Suspicion (1)
The next day.
After he regained consciousness, Kang-hae was moved to a private room in the ward.
Before half a day had passed, two men came to see him.
Kang-hae knew at once they were from Intelligence Command headquarters.
One looked to be in his early forties.
The other appeared to be in his mid-thirties.
Kang-hae got up from the bed and snapped off a salute.
The older man returned it and spoke first.
“Stay lying down.”
“I’m fine.”
“How’s your body? Holding up?”
“I’m fine.”
“Good. Sit comfortably.”
Yet despite the words, there was little warmth in his eyes.
Kang-hae understood that Intelligence Command was already suspicious of him.
That was why they had sent an investigation team under the guise of a hospital visit.
It made sense.
In their eyes, Kang-hae was nothing more than a fourth-year rookie.
That rookie had not only failed his mission but been spotted by the enemy and still come back alive.
Alone, at that.
There would be more than a few questions.
“I have a few things to ask. If you’re feeling rough, I can come back another time.”
Kang-hae knew better.
If he answered, “We can do it another time,” their suspicion would only deepen.
Intelligence Command never forgave an operative who abandoned his comrades and ran in the middle of a mission.
If they decided Kang-hae had left his team behind, he would die without a trace.
And it would be a very miserable, very painful death.
“I’m fine. You can ask now.”
That was Kang-hae’s answer.
But even so, the two men did not let their guard down.
Still, they were not the only ones suspicious of Kang-hae.
He was suspicious of them too.
Not just them—everyone connected to this operation was suspect.
Before the investigators arrived, Kang-hae had been replaying the Wind Blast operation over and over in his head.
And he had figured it out.
The enemy had known they were coming in advance.
The soldiers who had lain in ambush were no ordinary North Korean troops either.
The weapons they handled and the way they fought were far beyond standard infantry.
They had to be from either the Special Operations Bureau or the General Escort Bureau.
If men like that had set up the ambush, then the operation had definitely been leaked.
And so Kang-hae began wondering how much he should tell the investigators sitting in front of him, staring at him with suspicion.
Then, at that moment, the door to the room opened.
Swish—
A moment later, two men in uniform stepped inside.
One of them, the man with a single hibiscus blossom on his collar tab, looked at Kang-hae and said, “Na Kang-hae. You don’t even salute an old superior?”
The man with the single hibiscus was Ha Seok-jun, who had once been a company commander in Intelligence Command.
During the eleven months he served there, Ha Seok-jun clashed with Development Group personnel at every turn.
In the military, friction between commissioned officers and noncommissioned officers was common.
It was even more common in a unit made up mostly of NCOs.
But not every officer assigned to Intelligence Command ended up in conflict with the NCOs.
Officers who understood honor and respect were naturally treated well.
Ha Seok-jun, however, was a man who had not a single redeeming quality that could earn him respect.
He was contemptible to the core.
He lived and died for promotion alone.
So the Development Group personnel, who were centered around NCOs, never accepted him as one of their own.
After those eleven months in Intelligence Command, Ha Seok-jun had been transferred a few times, moved through different posts, and eventually assigned to the Defense Counterintelligence Command, formerly the Defense Security Command.
“What’s the matter? You from Counterintelligence?”
One of the Intelligence Command men asked, looking at Ha Seok-jun.
“As expected of Intelligence Command. Sharp eyes.”
With a sneer, Ha Seok-jun adjusted the ID card hanging on his left chest.
“Our senior asked you what business you had here, you piece of shit.”
The Intelligence Command junior, who had been silent until then, glared at Ha Seok-jun and said, “Section Chief Lee. Am I right? I told you those Intelligence Command bastards would come out like this.”
Ha Seok-jun addressed the Counterintelligence sergeant who had come with him, a sly grin plastered across his face.
The Intelligence Command junior stepped toward Ha Seok-jun.
If the senior had not caught the junior by the shoulder, Ha Seok-jun would surely have ended up in the emergency room downstairs.
“Fine. Since you asked, I’ll tell you. Beginning now, we are conducting an investigation into Na Kang-hae of the Republic of Korea Armed Forces Intelligence Command Special Mission Battalion.”
“Hey, single hibiscus. Go report back to your chief of staff. Intelligence Command business is handled by Intelligence Command.”
The Intelligence Command junior shot back at Ha Seok-jun.
“Intelligence Command bastards haven’t changed a bit. Always acting like they’re the only real soldiers, the only patriots.”
“If you don’t get lost in the next five seconds, you’re dead.”
“Hey, Intelligence Command. I’m here under the Defense Minister’s orders.”
As soon as the words Defense Minister left Ha Seok-jun’s mouth, the Intelligence Command personnel exchanged glances.
“If you don’t believe me, go ahead and check right now. What, should I give you the Defense Minister’s office number too?”
Ha Seok-jun said smugly.
The Intelligence Command senior jerked his chin at the junior, signaling him to leave.
Before he went out, the junior gave Ha Seok-jun’s shoulder a hard pat and said, “We’ll meet again later.”
Kang-hae knew those words were no empty threat.
But Ha Seok-jun was so intoxicated by the feeling of having won that his mouth curled all the way up to his ears.
Once the Intelligence Command men left, Ha Seok-jun looked at Kang-hae and said, “It’s good to see you again.”
He said it in a voice that was anything but sincere.
＊ ＊ ＊
The presidential office.
President Kim Jin-cheol received a briefing on current affairs from his chief secretaries.
His greatest concern among them was the most recent public opinion poll.
“Approval has risen slightly since the recent high-level inter-Korean talks.”
“How much?”
“Three percent, Your Excellency.”
At the number, Kim Jin-cheol’s face hardened.
It fell far short of expectations.
He let out a long sigh.
“If the items in the agreement start moving, the approval rating will rise again.”
The chief secretary for political affairs offered the words as consolation, but Kim Jin-cheol only snapped back, “How is that supposed to happen overnight? If it’s more rounds of coordination and whatnot, it’ll take forever.”
But it wasn’t merely irritation speaking.
As Kim Jin-cheol said, the various matters agreed upon in the talks—high-level meetings to be held in Pyongyang and Seoul, the full resumption of operations at the Kaesong Industrial Complex—would clearly take a long time.
Everyone fell silent.
Kim Jin-cheol thought he needed an action people could see with their own eyes right now.
＊ ＊ ＊
Kang-hae sat on the edge of the bed.
A sharp ache stabbed through the side where the bullet had hit him, but he didn’t show it.
Ha Seok-jun sat in a chair with a disgusting smile on his face, speaking to the section chief as he set up a camcorder.
“Section Chief Lee. This is rough, you know. Investigating one of your old subordinates.”
Not a shred of sincerity in the words.
“Still, we have to do what has to be done.”
“Right. We do.”
“It’s set up.”
“Then let’s begin.”
The section chief stood beside Ha Seok-jun and said, “From this point forward, we will conduct a special investigation into Operation Wind Blast, a top-secret presidential mission. State your affiliation, name, and rank.”
“……”
Kang-hae did not answer the section chief’s question.
“Na Kang-hae, assigned to the ground team of the Special Mission Battalion of the Republic of Korea Armed Forces Intelligence Command. Rank: sergeant first class. Is that correct?”
“……”
“Hey, Na Kang-hae.”
The section chief’s voice dropped low, unlike before.
Depending on who heard it, the tone was threatening enough.
But Kang-hae didn’t even blink.
“Section Chief Lee.”
Then Ha Seok-jun called to the section chief.
“Yes?”
“Didn’t I tell you? He wouldn’t say a single word anyway.”
Ha Seok-jun tried to calm the section chief, who was starting to lose his temper.
But the section chief kept on in that same menacing tone.
“Hey, Na Kang-hae. If you keep your mouth shut like that, the only one who gets screwed is you.”
“Ah, come on. Didn’t I say this was pointless? Hey, Section Chief Lee. Did I ever tell you I used to be in Intelligence Command?”
Of course he had.
After serving in Intelligence Command, Ha Seok-jun had gone around every unit he was transferred to bragging that he came from Intelligence Command.
He also bragged about things he had never done at the Development Group.
Like the time, he claimed, he personally rescued two trainees who had nearly died after getting tangled in a fishing net during training.
All of other people’s exploits became Ha Seok-jun’s.
He went on.
“Back when I was in Intelligence Command, those bastards strutted around like kings, you know. Talking big about how they’d go to Pyongyang and drive a bayonet into Kim Jong-un’s forehead. And what happened? Not even to Pyongyang—and they all got themselves killed, huh?”
At that instant, Kang-hae clenched his fist.
Blood refluxed up the IV line in his arm.
And when Ha Seok-jun saw that blood, he realized he had gone too far.
Shit, I’d forgotten… those Intelligence Command bastards don’t have a back end when they get pissed.
A fear he had forgotten wrapped itself around his body.
Then Kang-hae, who had been silent until now, called out to him in a low voice.
“Major Ha Seok-jun.”
“……”
Terror-stricken, Ha Seok-jun couldn’t answer.
Kang-hae spoke again.
“Say that kind of thing one more time, and I’ll rip your mouth open.”
Ha Seok-jun felt a strange sense of déjà vu in the eyes fixed on him.
Kang-hae’s gaze was like Lee Woo-hyung’s.
“What, you bastard— you…!”
The section chief beside Ha Seok-jun shouted, but the instant he met Kang-hae’s eyes, he shut his mouth and was seized by an inexplicable fear.
During ten years in Counterintelligence, the section chief had investigated countless soldiers.
Some of them had been generals with stars on their shoulders.
And still, in the end, they all folded.
That was what Counterintelligence was.
But he understood now that none of that would work on the man named Na Kang-hae sitting in front of him.
“Section Chief Lee. We’re done for today.”
Ha Seok-jun stood up.
“What? But we should keep questioning him.”
“We’ve got time. And this bastard isn’t opening his mouth anyway.”
With that, Ha Seok-jun led the section chief out of the room.
And the moment he stepped outside, he realized he had fled in a panic.
He was struck by a humiliation he couldn’t even put into words.
So Ha Seok-jun made a vow to himself.
He would pin some kind of charge on Na Kang-hae, no matter what it took.
After the two men left, Kang-hae lay back on the bed and stared out the window.
By then the sun was setting.
He needed sleep in order to recover, but it wouldn’t come.
It was because of what Ha Seok-jun had just said.
Hoo… I held back.
The instant Ha Seok-jun said, Not even to Pyongyang—and they all got themselves killed, huh? Kang-hae had wanted to break his neck.
But he had endured.
Because there were still people he needed to kill.
And so Kang-hae took a deep breath, wondering whether Ha Seok-jun should be added to the list of those who needed to die as well.
Hoo—
The sound of Kang-hae’s long exhale filled the room.
Then, beneath the breath of his own lungs, he heard something unfamiliar.
Thuk—
Thuk-thuk—
Thuk-thuk-thuk—
Kang-hae listened carefully.
The sound was drawing closer.
He knew exactly what it was.
Someone was climbing the wall.
Quietly.
Someone was coming.
To the fourth-floor room where Kang-hae lay.
Climbing the wall.
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