Generous Gifts and Gangster Payback
A text came in early from her.
I hurried to wash up and headed to the Minrak-dong Hotel. When I called at the room door, she opened it right away as if she'd been waiting, and I stepped inside. The two of them were already fully made up, waiting for me.
"Sleep well?"
"You really went home last night?"
"Yeah. Where else would I go?"
"I figured you'd call Eun-mi out, so I stayed up tense as hell, barely sleeping."
"I'm not that shameless."
"True, watching you yesterday, you seemed way too innocent, Mr. Secretary Park."
"Anyway, what do you want for breakfast?"
"I heard from Eun-mi the porridge there's killer."
"Shall we head there, then?"
No need to agonize over it—perfect. I drove them to Yeonhwa-ri, where we scarfed down some delicious porridge, then hit Songjeong Beach to gaze at the sea over coffee. Finally, Busan Station.
"Honey, I'll give you a call."
"Sure. Safe travels up."
"See you in Seoul, Mr. Secretary Park."
"Yeah. Thanks for all your hard work."
"Hard work? You're the one who busted your ass for us."
"Anyway, I had a great time thanks to you two."
I watched their train pull away, then headed back to the parking lot. Just as I went to start the car, a text pinged in. From Mi-hyang.
I quickly popped open the back door and checked under the passenger seat—a white envelope. Inside: 100 self-checks for 100,000 won each.
Big spenders, those two. Thanks to them, even as an unemployed bum, I wouldn't have to worry about money for a while. Of course, priority one was dealing with those punk blackmailers. Around noon, I swung by the Busan Metropolitan Police Agency and called Information Officer Heo Sang-do, summoning him to the back parking lot.
"What brings Congressional Secretary Park here so early?"
"Got a favor to ask, sir."
"Ah~ twisting my arm again? Your tone says it's some insane request."
"Not that insane, but it's off the books."
"What's the job?"
"Just track down two phone numbers for me."
"Knew it—totally nuts. You know screwing up a trace like that could cost your head?"
"That's why I'm asking you, Officer Heo. You're the only one I trust."
"Always like this."
"Next time I got something good, I'll pay you back big."
"You promised."
He took my memo and headed inside. I followed into the building, grabbed coffee in the lounge, and waited, smoking two cigs. Right on cue, he came down and spotted me on the terrace, joining me at the table.
"These punks are total psychos. How'd you get tangled with 'em?"
"My friends got filthy messed up with them."
"Straight-up scumbags—no priors even. Grunts like these don't scare easy."
"That bad?"
"Guys with any rep, you can talk down. But these no-name dirtbags? Gotta hit 'em hard."
"Yeah. Anyway, thanks."
"How's the assemblyman doing?"
"Same old tough bastard."
"So what brings you here, Mr. Park?"
"Just beat—took some leave. Thinking of working the district office."
"Coming down to Busan?"
"Yeah. Seoul just ain't my vibe."
No need to spill about getting fired to Heo. Sure, the lady said she'd talk to the assemblyman in Seoul and get me reinstated, but that's if it pans out. Anyway, I thanked him, pocketed the document envelope he handed over, and left the station. Back in the car, I flipped through: photos of the two guys I'd requested, full personal details, main haunts, rap sheets—all laid out.
Off to Seomyeon to meet President Do. Do Cheol-rak had once run with Busan's top gang crew, but by chance ended up volunteering his bros for candidate security at our campaign camp. After that, he ditched the life for legit wholesaling booze. No one around me better suited to this than him.
"Whoa, if it ain't Secretary Park—what brings you?"
"Business booming?"
"Sure—booze game's recession-proof. Tough times, folks drink and smoke more."
"True that. You ain't going bust anytime, President Do."
"Nah, liquor don't flop on sales. But seriously, what drags you here?"
"Need a hand from you, sir."
"Shoot. Anything for you, Secretary Park."
"Gonna borrow some of your crew."
"What kinda mess has you handling it personally?"
I slid the document envelope his way. He skimmed it, set it down, and eyed me.
"Filthy little shits. You mixed up with 'em?"
"Yeah. How do we handle?"
"How far you want it?"
"Scare 'em good. Two folks I know—their marriages are on the rocks 'cause of these assholes. Husbands find out? Divorce city."
"I'll send boys up to nab 'em. Handle it myself."
"You personally?"
"Punks like these don't flinch at half-measures. Gotta soul-crush 'em so they never even think of pulling shit again."
"Counting on you then, President Do."
"No sweat—don't stress. Boys head out today; nabbed by tomorrow night."
"Appreciate it."
I slid over an envelope with five million won.
"What's this?"
"Gotta cover the crew's expenses."
"Come on, Mr. Park—that's insulting. We don't do envelopes between us."
"Just passing on what the victims gave me."
"Pocket it. If I ever need a favor, I won't show up with cash either."
"But you're calling in your guys—"
"Take it back, or no deal."
No choice—I grabbed it back. Do hit the intercom, summoning four burly dudes and one sharp-looking guy.
"Say hi."
"How's it goin'?"
"Yeah, been a while. You all good?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Seong-su."
"Yeah, bro!"
"Take the boys to Seoul, snag these two."
"What kinda trash needs all five of us?"
"No-rep scumbags. Secretary Park's ask—no fuckups, got it?"
"Roger. Wheels up now."
The sharp guy's name was Seong-su—legendary blade man back in the day. He scanned the docs, bowed, and they filed out.
"I'll call when we got 'em. Just chill."
"All on you, President Do."
"Lunch first?"
"Sorry—haven't even hit the office yet 'cause of this."
"Right. Call the second they call me."
"Thanks."
Out of Do's office, but nowhere to go. Sudden unemployment—where's a guy like me headed? Hitting the district office? Lame. Bothering busy pals? Nah. Library it was—might as well study while down.
Up to the reading room, piled books high, skimmed, copied key bits, and started charting Korea's political landscape. Who said, "Study the past to see the future"? No action till I clawed back in, so goldmine time: from '48 republic founding to now, our political history. Sorted my party's leaders vs. rivals', tracked big shots and rising stars with fine-tooth comb.
Library stacks and papers? Way more than expected—stuff I'd glossed over in the trenches turned crucial. Sorted, copied, lost track of time till closing bell, holed up in the reading room till lights out.