Free Robert Ludlum's (TM) the Janson Equation by Douglas Corleone Page A

the remainder of his ride home. Kincaid would no doubt contact him when she popped back up on the surface.
    Janson took the elevator to the eleventh floor. He was pessimistic about this being the right place. Itaewon was known as a Western town, a district popular among tourists and expats and US military personnel stationed in Korea. Because of its demographics and plethora of counterfeit goods, Itaewon had been likened to a Chinatown, only for North Americans and Western Europeans. Which made it an unlikely residence for a wealthy man with a clearly Korean name like Kang Jung.
    The indistinctiveness of the apartment building made him further suspect that Kang Jung’s true address was the one in Gangnam. According to Morton and Berman, “Lord Wicked” was a kingpin who made millions of dollars selling “dumps”—stolen credit card and corresponding personal information—to hardened criminals from Vancouver to Estonia. Odds were he was living large. Or at least larg er .
    Janson stepped into the dim hallway, took a left, and rounded the corner. Outside apartment 1109, he paused and listened at the door, careful to stay clear of the peephole. He’d heed Morton’s warning and be cautious, sure. But he wasn’t there to take Kang Jung into custody; he was there to cut a deal for information. Kang Jung would have little reason to kill him.
    Then again…
    When he heard nothing but a television tuned to an old sitcom with a laugh track, Janson finally rapped on the door.
    He stood off to the side and waited for the peephole to darken, but it never did. He listened for the sound of heavy footfalls but continued to hear nothing but the television. He was about to give the door another knock when it opened a crack and the tiny features of a little girl poked out.
    “ Hashiljul ashinayo? ” Janson said. Do you speak English?
    “ Chogum hajul arayo ,” the girl replied. I speak a little.
    “Is your father home?”
    “He may be.”
    “He may be? Would you mind checking for me?”
    “I’m not allowed to use the phone. I’m grounded.”
    “The phone?”
    “My father lives in Gangnam,” she said. “I live here with my mother.”
    “I see,” he said, deflating at the validation of his assumption that he was at the wrong address. “Is your mother home?”
    “No, she’s out.”
    “You’re here all by yourself?” Janson said. “How old are you?”
    “Thirteen.”
    “OK, I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
    Janson turned toward the elevator bank.
    “Wait,” the girl called. “What do you want with my father?”
    Janson scrutinized her. “You seem to speak more than a little English.”
    “I’m fluent,” she said. “Now, what do you want with my father?”
    “It doesn’t have anything to do with you. It’s just business.”
    “What kind of business?”
    “You’re a curious young lady, aren’t you?”
    “Answer the question,” she said.
    “I want to pay your father for some information.”
    “What kind of information?”
    “Adult information.”
    Janson turned to leave again.
    “Computer information?” the girl called out to him.
    Janson spun back to face her. “Maybe. What do you know about it?”
    “My father doesn’t work with computers.”
    “He doesn’t? What does he do?”
    “He’s a chef.”
    “Is that so? What type of food?”
    “Neo-Korean,” she said. Then: “You look like you don’t believe me.”
    “Let’s just say I have information that contradicts what you’re telling me.”
    “You don’t even know my father’s name, I’d bet.”
    Janson thought about it and decided to play along. “Your father is Kang Jung.”
    The corner of the girl’s mouth lifted in a smirk. “You’re wrong. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re looking for the wrong person.”
    “Is your father’s surname Kang?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well, then, who’s the right person? Who’s Kang Jung? Your mother?”
    The girl shook her head and then opened the door wider. “Why