The Overpass and the Rooftop
Reading the flood of articles, LN Entertainment CEO Kim Ju-seong smiled with deep satisfaction.
Staff gathered for the regular meeting were discussing the domestic release schedule for the film Sketch.
"What does Golden Media have to say?"
"They say they can secure screens starting two weeks from now."
"Oh? That soon?"
"Well, our Actor Ryu is basically a cheat code right now. They're practically falling over themselves to do whatever we ask."
Kim Ju-seong nodded at Executive Director Yoon Mi-yeon's report, then turned to Director Im across the table.
"Director Im. How about Pine Entertainment?"
"That side is... surprisingly lukewarm. You remember Baldur took a heavy loss because of Star Beyond the River last time, and Pine had invested quite a bit in it. Ever since then, they've been oddly uncooperative."
Golden Media and Pine Entertainment handled the bulk of domestic film distribution. Combined, their market share approached eighty percent, so partnering with at least one of them was essential.
"Hmm. Still, I doubt they'd snub us over something like that. We didn't sabotage them—the film simply succeeded on its own merits. They just don't have an eye for quality."
He said it lightly enough, but Kim Ju-seong laced his fingers together and fell into thought. It was true that every project LN touched after that had met with a strange, obstructive coolness.
Bzzzt—
His smartphone vibrated on the table.
"Hmm? That's mine. Excuse me."
He reached to decline the call, then saw the screen and his expression changed.
"This one I have to take. It's Actor Ryu."
The staff around the conference table perked up at once. The main topic of the meeting—and currently the hottest name in the country—made their interest inevitable.
"Yeon-woo. Isn't it the middle of the night over there?"
"Haha. It is—two in the morning. I figured I should pass along the good news before it hit the papers, so I timed the call for when you'd be at the office."
"You can call me at dawn anytime. Perfect timing, actually—we're in the middle of the regular meeting. Good news, you said?"
At the words "good news," every person in the room held their breath. Even without speakerphone, the conference room went so quiet it felt as if Yeon-woo's voice might carry through the receiver on its own.
"Yes. It looks certain that our film Sketch will take an award. Director Park Chan-hong heard from the organizers—though we still don't know which prize."
"Ohhh!"
"Yes!"
Yeon-woo's quiet voice carried clearly enough for the whole room, and the conference hall erupted in cheers as if the national team had just scored in the World Cup.
Kim Ju-seong's mouth curved into an unhidden smile. He pressed a finger to his lips and quieted the staff so he could finish the call.
"Shh. Ah—Yeon-woo. You've worked hard. What's the return schedule looking like?"
"We'll have to leave after the awards ceremony, so another two days or so of stay, I think."
"Understood. Truly, well done."
Kim Ju-seong ended the call and looked at Team Leader Jeong.
"Team Leader Jeong. Leave immediately. Tickets ready?"
"Yes. We've been on standby."
Jeong Hyeok rose at once, offered a quick bow, and strode out. Kim Ju-seong surveyed the room again, a pleased smile on his face.
"Pine Entertainment was lukewarm, was it? Now they're the ones who'll be sorry."
Two days before Yeon-woo left for Berlin, he had summoned Han Hae-un separately and issued several instructions.
"Excuse me? Two billion won to Baek No-ya? I know entertainers make good money, but won't that be a burden to pay back later?"
Yeon-woo looked at the startled Hae-un as if the question made no sense.
"Why would I pay it back? Baek No-ya is the one using it. Just pass the word—he'll handle it without a peep."
"Ah. Is that so?"
Hae-un nodded, then tilted his head again.
"But Team Leader—does Berlin even have something like that? An underworld information broker? I was an intelligence officer myself, and I've never heard of it."
Yeon-woo gave a short laugh.
"You need at least ten years in the field before you hear about people like that."
"Ugh—ten years in the overseas division? Is there anyone besides you who stayed out that long?"
Most agents couldn't last more than four years overseas. Foreign operations usually required a decade of domestic work first, and by then most people had been promoted into counterintelligence posts back home. The constant tension of overseas duty was more than most could endure; they rarely refused a recall. Even those who, like Yeon-woo, turned down desk posts and stayed abroad were pulled home the moment a foreign service burned their cover. Counting retirees, almost no one had run overseas longer than Yeon-woo had in his previous life.
"Still," Hae-un pressed, "does this operation really need you in person? Wouldn't it be safer to have Baek No-ya's people handle it?"
Yeon-woo answered evenly.
"I gave the order, yes—but why do you think Baek No-ya is cooperating with you?"
"Because of his granddaughter, like he said last time?"
"Sure, the debt of gratitude is part of it. But who stands to gain the most if Baeksol vanishes from this country?"
Understanding dawned on Hae-un's face.
"If our theory is right and Baeksol controls domestic drug distribution, then once they're gone, Baek No-ya will take over the underworld vacuum they leave behind."
Yeon-woo nodded.
"If I open a channel for Baek No-ya to deal directly with an underworld information broker, he'll get harder and harder to control. Like handing a cat a fish."
Recalling that conversation with Hae-un, Yeon-woo pulled on a cap and mask and left the hotel alone in the early hours.
The reply came almost at once.
Yeon-woo nodded at the message and boarded a yellow subway train as it rolled into the platform.
The Victory Column… not a bad choice at all.
After a long ride he stepped off at Hansaplatz and walked slowly toward the distant monument.
Before leaving Korea, he had used Hae-un to pass Baek No-ya an order: move funds. Roughly 1.5 million euros, delivered into Berlin. Baek No-ya had laundered the equivalent of about two billion won cleanly; the money had been converted to euros and crossed the German border to coincide with Yeon-woo's arrival.
Lost in thought, he found himself near the Victory Column before he knew it.
"That tower really is still beautiful."
A structure like a circular Parthenon rose into a tall column crowned by a golden statue of Victoria, gazing out over Tiergarten. The Siegessäule had been raised by Wilhelm I of Prussia to commemorate victory in war. The broker had almost certainly chosen the spot because the surrounding park offered easy escape routes in an emergency—but if one wanted to assign meaning, it made a fine place to mark the opening of a long war against Baeksol.
Tourists thronged the base of the column, snapping photos. Yeon-woo quietly circled once.
That one.
Even in the crowd, he could tell which local Baek No-ya's side had hired. He approached a thoroughly ordinary-looking middle-aged German man.
"Are you the one the Professor sent?"
At the prearranged code phrase, the man who had been scanning the area jumped and spun around.
"What? Ah—yes. H-here. The goods."
A plain black leather bag. Yeon-woo took it and checked the interior. Exactly as ordered: six bundles of five hundred five-hundred-euro notes each. Even packed entirely in the highest denomination, the bag was heavy.
"Correct. Good work."
"Um…"
The man called after him carefully as Yeon-woo turned to leave. Yeon-woo looked back; the man fidgeted, then spoke.
"How did you know it was me right away? They said my identity would be completely secret…"
Yeon-woo gave a short, dry laugh. The man was clearly a novice who had done this only a handful of times.
"You came to the base of the Victory Column and never once looked up at it—just kept scanning the crowd. That means you weren't here as a tourist."
He pointed at the golden Victoria gleaming high above. The man's face fell. All around them, every other person was either staring up at the tower or posing for photos against it.
"And you don't seem to have done this sort of work often. If you plan to keep at it, don't speak to the other party. Sooner or later someone will eat you alive."
The man's face went pale. He nodded and quietly turned away. Yeon-woo watched him for a moment, then turned and headed for the next location.
Hmm. As expected.
He felt a presence trailing him. Not the middle-aged German he had just spoken with. Walking at an easy pace, he used the black glass of his phone screen to catch the reflection behind him: two East Asian men following at a careful distance.
Baek No-ya's underlings.
From Baek No-ya's perspective, handing over two billion won without attaching a watch would have been stranger still. They almost certainly meant no harm—just wanted to see what the money was for.
Yeon-woo lengthened his stride; the men behind him quickened theirs. He scanned the surrounding buildings for a way to shake the tail.
That's Bellevue Palace. Cross that bridge and "that building" should be there.
He passed the German presidential residence and crossed the bridge over the Spree. Beyond it stood a five-story building whose exterior walls had gone ragged with age.
The bakery on the first floor used to be excellent.
It had closed; the interior was dark. Yeon-woo stepped inside with the ease of long familiarity.
The two men, who had been keeping their distance, broke into a run the moment he vanished through the doorway. One posted at the entrance; the other followed inside.
Unsure which floor the target had taken—and knowing they might meet him coming back down—the man climbed the stairs with every sense strained. He checked each floor carefully up to the fifth and still found nowhere the target might have gone.
Everything above the first floor looks residential. Where did he go? Was this building the destination?
He started back down, floor by floor, and noticed that a single door on the third floor was a different color. It looked like a fire door—clearly not someone's apartment.
Is there another stairwell?
He approached carefully and turned the handle.
Click.
Bright light spilled through as the door opened. Beyond it, a small green overpass crossed the avenue and connected directly to an elementary school—a Grundschule.
"Damn it! Who builds a third-floor overpass out of a building?!"
He shouted through a small stairwell window to his partner waiting outside.
"Get up here! We lost him! Run!"
The man outside scrambled up. Both of them sprinted across the overpass at full speed and split down the staircases on either side, chasing a trail already gone cold.
From the rooftop of the same building, Yeon-woo watched the two of them dwindle into the distance. He had bolted up the stairs the moment he entered, stepped onto the railing of an outdoor air-conditioning unit on the fifth floor, and climbed onto the roof. Now he watched them race off, panting as if their coattails were on fire, then quietly descended the building himself.
Having shaken the tail clean, he took the subway and made his way to the unmanned luggage lockers in the basement of Berlin Station. He split the money between two lockers, accepted the thin disposable card keys, and moved on again.
First time using this one myself…
Even before the Wall fell—when East and West Germany still stood divided—Berlin had been a global arena of espionage. Split by ideology at the heart of Europe, the city had become the natural front line of mutual surveillance. The CIA, the KGB, and the intelligence services of half the world had watched one another without rest.
By the time I was posted here, Germany was already reunified, so it wasn't quite that intense…
Still, decades as the front line of the spy trade had cultivated other industries as a matter of course. One of them was the underground information broker.
Today's destination—the "library"—came into view.