Free Threat Level Black by Jim DeFelice

crowd and got closer to Dr. Park. He had a minder and a shadow: The shadow had registered as a scientist from China, but Madison ID’d him as a Korean agent. A pair of Koreans from the embassy were watching outside in a car.
    A lot of company for a mid-level scientist, unless they suspected he wanted to defect. But if that were the case, wouldn’t they have stopped him from attending the conference in the first place?
    Fisher watched as Kung and the gnome walked off toward the next session. Dr. Park moved in the opposite direction.
    Where were the professional matchmakers when you needed them?
    “From Swiss National Electric?” asked a cheery balding man, glancing at Fisher’s name tag. His accent was very British, and his name tag revealed that he worked for the London Power Company.
    “Sweden,” said Fisher. He mimicked the man’s accent and threw a lisp in as a bonus, though it was a lot to weigh on a single word.
    “Spent time in the States?”
    “Too much,” said Fisher.
    “Many issues there, I suppose.”
    “It all comes down to too many volts,” said Fisher, shambling after Dr. Park.
     
    Miss Kung was plumper than he remembered, and a little older. Still, she had an exotic air about her. Her smile was not quite Korean, but it warmed the room nonetheless.
    Dr. Park had not realized until he saw her at the conference that he was attracted to her in a romantic way. Perhaps he had not been until that moment.
    He knew she was some sort of spy. The Americans routinely sent their agents across the world to enmesh unsuspecting males; he’d learned that as a child at school. They were devious, but that was one of the things that made dealing with them attractive.
    As he walked toward the conference room, Dr. Park realized with great disappointment that Miss Kung was not attending this session. He could not change his own plans, however, without arousing the suspicion of Chin Yop.
    A tall European with an absentminded, arrogant air bumped into him just outside the door. The man managed to knock the packet of handouts Dr. Park was carrying from his hand onto the floor.
    “Pardon, pardon,” said the man, bending and helping pick them up.
    Dr. Park stood motionless as the man handed him the folder.
    Was there a message in the papers he handed back?
    Chin Yop grabbed the folder.
    “Sorry,” said the man who’d bumped into him.
    Dr. Park wanted to run away: He thought of jumping on the man, grabbing his chest, demanding help.
    But he wasn’t even an American. All that would accomplish would be to expose himself and his plans. He would be dragged away, taken back home to Korea, shot.
    They wouldn’t bother taking him home. He would be shot in Russia, left in an alley for the dogs to eat.
    “You—cigarettes? Have some?” asked the European in broken English.
    Dr. Park couldn’t get his mouth to speak.
    “Cigs?” repeated the man. He took a pack out and held it in Chin Yop’s face. He said something in a foreign language that Dr. Park didn’t understand, then repeated it in English. “Where I can get more?”
    Confused, the minder shook his head.
    The European turned to Dr. Park. “You?”
    Dr. Park managed to shake his head.
    “No smoke?” said the European. He turned back to Chin Yop, said something indecipherable, then switched to English. “I can tell you smoke. Where do you get your cigs?”
    The minder glanced at Dr. Park. “Is he crazy or what?” he said in Korean.
    Dr. Park shrugged. Chin Yop did, in fact, smoke: He had a box of Marlboros that he had picked up near the hostel in his pocket.
    “Cigarettes? You smoke American?” asked the European, pointing at the box.
    Chin Yop nodded hesitantly.
    “Can I have one?” said the European, pointing at the minder’s pack. “Two of mine for one of yours.”
    Chin Yop held up his hands, not understanding or at least pretending that he didn’t.
    Dr. Park explained in Korean, then added that he ought to hold out for three at least.
    “Three?”