The Traitor (1)
Seoul, Seocho District, Seorae Village.
A two-story detached house surrounded by a red brick wall.
From the outside, it looked no different from any of the other homes in Seorae Village.
The interior was the same.
Neatly arranged family photos and tasteful decorative pieces stood out at a glance.
But if you looked closely, you would notice something was off.
Every window in the house was bulletproof, and cameras had been fitted into the fire sensors and even the indicator lights on the air conditioners.
Of course, unless you had a very keen eye, you would never have noticed.
It was one of the safe houses operated by the National Intelligence Service.
And the director of the National Intelligence Service, Oh Ji-hoon, was waiting there for Yoo Jeong-hun, the Presidential Chief of Staff.
Thirty minutes after Oh Ji-hoon arrived, a luxury sedan pulled up in front of the house.
It was Yoo Jeong-hun.
Following an NIS staff member’s guidance, Yoo Jeong-hun headed up to the second-floor study where Oh Ji-hoon was waiting.
Once all the NIS staff had gone outside, Oh Ji-hoon took something from his pocket.
The object, about the size of a smartphone power bank, was a portable recording jammer, a device that used high-frequency pulses to block the other party from recording.
“So you’re saying that some South Korean company, or someone else, recently bought North Korea’s newly developed cryptocurrency and sent funds to the North?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Have you found out who it was?”
“We’re tracking it now.”
Yoo Jeong-hun looked at Oh Ji-hoon without saying a word.
Had he really been summoned all the way to a safe house just to hear that they still didn’t know who it was?
Something was strange.
And Yoo Jeong-hun could tell that Oh Ji-hoon was suspicious of him.
“You’re not seriously suspecting me, are you?”
“Of course not.”
Oh Ji-hoon waved a hand and replied.
Then, inwardly, he thought, Still sharp as ever.
As Yoo Jeong-hun had guessed, Oh Ji-hoon did suspect him.
It was the kind of thing that could have been handled through a secure phone line that couldn’t be tapped or recorded, but he had deliberately asked for a meeting so he could gauge Yoo Jeong-hun’s reaction.
If the people who had bought North Korea’s cryptocurrency turned out to be members of the ruling party or presidential insiders, the situation could become serious.
“Director.”
“Yes, Chief.”
“Aren’t we already in the same boat?”
At Yoo Jeong-hun’s words, a crease formed between Oh Ji-hoon’s brows.
It had been Yoo Jeong-hun who told the commander of North Korea’s Fourth Corps, Ri Yong-sik, about Operation Storm.
It had been Yoo Jeong-hun who ordered the search battalion at the MDL to shoot Kang-hae and Kim Ha-jun.
It had been Yoo Jeong-hun who moved Chief of Civil Affairs Lee Sang-woo into framing Kang-hae and sending him to prison.
It had been Yoo Jeong-hun who sent a black operative to kill Lee Sang-woo by disguising it as a heart attack.
It had been Yoo Jeong-hun who outsourced the job of killing Kang-hae to Byeon Dong-jin in Macau.
All of it had been done together with Yoo Jeong-hun.
“Still, I have nothing to do with this cryptocurrency matter. So there’s no need for concern.”
“Understood.”
“And the press must never find out first. If anything comes up, report it to me immediately.”
“Yes, understood.”
Yoo Jeong-hun rose from his seat.
“Um, Chief… there’s something else.”
“What is it?”
“The failure in Macau…”
He was talking about the attempt to eliminate Kang-hae.
“Are you going to keep pushing it forward?”
Oh Ji-hoon asked, looking straight at Yoo Jeong-hun.
“Of course.”
Yoo Jeong-hun’s voice was firm.
There was not the slightest trace of hesitation or doubt in it.
After leaving Yeon-an Pier, Kang-hae got into another taxi and headed to Yongsan.
On the way, he went over everything that had happened to him.
He had infiltrated North Korea with his Information Command comrades to eliminate Ri Yong-sik.
Then, because of someone’s betrayal, the operation had been exposed and his comrades were shot dead.
Later, while returning with Kim Ha-jun, he had come face-to-face at the MDL with search troops trying to kill both of them.
Kim Ha-jun had died in the exchange, and Kang-hae had been shot in the side.
After recovering, he had been sent on assignment to the National Security Office and gone to Hong Kong and Macau.
And in Macau, Byeon Dong-jin, acting on orders from the NIS, had tried to kill him.
If that was the case, then there was a very high chance the same people who had leaked Operation Storm, ordered Ha-jun killed at the MDL, and tried to kill Kang-hae as well were connected to the National Intelligence Service.
But…
Why?
Why would the NIS want him dead?
Kang-hae couldn’t make sense of it no matter how hard he thought, and with his head full of tangled questions, he returned to the National Security Office.
The moment Seong Ha-yeong saw Kang-hae come back, she realized something had happened.
So she called him into a separate conference room.
“Did something happen?”
“I found out who hired Park Dong-jin in Macau.”
“Who was it?”
“The National Intelligence Service.”
“……!”
“The order to have me killed by the search battalion at the MDL, and Chief of Civil Affairs Lee Sang-woo’s death— the NIS was involved in that too.”
Seong Ha-yeong could hardly believe it.
But what she found even harder to believe was Kang-hae’s next words.
“Ha-yeong. Do you know anything about the director of the NIS?”
“Kang-hae, don’t tell me…”
Her voice trembled before she could stop it.
Kang-hae understood what she was implying and nodded.
And once again, Seong Ha-yeong realized just how fearless this man was.
This was the kind of man who, after setting a ship on fire in the middle of the ocean, now talked about abducting the director of the NIS— no, maybe even killing him.
“I should report this to the Chief first.”
As Seong Ha-yeong turned to leave the conference room, Kang-hae caught her wrist.
“Not the Chief.”
If Ko Jeong-un found out, he would move according to procedure.
Kang-hae had no desire to give them that courtesy.
But Seong Ha-yeong did not want him to do anything reckless.
The National Intelligence Service was one of the most formidable intelligence agencies in the world.
Kang-hae’s life could be in danger.
And that was something she had to stop.
“I’m sorry, Kang-hae. But this isn’t something we can simply brush aside just because it’s part of your revenge.”
Seong Ha-yeong left the conference room.
Then she headed straight for Ko Jeong-un’s office, where the Chief was waiting.
At a café inside the Seoul Four Seasons Hotel, Ko Jeong-un looked across the table at John Smith, the CIA’s East Asia division chief, as the man sipped his coffee.
Two days earlier, the NIS had reported that John Smith had entered the country, and the moment Ko Jeong-un heard Seong Ha-yeong’s report, he had contacted Smith to arrange this meeting.
The two men were not strangers.
Back when Ko Jeong-un had served as operations chief of the ROK-U.S. Combined Forces Command, they had met a few times.
But this was the first time they had met since Ko Jeong-un became National Security Office director.
An awkward silence stretched between them, one that felt much like the current state of relations between South Korea and the United States.
A year earlier, ahead of the ROK-U.S. summit, suspicions had surfaced that the CIA had wiretapped South Korea’s Foreign Ministry.
Both countries denied it, but the CIA’s surveillance was real.
Not only that, it was later revealed that they had also wiretapped the presidential office and the National Security Office.
The president had privately summoned the U.S. ambassador to Korea to lodge a protest.
Since then, the atmosphere had remained cold.
“I heard you helped our people in Hong Kong. Thank you.”
Ko Jeong-un spoke first.
He was referring to how John Smith had told Kang-hae and Seong Ha-yeong where to find Baek Kang at Hong Kong Disneyland.
“Not at all.”
John Smith said with a bright smile.
“I asked to meet because I wanted to ask for a few more favors.”
“Go ahead.”
An hour earlier, Ko Jeong-un had received a report from Seong Ha-yeong.
At that moment, he had gone back over the incidents in which Kang-hae had nearly died.
One: by the North Korean military during Operation Storm.
Two: by our own search battalion during the return.
Three: by a hired killer in Macau.
Then the leak of South Korean classified information to North Korea must also be connected to the NIS.
And the CIA was clearly bound to have information.
Of course, Ko Jeong-un himself was reluctant to seek help from the CIA when he was the one responsible for South Korea’s national security.
But he had no choice.
There might even be a connection to something higher than the NIS.
“How much has the United States figured out about Operation Storm?”
“As soon as your drone crossed into North Korean airspace, we already realized South Korea was conducting an operation.”
“Then do you also know that Operation Storm was exposed to the North because of someone’s leak?”
“We know.”
“Then did the United States perhaps get involved as well?”
“No.”
That was a relief.
If the Americans were involved too, the situation would become far more complicated.
“Is what you’re worried about, Chief Ko, that the president may also be involved?”
“Yes.”
That was Ko Jeong-un’s greatest concern.
The president, who had approved Operation Storm, telling the enemy about it.
“That was our biggest concern at first as well. We knew someone high up in the presidential office was communicating with North Korea. But based on our investigation, President Kim Jin-cheol is not involved.”
John Smith’s words were likely true.
Then there was only one possibility.
Between the president and the director of the NIS, there were only two men who could have been involved: the Presidential Chief of Staff and himself, the National Security Office director.
Yoo Jeong-hun.
He had told North Korea about the operational secret and had ordered the NIS to kill Kang-hae.
“Director.”
“Yes.”
“I heard you’re keeping a soldier from the Information Command named Na Kang-hae with you.”
“That’s correct.”
“Very interesting.”
“……?”
“How do you assess Na Kang-hae?”
“He is an extremely capable operative.”
“Capable… We, however, have judged him to be reckless.”
Why was he bringing up Na Kang-hae all of a sudden?
Ko Jeong-un found it strange.
It was true Kang-hae had carried out an operation in Hong Kong, but he wasn’t high enough up to be the kind of person the CIA East Asia chief would mention casually.
“Is there a particular reason you’re asking about one of our people?”
“How much do you know about Na Kang-hae?”
“……?”
“We carried out a separate investigation.”
“Then keep going.”
“There was some very interesting information on Na Kang-hae.”
At an isolated fishing spot somewhere in Gyeonggi Province, National Intelligence Service director Oh Ji-hoon sat smoking, silently watching the bobber floating on the water.
It was a place he had often come to whenever he had too much on his mind, even back when he was a member of the National Assembly.
“Damn it, I shouldn’t have done it that way back then…”
Oh Ji-hoon regretted everything he had done after listening to Yoo Jeong-hun’s orders.
When Yoo Jeong-hun first said they had to tell North Korea about Operation Storm, he had thought the man was insane.
But Yoo Jeong-hun said that if Ri Yong-sik were killed, civil war would break out.
So in the end, he had opened an unofficial channel and connected Ri Yong-sik to Yoo Jeong-hun.
He had of course been promised compensation.
The next National Security Office director position, and a strategically nominated district in the next National Assembly election where victory was all but guaranteed.
But after that, the orders had kept coming.
He had also used the military to try to kill the Information Command personnel returning from the operation at the MDL.
And he had tried to eliminate the surviving members in Macau.
But each time, those efforts had failed.
And Yoo Jeong-hun was still trying to get rid of him.
If even one of those things came to light, it would be over.
What’s the use of regretting it now?
As Yoo Jeong-hun had said, he was already in the same boat.
Thinking that, Oh Ji-hoon got to his feet.
Then he walked toward where he had parked his car.
Thunk.
Oh Ji-hoon opened the door.
And the moment he sat in the driver’s seat and started the engine, the passenger-side door opened and someone climbed in.
“W-What the hell…”
Oh Ji-hoon panicked.
He stared at the man who had gotten into his passenger seat.
A familiar face, somewhere in his early to mid-twenties.
And then Oh Ji-hoon realized it was Na Kang-hae.
“You…!”
“So you do know who I am.”
“……!”
Cold sweat ran down Oh Ji-hoon’s spine.
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