The Funeral, Part One
"He was a good man...."
"Aigoo, the kindness High Group has shown me is more than I could ever repay...."
Down the long line of mourners, a few people were weeping. Cameras from the networks held their silence and carried the scene live.
The Chairman's death had kept me moving so frantically that I'd had no time to grieve. Only now, it seemed, was that time finally being given to me—and yet.
"This is the director of an orphanage we sponsor."
Yura murmured the occupation or affiliation of each guest who came to pay their respects, and I bowed my head in answer.
"Thank you. That's the part I haven't been able to keep track of."
"Hehe, don't mention it. Of course I would."
Yura's charge was external affairs. Where the other secretaries handled what happened inside, she handled what happened outside, and because of that she knew the greetings I might have missed better than anyone.
I don't see Park Namil.
Not anywhere nearby either?
No. Not a single trace. Even the secretaries and employees on Park Namil's line are nowhere to be seen. He did leave the hotel this morning, though. That much is certain.
I wasn't about to ease my watch on Park Namil, either. What had passed between us was as good as a declaration of war.
"Ah, this gentleman is with a guide-dog training center...."
That aside, even for a conglomerate, I hadn't realized their public role ran this deep. The facilities they sponsored or had built were staggering in number.
"Do you have a moment?"
A middle-aged man who had set down a chrysanthemum and bowed spoke to me in the midst of it.
"You came early, Commissioner?"
I had crossed paths with him now and then even back when I attended the Chairman. Moon Changbok—the man charged with this country's public safety, the Commissioner General of the National Police Agency—offered me a greeting.
"Well, I'll have to take responsibility for this affair and resign anyway. The military side will be much the same, I expect...."
The bitter way he stared off into the distance showed, all too plainly, what a man looks like when he knows he has to step back.
In the end he's on his way out, so there's no one left he needs to impress. That's why he came early.
Machina, please....
"This way."
I left the greetings to Yura and walked out into a quieter stretch of ground. Clouds had banked thick overhead, a sky that looked ready to break into rain, and it only deepened the gloom hanging over the funeral hall.
"So what was it you wanted to see me about?"
"...What I'm about to tell you is strictly unofficial. Not the position of the police—only the personal view of one policeman."
I was just wondering why he was drawing it out this far when Moon Changbok drained the bottle of water that had been handed around and lowered his voice, as if sharing a confidence.
"What?"
Incheon Airport, where the attack had struck, was a Class-A security zone—one of the most critical facilities the state itself recognized. Word that terror had broken out there was bound to shake the Republic of Korea.
Quite an interesting opinion.
We can't look at the police files?
I'm sorry. The case files on this incident have been sealed so tightly that they weren't easy to reach, and the most important information appears to have been recorded only on offline documents.
The more classified a thing is, the simpler the method tends to become. But hiding it this thoroughly was itself proof that something was there.
"That information... are you certain of it?"
"I can't tell you I'm certain. As I said a moment ago, I'm only passing along what I've reasoned out as one detective."
"Would you be able to share what you have?"
If I could get my hands on the information, I was sure I could hear Machina's read on it as well.
"Hahaha. Even if I no longer have to watch the moods of those above me, how could I leak internal investigative documents?"
"That's... true, but...."
"However...."
Moon Changbok drew something from his pocket. It was a photograph.
"This is?"
"A site confirmed in Africa. A photo of what appears to be the deal for the explosives used this time. It still needs further analysis, but...."
He let the words trail and pointed to one corner of the picture. Looking closely, I found a figure who appeared East Asian, though a mask and sunglasses hid the face.
"Lately this sort of black-market trade has been turning up often on the African side, and the whole world is watching."
"Then this photo...."
"Well... I happen to have quite a connection with the Company."
The Company Moon Changbok meant was no ordinary company. I understood at once that it was a euphemism—for the Company.
"Why are you giving information like this to me?"
"I owe the late Chairman a debt... let's leave it at that. Do you smoke?"
"No. I don't."
"Good. I smoked so much back in my field days that I still can't quit. I'd recommend you keep not smoking."
He smiled, set a cigarette between his lips, and held the photo out to me.
"However the investigation turns out, that photo is going to matter a great deal. Hold on to it."
"...Thank you."
I slipped the photograph straight into my pocket.
Pinning down where it is will take a while.
You can't find it right away?
...It wasn't even taken on site. It arrived as a print, and there's nothing around but dirt. If it weren't me, analyzing the location would be impossible to begin with.
Her voice was the same mechanical tone as always, and yet it somehow sounded as if she were grumbling.
R-right. Thanks, Machina. Keep up the good work....
Hmph. Very well. If the Chairman says so, I suppose I have no choice.
Fortunately, she didn't seem to be sulking all that seriously.
A sharp chime cut the quiet. I had just finished my thanks and was turning back toward my place when Moon Changbok's phone rang. He checked the screen, and his eyes went wide as they found me.
"You'd better hurry."
"What? What do you—"
It's Park Namil.
"What?"
The instant Machina spoke, my own phone began to ring. The caller was Yura.
"Hello?"
"Chairman, where are you? President Park Namil and the others are—"
"I'm coming right now!"
I shoved the phone back into my pocket, begged Moon Changbok's pardon, and ran for the funeral hall. Whatever Park Namil was thinking, he had surely prepared something that would seize the press's attention in a single stroke. Machina affirmed the thought as if she agreed.
The people accompanying Park Namil are no ordinary company.
"Why? Who?"
The Chief Justice of the Supreme Court.
"What?"
The Chief Justice? I couldn't begin to guess why that man would appear there of all places. This was a public funeral, so I had expected people from the government—but even so.
"Did Park Namil have a connection to the Chief Justice?"
No. Park Namil was overseas to begin with, so he never had much of a tie to anyone currently holding a key post in the government.
"Then why did they come together?"
Rain that had begun as scattered drops had, before I knew it, become a downpour over the plaza where the funeral was being held. People snapped umbrellas open in a rush. Others ducked into the building, or into the canopies the staff had started to raise. I kept running through all of them.
"Representative!"
Yura saw me and came hurrying over, hastily angling an umbrella above my head.
"How could you come running through the rain like this?"
"It hasn't come down that hard yet. I'm fine. Where's President Park?"
"I just got word they're coming in through the entrance."
As if to prove it, the reporters who had been filming the funeral grounds broke into a rush toward the entrance. Not long after, a rising murmur announced them: Park Namil in a black suit, the Chief Justice, and Director Jo Sangmin, entering the hall as a single party.
"There was still so much left for him to do, and so much I had yet to repay. That he should leave us like this weighs terribly on my heart."
"I'm sure he would be grateful that you came to pay your respects at all."
Once the formal exchange with the Chief Justice was done, Park Namil and I faced each other.
"I'm afraid I've arrived a little late. I was delayed bringing the other dignitaries after speaking with them."
Yesterday's expression was gone. He stood before me wearing a smile whose true meaning I couldn't read.
"The bereaved are supposed to hold this place. Thank you for coming, even late."
The lateness didn't seem to trouble him much. He gave a single shrug, slipped on the armband that marked him as family, and followed the Chief Justice inside.
A cute little strategy.
The moment Park Namil disappeared inside, Machina's voice arrived as if she had been waiting. I kept bowing to the guests who continued to come, and asked her in my head.
What do you mean?
I mean it's a cute little trick—arriving in that company so he stands out.
With those words, she sent the headlines straight into my mind.
Park Namil of High Defense Enters Alongside the Chief Justice — What Is His Intent?
Directors Enter Together — A Show of Support?
The reporters who live for gossip are already delighted, and they've started hauling it off in every direction.