Mercenary Black Mamba

"I am Jeong Pil-su. I apologize for the sudden visit. There was an important call made to the ANS's Foreign Affairs. The caller was Councilor Park and the call was from Zaire, Africa."

"Is he all right?"

Jin Soon was indifferent as if Zaire was a town next to theirs.

Jeong Pil-su marveled at her reaction. Any other woman would have asked a dozen questions. He could only finish with an unsatisfactory explanation and ask her a favor.

"The call was disconnected soon. Africa's telecommunication infrastructure is abysmal. We would like to call him after tracking his location. Can you provide us with his current contact details?"

"You came here for nothing. I'd like to ask you that. As you would know, he is a secret agent. If the ANS thinks an agent would divulge his journey details to his family, I am concerned for your organization's future," Jin Soon answered curtly.

Jeong Pil-su was momentarily speechless. He couldn't understand how such a woman with a pretty face could say such harsh words.

"Ma'am, help us with just one call. This will help him too. Someone high up in our ranks ordered this. If I go back empty-handed, I will be done for. I am planning to get married soon. I cannot get fired now."

Jeong Pil-su could only beg. If he returned with nothing at all, his always-disgruntled boss would kick his shins. When dealing with women, the classic "pity-inducing" move often worked well. But it could also backfire.

"The government? Helping us?"

Jin Soon looked as if she had heard something unbelievable. If Mu Ssang really was in danger, Kkamdung wouldn't lounge about lazily in the basement. The Garuda, hidden somewhere, would also do something. What could the government do, especially when they usually didn't care about Korean nationals overseas? Jeong Pil-su averted his gaze, realizing his lies were revealed.

"Mu Ssang is only remaining as a Korean citizen because he feels attached to the country, not to the government. The government has never helped us and never will. He is benefitting the government with all the foreign capital he brings in and by getting rid of criminals from the country. I am sorry that you are going to lose your job."

She could know where he was if she asked Bonipas or Ombuti, but she didn't intend to let this man know at all. The ANS had always been an obstacle, not a helping hand.

"This is relevant to the national interest too. You will be helping me and the country at the same time. Mu Ssang seems to be in danger. The ANS will dispatch agents and protect him."

Jeong Pil-su feigned distress and lied. He resented the young woman for dismissing the powerful organization, ANS, but now he needed her help.

"This government getting concerned with an overseas citizen's safety is a rare occurrence. I would like to tell you too, but I really don't know. I think you should leave. If you tarry, you may not be able to leave."

Jin Soon no longer had patience. She wanted this meaningless conversation to end.

"Huh!"

Jeong Pil-su shivered. Mesmerized by her beauty and focusing on his mission, he had forgotten that this place was a monster den. He quickly stood.

"Sorry for bothering you. Please tell Mother that I would like to apologize. Call me whenever you need some trouble to be resolved. I will be right here right away," Jeong Pil-su apologized politely and fled the premises.

"What a joke! Whose help would Mu Ssang need? I know you are just going to use him," Ou Soon, who was listening to the conversation, grumbled.

* * *

"It didn't work?"

Lee Dae-deok clucked his tongue. If Jeong Pil-su, their certified mouth runner, gave up, there was nothing more that could be done.

"What shall we do?"

His chest burned just like the cigarette he was holding. The new military junta that gained power after Park Chung-hee chose to stabilize their regime instead of national security. The shameless mob betrayed the country's future for their own personal gain.

They crippled the Agency for Defense Development (ADD) and disbanded the missile development team. They gave all of the nuclear and missile development data to the CIA and imported American weaponry. As a result, the defense budget rose to 25 percent of the total national budget. Still, the country's defense capacities worsened.

"Wretches. They must have all been bribed."

The hundreds of billions of won that went missing must have ended up in their pockets. He took out a cigarette and lit it with the cigarette he was smoking.

Even if they could get their hands on the Room-Temperature Superconductor with the help of the heavens, there would still be a problem. Hundreds of people in the government and parliament would say that they should give it to the United States. More would say that they should give it to Japan. One in the President's closest ring leaked the hard-researched nuclear detonator to the CIA. No one could be trusted in the government of Korea.

The intercom rang.

"Come in!"

The secretary put the file on the table.

"I have compiled the customs data delivered to the French Cultural Institute in Daegu. The items delivered through the British and French embassies are not on the list."

"That can't be helped. Corsica, France, California, Chad, Djibouti, Singapore, Hong Kong, there are a lot."

"Most items were sent from N'djamena, Chad. No strange items. Mostly wines, tobacco, nuts, food, and art."

"All right. What is this place?"

Lee Dae-deok tapped the Chad address. It was written in Arabic cursive.

"I don't speak Arabic."

The secretary seemed perplexed.

"Bring me someone who speaks Arabic."

The secretary ran out of the office.

"Hello, I'm Kim Myung-jin. You called?"

Kim Myung-jin seemed tense in the boss's office.

"Tone it down a notch. Where is this place?"

"The Wakil Store located in the third sector, N'djamena, Chad."

"Oh! Can you speak any other languages?"

"I minored in French."

"Good! You should go to Africa for a business trip."

"Sir?"

Kim Myung-jin's mouth was open agape in awe. It was all so unexpected.

Kim Myung-jin, suddenly on a deathly journey just because he could speak Arabic, hurried into the archives. The Black Continent was uncharted territory. He had no information at all. He asked the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the national tourism corporation for help, but all he got was a piece of paper faxed to them.

"No data."

After reading some basic information provided by the embassy of Cameroon, Kim Myung-jin was rendered semi-comatose.

That evening, Kim Myung-jin drank to his heart's content in one of the tented food stalls on a street. Now, he had to go to Chad, a country formerly unknown to him. There, he needed to meet the parcel's sender, Matanga, and enter Zaire.

Chad and Zaire were full of diseases and unidentified, lethal viruses. In their jungles, cannibals roamed freely. Civil wars took dozens of hundreds of lives each day.

He cursed himself for not studying hard in high school. He was in the middle academically. With his grades, he needed to choose between Chinese and Arabic as a college major. He chose Arabic despite himself and it proved to be the right choice.

The world changed. With the increased commerce between Korea and the Middle East, he was now a quality employee. He applied for a position in the ANS instead of large construction companies just because he wanted to be a high official who could wield power.

Thanks to Arabic, his life flourished. Now, because of Arabic, he needed to go on a journey to his grave. Kim Myung-jin accompanied his shots with deep sighs.

Kim Myung-jin met misfortune because of Arabic. Jeong Pil-su did because he was acquainted with Mu Ssang.

* * *

Poseidon was one of the hottest bars in Gangnam. Jeong Pil-su sipped liquor that he really didn't care for. His boss would pay for these expensive bottles, but when he even reserved a room and called some girls, there had to be a catch. When they were relatively drunk, Lee Dae-deok made the women leave them.

"Agent Jeong, are you willing to give up your own life for your country?"

Jeong Pil-su, startled, looked at Lee Dae-deok's eyes. The very same question was asked during his job interview. His boss must have lost his mind. But his eyes were calm and still.

"Boss, I don't appreciate the joke."

"I am not joking. Are you willing to give up your own life for your country?"

"Yes, of course."

Jeong Pil-su humored him.

"Are you sure?"

"What is he doing?" thought Jeong Pil-su.

Jeong Pil-su was getting annoyed. He worked with Lee Dae-deok for nearly a decade, but his boss never acted like this.

"Yes. I devote myself to my country."

He cringed as he said that.

"Fuck this country! Housing costs and raising my daughter are killing me!" said Jeong Pil-su in his mind.

Lee Dae-deok filled a beer glass with whiskey and held it out.

"Thank you. You will go to Africa tomorrow."

"What? Africa?"

Jeong Pil-su's eyes widened. He thought he misheard it.

"Yeah, we have no one else to go. Take Kim Myung-jin and go to Zaire."

"Are you for real?"

Jeong Pil-su shivered as if he was showered with a bucketful of cold water. He no longer felt drunk.

"Do you think I'm joking then?"

Lee Dae-deok glared.

"I knew it when you bought these expensive bottles. I feel like a pig being fed before slaughter," said Jeong Pil-su in his mind.

Jeong Pil-su flinched.

"Where in Zaire?"

"I don't know."

"Who am I meeting?"

"Mu Ssang."

"Mu Ssang?"

The simple answer made Jeong Pil-su spill the expensive whiskey from the beer glass he was holding. His face paled. Mu Ssang was the best secret agent in the world whose identity was revealed because the Korean branch of the CIA shared some data with the ANS. He allegedly was responsible for thousands of deaths throughout the desert and jungle. A business trip to Africa already was shocking. Now, he was being told that he had to meet a committer of massacres. He was beyond shocked.

"I don't know what he looks like. How am I supposed to find him?"

"You know what he looks like."

Lee Dae-deok smiled mischievously.

Jeong Pil-su was rendered speechless and bewildered at the same time.

"What?"

"You are quite resilient. You already forgot after getting beaten up like that?"

Jeong Pil-su, after a moment of confusion, spat out the whiskey in his mouth and stood up, toppling the heavy table.

"That monster was him?"

"You have too many years under your belt to be freaking out like that."

"Is that true?"

"It is. I promised him that I would never reveal his identity, but now it can't be helped. I'm a dead man now."

"It is true!"

He didn't care if Lee Dae-deok croaked tomorrow, but if Mu Ssang and Black Mamba were the same person, it was quite a sensational event.

"Yeah. Now I'm like a dead man."

"I am confused. I am a dead man too."

"You should keep this a secret. Even from Kim Myung-jin."

Lee Dae-deok swiped his neck with the blade of his hand.

"I am dead anyway. How am I supposed to last a day in hell?"

"You will be promoted if you survive and return. He has already acquainted you. He surely wouldn't kill you on sight."

"That's not comforting at all."

Jeong Pil-su glared at the golden liquor with an expression of despair on his face.

"People die in their bedrooms. People survive in a lion's den. You should be bold."

Lee Dae-deok tapped Jeong Pil-su's shoulder with his thickset hand.

"This may well be my last drink," said Jeong Pil-su inwardly.

He stared at the glass he held. What would his wife and daughter do? What good was a promotion after death? He just wanted to live a long, happy ordinary life.

"Are you telling me to visit that man with nothing but an address?"

Jeong Pil-su's voice sounded weak.

"When has our line of work ever been easy?"

"Fuck!"

Jeong Pil-su kept sighing. All he had was an address of "Wakil Store" to find and meet Mu Ssang. That's what businessmen in the private sector were said to do, but even they didn't enter the Sahara desert and jungle swarming with cannibals.

* * *

"I am sick of airplanes now."

Even the tenacious Koreans had their limit. The two men's faces were in a deep frown as if they had just tasted a spoonful of vinegar. Kim Myung-jin's legs wobbled as he exited the gate. They had to transfer four times over a week to arrive at the N'djamena International Airport.

"Fuck. The layover was ten times the actual flight time!" Kim Myung-jin, exhausted, muttered lifelessly.

"Every inch of my body hurts."

Jeong Pil-su thrust both arms in the air and shuddered. They had to sleep on benches in airports. The two Koreans despaired again when they saw the taxis.

"Are we supposed to get on one of those?"

Jeong Pil-su frowned deeply. He was not sure if they were hailing a taxi or a car that was to be broken down into parts. A missing back mirror or broken headlights were considered minor damages.

Most taxis had their tires worn out to reveal the frame within. It was a wonder that they still worked. Barely any taxis had intact doors. They had to choose a taxi with three intact doors.

"No problem!"

The taxicab driver grinned, revealing his yellow teeth. He spoke fluent French.