The Orphan Master's Son_ A Novel - Adam Johnson [120]
Q-Kee put the end of the prod in the water and pulled the trigger.
Comrade Buc was seized, while the naked man next to him rolled to one side and defecated into the black water.
“Look, we don’t like this,” we told Buc. “When we’re in charge, we’re going to close this place down.”
“Oh, that’s rich.” Comrade Buc laughed. “You’re not even in charge.”
“How’d you get that scar?” we asked.
“What, this?” he asked, pointing to the wrong eyebrow.
Q-Kee lowered the prod again, but we caught her hand. She was new, she was a woman, and we understood the pressure to prove oneself, but this was not our way.
We clarified: “How’d you get that scar from Commander Ga?” we asked, and signaled Jujack to cut the chain. “Answer that question for us and we’ll answer any question you like.”
“A yes-or-no question,” Q-Kee added.
“Yes or no?” Comrade Buc asked in confirmation.
It was a bold move from Q-Kee, ill-advised, but we had to present a unified front, so we all nodded, and with a grunt from Jujack, the good comrade’s chains fell.
Comrade Buc’s hands went straight to his face, to massage his eyes. We poured clean water on a handkerchief and handed it to him.
“I worked in the same building with Commander Ga,” Buc said. “I did procurement, so I had my head under a black hood all day, ordering supplies on the computer. China mostly, Vietnam. Ga, he had his nice desk and a window, and he didn’t do any work. This was before he began his feud with the Dear Leader, before Prison 9 burned. Back then, he didn’t know anything about prisons or mines. The post was just a reward for winning the Golden Belt and for going to Japan to fight Kimura. That was a big deal after Ryoktosan went to Japan to fight Sakuraba and defected. Ga would bring me lists of things he needed, stuff like DVDs and rare bottles of rice wine.”
“Did he ever ask you to order fruit?”
“Fruit?”
“Peaches, perhaps? Did he want canned peaches?”
Buc studied us. “No, why?”
“Nothing, continue.”
“One day, I had worked late, it was just me and Commander Ga on the third floor. He often wore a white fighting dobok with a black belt, like he was in the gym, ready to spar. This night, he was leafing through magazines about taekwondo from South Korea. He liked to read illegal magazines right in front of us, saying he was studying the enemy. Just knowing about such a magazine could get you sent to Prison 15, the prison for families, the one they call Yodok. I often did the procurement for that prison. Anyway, these magazines have fold-out posters of fighters from Seoul. Ga was holding one up, appraising the fighter, when he caught me looking at him. I’d been warned about him, so I was nervous.”
Q-Kee interrupted. “Was it a man who warned you or a woman?”
“Men,” Comrade Buc said. “Commander Ga then stood. He had the poster in his hand. He grabbed something out of his desk and started walking toward me, and I thought, okay, I have been beaten up before, I can do this. I’d heard that once he beat you up, he never bothered you again. He began walking toward me. He was famous for his composure—when he fought, he never showed emotion. The only time he smiled was when he executed the dwi chagi, where he turned his back to the opponent, inviting his offense.
“Comrade, Ga said to me in a very mocking tone. Then he stands there, appraising me. People think I am a sycophant to go by ‘Comrade,’ but I am a twin, and as is custom, we both have the same name. Our mother called us Comrade Buc and Citizen Buc to identify us. People thought it was cute—to this day, my brother is Citizen Buc.”
Ah, we should have seen this information in his file. Missing it was a mistake on our part. Most people hate twins because of the procreation bonuses their families receive from the government. This explains much of Buc’s exterior, and constitutes an advantage we should have exploited.
“Commander Ga,” Buc continued, “held the poster out for me to view. It was just a young black belt with a dragon tattooed on his chest. Do you like this? Commander Ga asked. Does