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way.”
    “They’d have made sure the uniforms fit like they’re supposed to. Baggy.”
    “I’m on it,” Ri said and he went to his desk and started telephoning.
    Pak rewound the tape again to the beginning and tried to watch from a fresh perspective, as if this were the first time he was seeing it. The guards came out of the embassy. The car arrived and the driver opened the rear door. The guards opened the gate and the general came out. Moments later the shooters stepped into view and opened fire.
    He rewound the tape. The guards came out, the car arrived, the guards opened the gate, the general came out.
    And it struck him. The shooters not only knew that a car was coming to pick up the general, they knew the exact time it would be there, and that was impossible. He suspected that only a handful of people could have known such details. A few in the Chinese Embassy, and in the Guoanbu back in Beijing, and a few on Dear Leader’s staff.
    He would have bet his life that Dear Leader’s staff had not been compromised, and it was inconceivable that the South Koreans had the wherewithal to penetrate Chinese security to such an extent they could have come up with intel that good.
    But the assassination had taken place.
    The tape came to the shooting and Pak studied the images of the two figures. The one on the left was the largest, and his uniform was too tight, but the one on the right was slightly built, more typical of a North Korean. His uniform was a loose fit.
    Only a few spy agencies anywhere in the world had even the remotest possibility of penetrating Chinese intelligence: Russia’s FSB, Britain’s MI6, Israel’s Mossad, and America’s CIA.
    Russia wouldn’t be interested in starting trouble between China and North Korea, nor would Israel. England had some commercial interests on the peninsula, but South Korea’s chief partner was the United States.
    Pak stared at the television screen but the images weren’t registering. Dear Leader was insane, there was little doubt about it. But he wasa wily politician who had been trained by his father, practically from birth, to run the country. Maybe his constant warning that America was bent on destroying him and North Korea was correct after all, and not just the ravings of a madman trying to turn attention away from his failed policies.
    Ri hung up the phone, an odd expression on his face. “You were right,” he said. He glanced up at the clock on the wall. “And we’ve got twenty-five minutes to catch them.”
    “Catch who?”
    “The bodies of two cops were fished out of the river around dawn, their necks broken. They were fully dressed, but their AKs had been fired. Eight times.”
    “Who were they?”
    “Doesn’t matter, Colonel. What matters is that they were assigned patrol duty on Yanggak Island.”
    “Yanggakdo Hotel,” Pak said. “Someone from one of the tour groups.”
    “That’s right,” Ri said. “And the next flight to Beijing leaves in twenty-five minutes.”

 
     
     
SEVEN

     
    At Sunan International Airport, Soon and his roommate, a slightly built South Korean from Inch’on, were first off the bus, and along with Kim and others were herded into the departing passengers’ hall.
    The airport was busy this morning handling the four tour groups plus a smattering of North Korean and Chinese businessmen who hadtheir own separate line. This close to finally getting out, everyone’s spirits had improved markedly since the hotel lobby.
    “I thought Beijing was horrible, but this place is in a time warp,” Sue said softly. “I’m glad we’re getting out.” They were in line to get their boarding passes.
    “Me too,” Kim whispered back. Her heart was pounding, her legs weak, and her palms wet. She felt like a wreck.
    Mr. Tae came over. “What was that?” he asked politely. He was a small man with thinning gray hair. He’d taught English in high school before he was given this job.
    “I was telling Kim how interesting this visit