“I am Oh Gap-su of Office 39, under the Secretariat of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.”
At Oh Gap-su’s shout, a middle-aged man who had been watching from behind stepped forward and asked.
“Office 39?”
“That’s right.
You must be a National Intelligence Service agent, seeing as you understood right away.”
“Take them inside.”
Thanks to the man’s order, Oh Gap-su and Jo Cheol-jung were finally able to enter the embassy building.
Consul General Jo Yun-ho had discomfort written all over his face.
It was because of the incident that Oh Gap-su had caused.
He voiced his complaints to the military attaché Yu Han-saeng, who was sitting across from him.
“We’ve received protest calls from the Bangkok police station, not to mention the North Korean Embassy.
We cannot accept their asylum under these circumstances.
If it becomes known that we accepted them, the embassy’s iron gates will never know peace.
Everyone will be ramming their cars into this place.”
“…”
“If you ever arbitrarily let asylum seekers into the embassy without my permission again, I won’t sit still.”
As the number of defectors heading to China increased, North Korea strongly protested to the Chinese Government and tightened border security.
Right now, if defectors are caught in China, they are unconditionally deported.
With asylum in China becoming difficult, the trend is for defectors to attempt to reach South Korea through third countries like Thailand or Vietnam.
Despite Jo Yun-ho’s warning, Yu Han-saeng replied without batting an eye.
He was a National Intelligence Service agent, just as Oh Gap-su had expected.
They belonged to different organizations.
“I was merely carrying out my duties.
An agent is flying in from South Korea right now.
If his identity is true, he’s a big shot.”
“What on earth does Office 39 do?”
“It’s the core department that manages Kim Jong-il’s slush funds and illegal assets.
If we can uncover the source of those funds and block them, it will cut off the lifeline of the North Korean regime.”
At Yu Han-saeng’s firm words, Jo Yun-ho could no longer voice his complaints.
Oh Gap-su was no ordinary defector.
“Sons of bitches, why is there no news?”
Frustrated by being locked up in semi-confinement, Oh Gap-su had already repeated the same thing several times.
A large bandage was stuck to his forehead.
“They must be waiting for instructions from the South Korean Government.
Let’s just wait a little longer.”
“I’m Oh Gap-su of Office 39.
If they heard my name, they should have a plane ready immediately.
What instructions?”
At Oh Gap-su’s bluff, Jo Cheol-jung regretted even saying anything.
Just then, the door opened, and a short, stocky man walked in.
“Who is Oh Gap-su?”
“I am Oh Gap-su of Office 39.”