I stopped. "Help me how?"
She planted herself in front of me, hands balled into fists like she could physically block me from walking away. "You are powerful man. Powerful men have enemies. Many problems." She tapped her chest. "I am small. Quiet. Nobody notice small Korean girl."
Then she crouched, mimed looking under something, cupped her ear like she was eavesdropping. "I can watch. I can listen. I learn many secrets working for bad men."
That made me pause.
"What kind of secrets?"
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she fished out a cracked, beaten smartphone that looked like it had survived more back-alley nights than she had. She unlocked it with trembling fingers and thrust the screen toward me. Notes. Dozens of them. Hundreds. Coded shorthand, timestamped.
"Names. Addresses. Who pays who. Where money hides." Her voice quickened as she swiped through, desperation giving her momentum. "I write every day. Safe place in phone. They don't know."
