The Concrete Verdict
While I was killing time at the library, Do Sajang's man—Seong-su's friend—had already nabbed one of the two guys from the list. Now he was lying in wait in a back alley of a residential neighborhood in Sinrim-dong for the other one.
"You Kim Chun-bae?"
"Yeah. And who the hell are you?"
"I'm from the Agency."
"The Agency? What agency?"
Seong-su's friend pulled a laminated ID with a crisp NIS logo from the inner pocket of his suit and shoved it right in Kim Chun-bae's face. Then the two burly guys twisted his arms behind his back, taped them tight, and shoved him into a black van. They snatched his house key, broke into the place he was renting, ransacked every corner, and came out hauling a box stuffed with who-knows-what before peeling out.
"Will you at least tell me what the fuck this is about?"
"Kim Gwajang, gag that bastard's mouth. Who the hell does he think he is, yapping like that?"
Leading the pack, Seong-su's friend and his crew hit the Gyeongbu Expressway, exited at the Osan IC, and pulled over in some godforsaken spot outside Osan city limits. Moments later, another black van and two sedans rolled up to join them.
"Boss, do we really gotta drag these scumbags all the way to Busan? Why not just bury 'em somewhere quiet?"
"Cut the bullshit. We do what we're told, nothing more."
"I don't get why the big man wants to see these lowlife punks in person."
"Anyway, we're switching cars here. Shut your traps, tie 'em up proper, gag 'em tight, and stuff 'em in the trunks. And pad the head side so their skulls don't crack and bleed—don't want a mess."
"Got it!"
They double-checked the bindings, split the two between the trunks of the sedans. The van headed back onto the highway, while the sedans took the national roads south to Busan. Along the way, they detoured onto bumpy country lanes now and then, jolting the cars just to make the thugs in the trunks suffer, snickering the whole time. By the time those two pieces of trash hit Busan, they'd be half-dead from the ride.
"Congressional Secretary Park, you available?"
"Yeah, go ahead."
"We've got the two you mentioned. Heading down now—should arrive around 2 a.m. What do you want to do?"
"Night's best for this kind of work, right? Fewer eyes, and the dark'll scare 'em shitless."
"Yes, sir. Our factory's out of sight from prying eyes anyway, but night seems better for breaking them. Just checking."
"See you at two, then. Where?"
"Our brick factory in Seondong?"
"Heard it's there, never been."
"Busan High School entrance, then."
"Got it. I'll head that way at two."
They'd caught the bastards easier than expected. No surprise—Heo Sang-do's intel had their addresses and haunts pinned down cold. For Do Sajang's pros at hunting people down, it was child's play. Anyway, I had time to kill till two and nowhere good to go. Couldn't just go home and sneak out at midnight. Since I was headed to Seondong anyway, I parked in an alley by the north gate of Pusan National University and slipped into a 24-hour comic book bang. Even past eleven, the place was packed—probably all the unemployed folks thanks to the shitty economy. I shelled out 2,000 won for two hours prepaid and dove into the stacks, setting my phone alarm just in case I lost track of time.
"You're early."
"Says the man who beat me here. Your guys not arrived yet?"
"Nah, just passed the toll booth. Give it ten minutes, tops. Oh, from now on, call me Branch Chief. And I'll call you Colonel Kim. You know why."
"Understood."
I followed Do Sajang's car to the factory, tucked away in the middle of nowhere, far from any houses. As I lit a smoke and waited by one side of the building, headlights cut through the dark. A forklift rumbled over, dropping a cylindrical steel mold for pillars on the ground. Soon after, a ready-mix concrete truck backed up beside it, idling as it waited for the sedans.
"Sir! Mission accomplished!"
"Good work, Section Chief Park. Where's the rats?"
"In the trunks."
"Bring 'em out."
"Yes, Branch Chief!"
The guy called Section Chief Park—Seong-su's friend—snapped a crisp reply and barked orders at the burly men.
"Drag those rats over here!"
"Yes, sir!"
The four heavies split into pairs, popped the trunks, and hauled out the two thugs, who were too exhausted from the trip to even stand.
"Look at this punk—discipline shot to hell. On your feet, now!"
The thugs just lay there like sacks of shit. The heavies laid into them with brutal kicks until they finally stirred, struggling to rise with their arms bound. No easy feat. The heavies yanked them up and dragged them before Do Sajang—no, the Branch Chief.
"Branch Chief, sir—two rats captured as ordered."
"Good work."
"Thank you, sir."
"Kim Chun-bae, born September 12, 1982, registry in Samdong-myeon, Namhae-gun, Gyeongsangnam-do. That right?"
"Uh."
"This bastard's still out of it! Section Chief Park, you bring him without any attitude adjustment?"
"Sorry, sir. I'll fix it."
At the Branch Chief's roar, Park and the heavies unleashed hell. Kim Chun-bae, gagged tight, could barely whimper as they beat him senseless. The other thug trembled like a leaf. When the beating finally stopped, they hauled up the blood-soaked Kim Chun-bae.
"I'll ask again. Kim Chun-bae, born September 12, 1982, registry in Samdong-myeon, Namhae-gun, Gyeongsangnam-do. Correct?"
"Eh!"
The gag turned his "yes" into a muffled squeak. Ignoring it, the Branch Chief turned to the shaking one beside him.
"Bang Seong-gi, born May 29, 1983, registry in Songji-myeon, Haenam-gun, Jeollanam-do. Correct?"
"Eh!"
Bang Seong-gi yelped in terror—Kim's "lesson" had worked wonders.
"Section Chief Park, we need statements. Remove the gags."
"Yes, sir!"
Park ordered the heavies to yank the gags and force the thugs to their knees.
"This summary trial of the defendants Kim Chun-bae and Bang Seong-gi is now in session. On September 15, 2014, at Jes Club in Mapo-gu, Seoul, the defendants each met women, joined their tables, spiked their drinks with unknown drugs, put them to sleep, took them to motels, had sex with them, and photographed their nude bodies. Do you admit these facts?"
"Yes."
"The defendants then called the women they'd slept with, threatening to send the photos to their husbands unless they met again. Admit it?"
"Yes. We're sorry."
"The defendants admit all charges. This court finds Kim Chun-bae and Bang Seong-gi guilty of violating Article 4, Paragraph 1, Subsections (a) and (b) of the National Security Act. Sentence: death. Execution: immediate, here and now!"
"What? National Security Act? No! Please, sir, spare us!"
"Look at these idiots! Section Chief, what are you waiting for?"
The thugs, dazed by the absurdity and the death sentence, clung to the Branch Chief's legs. At his command, the heavies pried them off, slammed them down, and pinned their shoulders.
"Any last words, defendants?"
"Sir, we never violated any National Security Act. We're not spies!"
"Listen to 'em! Colonel, they claim no National Security violation."
"Branch Chief, they did violate it. The women they drugged and raped are wives of generals handling core North Korea-related military ops. They couldn't have not known. This was no accident—they got orders from the North Korean puppets to pick them up at the club, rape them, blackmail for military secrets, and hand 'em over."
"Sir, that's not true! Please, mercy!"
"Colonel, execute?"
"Yes. Proceed."
"Section Chief Park—execute! Method: encase in concrete, sink in the sea once it sets!"
"Yes, sir—right away!"
The mixer churned, and soon wet concrete poured out. Despite the heavies pinning their shoulders, the thugs thrashed desperately, begging for their lives. The heavies hoisted them up and dropped them into the cylindrical molds. More concrete followed. Now resigned, the thugs went quiet, awaiting their end.
"Branch Chief, hold up. Stop the mixer."
"Halt! Colonel, what's wrong?"
"Got some questions for them first."
"Yes, sir. Fire away."
"Tell me what you know about those women."
"Nothing. Just their numbers."
"You saw their IDs."
"No—wallets had cash, no cards. Swear."
"Where're the photos?"
"On our phones. That's it."
"Truth? Lie, and you really die."
"Yes—Buddha's my witness."
"Section Chief Park, you got stuff from their houses?"
"Yes, Colonel!"
At Park's order, the heavies dumped the confiscated phones and boxes in front of me. A notebook had women's names, numbers, addresses. Nothing else stood out. The phones held nudes of several women—including one of a sleeping Eun-mi. Staring at it, I wanted to kill the bastard myself. But that alone didn't justify murder.
"Branch Chief, one favor?"
"Name it, Colonel."
"Killing civilians—I'm no soldier—doesn't sit right. Any way to isolate them from society without death?"
"Can't do that. If we let 'em go and they target more VIP wives, leak secrets to the North—it could endanger the nation."
"That's why isolate 'em from society. You know places."
"We got spots our agents run, but if shit hits the fan, the fallout's huge."
"I'll take full responsibility. Still a no?"
"If you insist. Put it in writing?"
"Of course."
"Section Chief Park—fetch pen and paper from the car."
I scribbled some bullshit on the paper Park brought and slid it to the Branch Chief. He grinned, took it, and passed it to Park.
"Kim Chun-bae, Bang Seong-gi—die here, or work in some deserted hellhole?"
"Mercy! We'll do anything!"
"Section Chief Park, deliver 'em to Agent Seo in Wando. Tight surveillance. Got it?"
"Yes, sir!"
They dismantled the steel mold from the bottom, concrete oozing out. Once fully removed, they hosed off the cement sludge, stripped the thugs, wrung out their clothes, redressed them, rebound them tight, loaded 'em into the van, and Park and the heavies drove off. Those thugs were headed for some nameless fish farm on the south coast—slaving away under watch till they rotted.
"Secretary Park, you put on one hell of a show."
"Aigoo, Do Sajang—you were straight out of a drama."
"That oughta do it, right? Even if they escape the farm, they'll never approach those women again. No way they remember the numbers."
"Thanks anyway. You made it easy. Let me buy your crew a meal sometime."
"Sure. I'll let you know when they're back."
I thanked Do Sajang, said goodbye, and headed home. Just in case, I pulled the batteries from their phones, yanked the SIMs, and stashed 'em in the dashboard. No thief's gonna swipe just batteries. Anyway, Eun-mi—my lady's—request was handled clean. Tomorrow, I'd call her and say she could stop worrying.