Flower Girl: A Burton Family Mystery

by David Marshall Hunt

  "We would be pleased to assist, any time," I replied as Rhyly nodded.

  "I trust you will continue your interest in research on the historical contributions of women. Perhaps we can meet and expand on our brief tour someday. I can always be reached through Hamish. Kamsamnida!"

  Sister Cerice quickly vanished into the bustling marketplace crowds; however, her presence lingered as Rhyly and I discussed her and the importance of her research on the wanton destruction and obfuscation of women’s contributions to the development of the Korean peninsula. We were especially intrigued by the Silla era which produced the first queen to rule in these parts, and we couldn't wait to find out more about the almost forgotten Wonhwa.

  When the man-in-black snatched me away from the home for girls, I thought I would never have the opportunity to enjoy the sights and sounds and smells of the great city of Seoul that I heard the guards speak of frequently. With my mother and myself declared dead, I had been immediately transported to the south, to Parks’ Home for Girls and Clinic off the southern coast of Korea on Cheju-do Island. The plan was that by age thirteen I would be sent to my husband. Reddy interrupted the plan.

  I learned many things at the Parks’ Home for Girls. Tutors came to teach us language skills as well as music and etiquette. I learned Korean, Arabic, Japanese, and Mandarin and was fluent in all four by age ten. I also picked up some English slang from the guards at the clinic who were all ex- ROK Special Forces, trained by the US Army from nearby Camp Casey. I enjoyed the history lessons nearly as much as the stick fighting, my favorite martial art. I still practice daily with my long stick.

  "Rhyly, did I ever tell you about my skill with the jang bong, the long stick?" I asked.

  Rhyly replied, "Is stick fighting a substitute for sword fighting?"

  "No, that's called gumtoogi," I answered. "As you know, I’m an aficionado of bontoogi, Korean stick fighting. I learned the art when I was a child at a dojang next to the Parks’ Home for Girls on Cheju-do Island. My instructor taught me hand fighting, and only when my skill was sufficient was I graduated to weapons skills. The instructor saw that I had a talent for stick fighting so I kept practicing and he overmatched me at every opportunity until I defeated all the boys in the dojang except the oldest. By then I was eleven years old. The oldest boy was Sincere Park. At fourteen, Sincere bragged that he was the best stick fighter in the dojang. He was a bit of a bully so none of the other boys, younger and smaller than he was, ever challenged him. At age eleven, I defeated Sincere in a bontoogi match. Defeated by an eleven year old girl he knew as Carrie Lee was too much shame for him, to the point that he didn't show his face at the Pak Dojang for months."

  "I would love to learn, can you instruct me some day?" Rhyly asked.

  "My pleasure, we can start tomorrow if you'd like?"

  Reddy heard me talking about Sincere and stick fighting. "Two stalkers have followed us on our tour, the guy in the Benz and the black motorcycle dude. One of them could be Sincere Park. Sincere was teased mercilessly about his defeat at the hands of an eleven year old girl. It’s possible he’s carried a grudge all these years."

  Our tour was almost over. We had one more place to visit, the Parks’ Seoul Clinic, located near the Namdaemun Gate. But first we headed to the Namsan Chosun Hotel. We entered by the rear entrance and headed straight for a red leather upholstered booth next to the bar. There were big screens surrounding the booth which swiveled to give Hamish a 360 degree view. It resembled a hi-tech operations planning center. World and local news and stock market reports from New York to Dubai to London were all there for the viewer. This was Hamish's place of business.

  Reddy says, "Anyung hashim nika, Hamish, I see you've made a new friend," referring to the police officer we had watched carry a case of Johnny Walker Blue Label scotch out to the trunk of his police cruiser.

  "The Captain's been a friend for many seasons," Hamish replied as he shook Reddy's hand and waved for me to take a seat opposite him in the booth. "Good morning, goddaughter," Hamish said, adding, "has Reddy told you how I came to be your godfather?"

  "I didn't even know you were a Catholic until you told us about Sister Cerice, but it pleases me greatly, godfather Hamish. I feel we’ve known each other for many years. I’m looking forward to learning more about my mother from you."

  "I never knew Anne; however, I have assisted Reddy for many years," Hamish said as we sat down opposite him in the posh red leather seats, but not before holding up three fingers and gesturing to the barman.

  "What details do you have for me on the Parks?" Reddy asked. Hamish's grapevine had uncovered info about a recent partnership meeting in Seoul between the Parks and an American, Courtney Blaine Grey.

  "Dr. Evel Park Junior and his brother Sincere have plans to expand operations to Dubai and Guatemala. Even more importantly, my operatives have photos that have verified the evidence that the three year old Arab girl has been delivered along with another girl, as yet not identified, to the Park's Cheju-do Island Home for Girls.

  "Princess Zubaida has seen the photos and she replied with pictures of her and her daughter as children. They both have a small, distinct rose-shaped birthmark on the right side of their necks, a family birthmark. The three year old who recently arrived at the Home for Girls has the same birthmark. Better than DNA as evidence of who she really is," Hamish added.

  "To better answer your earlier enquiry about your mother, I was the one who tipped Reddy to the discovery that his daughter was actually alive. You were one of Dr. Evel Park Senior's earliest victims, a sort of test case. Park could not resist when Anne Burton, Reddy's wife and your mother, entered his Seoul Clinic almost exactly twenty-seven years ago. She was six months pregnant and feverish with a deadly case of malaria."

  Reddy cut in on Hamish's story of my mother and said, "Had I not received word from Hamish that Park had at least two western girls in his Cheju-do Island Clinic-Compound and had I not acted immediately, I'd still be wandering around the Mansions in Hong Kong following trails to nowhere and no one."

  It was clear that Reddy wanted to change the subject, away from Anne. I said, "I need to know this, Reddy. Please let Hamish continue."

  Hamish said, "Well, I don't want to dwell on the negatives. He rescued you and he returned another girl to an expat family in Oregon. They had suffered nearly eight years over the loss of their daughter in childbirth at the Park's Seoul Clinic. Same M O. Their joy was only surpassed by their shock as they had absolutely no idea that their baby girl had survived.

  "After Reddy rescued you fifteen years ago, Dr. Evel Park, Sr. never expanded his child bride operation to more than ten girls at any one point in time. However, two years ago, Park's son, Evel Junior, took over as CEO. He lacked his father's knowledge and skills and he was still learning the family business. Profit was the entire motivation for getting into the exotic child brides business. My sources estimate that it cost the Parks a bit over $60,000 to raise and train one girl until she is twelve and ready for sale as a child bride to a rich client for $300,000.

  "Junior couldn't resist what he saw as an opportunity when Princess Zubaida's daughter checked into the new offices of the Park Clinics in Singapore. She was six months pregnant, and the younger Dr. Park made the mistake that she would be convinced by his simple argument that her baby had been still-born. But, after the doctor told Zinni that the fetus was still-born, she insisted on knowing if it was a boy or a girl. She also felt certain that the baby was viable at six months, perhaps a mother's instinct. First, she challenged her husband, asking if it was a question of life for her versus for her baby. He assured her it was not, telling her that he too asked Dr. Park if he could see the baby and if he would return her corpse to the family for a proper burial. The doctor told them she had already been cremated."

  "Couldn't a four pound fetus have survived, with better care?" I asked.

  "That is precisely what the mother thought. However, Dr. Park stonewalled her further. Her servants reported t
hat she cried for two days and nights. Then she awoke one morning, sat up suddenly, and told her husband: 'My mother knows Dr. Matte Morgan of RVU, a clinical psychologist and counselor who specializes in cases of child brides and child slavery. I shall ask mother to contact Dr. Morgan to see if she knows an investigator we might hire.'"

  Hamish concluded: "That’s the story of your mother and of how Reddy's contract with Princess Zubaida began. He was fortuitously the best choice she could have made as only he had the experience that approximated hers. Furthermore, the name Park shot through his heart."

  "I get it," I said. "Dr. Evel Park, Jr. hadn't factored Reddy into the equation. Junior expanded operations to securing babies from Singapore, and now he’s shifting to Central America, India, and Africa where there are fewer rich families to deal with. In his mind he has reduced the risk factor to zero."

  "Exactly!" Hamish concluded as the barkeep arrived with the refilled tea pot.

  "Anyung hashim nika, Godfather," I said, sliding across the posh red leather upholstery. I gave him a big hug, breaking my no contact rule. Matte would be proud of my progress.

  Reddy and I had one more question for Hamish. "Since Dr. Park's Seoul Clinic is still in operation, under the leadership of Dr. Evel Park, Junior, can we safely visit without being identified?"

  "That red brick one story building that is to the west of Namdaemun Gate surrounded by the market area is the Park's OB/GYN Clinic," Hamish said. "It was on our left as we circled around the Gate. Yes, the clinic is most certainly still operating. Did you notice the line of limousines in the driveway?"

  Just then, Rhyly came into the bar to tell us, "I'm packed and I've checked out of the hotel. How about a lift to the airport?"

  "I'll drop you off at the hotel by the Incheon Airport for your return flight to the States," Hamish replied.

  Rhyly said, "Kamsamnida, Hamish, thank you for the wonderful briefing and tour. It’s been a delight and made my research on the women of seventh century Silla come to life." Then she whispered to me, "I trust that this tour was helpful to Reddy and you. Someday I hope you’ll fill in the blanks on what you two are up to. Meanwhile, I'll be in touch after I get home to River View. I hope you get to visit your mother’s grave before you return stateside. Stay safe, girlfriend."

  Outside, a black motorcycle darted past. The stalkers that followed us on our Gyeongju tour were making me jumpy, especially the Phantom motorcycle rider. Then another rider all dressed in black went by, and another. Maybe I was getting spooked over nothing more than a biker fashion. However, the thought of visiting the clinic where I was born and where my mother died had my nerves on edge, even more than the thoughts of stalkers.

  After we said our goodbyes to Rhyly, Hamish turned to Reddy and me. "I'll pick you two up at the hotel after I drop Rhyly at the Incheon Airport. Our appointment to visit Dr. Evel Park, Jr. at the Park's OB/GYN Seoul Clinic is at 2pm." That gave me three hours to dress and prepare for playing the role of a prospective mother. I needed to get a fix on Dr. Park Junior, and I was mindful of Reddy's earlier warning that I might be recognized. I decided to take a run through Seoul to clear my head.

  It was summer in Seoul but a cold wind cut through me as I started out of the Namsan Chosun Hotel for a run to relax me before my forthcoming visit to see Junior at the clinic. I went back to my hotel room and grabbed a light jacket. The sun was making an appearance through the clouds as I headed past the vacated hotel swimming pool where the only living soul was a slender boy in his teens, vacuuming the pool and checking the chlorine level of the water. I stretched for five minutes and started out at a slow jogging pace, wishing Shy and Comet were with me.

  My run took me around the grass covered circle of Seoul Plaza, then south to Namsan Park, then on to the Han River. I crossed over the river at Yoido Island and went northwest along the side road of the Olympic Expressway. As I crossed the bridge to the old World Cup Stadium, a black motorcycle reappeared briefly. This time it got close enough in bridge traffic that I saw a red dragon decal on its rear fender.

  I continued back across the river to World Cup Stadium, then back to the hotel. It was a run of contrasts of old and new architecture, bustling traffic, bicycles, motorbikes, cars, lorries, and people rushing in and out of subway stations to get to work. A typical work day in Seoul. I estimated the run at eight kilometers out and five kilometers back totaling thirteen kilometers or about nine miles. Near the end of my run, across the six lanes of traffic near the entrance to Songong underground market, I spotted another black motorcycle parked at the curb with a dog guarding it. Why was this image sticking with me?

  Refreshed by a long shower after my run through Seoul, I changed into a frilly blue and white dress that was slightly loose so as to hide my figure, draped a dark blue silk shawl over my bare shoulders, and preened a moment in the hotel room mirror. I slipped on an expensive diamond cluster ring and a matching wedding band that Hamish had loaned me for the occasion. Okay, I said to myself, as I added a dash of jasmine perfume and adjusted the leather strap of an authentic Gucci handbag over my left shoulder, you now look like a wealthy respectable bride and mother-to-be. I heard the hotel room door lock behind me as I headed for the elevators and the lobby entrance to meet Hamish and Reddy who were already in the lobby.

  "You do make a stout but well groomed chauffeur and body guard," I said with a grin as Hamish held open the rear door of the Benz limousine in the circular drive at the front entrance to the hotel.

  "Mrs. Bendix, you are looking lovely. Your limousine awaits." Hamish gestured for me to sit in the right rear of the vehicle, then closed the door and circled behind to enter the driver’s door. Hamish drove Reddy and me to the Parks’ Clinic. As we arrived, he said, "The appointment with Junior will be a test of your acting skills as a prospective mother."

  "A test of my nerves is more likely," I replied.

  After thirty minutes of ten miles per hour bumper to bumper driving through a mix of pedestrian crosswalks, cars, mini-buses, a peloton of bicycles, motorbikes, and lorries, we arrived at Park’s OB/GYN Clinic.

  "Don't forget that most of the Park's OB/GYN Clinic's legitimate clientele are wealthy Korean and foreign women," Hamish said. "Check out the Benz limousine across the street with the chauffeur leaning against it, and three more limos in the parking area. One of them has a Russian ambassadorial flag."

  I caught a glimpse of Reddy in the rear mirror as he literally bailed out of the front of the limo and vanished into the vast market area across the street from the clinic.

  Hamish repeated the Benz door opening routine, holding the door open for me as if I were royalty. He walked me to the front door of Park's Clinic, again holding open the door. Hamish sure dressed and acted the part. Doffing his black flight cap with a flourish and carrying it under his arm, he said to the clinic receptionist, "Mrs. Caroline Bendix to see Doctor Evel Park Junior."

  The receptionist pushed a button and a door to her left opened. "Please be seated in the lounge. The doctor will be with you shortly." The lounge was quite posh with lots of rich dark brown leather upholstered furniture and mocha colored velvet wall paper. We were immediately served tea.

  Within five minutes, Junior entered, still changing from his scrubs to a suit coat and adjusting his necktie. The dude was a slick dresser. Damn, I thought, he was the reincarnation of his father. I tried not to gag. Hamish, at attention a few feet to my left, did not take a seat, and instead offered me a hand as I rose to meet the doctor.

  "Mrs. Bendix, it is a pleasure to meet you," Dr. Park said, without extending a hand.

  "Kamsamnida, Dr. Park. I will be needing your services in a few months and wish to speak with you and see your facilities."

  "We could schedule an examination for whenever it is convenient for you, Mrs. Bendix," Dr. Park replied. "Miss Kim, our receptionist, handles all appointments and my assistant, Dr. Chang, will be delighted to give you a tour of the facilities."

  Hamish said, "Mrs. Bendix would prefer to
keep the number of people who know of her condition as small as possible. Could you please lead the tour and answer her questions?"

  Junior looked slightly miffed as he pressed a button on the wall next to the door we had entered through. "Miss Kim, inform Dr. Chang that his services will not be needed and clear my schedule for twenty minutes so that I may accompany Mrs. Bendix on a tour of the clinic," Dr. Park said, without a please or a kamsamnida. Treats her like a servant, not an employee, I thought.

  Matte told me later that I was reinforcing my hate for Junior, building up a case for revenge.

  The clinic had the sterile and antiseptic odor that seemed to be universal to all medical facilities, I thought as we entered. I needed to suggest to Dalisay that her clinic find a way to reduce or eliminate the medicinal and antiseptic tang. Perhaps eucalyptus would be better.

  The operating rooms captured my attention, equipped with what looked to be the latest and most expensive equipment. Mostly, I watched Junior's every move and burned his image into my memory.

  At 5' 4", Dr. Evel Park Junior was of medium to stout build. When he shifted his weight to start walking or change direction, he was always balanced, carried himself like someone well trained in tae kwon do and hwarang-do fighting skills. His slicked back black hair was showing some grey at the temples, and he rarely looked me in the eyes when speaking to me. While I had not seen him since I was twelve and he was sixteen years old, I had seen his father Dr. Evel Park, Sr. many times before my rescue. Junior was his spitting image, right down to the few occasions when I caught a glimpse of the flecks of yellow and red in his eyes. I recalled how the girls all commented on his evil eyes.

  I asked Ms. Kim if Dr. Sincere Park or Dr. Park Junior would be my primary physician. She replied that Dr. Sincere Park was out of town on business in the Middle East for the next few weeks. I made a follow-up appointment with Miss Kim that we would be canceling later, citing my mother-in-law’s insistence that I give birth to our first child in Hawaii, my husband's home.