(Souce: “Sandwich” by Khush N, CC BY-NC-ND 2.0 via Flickr)

“There must be a good reason you wanted to meet here.” I sat down next to Inspector O and looked around. No one seemed interested. That made me jumpy. We were being watched, surely.

“I was in the neighborhood, that’s all.” O smiled broadly. He surveyed the horizon in a practiced way, barely moving his head. “Yes, yes, and it’s always a pleasure to see you, Church. Do we no longer begin our meetings with a polite hello?”

“Hello.”

“You seem more than usually ill at ease.” He patted my shoulder. “Something wrong? I think this is a splendid setting, very much like home. In fact, it’s even more like home than it is at home.” He laughed. “See? Act natural. Unclench your fists. Nod to the nice man with the bullet-proof vest as he walks by and eyes us suspiciously.” O paused and nodded to the passing figure. “Top of the evening to you, officer.”

“Oh, brother,” I said under my breath. “Of the morning, the phrase is, top of the morning. And he’s not a policeman.”

“Never mind,” O kept smiling. “As long as they keep moving, alles ist in Ordnung.” He reached in his briefcase and took out a sandwich. “Hungry? It’s salami. I thought your submarines were more potent than this. Thank god ours are. Here, it’s cut in half.”

“Put it away, NOW!”

“You’re a nervous wreck, Church. I thought you’d be at ease on your home territory. Is it not a safe city now?” He put the sandwich back in the briefcase. “I’ll eat it later.”

“Can we stop this fencing, Inspector? You wanted this meeting in DC for a reason. What are you here for?”

“Well, well, well. Certainly, no sense in dancing around, eh, Church? Straight to the point, that’s good.” He paused.

“And? The point?”

O took a small notebook from his pocket. “Just a couple of questions I was sent to ask. I already told them you’d wriggle and dodge and not answer, but that cut no cheese.”

“Ice.”

“Where?” Inspector O quickly locked his briefcase and looked around.

“Your questions. Ask them. Then I can get out of here.”

“Very good.” O flipped through the notebook. “You’ll excuse me, I was writing this down in a hurry, might take me a second to figure it out. Ah, yes. Here, this was passed to me in red ink, meaning, you know, it came from the top.” O looked into the sky. “The top.”

“Splendid,” I said. “Shall I gesticulate?”

O got a funny look on his face. “Up to you,” he said. “Do you want to hear the questions or not?”

I nodded.

“First, do your people have a playbook? There must be something. This coup is all unfolding with such precision, no one in my capital can believe it is ad hoc. ‘Such finesse!’ they say in awe. And to put a prison camp in the middle of a swamp! Our security people have budget problems, they have to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on barbed wire. They figure it would be much cheaper to buy a few crocodiles.”

“That’s it?”

“No, there’s also a question from the department headed by…ah…you know who.”

“I’m guessing here, Kim Yo Jong?”

O paled slightly. “Never mind. The question has to do with control of the media. In Pyongyang, they are looking for something more effective.”

“Excuse me, but what could be more effective than what you have?”

“You mean our media? Yes, it’s not bad, all things considered. Takes constant vigilance, though, a lot of checking and double checking. But the idea of suing has rung some bells. Could we sue your media, too? I mean, why not?”

“That’s it?”

“Well, actually, a question arose, I’m sure you can’t answer but I have to ask, how can you put so many troops in the streets without a riot. We could never do that. Though now, maybe it would be easier. After Kursk, I mean.”

We sat for a few minutes, completely silent. Patrols passed by. O smiled, nodded, reached for his briefcase. I stayed his hand. “Don’t even think about it,” I hissed. “Don’t offer that goddam sandwich to them.”

“What if they’re hungry?”

“Let them be,” I said, “tough beans for them.”

“I also have some kimchi I brought on the plane.”

“No, definitely not that. Listen, it’s getting late, O. I don’t like being out after dark.”

“So it is, so it is. And I have a plane to catch.” He looked at his watch. “I need to meet my ride at Connecticut and J.”

“There is no J street.”

O smiled. “Well, fish gotta fly.”

“Swim,” I shouted after him, but he had already disappeared behind an APC.