2. New Mission #6
There was no reason for him to decline the protection of the authorities.
And so, Taekjoo begrudgingly accepted the officer’s kind offer.
In the corner of the parking lot stood an old Volga[5], its paint chipped and body dented here and there.
It had to be at least fifteen years old.
The officer opened the trunk with some effort because it was so dented that it barely stayed shut.
Then, he loaded Taekjoo’s suitcase inside.
Taekjoo pulled out something to wear from the bag and put it on.
Meanwhile, the officer went to the driver’s seat and turned on the engine.
The old vehicle sputtered and groaned, trembling as it sprang to life.
Taekjoo briefly thought about whether he should sit in the back or not.
If he did, it would be rude. But it also wouldn’t be the end of the world.
Unfortunately, Japanese people are known for their strong tendency to avoid being rude or offensive.
Taekjoo let out a sigh that sounded more like a groan, and opened the door to the passenger seat.
Taekjoo sat without thinking much when he reached under his butt.
Something was on the seat. He pulled it out and saw that it was a pair of ladies’ tights.
The officer snatched them from him and casually chucked them into the back seat.
He also grabbed the piece of bread, disposable cup, and adult magazine scattered on the dashboard and stuffed them into random places.
“I thought you’d be more of a desk jockey, but you seem to enjoy working out as well?”
The officer must have felt awkward from the clutter.
He hurried to strike up a conversation. He seemed to have noticed Taekjoo’s body earlier.
The muscle developed from working on missions was different from the kind built through weight training.
The latter was primarily for vanity. It was also the kind that didn’t quite match someone who supposedly spent most of his time at a desk.
Taekjoo shrugged, giving him a simple response—you need to be healthy to work long hours.
He was the one who said it, yet he was also the one who ended up embarrassed by how scripted his answer sounded.
The car was unable to leave the police station for a long while.
Something was wrong with its rear tires, so they had to be changed before leaving.
Taekjoo wanted to take advantage of this opportunity and take a taxi, but the officer was stubborn about personally dropping off Taekjoo, the victim and the witness of this case.
Only after the tires were changed were they able to leave the police station.
“Once you’re in your room, don’t worry about anything. Just make sure to get some good rest. If you can’t fall asleep, a shot of vodka helps. We’ll make sure to catch the outlaws who troubled you and they pay the price. By the way, what was it you said earlier?”
The officer, who’d been talking alone all this time, tilted his head in question. The question wasn’t specific enough to answer. Taekjoo just looked at him, waiting for him to continue.
“Didn’t you say earlier that there was someone else aside from the men who were dead? The one with a luxurious pair of cowhide shoes? And some strong scent that smelled like something was rotting?
And that the guy stuffed his fingers into the eye holes of one of the kidnappers and dropped him from the building. Am I right?”
Back at the station, Taekjoo had to repeat his witness statement several times.
Yet, the officer in charge seemed to remember nothing correctly.
It meant that he wasn’t interested at all.
Catch the rogues and make them pay the price—words just as empty, probably.
It didn’t matter. Taekjoo had zero expectations from the beginning, anyway.
He sighed and corrected the officer.
“It wasn’t cowhide. It was crocodile leather.”
“It could just be a pattern. You know, croc-patterned cow leather shoes.”
“I am sure it was crocodile leather. I can’t recall the exact brand name, but it cost at least 1.2 million rubles. The color was tanned brown, the size looked to be somewhere between U.S. 13 and 14, and the pair was in great condition like it had just been unboxed.
It meant that the shoes had no time to be worn down or that the pair was only recently bought. Either way, the man would have to be well-off.”
Taekjoo was annoyed and began rebutting the officer.
Then, he realized his mistake. The officer’s eyes had turned wide.
Taekjoo looked away and gave his excuse, mumbling that he had also been interested in buying the pair.
To be fair, it wasn’t a lie. Still, the officer stared at Taekjoo with suspicion. Then, he grinned.
“Sure. Let’s say it was crocodile leather.”
The officer’s tone was patronizing. The way he snickered didn’t exactly brighten Taekjoo’s mood either.
The officer’s attitude made him feel like he was being anal over nothing.
Taekjoo tried to hide his irritation but failed, and it showed on his face.
He was stretching his short temper to its limit, and it wasn’t doing him any good.
He felt like he was about to explode any time soon.
The car stopped at a red light. Taekjoo, who’d been able to hold it in until then, couldn’t hold it any longer.
“And it wasn’t something rotting. I said it was the smell of something burning. Not an ordinary cigarette, but a handmade one.”
“Right, we’ll make sure to include that valuable piece of information.”
The officer responded half-heartedly. Taekjoo was astonished.
This man was a police officer. How could he be so uninterested in the investigation of a killing machine in his city?
Instead, the damn officer started showing his mighty interest in Japanese women.
Throughout the entire drive, the man kept asking things like, Is it true that women treat their husbands like masters?
and, Is it true that the kimono belt is designed so that women can lie on their backs anywhere?
Taekjoo became absolutely sure. There was no way in hell this goddamn Russian was going to catch that monster of a killer.
After what felt like an eternity in hell, the police car came to a stop. It pulled up in front of a luxurious hotel.
“Well, here we are. No one knows when they might come after you again, so I’d suggest changing where you’re staying if you can. And if you ever need a personal bodyguard, don’t hesitate to call me—I’ll do whatever I can to help. Oh, and don’t worry about thanking me.
Maybe just a shot of vodka on you sometime later.”
At this point, Taekjoo couldn’t even force a smile. He had to try very hard to pull the ends of his lips upward.
“I’ll think about it. Sorry for all the trouble today.”
“You don’t have to apologize. Just think of it as Russian hospitality. And no need to thank me either.”
Taekjoo wondered how many more times he’d say that damn phrase. He nodded and turned away quickly. The officer, not knowing Taekjoo’s true feelings, bade him goodbye. He also gave Taekjoo the dreadful suggestion to call him whenever he needed a drinking companion.
As soon as Taekjoo entered the hotel, the bellhop immediately approached him to take his luggage.
Normally, it took less than an hour to get from the airport to the hotel.
After the flight delay, kidnapping, and police investigation, it took Taekjoo a full twelve hours to get there.
He was so drained that he had to drag his feet to the hotel front desk.
“Welcome, sir.”
Taekjoo ignored the polite greeting. He simply handed over his passport and credit card without saying a word. The concierge noticed the exhaustion on his face and quickly sped up the check-in process. Soon, Taekjoo had the key to his room.
He was about to head to his room when he suddenly paused. After thinking for a while, Taekjoo turned around to face the concierge again.
“Is there a cigar bar nearby, by any chance?”
“If you’re looking for premium handmade cigars, the hotel has a cigar bar as well, sir. A wide selection that will surely satisfy your taste. Just head to the back of the lobby and keep going straight. Here, let me give you a map of the ground floor.”
The concierge handed Taekjoo a pamphlet.
He took it and immediately began walking, following the directions.
Taekjoo was desperate to rest, but a nagging thought kept picking at his nerves.
It gnawed at the back of his mind. He had to make sure.
Now was the time. He wouldn’t have any time to go snooping around once his mission officially started.
It wasn’t hard to find the cigar bar. The exterior was lavishly decorated, and the premium products in the window caught everyone’s attention. There was no reason for Taekjoo to hesitate now. He stepped inside. The clerk, a beefy man, greeted him with enthusiasm.
“Is there a specific brand you’re looking for?”
“I don’t know the name of the brand. I only remember the scent.”
Taekjoo looked around, feeling overwhelmed. The clerk lifted one eyebrow. Then, he came out from behind the desk.
“Cuban cigars are known as the best in the world, and we’ve got a great selection of them in stock. The main difference between cigars often comes down to the brand name. Just because a cigar is handmade or hand-rolled doesn’t always mean it’s from a small business. Take Macanudo, for example.
It’s the best-selling cigar in the U.S. for a reason. When something’s that popular, you know it’s got the right balance to please most tastes. It’s incredibly smooth, perfect for someone just starting out.”
Unfortunately, the clerk must have mistaken Taekjoo for a budding cigar enthusiast. Taekjoo flipped the Macanudo around.
“How much is this?”
“Seven dollars per stick—a smart, practical choice.”
“Then this probably isn’t it.”
Taekjoo handed the cigar back to the clerk, who then asked him a confirming question.
“Are you looking for the cigar you came across, sir?”
“Yes, I’d really like to know what it was.”
“Hmm, in that case, could you give me a few clues to help you?”
The clerk put on a cheeky smile. The professional cigar connoisseur was given a challenge—to identify the one cigar out of dozens, maybe even hundreds, based solely on its scent. Taekjoo piqued the clerk’s interest. It was a puzzle that touched on the clerk’s pride.
“The man who smoked it was wearing a pair of shoes that cost fourteen thousand dollars.”