Love and Fear by Reed Farrel Coleman Page A

his weapons, a man in his thirties showed him into the office at the rear of a Korean grocery store. The man who escorted him was strapped, but Gulliver doubted the man would need to use his weapon in most situations. He had the air of a serious man. A man not to be toyed with.
    The rear of the store was full of magical smells. Garlic. Peppers. Vinegar and spices Gulliver did not know. Without being told, he removed his boots and left them on the threshold of the office, next to a pair of fine-quality handmade Italian loafers. The office was larger than he expected. It was beautifully decorated. The deep red carpeting alone must have cost several thousand dollars. There was an ornate wooden desk, and lovely wood paneling on the walls. Inside the office was a man about Joey Vespucci’s age. He was dressed in khakis, a beige cashmere sweater and brown socks. He was putting golf balls into a regulation golf hole cut into the carpet. Gulliver waited, not saying anything.
    When the ball clanged into the dead center of the cup, Gun Park smiled ever so slightly. He hit the next ball with the same result. Again the same smile that quickly vanished. As he prepared to hit the next ball, he looked at Gulliver’s stockinged feet and nodded in approval. There was no smile.
    He said, “You have had a busy day, Mr. Dowd. Can I get you something to eat or drink? Tea? A beer?”
    Gulliver thought about it. He knew better than to reject an offer of hospitality from a powerful person. In many cultures, it is an insult to do so.
    “A cold beer would be great. Thank you.”
    “Please sit.” Park gestured to a pile of colorful silk cushions at a low table toward the rear of the large office.
    He called to the man who had showed Gulliver into the room and then came to the table and sat across from Gulliver.
    “You are a curious man, Mr. Dowd,” Park said. “You are a very hard man but a generous one. Koreans honor these things. Korea is a hard land, but we are a generous, caring people.”
    At that moment Park’s man came in with a bottle of beer—OB Lager—and a glass. He placed them in front of Gulliver. Gulliver thanked him and nodded but didn’t touch the bottle or the glass. He knew he was being tested. With men like Park, everything was a test and everything else was about respect.
    “You asked for the beer, yet you don’t touch it,” Park said. “Why so?”
    “Because it would be impolite for a guest to pour his own drink.”
    “I like you more and more, Mr. Dowd.” Park poured Gulliver’s beer and then gestured for him to have some.
    He did, and it went down well. “May I speak frankly, Mr. Park?”
    “Please do.”
    “You know why I am here.”
    Park nodded. “Of course.”
    “Then may I ask if you have Mr. Vespucci’s daughter?”
    Park did not answer directly. “Koreans value their children greatly. But every man you have seen today has said the same thing. Have they not?”
    Gulliver nodded.
    “They would. We all say things that one part of our hearts believes. But there is another part of our hearts that knows that we in this business value other things more. There are things Mr. Vespucci has done. Things all these other men have done. Things I have done that would put lies to all the lofty things we say we value. But we are men who value more greatly power, fear, respect and wealth. There is no limit on the things we would do in order to attain and keep that which we prize.”
    Gulliver said, “I know that, sir. That is why I have come to you.”
    “You do not value these things, Mr. Dowd?”
    Gulliver laughed. “I mean no disrespect, Mr. Park. I laugh because the question has no meaning to me. Do you know Shakespeare, Richard III ?”
    “I do. A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!”
    “Exactly. All the money and power in the world could not change the man that looks back at me from the mirror each morning. So of what value would they be to me?”
    Park thought about that for several seconds.