PART II
Chapter One
“Give me one good reason. Go ahead, just one. I’m trying to do your country some good, so why am I being held prisoner in this hotel?”
“You’re not a prisoner.” It was exasperating, having to argue with Jen?. He kept pushing even though he knew I wasn’t going to budge. “I already told you, feel free to wander around the lobby. Have you done that yet? Or you can go upstairs to the counter where they sell books. Have you seen volume twenty-two yet? Riveting. You can even play pool, if that is possible to do with gloves on.”
“You’re a strange man, Inspector.”
“Thank you, or isn’t that a compliment?”
“Surely you want things to get better for your country?”
“Don’t worry, we’ll survive.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will. But I’m not talking survival. I’m talking progress. I’m talking”—he looked around the lobby—“a little more heat.” For once, he kept his eyebrows under tight control. “You know what I mean?”
“I don’t have to know what you mean. I’m not anyone you need to have a meaningful conversation with. I’m only here to make sure that you stay out of trouble, or better, that trouble stays away from you. That’s possible as long as you do what I say. I suggest you just nap under the covers for the next forty-eight hours. Then I’ll wave good-bye as you go through the immigration line at the airport. As far as I’m concerned, that will count as progress, you on an airplane, lifting off and flying away.”
“Can we walk around the block?”
“You realize how miserable it is outside?”
“I know the temperature, Inspector. You can chain me to your wrist if you want. I’m not going to run away.”
I laughed. “Very dramatic. We don’t use chains. Okay, let’s walk. You have on long underwear? Or are you still relying on those genes of yours for warmth?”
It was much colder outside than it looked, the dead cold that comes on clear, sunny days. There was no wind, but it was hard to move, the cold like an invisible weight, maybe gravity doubled. After we walked past the stamp store, I could see that he was having second thoughts about being outside.
“You had something to say?”
He was breathing hard, gasping from the way the air entered his lungs and filled them with ice, and I wasn’t sure he could hear me. He turned his head slowly. “Why would you think that, Inspector?”
“No one is outside today unless they have to be. We don’t have to be, so the logical conclusion, and the one of every person who saw us go through the front door, can only be that you want to talk and—more to the point—not be overheard.”
“You’ll record what I say?”
“No, I don’t care what you say. I told you, I’m only supposed to keep you safe, and that means my main concern is that you don’t slip on the sidewalk and break your arm. Watch where you’re walking.”
“Is there a place we can stop to get something warm?”
“As long as we keep moving, you won’t freeze solid. I’ll have you back in the hotel in twenty minutes, unless you plan to make a long speech.”
“In other circumstances, Inspector, I might have taken my time edging into what I need to say to you. I would have stroked your ego, appealed to your manhood, perhaps. Then I might have looked for some vulnerability, found a way to snap your psychic spine.”
“But you’ve decided not to.”
“No, the temperature has given me no choice. I have to get straight to the point.”
“Suddenly, I’m doubly not interested. Forget it. Whatever you are going to suggest, forget it.”
He shook his head. “Listen closely. I need your assistance, and in return, you can have whatever you want.”
“You’re not serious. Only yesterday I told some fool that when it gets cold, people talk crazy. I thought I was making that up, but maybe it’s true.”
“I’m not trying to recruit you, Inspector. I’m not asking you to betray your country.”
“Then why couldn’t we stay in the hotel for this?”
“I don’t want your brother agencies to know, that’s all. There are people trying to prevent me from getting my work done. Some people want me to succeed. Some people don’t.”
“The latter group seems to be on top; tough for you. It’s nothing that concerns me.”
“Quite the contrary. You don’t live in a bubble. Lots of things concern you, even if you know nothing about them.”
I stopped. “Look at that line of trees over there, look at the tops, what do you see?”
“Let’s keep moving. We’re not talking about trees.”
“You may not think so. What do you see?”
“The tops are even.”
“Good. Now, look at the trunks, what do you see?”
“Inspector, I’m freezing out here. Can we get to the point?”
“The trunks, what do you see?”
He sighed heavily. “Some of them are on small mounds, some are on the ground, but the tops are all still even. Are we done with this?”
“Even, you say. None too short, none too tall. Now, let’s move closer. What do you see?”
“The tops aren’t even any more. Can we please go inside? I value my extremities. I’d like to keep all of my fingers.” He looked at me oddly, but I pretended not to notice.
“Nice illusion, isn’t it? The tops aren’t actually even. You can see that with your eyes, but your brain insists on creating a sense of order where none exists. It’s an illusion. What you see, and what is there—not the same.”
“Have you ever seen pictures of those frozen mammoths in Siberia, Inspector? This is what they must have gone through in their final, excruciating moments. Listening to police-mammoths lecture until they turned to ice blocks.”
“Ever since I was small, I noticed the illusion that trees gave, or rather that my eyes did. Things look uniform, only they aren’t. We have a need to see uniformity, so we do. Eventually, I began to wonder if reality was someplace other than where I was. Ever have that feeling?”
“I have no feeling left. I think my lungs have begun to ice up.”
“No, that doesn’t happen for at least another ten minutes, don’t worry. If you breathe through your nostrils, it might delay things a few minutes beyond that. In your case”—I looked at his nose—“maybe a little longer.”
He groaned audibly. “I think I’m dying.”
“The first time I can remember sitting on a train, staring out the window, I watched a farmer walk beside an oxcart along the edge of a field. The ox was plodding, the two of them barely moving. It confused me. The farmer was in sight for a few seconds, and then he was gone. Whose was the reality? His? Mine? Did he disappear? Or did I? Was he still there? Was I? I have that same feeling right now with you. If I look away, maybe you will disappear and not be there when I turn back.”
“This is truly stunning, Inspector. How did I get mixed up with the only North Korean alive who imagines he is Spinoza? Stop worrying with metaphysical oxen. Pay more attention to the temperature.”
“Don’t you ever wonder about reality?”
“Yes! No! Who gives a damn about reality? We have to get out of this cold.” I didn’t move. “Do you know what absolute zero is, Inspector? It’s the temperature at which I lose my temper. Forget the big questions right now. There are savage birds circling. We don’t have time to worry about theories of existence.”
I looked up, but there was nothing there. No birds. “Just suppose,” I said. “Suppose this isn’t reality. Suppose I’m actually somewhere else.”
He stared at me oddly again. Then he shrugged. “The cold must be getting to you. Listen to me.”