Cho looked at Hwan in the mirror. This time Hwan ignored him.

"You see," Kim went on, "you weren't the only one engaging in a deception. We've known for years that you were watching the bar, and I was sent there to tie up your personnel. My code was real enough, but the people I was playing them to-- the people who came in, who you would follow home-- had no idea what I was doing. They were all South Koreans I hired for the night to sit for an hour or two at the bar and then leave."

"I see," said Hwan. "Assuming I were to believe you-- which I'm not entirely prepared to do-- why are you telling me this?"

"Because I need you to believe something I have to say, Mr. Hwan. I did not come to Seoul because I wanted to. My brother Han broke into a military hospital to get morphine for our mother. When the police came, I helped him to escape-- and they arrested my mother and me. I was given a choice: we could remain in prison, or I could go to the South and gather intelligence."

"How did you get here?"

Kim's eyes flashed. "Don't misunderstand me, Mr. Hwan. I'm not a traitor. I'll tell you only what you need to know, and no more. Shall I continue?"

Hwan nodded.

"I agreed to come here, provided my mother was taken to a hospital and my brother was pardoned. They consented, though I was unable to find Han after that. Since then, I've learned that he made his way to Japan."

"And your mother?"

"She had stomach cancer, Mr. Hwan. She died before I came here."

"Yet you still came."

"My mother was comfortable until the end. The government had kept its word, and I would keep mine."

Hwan nodded. He continued to ignore Cho's eyes, which were shifting like Ping-Pong balls.

"You said you wanted me to believe something, Ms. Chong. Your story--?"

"Yes, but also this. You'll die at the cottage without my help."

Cho eased the brake to the floor; the car skid slightly on the muddy road before coming to a stop.

Hwan regarded his passenger, angrier at himself than at her. The doors were locked, and he was prepared to use his gun if he had to.

"And you'll die in Masan Prison without my help," he said. "Who's at the cottage?"

"No one. It's booby-trapped."

"How?"

"There's a radio inside the piano. If you don't play a specific melody before raising the lid, a bomb will explode."

"You'll play the melody for us. You don't want to die."

"You're wrong, Mr. Hwan. I'm willing to die. But I'm also willing to live."

"Under what conditions, Ms. Chong?"

A single headlight appeared in the rearview mirror, and Cho rolled down the window to wave the motor scooter by. The woman waited until the puttering engine had faded.

"I have nothing but my brother--"

"And your country."

"I'm a patriot, Mr. Hwan, don't insult me. But I can't go back. I'm twenty-eight and female. I'll be reassigned, not to the South but to some other country. Perhaps this time I'll be expected to use more than my skills at the keyboard."