Mission J

Rare luck seemed to be on my side with the search, because it only took three tries and about an hour to settle on the ideal café for the meeting with the detective. A walking distance from a local university, most of the customers served here seemed to be college students, which made it easier for me to blend in. The space was nice and wide with barely any blind spots to worry about, and given a properly selected vantage point, I would be able to keep an eye on the doors and the seats.
After a quick sweep around the place, I selected the seat by the wall opposing the windows and just two tables away from the counter. The far corner would’ve been best for observation, but that seemed to be too overt in the efforts to not stand out. Also that would’ve made it harder for me to escape if I needed to make the slip, as the corner was the farthest away from the doors.
Not wanting to raise suspicion from the employees of the café, I went up to the counter and ordered a medium hot chai. I paid for the drink and went over to my chosen seat.

I hadn’t expected to find a suitable place so fast; now I was a few hours ahead of schedule. This was fine, as it now allowed me to rethink this strategy and onward with the rest of what my job is supposed to be. My main objective was to keep one subject, actor Seo Jae-Sung safe. But from whom and what hasn’t been clarified by the directors in charge of my employment. And while getting acquainted with the detectives in this situation was a good idea, how connected to this case should I be getting? Seo was clearly upset, and from his reaction it seemed as if he felt his privacy violated.
I sighed, my fingers brushing against the side of the hot ceramic cup.

I will have to meet with this Detective Paek first, and then decide where to go from there.

I pulled out my phone from my jacket pocket and checked the time. It was still 8:47 AM, nowhere near the 11:00 AM deadline I had given myself. Suddenly, I found myself a bit restless. President Chung had said that Detective Paek was the ‘nicer’ one of the two detectives on this case. But from my experiences in my line of work, there was no such thing as a nice detective. All this working with the cops idea was a new thing for me. Usually I was working against them, or even running away from the law enforcement. Hell, I’ve been on the receiving end of those government issued firearms in the past.
More people were coming into the café, so I kept my unease under the surface and placidly sipped on my chai tea. The warm beverage did wonders for my worn throat, and soothed the scratchy feeling I hadn’t been able to shake all morning. My mind returned to my reluctance of working with the cops.
There was nothing to worry about; I was working on their side now. If they start shooting at me, it was their personal problem.

I noticed that the place was getting busier now, and I took a glance around. As I had guessed, the place was filling in with young adults that looked to be college students, carrying backpacks and balancing books in their arms. That brought a thought to the surface of my mind; I didn’t really look like a college student. At least not like the ones I was seeing.
I took another look around and saw a handful of business casually dressed people. They sat in their chairs, either typing away on their laptops as they sipped coffee, or reading the newspaper. I took a quick glance down at myself, assessing my outfit. I should be fine; I’ll just need a prop to keep me looking busy.
I finished the rest of my chai tea and went to bring the cup up to the counter. As I approached, the guy at the counter looked up and smiled.
“All done?” he asked.
I set the ceramic cup on the counter and gave him a bashful smile.
“Actually, it was so good that I want another one.” I told him.
The guy took the cup and turned around, reaching for another cup on the shelf to fix me my second cup.
“I noticed that you’ve been sitting here for a while now,” he noted. “Not that it’s a problem, but most people that come here are in a hurry to be somewhere, or come here to study for a bit.”
I let out a small laugh under my breath, shifting shyly where I stood as if I was embarrassed.
“Yea, I’m just waiting here for a bit.” I told him.
He looked over his shoulder quickly before he turned back to what he was working on.
“For what, if you don’t mind me asking.” he asked.
“No, I don’t mind.” I replied. “I’m just waiting for time to pass.”
The guy turned back at me with a raised eyebrow at me questioningly, clearly wanting to know. So I smiled, grimacing slightly.
“I, uh…have a job interview, see, and I thought I was running late.” I started with my lie. “I flew out of my apartment only to realize later that my alarm clock is broken and I ran out three hours earlier.”
The guy blinked at me before he broke into a laugh.
“Three hours? Man…really?” he said, grinning.
I pretended to blush, looking down at the ground.
“I was flustered and didn’t even think straight. The worst part is, I set the alarm on my phone too and I didn’t even stop to wonder why that didn’t go off.” I gushed out.
The guy was still grinning as he turned back to the task at hand.
“Let me guess; this is your first big job,” he said. He turned back around and came back to the counter where I stood on the other side, a steaming cup now in his hand. I nodded.
“Yea. It sounds like a great job, and I want it this interview to go well and--- oh, sorry; nervous rambling.” I said, stopping myself with a shaky laugh.
The guy smiled reassuringly and passed me the cup.
“I’m sure you’ll be great.” he told me.
I started pulling money out of my pocket but he stopped me.
“Nah, that’s okay. It’s on the house.” he said. “Take it as a cup of good luck for today, yea?”
I smiled and thanked him before returning to my seat. As I passed a nearby table, I grabbed up the newspaper that was left there abandoned.

There were a few more people that came in, but the business seemed relaxed enough in this café. I blew on the chai tea a bit to cool it down as I discretely observed my surrounding.
There was a light buzz in the air as it gradually started to fill with people holding light conversations and sound of clanking cups and plates as they were set down on the table. It was a comfortable mood, and it only reassured me that this was the perfect place. But I will probably have to take the speaking portion of the meeting elsewhere, as it might get too quiet.
As if to prove my point, my attention was suddenly drawn to the employees behind the counter, who I noticed were getting restless.
“Hey, did you hear from Ga Eul yet? She was supposed to come in an hour ago.” a worker said in hushed tones, balancing a tub of plates on his hip.
The guy I had spoken with looked over at him as he was wiping down the counter, a look of surprise coming across his face.
“Ga Eul? No, that’s not like her.” I heard him say.
The guy that had approached him gave a casual shrug.
“Eh, well I heard that she caused a scene yesterday with a customer; poured hot coffee all over him.” he grumbled. “Maybe she’s dying of embarrassment.”
“It was probably another accident. She told the boss that she didn’t feel comfortable working the floor.” The guy behind the counter defended. “She’s had it rough but she never showed up to work late.”
“Yea, but you don’t know who she bumped into yesterday.” the other man said. He leaned over and hissed in his ear. “It was that Seo Jae-Sung!”

Good grief, just when I was starting to forget the man…

“What?” I heard the guy say.
“Yea! Boss even said it; he came in here disguised with a baseball cap and glasses. He had some girl with him and had a cup of coffee with her.” the busboy continued to gossip. “Man, I wish I was here for that.”
The guy at the counter gave him a funny look.
“I didn’t know you were a Seo Jae-Sung fan,” he said.
“It’s not that, but how often do we get celebrities in our café?” he argued. “If I got a picture, I could’ve bragged about it to all the girls and then they would come to visit---”
His coworker waved him off dismissively with the towel he was using.
“Yea, okay.” he said tiredly. “But right now, I’m kind of worried about Ga Eul. I’m done in a little bit so I’ll stop by her place to check on her.”
The busboy shrugged again, the dishes clanging in his tub.
“Knowing the boss, he probably yelled at her again. Well, when you see her, tell her I said hi.” he said, before moving on.

I let my eyes drop down to the newspaper in front of me, mindlessly skimming through the cover titles. Something about politics, stocks and market…nothing really piqued my interest. But I kept myself looking busy, trying to blend in.
The place was getting busier now, as strings of people flowed in through the door. I pulled out my phone and checked on the time.

9:17 AM

I took another leisurely sip of my chai tea and flicked my phone open. I think it’s time to send the second part of the message to the detective.

Swiftly I pressed the keys and typed out the short and concise message via text, telling him the location and time. I settled for noon, expecting and counting on the busy lunch traffic to help me blend in. What I didn’t include were any clues to help him locate me in the café. That would just defeat the whole purpose.
After a quick look over and consideration, I added one more note.

Don’t be late.

I hit ‘send’ and shut the phone, setting it on silent before storing it back into my pocket. With that, I continued on to ‘read’ the newspaper.
Now, it was time to wait.
Settling down in the chair, I opened the newspaper and continued to flit through the articles. Again, none of them in particular drew my eye. I let out a quiet sigh and turned to the next page.

The next article title was very hard to miss, and I found myself frowning with distaste.

DEADLY CONTACT: SLAIN VICTIM’S LAST EMBRACE

There was a picture too, though it seemed to be one of poor quality; probably from a cellphone or a cheap disposable camera. But it was still very clear who was photographed in the captured moment.

A girl, seemingly in late teens, was in the frame, and though her eyes were blurred out it was clear that she was crying. A candid shot, clearly, as she was caught in what looked like a mid-dive through bodies and wedged in this awkward pose. And she had her arms wrapped tightly around the one and only, and very famous Seo Jae-Sung.
I scowled, already not liking the direction this article was heading. Regardless, I skimmed through the first few lines.

Going to meet and come in contact with that idol would be surreal dream for any devote fan. Fans all over have expressed great dedication and love for their stars, even going to the extent of showing aggression towards any naysayer. A handful have had the guts to stand out, draw the attention of the famous and popular by some extreme act… a guaranteed ticket to being the subject of hate.
To 18-year old Kim Eun-Hee, it proved to be fatal.

I clicked my tongue against my teeth, agitation coming on.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered.

The article did its job of painting an attention-tearing story, with all the juice and meat that was a tabloid’s drool fest. A poor fan living her dream as she dared to hug a man that was loved by many, found dead in a park brutally murdered. They didn’t even try to be subtle with the way they pushed a jealous fan gone psycho idea. Which so far from what I have gathered and heard were true…
I read on a little more before I stopped. The writer didn’t seem to know about Seo’s stalker, and how he has been getting letters and unpleasant gifts from her. That was a relief; from the looks of it, all this story had were physical facts and pure conjecture. The article was essentially harmless to Seo’s public image. But the publicity of the whole event could trigger a reaction from the murderer.

A heavy sigh escaped me, and I couldn’t help the feeling of dark foreshadow that came over me. What the hell was I getting into? It seemed like my job was going to be a little more than the typical bodyguard job description. If I still had this job after today…

“Hey, miss, can I take this seat?”

I looked up from the papers to see a girl looking at me expectantly, her arms loaded with notebooks and heavy looking backpacks. She nodded pointedly to the chair across from mine.
“Here, do you mind?” she asked again.

“Not at all,” I allowed. The girl let out a breath of relief and dumped her load onto the table and chair right next to hers.
“Sweet,” she said. “I thought my arms were going to fall off, you know?”
I just smiled politely and moved my cup to the side, away from the possible spill zone. The girl shuffled around a bit, mumbling to herself as she organized her things. She tugged off her scarf and shrugged out of her coat.
“Phew,” she sighed out, handing her coat on the back of her chair. “I worked up a sweat walking here from class. And it’s so warm in here too!”
She then looked over to me and gave me an once-over. “Aren’t you hot in your turtleneck and jacket?”
“No, actually I’m a bit cold.” I lied. I couldn’t exactly remove my jacket, as I had my sig holstered to my rib.
The girl just shrugged, accepting my response.
“It’s just me, I guess.” she said. She let out a groan and dropped her chest onto the table, her arms wrapping around her head and her forehead tapping the surface with a dull thud.
“I’m soooo tired! So much to do!” she moaned, her voice muffled. “And it’s a Thursday. Ugh, I don’t have enough time!”
I raised an eyebrow at this girl, somewhat amused and thrown off at that fact that she was talking with such familiarity with me. She was talking to me as if I understood where she was coming from with her vague statements. The girl continued to mumble incoherently, still face down on the table in this miserable looking state. Did she need help?

I set the newspaper down on the table to the side and out of the way before turning my attention back to the girl.
“Hey, are you okay?” I asked.
She rolled her head to the side, peering up at me from the table.
“Yea, just peachy.” she said. She pushed herself back up and straightened in her chair. “I’m hungry, where is my sandwich---”
She broke off, her attention suddenly caught. She let out a gasp and snatched the newspaper from the table.
“No way!” she hissed out, looking horrified. I could see her eyes flicking back and forth and her lips moving in silent words as she read the article at an alarming speed. What she did was moderately amusing, and for a moment I wondered if I allowed a lunatic to sit across from me.
The girl stopped reading, holding still for a few minutes. Her eyes darted up to the top of the page and she seemed to be rereading something over and over again. I counted to five times before she stopped, and started using her fingers to count something in her mind.
“Oh…oh wow.” she let out. “Wow, it makes sense now. Jae-Sung, you punk.”

I blinked at her, completely confused and lost.
“You know Seo Jae-Sung?” I asked, trying to sound innocently curious at the very least.
The girl glanced up at me and made a face.
“Uh…well, sort of, I guess.” she said, not explaining. “Gosh, this is horrible.”
“Hmmm,” I hummed agreeably. “It’s pretty scary what happened to that girl.”
“Yea, I heard about this one the news but I didn’t think Jae-Sung was this close to the whole thing.” she said.
“Yea, poor guy.” I said. “I wonder how he’s handling this.”
“Not well if it’s keeping him up all night like that.” she muttered, her eyes back on the paper again.
“What was that?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing.” she replied quickly. “Just thinking to myself.”
She then looked up at me, suddenly looking puzzled.
“Hey, I’ve never seen you around here before.” she said.
I shrugged, lifting my cup to take another sip of my chai tea.
“Well, it’s my first time here.” I said.
“Yea? That’s cool.” she said, sounding thoughtful. “You know, I like this place. It’s busy, but I love their sandwiches…speaking of which, where is my sandwich?”
She got up abruptly, turning to look over to the counter. She then turned back to me.
“I’ll be right back.” she said.

I nodded and watched as she marched up to the counter and called over the guy I had talked to behind the counter. I found myself silently processing the encounter of the last few minutes. Who was this girl? And how did she know Seo? From the way she spoke, she made it seem like she was somewhat close to him…
What if she was the stalker?
A frown pulled at the corner of my lips as my eyes flickered down at the newspaper article, my mind automatically started analyzing everything this strange girl had said. Sure, she was strange and vague with the way she spoke, but she didn’t seem threatening or unstable in a way that would bring up a red flag. Her being a stalker didn’t seem right. Regardless, I kept my guard up as she came back holding a cup and a sandwich on a plate.

“So, you’re not from around here are you?” she said, jumping right back to conversation. She set her food down on the table before sitting herself.
“No, not really. I’ve been all over the place.” I said. It was an honest enough answer.
The girl shrugged, picking up her sandwich.
“You should come here more often; the guy behind the counter seems to like you some.” she said casually, taking a big bite out of her sandwich.
I raised an eyebrow at her as she hummed contently and smiled as she chewed.
“You’re funny,” I said, lifting my cup for another sip.
“No really. I ask for my sandwich and he answered me with ‘Who’s your chai tea friend? Where is she from?’ and stuff like that.” she insisted, imitating a guy voice as she quoted him.
“And what did you say to that?” I asked, unable to help being curious.
“I said give me my sandwich.” she said.
I chuckled, the reaction coming out naturally.
“I was right; you are funny.” I told her.

I let her finish her sandwich, which didn’t take too long. Clearly she was starving from the way she scarfed down the food. Within minutes she settled back in her seat with a very happy sigh.
“That was a good sandwich,” she said. Suddenly her eyes were on me.
“…an athlete.” she said.
“What?” I questioned, not understanding.
“I was just trying to guess what you are.” she said. “I guessed maybe a professional athlete. Or maybe even a dancer.”
“What makes you say that?” I asked.
She shrugged, sipping on her drink.
“You have a very lean line and a great posture. Was I right?” she asked.
I smiled, shaking my head.
“Sorry, no. But I do work out.” I told her.
“An artist?”
“No.”
“A doctor?”
“Definitely not.”
“A cop?”
“Gosh, no.”
The girl grinned at me leaning her elbows onto her table.
“Darn, I have no idea then.” she said.
I smiled back lightly, giving her a once over.
“Alright, my turn to guess.” I said.
The girl’s face lit up excitedly and she scooted her chair forward.
“Okay! Wait, hold on.” she said. She cleared her throat and straightened in her seat. “Alright. Go ahead.”
“You’re a college student,” I said, eyeing her pile of notebooks and her bags.
“Uh huh,” she said, though she didn’t sound too impressed. I put one finger up to signal that I wasn’t finished.
“If I had to guess, I would say you’re studying fashion.” I said. “…and you have a demanding job or internship. Am I right?”
The girl’s eyes widened and she blinked at me.
“How did you know?” she demanded.
I pointed to her notebooks on the table.
“I noticed these are sketch pads specifically for art design. I would’ve gone with artist if it wasn’t for that piece of cut fabric that was sticking out from the bottom of the notebook.” I said. “And you look worn out. You’ve said that you were tired and didn’t have enough time but the way you talk about it leads me to think that you have different places to be but it’s a job or internship that you actually like.”
The girl looked over her stuff and then back at me.
“You’re good. Are you a detective or something?” she asked.
“No, I’m not a detective either.” I said.

The bell on the door rang lightly as it swung open. I looked up to see a man step in, his step cautious as he looked through the café with a careful eye. He was clearly looking for someone.
“So, what kind of stuff do you design?” I asked the girl, keeping up the conversation as I did a quick look over on the man.
The guy looked to be in his late-30’s to mid-40’s, and he had a well-worn suit jacket and a cheap watch. He looked like he could be a detective.
“I design all sorts of things,” the girl answered. “Currently though I’m working mainly as a stylist more than designer.”
“Stylist?” I echoed. I turned my eyes back to her to fully engage in the conversation. “Isn’t that a lot different from designing?”
The girl shrugged.
“Yea, but I like it too. I still get to do both; for school I have to design a line for a final project.” she said. “The styling gives me experience with working with real body types.”
I hummed thoughtfully, tracing my fingertip on the rim of my cup.
“Wow, your job must be so much fun.” I noted.
I kept my eyes on the girl across the table while keeping tabs on the man as he slowly made his way to the counter. He ordered something and then turned to take another look around the place.
If this was the detective, he was early. He must’ve left the moment he got my message. I didn’t blame him for being suspicious or even anxious, but this did not make me feel good. Trust was going to be a challenge to build.
The girl continued to talk as I picked up the newspaper and folded it so the article about Seo was facing in. I tried to seem casually attentive as she went on.
“My aunt gave me my current job. Well, actually she fell and got hurt so she can’t work until she’s better. So she gave me her job temporarily.” she told me.
“And this is the stylist job you were talking about?” I asked, keeping her talking.
“Yea. I always loved helping her out wherever her job took her, you know? And it takes some research to do some of the things she does…” the girl said.

I saw the man pick up a steaming cup from the counter and turn, scanning the place again. I dropped my gaze back to the girl as he started to make his way toward me.

“Wow, I didn’t know stylist had to do all that,” I commented, awe in my voice. “Really, you must really have to have talent to have that job.”

He was coming down the row of seats, where we were sitting. I didn’t even try to look up.

The girl smiled, taking a sip of her coffee.
“Oh I don’t know; I think my aunt gave me the job because she hates her assistants.” she laughed, shaking her head. “I’ve also been helping her with her projects since I was little, so it’s sort of like I got this job handed to me.”

He was coming closer to the table now, just a few steps away and I wondered if he was able to read me out of the crowd. Was he that good?

“I don’t believe that,” I told her. “Your aunt must trust you and your talent to give you the job. If she didn’t, I’m sure she would’ve found someone else to do it.”

The man walked right by my table, not even glancing my way. I counted his steps as he passed, and right when I got to five I let out a silent breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I was safe.

“Yea, I guess you are right.” the girl was saying. She blinked, smiling to herself. “That way of thinking makes me feel better.”
She took another sip of her coffee and sighed.
“You know what, this is great.” she suddenly claimed.
I raised an eyebrow at her animated tone.
“What, the coffee?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“No, talking to someone like this.” she told me. “I can’t really talk to anyone at my school about it; everything is a competition. If I talk about something good, they will think I’m bragging. If I complain, suddenly I’m the annoying wimp.”
I frowned.
“You don’t have any friends you can talk to?” I asked.
The girl winced at little and let out a small laugh.
“No, see, my aunt is pretty well known at my school because she graduated from there. They all know about her great career and all…” she said.
“And her reputation shadows you everywhere.” I said, realizing.
The girl laughed.
“Yea, just a little.” she said. Then she got up from her chair. “I’m going to return my plate. Want me to take your cup?”
I nodded and let her take the plates away. After she turned away, I glanced to the window on the other side of the café. I saw the man in the corner next to the window, his eyes locked onto the sidewalk outside. He was planning on trying to pin me out as I walked in.

I turned back forward, thinking. I was now pretty sure this man was Detective Paek. He dressed the part and acted the part; he was a good fit.
He was here much earlier than the determined time I had given, and he had positioned himself in a good place in the café. I wouldn’t say he was impatient or reckless. After all I only told him to not be late, nothing against coming here early. But if he is willing to spend time here to wait an hour for a set meeting, he must be anxious about this. The man was careful, rightfully so. But now, if he does move in a way I predicted he will, I will be able to confirm my guess.
I pulled out my phone from my pocket and set in on my lap. And then I waited.

I wonder, how long will he take before he gets impatient?