Returning Home
Yeon-woo pressed his forehead to the passenger jet's tiny window and looked out.
With the roar of takeoff, the ground fell steadily away, and the red-roofed houses clustered near Guarulhos Airport began to shrink until they looked like miniature models.
Hmm. We got more out of this than I expected.
The deal with Urbano Silva had gone through without a hitch.
Even the chemical precursors for manufacturing explosives — the original reason they had sought out an illegal arms dealer — were in stock, and Urbano had agreed to sell them.
Trade with his network could secure not only assault rifles and anti-tank rockets, but attack helicopters if the money was right.
In truth, weapons of that caliber were neither necessary nor affordable for confronting Baeksol on home soil.
What they had actually purchased were detection systems primarily used by the U.S. military, along with counterintelligence gear to further fortify the Mokhwa Building.
With equipment on this scale, no one is going to bug or scan our building unless an entire nation decides to make us a target.
The principle was similar to the Aegis Combat System used on large cruisers.
Of course, the scale was nowhere near comparable…
Once the radar units they had bought were installed throughout the Mokhwa Building, any attempt at eavesdropping or infrared surveillance would be detected instantly.
If a listening device were brought in from outside, they could pinpoint its exact location — and, without the other party ever realizing, jam the signal and feed it whatever audio file they chose.
Say someone grew suspicious of the fifth floor and smuggled in a bug disguised as a potted plant: the device would simply transmit the ordinary ambient noise of a busy office.
Beyond that, Yeon-woo had freely flexed on a number of optical systems and special-operations tools he had used in his previous life.
Guess I'd better hustle and make some money once I'm back in Korea.
The jet had already climbed above the clouds. Yeon-woo lifted his head from the window.
Pressing his forehead against the cold glass had somehow helped him sort his thoughts.
Still, the most valuable thing we took away from this deal wasn't the gear.
While negotiating with Urbano Silva, Yeon-woo had artfully steered the conversation and drawn out information.
Most clients came to an arms dealer looking for firearms or rockets — powder weapons.
Urbano, pleased to find a buyer who deliberately cherry-picked the less popular inventory, had let all sorts of things slip.
Yeon-woo replayed Urbano's words in his mind.
Partnering with Baeksol for trade?
There was only one product that made sense. Their primary cash cow: narcotics.
The "maritime blockade" almost certainly referred to the periodic interdiction operations the U.S. Navy ran across the South Pacific and the Caribbean to choke off drug trafficking.
And mentioning that their stuff is better quality than the Chinos' — the Chinese — means Baeksol was looking for a new supplier to reduce their dependence on China for the drug trade, and they tried to open a South American pipeline.
They had probably abandoned large-scale smuggling from South America because of unit costs and the frequent American blockades that made long-haul transport difficult. Still, it seemed they had done a few weapons deals in the meantime.
In the course of that conversation, Urbano had named one particular person.
Yeon-woo still only had a surname, but he now knew that "Mr. Cha" ranked above Kim Gye-sik.
While he was lost in thought, Kim Min-su waved a hand beside him.
"Actor?"
"Hmm? Yes?"
"They're asking what you'd like for the in-flight meal."
Yeon-woo turned. A flight attendant stood smiling at him, brochure in hand.
"Ah — anything is fine with me. Whatever you have more of left, please."
The attendant's smile brightened.
In-flight meals came in limited numbers; from a crew member's perspective, a passenger who volunteered for whatever was left over was the most welcome — and most appreciated — kind of traveler.
Meanwhile, there was a man who, unlike Yeon-woo, was busy devouring every leftover meal on his flight.
To scramble their movements, the operatives had taken separate planes home, each routing through completely different connections and clearing immigration at Incheon Airport roughly an hour apart.
Park Jung-hyeon stepped off the aircraft several kilos heavier than when he had boarded.
After polishing off an impressive quantity of airline food, he made a brief stop at the restroom upon landing at Incheon, then headed straight for the parking garage.
He stretched his travel-stiffened body this way and that, pulled a pair of earphones from his bag, and fitted them into his ears.
"Tau. Just cleared immigration at Incheon Airport."
"Good work. The other operatives came through at one-hour intervals ahead of you. Get some rest."
"Understood."
Receiving Alpha-Beta's stand-down order, Park Jung-hyeon folded his massive frame into the parked car and set out for Seoul.
As his vehicle pulled out of the Incheon Airport garage, another car slipped discreetly into place behind him.
Whether he noticed or not, Park Jung-hyeon's car continued toward the capital.
Inside the black sedan tailing him, the driver spoke.
"I've got him. Maintaining a two-hundred-meter gap."
"Copy. I'll track the live position and follow as well."
The one tailing Park Jung-hyeon was Lee Gyu-jin; the one monitoring the route was Kim Su-hyeok.
After a long stretch of driving, Park Jung-hyeon's car stopped in front of a shabby building on the outskirts of Gangseo-gu.
From a distance, Lee Gyu-jin parked as well.
"Park Jung-hyeon is entering the building. I'm going in after him."
Lee Gyu-jin glanced at the sign of the place Park Jung-hyeon had just walked into.
Grandma's Ox-Head Gukbap
"You clam up even when I ask nicely. Thought I wouldn't find it if you treated it like classified intel, huh?"
Grinning, Lee Gyu-jin stepped into the restaurant.
Inside the dining hall, he spotted the broad back of a very large man seated at a table.
Creak—
He pulled out the chair opposite and sat down with a smile.
"Well, well. You ought to watch for tails. Getting your route made this easily? Thanks to you, I've got the gukbap shop's address now."
Without changing expression, Park Jung-hyeon took out a spoon and handed it across the table.
"You need to work on your tailing skills. I already ordered yours. The soup'll be out soon — wait for it."
"…"
Park Jung-hyeon might have the build of a bear, but his instincts were sharper than a fox's.
Upon arriving in Korea, Yeon-woo climbed straight into the car Saebyeol had sent to meet him.
"Thank you for your hard work."
From the driver's seat, Im Jae-uk — Jeong Cheol-min's manager — offered a greeting. Kim Min-su, climbing in after Yeon-woo, clapped him on the shoulder.
"Anything happen with our management team while I was gone?"
"No, sir. Nothing out of the ordinary."
The car pulled away at once. Inside, both Kim Min-su and Lee Ye-eun promptly passed out cold.
Yeon-woo watched their heads loll with every turn of the vehicle as they snored, then quietly retrieved the neck pillows from the back and tucked them behind both of their necks.
They've earned the rest.
Of course, Yeon-woo was just as exhausted.
He had been running an actor's schedule and an operative's schedule in parallel.
Im Jae-uk's car made its first stop at Yeon-woo's house.
Kim Min-su, drooling against the neck pillow, snapped his eyes open.
"Khup— I dozed off for a second."
"Min-su hyung, you must be wiped out. Go home and get some sleep."
"Oof — already at your place, Actor. Take care getting inside."
Yeon-woo nodded and stepped out of the car.
In the elevator he stretched his arms this way and that, then walked into his apartment.
"Hmm. A little tired, but it's still midday… If I sleep now, jet lag will drag on forever."
Most of the equipment they had purchased was designated strategic material in nearly every country; import and export by any legitimate route was impossible. Naturally, it would not be arriving through normal channels.
A specialist broker would move it by sea to Korea — a process that would take at least two months.
"I just spent a fortune. Time to start earning it back."
Settling onto the sofa, Yeon-woo pulled out his smartphone.
He needed to check how far things had progressed.
Director Lee Yong-su of the film Moon.
Director Kim Han-su of the drama Parabola.
The drama side had a large cast; for an accurate schedule, it would be better to get a briefing from Executive Director Yoon Mi-yeon.
"I'll start with the film."
Yeon-woo dialed Director Lee Yong-su.
The line rang a few times, then the director's voice came through.
"Oh, Actor Ryu. I heard you'd left the country for an overseas schedule."
"Yes. I finished everything and came back today."
Director Lee chuckled softly.
"You can't have shaken off the travel fatigue yet, and you're already calling — so you must want an update on progress, yes? I heard through Saebyeol that you secured Actress Hong A-yun."
"I see. You haven't met her yet?"
"Haha. Why would I need a separate meeting? I'm hardly her mentor. I'm just glad it worked out. We'll see each other at the production meeting anyway."
Despite the director's words, when Hong A-yun had been approached for the role and learned that Director Lee Yong-su had recommended her, she had agreed on the spot.
Judging by that, she seemed to regard him less as a pure business contact and more as something of a teacher or benefactor.
"Then how far along are things?"
"We've coordinated with Saebyeol and put together a shortlist for the supporting roles."
Anything discussed with Saebyeol would flow straight to the operatives on the fifth floor.
Hmm. But those same operatives have been tied up with the Brazil operation for a while — they probably haven't run background checks yet.
Yeon-woo added another line.
"Director, there's no rush, so why don't we have Saebyeol Media dig a little into the supporting-role shortlist first. With all the moral controversies in the industry lately, I think it's safer to check thoroughly before we move forward."
"Moral issues… Yes. Drugs, drunk driving — there's been no end of talk these days."
Of course, beyond Saebyeol's surface-level screening, the operatives would dig far deeper.
"Is there anything inconvenient, or anything you need?"
"Nothing inconvenient, of course. As for what I need…"
Director Lee paused, then continued.
"Having someone like an assistant writer would help raise the polish a bit further…"
"An assistant writer?"
"If there were someone who could check the finer details of the scenario and bounce ideas around, more creative work would come out of it, I expect."
The moment Yeon-woo heard that, a particular person sprang to mind.
"I know a young friend who's exceptionally capable. He's staged plays before, and more than anything, he's a complete film obsessive."
"Oh-ho. A young one? Even better. I'm an old man — I can't fake young sensibilities. And a film obsessive — isn't that what they call an otaku these days? They say otakus outclass most so-called experts when it comes to pure expertise."
Yeon-woo nodded at the director's words.
It looked like he would need to make a call to a certain otaku.