The Orphan Master's Son Read Online Free PDF Page A

fall, and the water’s cold. When he comes up, he’ll be fighting to get in the boat.”
    Gil stepped out when they reached the beach. “I’ve got it,” he said. “This one’s mine.”
    â€œOh, no,” Officer So said. “You both go.”
    â€œSeriously,” Gil said. “I think I can handle it.”
    â€œOut,” Officer So said to Jun Do. “And wear those damn glasses.”
    The two of them crossed the tide line and came to a small square. Here were benches and a little plaza, a shuttered tea stand. There seemed to be no statue, and they could not tell what the square glorified. The trees were full with plums, so ripe the skins broke and juice ran in their hands. It seemed impossible, a thing not to be trusted. A grubby man was sleeping on a bench, and they marveled at it, a person sleeping any place he wished.
    Gil stared at all the town houses around them. They looked traditional, with dark beams and ceramic roofs, but you could tell they were brand new.
    â€œI want to open all these doors,” he said. “Sit in their chairs, listen to their music.”
    Jun Do stared at him.
    â€œYou know,” Gil said. “Just to see.”
    The tunnels always ended with a ladder leading up to a rabbit hole. Jun Do’s men would vie to be the ones to slip out and wander South Korea for a while. They’d come back with stories of machines that handed out money and people who picked up dog shit and put it in bags. Jun Do never looked. He knew the televisions were huge and there was all the rice you could eat. Yet he wanted no part of it—he was scared that if he saw it with his own eyes, his entire life would mean nothing. Stealing turnips from an old man who’d gone blind from hunger? That would have been for nothing. Sending another boy instead of himself to clean vats at the paint factory? For nothing.
    Jun Do threw away his half-eaten plum. “I’ve had better,” he said.
    On the pier, they walked planking stained from years of bait fishing. Ahead, at the end, they could see a face, lit from the blue glow of a mobile phone.
    â€œJust get him over the rail,” Jun Do said.
    Gil took a breath. “Over the rail,” he repeated.
    There were empty bottles on the pier, cigarette butts. Jun Do was walking calmly forward, and he could feel Gil trying to copy this beside him. From below came the throaty bubble of an outboard idling. The figure ahead stopped speaking on the phone.
    â€œDare?”
a voice called to them.
“Dare nano?”
    â€œDon’t answer,” Jun Do whispered.
    â€œIt’s a woman’s voice,” Gil said.
    â€œDon’t answer,” Jun Do said.
    The hood of a coat was pulled back to reveal a young woman’s face.
    â€œI’m not made for this,”
    Gil said. “Stick to the plan.”
    Their footsteps seemed impossibly loud. It struck Jun Do that one day men had come for his mother like this, that he was now one of those men.
    Then they were upon her. She was small under the coat. She opened her mouth, as if to scream, and Jun Do saw she had fine metal work all along her teeth. They gripped her arms and muscled her up on the rail.
    â€œZenzen oyogenai’n desu,”
she said, and though Jun Do could speak no Japanese, he knew it was a raw, imploring confession, like “I’m a virgin.”
    They threw her over the rail. She fell away silent, not a word or even the snatching of a breath. Jun Do saw something flash in her eyes, though—it wasn’t fear or the senselessness of it. He could tell she was thinking of her parents and how they’d never know what became of her.
    From below came a splash and the gunning of an outboard.
    Jun Do couldn’t shake that look in her eyes.
    On the pier was her phone. He picked it up and put it to his ear. Gil tried to say something, but Jun Do silenced him. “Mayumi?” a woman’s voice asked.