THE NORTH KOREAN DEALER
(A suburb of Shanghai)
By sheer and meaningless coincidence, the North
Korean arms dealer Kim arrived in Shanghai the same day as the Spymaster and
his party returned to Beijing from their journey to the West. Kim arrived in a small jet as the traffic
from Pyongyang was tiny relative to that from London or almost any other part
of the world to China. His flight had
been brief and uneventful, from one tightly controlled part of the world to
another.
Kim looked forward to a week of relatively greater
freedom in Shanghai; he had a couple of friends to visit with, old school and
army chums now on various missions for their country. He intended to do a little shopping, to pick
up gifts for his mother and sisters. Of
course, he would indulge in a taste he had developed in his earlier career in
the North Korean foreign ministry serving in Eastern Europe—that for blondes of
well nourished proportions.
Passport control posed no issue for Kim as he was
scrupulous with his documents although he could also count on the alliance
between his country and the People’s Republic. This was true also of his passage through customs
control. Kim was not so foolish as to
try to smuggle anything through China; not only did he have nothing to
declare, he had nothing he had brought with him except for his briefcase. His bodyguards Ban and Kang would have all
their hardware cleared in a diplomatic pouch as pre-arranged by their Embassy.
Kim’s life in North Korea offered every comfort and
protection that the state could provide.
In China, he would enjoy the protection of the local police in addition
to that of his personal body-guards and the security detail from his
Embassy. His two body guards were from
the elite corps that protected the leadership of the state; they would each
take a twelve hour shift and the security detail consisted of three two-man
teams that would each take an eight hour shift.
Perhaps the East European flesh peddlers would have made additional
arrangements as well, for he was one of their most important—profitable--customer. Kim had heard that there were negotiations
between them and a local underworld gang and it amused him to consider the
irony of such a situation.
He walked through the busy airport oblivious to
discreet video and personal tracking of his movement through to the curb and
paid no heed to anyone who followed his car as it sped off to his safe-house. He was only mildly irritated to find that
they were stuck in a traffic jam that seemed to stretch in every direction as
far as the eye could see. It could mean
an extra hour for him to brush up on Ukrainian so he put on the earplugs of his
mp3 player. Then he paused and changed
his mind and speed-dialed a number.
“Hello,” said an accented voice, neutral in tone.
“Viktor, Kim here.
I wondered if Nadia might be available in an hour or so—we are stuck in
traffic from the Airport. … Also, I wondered if she might be available for a
week.”
There was a slight pause before Viktor
responded: “Of course, Mr. Kim. I shall call you back if there is any
problem. If not, you can expect Nadia at
your place in an hour and a half.”
Kim heaved a sigh; this was a new departure. He had known Nadia, her working name, since
he met her in Kiev more than ten years ago.
They had met from time to time until Kim returned to North Korea. A couple of years later, she showed up in
Shanghai and they had resumed their occasional dalliance. But he had usually seen her for a night or
two and there had always been others.
Now … life might be getting complicated.
Nadia had the radiant look of Renoir’s women; she
might have just stepped out of one of his paintings minus forty pounds or so
but with her bust-line intact. She was
always ready and enthusiastic without any off-putting, metallic hint of
professionalism. If she bore any scars
physical or emotional from her life, Kim had not detected them. She was comfortable with silence; she was
happy to chat, and she was not embarrassed to admit ignorance of this or
that.
She never inquired about Kim’s work even when he
spoke of his frustrations and stress and, whether he was able to spend an hour
with her or a day, she accepted the situation with equanimity and good cheer. When they first met, he was nearly thirty and
she was in her early twenties. The years
had been kind to her; she might have gained some gravitas but not an ounce of
avoirdupois.
In a following car, Agent Li, formerly the Sergeant
Major, compared his notes with those of his Shanghai police liaison, Old Gong. This police liaison had been arranged with Commissioner
Wen, the Spymaster’s friend on the Committee on Public Safety. Old Gong belonged to a national command for
counter-terrorism that did not report to regional authority, that is, the
Shanghai metropolitan police command.
Li was aware that he had much to learn about
following a suspect from his seasoned police companion and was relieved to hear
that he had committed no serious errors. The policeman on the other hand was impressed
that the intelligence agency had actually asked for his assistance. Inter-agency relations, even
inter-departmental ones within the police force, tended to be on the short side
of courteous.
As Kim arrived at his safe house, another car drove
up and Nadia stepped out with a small valise.
She smiled and slipped an arm through Kim’s and the couple entered, followed
discreetly by the bodyguards. Kim
showered as Nadia made herself comfortable, and then they embraced and slipped
into bed hungrily.
“I have missed you, Nadia.”
“It is good to see you, Kim. I am glad you are safe.”
***
At about the same time as Kim started going to
school, his father began service in the elite corps serving as bodyguards to
the Great Leader (Kim Il-Sung, no relation). By the time the
Eternal President passed away, Kim’s father was well established in the
hierarchy of the Party. His standing
helped pave the way for Kim’s progress through the Army and then in the foreign
affairs ministry. Kim was not exempt
from the political indoctrination and military training required of all, but
his father’s influence put him into the most favorable positions possible and
under the most sympathetic mentors he could have had. It also made life comfortable for his mother
and his sisters.
The posting to various embassies in East Europe
were far from luxurious. Like many other
North Koreans abroad, Kim was expected to generate revenue for the State. From generic smuggling to drug running, Kim
quickly moved to arms dealing. He had a
flair for negotiations. His very first
customer was desperately in need of ammunition of certain kinds. Kim checked with North Korean Army Logistics
and learned who were the most likely suppliers and then tracked down who were
their recent and not so recent purchasers.
He was dogged in his pursuit of details and
actually enjoyed the give and take of the bargaining process. For this customer and many others to follow,
he learned who had inventory to spare and his instincts led him surely to the
limits of each exchange. When these
transactions were successfully concluded, Kim’s earnings for the State accumulated
to a substantial amount; even more valuable was the enhancement to his
reputation for this would provide him with customer referrals and repeat
business.
The confusion in the armed forces of the states
newly independent from the Soviet Union undoubtedly furnished him with many of
his solutions. But by far the greatest
advantage Kim had was his willingness to work incredibly long hours and,
perhaps even more important, to consider the possibility that three or four
trades might be required to provide the solution for a particular
customer.
On one occasion he created a daisy chain of deals
involving six parties—a beleaguered drug cartel in South American with cash to
burn but running out of hardware, a cash-strapped African warlord, two rogue
elements in different Middle Eastern armies, a cynical sub-contractor working
for the West, and an Afghan warlord. Each
party required two weeks work each--compressed into two days for Kim. In the end, each party got what it wanted, at
a slightly higher price than it had originally been willing to pay. Kim’s legend grew wildly, but he was thoroughly
exhausted.
In the fifteenth year of his career as arms dealer,
he learned about the Pashtuns and the opportunity to earn 30 million Euros for
a product his country manufactured. This
was for him the equivalent to what had famously, fatuously, been described at a
world-historical moment as a “slam-dunk.”
***
“Nadia, would you tell me your real name?”
“Why? Nobody
uses it anymore!”
“What is it?
Surely, you don’t use Nadia for your passport.”
Nadia looked at Kim with unrehearsed questions in
her eyes. In Kim’s she saw unresolved
hope, wishful thinking, and weariness.
Kim himself was wondering what he had started.
“I tell you anyway; it is Oksana Brodsky. But you know my life--I must live one day at
a time-- it is easier to stick to Nadia.”
“Thank you Nadia--Oksana Brodsky. Perhaps you are right.” He smiled then asked: “Would you like to go shopping tomorrow?”
As Nadia beamed, he added, “I need to visit with a
couple of friends so I’ll drop you off at a nearby shopping mall and pick you
up in three or four hours. Get yourself
three or four dresses.”
“Will we eat out or …?”
“What would you prefer?”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to get all dressed up
but eat in.”
“That’s fine with me. I’ll have Ban order for us.”
“And not Chinese food, if you can manage, please.”
“We can manage that.”
They embraced again and Kim resumed his exploration
of Nadia’s voluptuous curves, luxuriating in pneumatic bliss.
Engrossing world view, 
