Op-Center [antikvár]

0]\E Tuesday, 4:10 p.m., Seoul Gregory Donald took a sip of scotch and looked across the crowded bar. "Do you ever find yourself thinking back, Kim? I don't mean to this morning or last week, but—way back?" Kim Hwan, Deputy Director of the Korean Central Intelligence Agency, used a red stirring straw to poke at the slice of lemon floating in his Diet Coke. "To me, Greg, this morning is way back. Especially on days like these. What I wouldn't give to be on a fishing boat with my uncle Pak in Yangyang." Donald laughed. "Is he still as feisty as he used to be?" "Feistier. Remember how he used to have two fishing boats? Well, he got rid of one. Said he couldn't stand having a partner. But sometimes I'd rather be fighting fish and storms than bureaucrats. You remember what it was like." From the comer of his eye, Hwan watched as two men sitting beside him paid their tab and left. Donald nodded. "I remember. That's why I got out." Hwan leaned closer, looked around. His eyes narrowed, and his clean-cut features took on a conspiratorial edge. "I didn't want to say anything while the Seoul