The woman came into focus again. “We learned of Whitehall’s affair with Lee four… maybe five months ago. They thought they were discreet. The fools. When an apartment is rented to an American, the landlord must report it to the precinct.”

“Is that how Choi knew?”

“He always watched for that. Usually the Americans are seeking a place to keep their mistresses, to conduct affairs.”

“Why didn’t you try to recruit Whitehall?”

She looked directly into the camera. “He was too unimportant. He held only a minor position on base. I directed Choi to have some assistants see what Whitehall was doing.”

“And you discovered Lee No Tae?”

She nodded. “Two, sometimes four times a week they would meet in the apartment. Eventually, we bugged it.”

“Whose idea was it to murder Lee No Tae?”

For a brief millisecond, you could see a spark of her earlier defiance. Or maybe it was pride.

“I ordered it.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? To drive the Americans off Korean soil.”

“Why that night?”

“They were about to separate. It would be our last chance.”

I inadvertently turned and looked to the back of the room where Minister Lee was seated. His eyes were on the television screen. His arms were crossed and his face was expressionless. I didn’t even want to imagine what he was feeling.

“How did you get inside the apartment?”

“We didn’t.”

“You didn’t?”

“Lee always awoke at three-thirty to go back onto base. Privates have to be present when their sergeants go through the barracks to awaken the soldiers. Otherwise he would’ve gotten into trouble.”

“So he was killed outside the apartment?”

The camera focused on her a moment until it was evident she was sound asleep. Her chin was back on her chest and you could tell by the way her breasts were moving that she was in la-la land. The film went through the dark-again-whack-ouch-whack-ouch-whack-ouch routine, then there were more words in Korean, then her face came back on the screen.

“We killed him in the stairwell. Lee put up a fight. He even struck Choi several times. Finally, though, the men held him. They beat him for a while. He had to appear roughed up.”

“How was he killed?”

“Choi pulled his… uh, belt out of his pants and strangled him.” She paused and her lip curled upward, ever so slightly. “It turned out, when Lee dressed, he took the wrong belt. It was Whitehall’s. Lucky,” she mumbled.

The interrogator said something sharp, like he didn’t think there was anything the least bit happy about any of this. She stared back at him, her face completely exhausted, but something in her eyes let you know she thought she’d won one here.

The questioner said, “How did you get him back into the apartment?”

This time I already knew the answer before she gave it.

“A key to the apartment… in Lee’s pocket. Whitehall gave it to him, months before. Choi used it then, then, uh, laid his body next to Whitehall’s. The door had an automatic lock. It relocked when they closed it.”

“How did you make it appear the body had been raped?”

“Choi brought along a…?” she suddenly appeared perplexed, then said some word in Korean.

“A dildo,” the hidden voice translated for her.

She nodded. “They inserted it and left it in his body for twenty minutes. Choi has investigated many sex crimes. This was his idea. It was a nice touch.”

This time when I turned back around and stole a look at Minister Lee, he was staring down at the floor and there were tears rolling down his cheeks. I felt a shudder of pain for him. One of the few facts about this case I’d been able to establish on my own was how much he and his wife loved their son. No parent should have a child murdered. Worse, no parent should ever be forced to listen to one of the murderers recount the tawdry details of the crime.

The questioner asked, “Then Choi returned to the precinct?”

She shook her head.

“Where, then?” the man yelled. “Where did he go?”

“Home. He waited there for the call. Bales waited with me.”

“You mean Bales was there?”

“Of course. He enjoys these things. As I told you, he is a sadist.”

Then the hidden questioner and some other hidden male voice exchanged a few words in Korean, and the screen went dark.

It took the minister a few seconds to turn the light back on. When I turned around to look at him, his back was just going out the door.

The rest of the room was silent. Eddie was slumped over in his chair looking like death warmed over. That’s one of the many things I don’t like about that bastard. He really didn’t give a damn that a man had been brutally murdered, or that an innocent man had been framed. He was feeling despondent that he wasn’t going to win this case.

Carruthers surveyed the psychic carnage in the room, then asked everybody to leave except the two opposing lawyers and me. It took nearly a minute for the rest of them to clear out, until all that was left were raw emotions, one judge, and three lawyers.

CHAPTER 49

The other three gathered around my bed like a coven of witches. Eddie had a sourpuss, Kip’s face was elated, and mine was, well, pained. As happy as I was to finally have the facts on the table, I was closer to the victims of this case than anyone else in this room, and I’d been sickened to hear that coldhearted bitch talk about murdering a young kid and destroying the lives of countless other people.

She and her buddies ran a meat market.

Carruthers’s face simply looked grim and purposeful.

Kip said, “The murder, rape, and necrophilia charges have to be dropped.”

For a brief second, Eddie looked like he was going to have a heart attack, but I gave him a positively murderous look, and, to tell you the truth, even though I was lying in bed, and I still had a big hole in my back, if he’d tried to raise an objection I might very well have climbed out of bed and gone over and knocked his pretty lips right through the back of his head.

Carruthers said, “I agree. They’re dropped.”

Then I asked, “What about the rest of it?”

The judge had his nostrils pinched between his forefinger and thumb. “That, I don’t know about. Nor do I have the latitude to decide. The preponderance of evidence suggests there was homosexual activity between an officer and some enlisted soldiers. That’s not a minor offense.”

I thought about saying something, but I had nothing to add Carruthers didn’t already know, so I kept my mouth shut.

Carruthers said, “Not a word from any of you on any of this until I announce my decision.” Then he formally recessed the court, such as it was. A moment later the technicians returned to collect the TV and VCR and the camcorder that had been running this whole time.

Before I knew it, I had my hospital room back. I thought about everything that just happened, and my eyes closed and I floated off to sleep. The thing about being seriously wounded and drugged to the gills is that you don’t realize how very little exertion it takes to sap every bit of your energy.

I was awakened about four hours later by Doc Bridges, who rushed in with three frantic-looking nurses and started running around, straightening up the room, smoothing my sheets, and changing my hospital garb into something starchier and spankier-looking. Doc Bridges even had on a neatly pressed and completely spotless white lab coat, and his hair was neatly combed – well, as neatly combed as he could make it, meaning he looked like a porcupine.

If there’d been a paintbrush and bucket of lime green paint around, I’ll bet they would’ve slapped a fresh coat on the walls. As an experienced Army guy, I recognized the drill. Somebody important was about to come visit, and the hospital commander had ordered Bridges to get me and my room looking presentable, toute suite, as they say in the ranks.