Tongyeong was a port city built on hills that descended steeply to the harbor, the kind of city that had been arranged by geography rather than by planning, streets narrow and winding, the air carrying salt and fish and the particular smell of working water.
We arrived just before eleven, as Inspector Gwon had predicted.
The southern provincial oversight team was waiting for us in the courtyard of the regional coordination office — six officers in plain clothes, looking like ordinary administrative officials, which was the appropriate appearance for a city where unusual activity was noticed and discussed. Inspector Gwon greeted their lead officer, a quiet man named Sergeant Ma Dong-hyun who had the careful demeanor of someone who understood operational discipline, and they conferred for ten minutes while Kaien and I reviewed the floor plan of the warehouse district where Baek Seo-yeon Import and Logistics was registered.
