Escape from Camp 14 by Blaine Harden

circulated in South Korea that the resemblance had been enhanced by plastic
surgeons in Pyongyang to render the young man as a kind of Great Leader II.
    If the new leader is to secure the same steely grip on the country as his father and grandfather, he certainly needs some measure of public support, along with solid backing from the military.
His father, Kim Jong Il, may never have been popular, but he had nearly twenty years to learn how to dominate his elders. He had handpicked many of the leading generals and was effectively running
the country when his father died in 1994.
    Not yet thirty years old, with less than three years to learn the levers, Kim Jong Eun has no such advantage. Until he figures it out, he will have to depend on his privileged blood, a budding
cult of personality, and the loyalty of relatives, courtiers and generals who may or may not be content to stand in the shadows.

4
    Shin was putting on his shoes in the school dormitory when his teacher came looking for him. It was Saturday morning, 6 April 1996.
    ‘Hey, Shin, come out as you are,’ the teacher said.
    Puzzled as to why he had been summoned, Shin hurried out of the dormitory and into the schoolyard. There, three uniformed men were waiting for him beside a jeep. They handcuffed him, blindfolded
him with a strip of black cloth and pushed him into the backseat of the jeep. Without saying a word, they drove him away.
    Shin had no idea where he was being taken or why, but after half an hour of bouncing along in the backseat, he became afraid and started to tremble.
    When the jeep stopped, the men lifted Shin out and stood him on his feet. He heard the clunk of a heavy metal door opening and closing, then the whine of machinery. Guards nudged him into an
elevator, and he felt himself descending. He had entered an underground prison inside the camp.
    After stepping out of the elevator, he was led down a corridor and into a large, bare, windowless room where guards removed his blindfold. Opening his eyes, he saw a military officer with four
stars pinned to his uniform. The officer sat behind a desk. Two other guards in khaki stood nearby. One of them ordered Shin to sit down in a straight-backed chair.
    ‘You’re Shin In Geun?’ the officer with four stars asked.
    ‘Yes, that is correct,’ Shin replied.
    ‘Shin Gyung Sub is the name of your father?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Jang Hye Gyung is your mother’s name?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Shin He Geun is the name of your brother?’
    ‘Yes.’
    The officer stared at Shin for about five minutes. Shin could not figure out where the interrogation was headed.
    ‘Do you know why you’re here?’ the officer asked at last.
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘Shall I tell you then?’
    Shin nodded yes.
    ‘At dawn today, your mother and your brother were caught trying to escape. That’s why you’re here. Understand? Were you aware of this fact or not?’
    ‘I . . . I didn’t know.’
    Shin was so shocked by the news that he found it difficult to speak. He wasn’t sure if he was awake or dreaming. The officer became increasingly angry and incredulous.
    ‘How is it possible for you not to know that your mother and brother tried to run away?’ he asked. ‘If you want to live, you should spit out the truth.’
    ‘No, I really didn’t know,’ Shin said.
    ‘And your father didn’t mention anything?’
    ‘It’s been a while since I was last home,’ Shin replied. ‘When I visited a month ago, I heard nothing.’
    ‘What kind of grievance does your family have to risk an escape?’ the officer asked.
    ‘I honestly don’t know anything.’
    This was the story that Shin told when he arrived in South Korea in the late summer of 2006. He told it consistently, he told it often and he told it well.
    His debriefings in Seoul began with agents from the government’s National Intelligence Service (NIS). Experienced interrogators, they conduct extensive interviews with every North Korean
defector and have been