Chapter 3 – Chapter 3

The body was gone. Detective Standler was gone—consulting, no doubt with the heads of both the North Korean and American delegations, working on smoothing this over, making as much of it go away as possible. The lab technicians were gone—for a coffee break. They'd be back.

I had stopped trembling enough to be able to rise up off the bed, dressed but quickly and sloppily so—I'm sure Detective Standler had tuned into that.

I started for the door to leave and go back to my room. But the door to the adjoining room was open. A naked Pak Jong-hee was lounging against the door frame and giving me a shy smile.

"They will find out quickly it isn't you," I mumbled, still in shock.

"We have time. Come into this room. They'll never know. You can go back to your room in a while and pack."

"Pack?" I asked, as I permitted him to reach out and take me by the arm and guide me into an identical room next to the murder room.

"Who was that you killed? We can't just . . . they think it's you." I was burbling, but I'd just seen a man killed. This was way out of my frame of reference.

"This is perfect for the defection," Pak said. "By the time they realize it isn't me, we'll be over the Italian border."

"The Italian border?" I said weakly. This was all moving too fast. But I seemed to be the only one without a program.

"Come over here," Pak said in the seductive voice that my dick had been programmed to jerk erect at.

He pushed me down into a seated position on the side of the bed. His hands went to the waistband of my trousers, and he jerked them off in one long pull. My cock jumped erect, hitting him in the cheek.

"To Italy? Who, what?" I asked, as he pushed my legs apart and knelt between my thighs.

"Oh, gawd. Oh holy, shit," I exclaimed as his mouth lowered over my cock. He was embracing my waist in his arms. I wasn't going anywhere for a while.

But he said we were going to Italy. He must have a car at his disposal. What kind of defection was this? Frank? The Americans? Or . . . "Oh shit, the North Koreans?"

Who fuckin' was defecting here—to whom?

I thought I had cried it out. Challenged Pak with the question.

But I hadn't. I'd fallen back on the bed, my back arched, my hands clawing at the bedspread. He was working my cock and swallowing my balls. All I could do was moan.

I heard the door open, and two men entered the room. They were still in the shadow of the doorway and I was watching closely to see them come into the light. Were they Koreans or Americans?