’M NOT LETTING ANYONE GO. I’VE DONE ENOUGH.
“It’s not me, Lloyd,” Sax says. “My superior officers thought we were out of time. Believe me, I’m on your side. The pregnancy news will buy you more time. I’m glad for the pregnant girl, believe it or not. I am. It changes everything we usually do. You’re right. No tear gas, not even considered here. What about money? I can get you more. A hundred thousand won’t last you long. Especially when the girl is pregnant. Is she all right, the pregnant girl? What’s her name? Hold on—getting word on something now. Let me get the car, and I’ll call you back. Just wait. Don’t do anything, we’re working this out, Lloyd. Okay?”
GET ME THE CAR. He puts down the handset and pumps the shotgun. The sound is distinct. Detective Sax’s voice jumps. “Lloyd, don’t be hasty now. You’ve come this far.”
72
We tried again the next night. On the third night we broke into Dean Olin’s office, a man who said his name was Tongsu Cho came on the line. “You remember us, the kids from America. You met us on the student tour and then again in Seoul. You took us to a meeting, but you didn’t get in the car with us. You sent us to meet these men, for the rally, you remember?” Lloyd pressed Tongsu, repeated himself, agreed that the connection was bad.
I leaned in, and Lloyd put his arm around me and held the receiver between us. “You remember, don’t you?” Now we’d find out who had taken you.
The man said he had met some students when he worked on the tour, but that was all. “I just arrived in Seoul this week for work,” he said. “How did you know? Do you have news about my father?”
“What happened to your father?”
“I thought you might know. I heard he was sick. I don’t know any American students in Seoul.”
“We met you, remember in the kitchen on the tour? And you told us about the men losing their fingers in the factory. You lost a finger in the factory. My friend was missing part of his finger, but not from the factory.”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“How can you not know? You talked to us, and you talked to my friend. There was a demonstration.”
“I’m sorry, but I have to return. It’s work hours. Good luck finding your friend. Don’t call me again here. I can lose my job.”
“But wait, you—we need your help, wait. Wait, hello, Tongsu Cho? I met you—we met you in Korea.”
“I don’t know who you are,” Tongsu said.
“How can he not remember us?” I said.
“Shhh . . . ,” Lloyd said to me.
A sickening feeling settled in my stomach. Suddenly, there were footsteps, loud ones, a light came on in the hall. I turned off the flashlight and pulled Lloyd down. We crouched behind the desk, the receiver in his hand. We stayed down until they faded and waited another half hour before we let ourselves out.
The next day Lloyd wouldn’t look me in the eye.
“Lloyd, what’s going on?” I caught up to him.
“Let’s walk. I might be followed.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“They can put listening devices anywhere,” he said, surveying the tree branches above us. It was a maple with yellowing leaves, but still full.
“I’m remembering more and more. My head hurts like it’s going to burst open, and I can’t take it anymore,” he said, holding the sides of his head. He ran off.
I followed him and called to him. He kept looking over his shoulder and pivoting around other students. Finally, he slowed enough for me to catch up to him. And then he proceeded to tell me about a Korean man who had been hanging around his block in Queens. The man followed Lloyd to his parents’ grocery market and asked people in neighboring shops about him. “They told me he asked. How stupid is he to ask them? He wanted to know if I had friends. Isn’t that a weird question? Mr. Lubuni told him to leave me alone. And then he told me what the man said. And he told my parents too.”
“You could go to the police with that if you have Mr. Lubuni to verify it.”
“The CIA? Is the CIA following me, Yoona?”
“But you said the man was Korean. The KCIA?”
“I think I lost them when I came up here. I think it’s safe here. I don’t feel watched up here. Not as much. I really don’t.”
“How could you tell he was following you in the city?”
“It was the same man. I saw the same man. I can feel his eyes on me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I was trying to protect you. I hoped we’d find Jaesung before this. Where could he be? What are they doing to him, Yoona?” He was looking everywhere but at me.
“I don’t know, but we’ll find out. We can go to the police and tell them about the man who’s following you. What’s he look like?”
“You sound as if you don’t believe me.”
“I do. I don’t know what you mean. You’re not making any sense.”
“That’s what they want us to believe. But you and I know Tongsu Cho exists. Maybe it was another man named Tongsu Cho. Maybe there’s another restaurant called Little Pan, or it’s a wrong number.”
“So many people in Korea have the same name. We have to keep looking.”
“Just don’t question me about everything as if you don’t believe me.” He looked at me then, his mouth set in a hard line, and I didn’t know if he recognized who I was.