He asked the men to shut the door and wait outside, then gestured toward an armchair. The woman sat down, both feet on the floor, knees together, those graceful hands folded upright in her lap. Her eyes were on the desk.

"Ms. Chong, I'm Kim Hwan, Deputy Director of the KCIA. Would you-- care for a cigarette?"

He picked up a small case on his desk and raised the lid. She took a cigarette, caught herself as she went to tap it on the face of her watch-- it had been taken from her, lest she use the glass to try to slit her wrists-- then put the cigarette in her mouth.

Hwan walked around the desk and lit it for her. The woman drew deeply and sat back, one hand still on her lap, the other on the armrest. She still didn't allow her eyes to meet his, which was more or less standard with women during an interrogation. It prevented any kind of emotional connection from being made, which kept the meeting formal and tended to frustrate many interviewers.

Hwan offered her an ashtray and she set it on the armrest. Then he sat on the edge of the desk and regarded the woman for nearly a minute before speaking. For all her polish, there was something about this one he couldn't quite get a handle on. Something wrong.

"Is there anything I can get you? A drink?"

She shook her head once, still staring at the desk.

"Ms. Chong, we've known about you and your work for quite some time. Your mission here is over, and you'll be tried for espionage-- within the month, I imagine. The mood running as it is after today, I suspect that justice will be quick and unpleasant. However, I can promise you some measure of leniency if you help us find out who was behind the explosion at the Palace this afternoon."

"I know nothing more than what I saw on television, Mr. Hwan."

"You were told nothing in advance?"

"No. Nor do I believe that my country was responsible."

"Why do you say that?"

She looked at him for the first time. "Because we are not a nation of lunatics. There are some madmen-- but most of us don't want war."

That was it, he thought. That's what was wrong. She was following the rules for interrogation, and would probably stonewall wherever she could. But her heart wasn't in this. She'd just made a very clear distinction between "some madmen" and "us." Us who? Most operatives came from the military and would never say anything against their countrymen. Hwan wondered if Ms. Chong might be a civilian, one of those North Koreans who served against their will because they had a criminal record, were fighting to regain lost family honor, or because a sibling or parent needed money. If that was true, then they did have something in common: both of them desperately wanted peace.

Director Yung-Hoon would not approve of revealing privileged information to the enemy, but Hwan was willing to take that risk.