by Martin Limon
IT WAS ALMOST DARK BY THE TIME WE REACHED THE OUTSKIRTS of Itaewon and found a spot to ditch the bus. We hoofed it through the narrow back alleys. The sight of a beautiful Korean woman with wet hair clutching a burlap bag as if it were stuffed with gold dust and two American GIs still shaking mud and lily pads off their butts was enough to make every pedestrian we encountered gawk in wonder.
Going to Herman's hooch was out of the question. I figured the kidnappers would be watching. Our job was to exchange the skull for Mi-ja. Not just turn it over to them.
Instead, we found a tiny yoguan hidden in a narrow alley. After paying for a large room with bath, we washed, sent out for bandages, and patched ourselves up as well as we could.
Lady Ahn had suffered the fewest cuts but still she was impatient with my careful washing and disinfecting.
"An apo," she objected. It doesn't hurt.
Ernie was okay and so was I. Scratches, bruises, hurt pride, but that was it.
"There're two things we have to do," I told Ernie. "First, we set up a meet with the kidnappers so we can trade the skull for Mi-ja."
Ernie nodded. "Right."
"And second, we collar the guy who beat up the little nun so Eighth Army can turn him over to the ROKs."
Ernie scowled up at me. "What's wrong with those dorks over at the CID Detachment? Why didn't they pick him up?"
"You know how they are. Take an MP escort with them when they go down in the ville. Wear their suits and ties so the First Sergeant won't accuse them of screwing off. They scare the hell out of everybody they need to talk to."
"Yeah," Ernie said. "Nobody tells those dickheads shit."
"So apparently this guy who beat up the nun has found out that we're looking for him and he's decided not to make it easy."
"He can't leave the country. Not without a phony passport, and he probably doesn't have any idea about how to buy one of those. We'll pick him up eventually."
"But we can't wait."
"Why not?"
I told him about the nun.
Ernie almost leapt out of his chair. "You're shitting me! She's going to toast herself?"
"The day after tomorrow. In downtown Seoul. In front of the TV cameras and everything."
"She's too young!"
"Right. So let's find the jerk who mugged her. Lock his ass up."
"Okay."
"And we have to get Mi-ja back."
Ernie paused. "You're right. Should we have chow first?"
FROM A PUBLIC PHONE IN A BACK-ALLEY STORE, I MADE A CALL to the pharmacy near Herman's hooch. The pharmacist's daughter answered. She told me that Slicky Girl Nam was at home being cared for by the old women from the neighborhood. The kidnappers hadn't called and no, she didn't know how to locate Herman. I told her I'd call back every hour until the midnight curfew.
Just before the witching hour, the pharmacist's daughter still hadn't seen Herman and she still hadn't received a call from the kidnappers. They wouldn't call after curfew. Movement through the streets of Seoul is impossible once the police shut down the city.
On the way back to the yoguan, I gazed up at the rain clouds scudding past the monsoon moon. The silver orb was almost full. Only a sliver of darkness along its edge held the difference between life and death for a small girl named Mi-ja. But tomorrow, even that slender hope would be gone. The moon would be full. And we would have our last chance to save her life.
Back in the room, I spread out a sleeping mat and, without taking my clothes off, plopped down on the floor next to Lady Ahn. Looking back on it, Ernie and 1 should have taken turns pulling guard duty, but nothing bad happened that night. God must watch over fools.
AT DAWN I WASHED MY FACE AND SHOOK LADY AHN AWAKE. When I tried to pry the jade skull out of her grasp, she shoved my hands away.
"You no touch," she said.
I tried to remain calm, explaining to her that two powerful sects of Buddhist monks were now after the skull and it wouldn't be safe here in the yoguan. She couldn't protect it by herself. Ernie and I had to return to the compound and find the mugger of Choi So-Ian. Otherwise the little nun would burn herself to death and Korea, too, would erupt in flames.
Lady Ahn shook her head. "Nuns have burned themselves before. We Koreans are used to it. Whatever Choi So-lan does, she doesn't get the jade skull."
I stared at the burning fierceness in her eyes, waiting for it to die. It didn't. I spoke anyway. "What about Mi-ja?"
She took a deep breath, turned away. "You can save her somehow. Without the skull."
I let that sit, allowing the silence to grow, until we both knew her statement wasn't true. Ragyapa and his Mongolian Buddhists were ruthless. I wouldn't be able to save Mi-ja. The kidnappers would stop at nothing until they had the skull.
"We only need the skull for a few hours," I said. "Once we make the exchange, and have Mi-ja back, Ernie and I will make sure that Ragyapa doesn't leave the country with the skull. I promised you in Taejon, we'll get it back for you. We won't let the Korean police know about it. We won't let Eighth Army know about it. No government official will confiscate the jade skull. We'll get it back for you. No matter what we have to do."
Lady Ahn looked at me. Then she looked at Ernie. "No matter what you have to do?"
Ernie grinned. "That's the easy part. Once I check my .45 out of the arms room, and we have Mi-ja, those Mongol assholes won't be safe anywhere."
"Once you have Mi-ja," Lady Ahn asked me, "are you willing to kill to recover the jade skull?"
I almost flinched. Her eyes flamed like the eyes of a tigress. I thought of the yellow-toothed grin of Ragyapa, the man who'd kicked me in the stomach in the Temple of the Dream Buddha. I thought of the frightened child whimpering in the corner. I thought of the severed ear.
Would I kill for the jade skull? No. But would I kill for Mi-ja, to save her life? That was easy. The answer was yes. Many times yes. And would I kill for this gorgeous woman who sat in front of me? This woman known as Lady Ahn? This woman as beautiful as any goddess carved in ivory?
The answer to that, too, was easy.
"What they did to Mi-ja," I answered carefully, "deserves killing."
Lady Ahn sat with her head slumped for a long time. She breathed slowly, as if working up courage. Finally, she released the strap from her grip. She shoved the burlap bag across the floor. I picked up the jade skull of Kublai Khan, smiled a reassuring smile, then slung it over my shoulder.
WE STOPPED AT THE BACK-ALLEY STORE SO I COULD USE THE pay phone again. Ernie rummaged through the candy rack, searching for his favorite brand of gum. Out front, Koreans milled about, some pushing carts, some carrying loads knotted to wooden A-frames on their backs. Others with pans resting on their hips, filled with towels and soap and shampoo. On their way to the bathhouse.
I kept an eye on them all.
I waited on the phone line. It took about five minutes for the pharmacist's daughter to fetch Herman.
When he picked up and grunted hello, I said, "I got it."
"Where?"
"In a safe place." Actually the skull was still hanging over my shoulder, in the burlap bag half full of wet rice.
"When can I see it?" Herman asked.
"When we meet with the kidnappers. Have they called again?"
"Not yet."
"They will. Tonight's the full moon. When you talk to them, set up the meeting. Tell them we have the antique. Tell them we're ready to make the exchange for Mi-ja."
"They better call soon. Nam's going nuts. She knows the full moon is tonight and she can't hold still. Been clawing at me all morning. Where you staying?"
"At the yoguan behind the Dungeon Club."
I wondered why he asked. Before I could inquire, the wind picked up, ruffling the awning. Ernie had purchased his gum and stood leaning against a pole, staring up at the sky, which had suddenly darkened. He turned back to me. "We'd better bali, George."
The first splats of rain hit the muddy pavement.
"Okay, H
erman, I have to go. Call me at the CID Detachment if something breaks."
As if the monsoon sky had been holding off beyond endurance, lightning flashed, thunder rolled, and the clouds opened up with a pelting deluge.
Ernie and I ran to the compound.
THE FIRST SERGEANT STOMPED BACK AND FORTH IN THE CID office, his hairy arms waving in the air.
"Where in the hell have you two guys been?"
Ernie hung up his soaked jacket, smiled at the secretary Miss Kim, flashed a thumbs-up to Admin Sergeant Riley, and flopped into a padded vinyl chair.
"We told you, Top," he said. "We went down to Taejon to pick up that antique."
I draped my jacket over a chair and plucked at my dripping wet shirt in an attempt to unglue it from my body. I started pouring the wet rice from the burlap sack into a metal trash can.
"Five days it took you? Five days? Just to pick up some damn old piece of jade?"
The First Sergeant looked sharp in a neady pressed Class B uniform shirt and slacks. Riley wore his usual fa- tigues starched to a cardboard consistency. Miss Kim wore a tight skirt and blouse that accented her delectable figure.
They were all dry, which is what made me jealous. Ernie and I were wet and scratched and bruised and looked like a couple of stray tomcats. Outside, thunder boomed.
The First Sergeant turned his gray eyebrows on me.
"Sueño, what's the story? You don't usually goof off on me. Not this much, anyway."
"We didn't goof off." I held the jade skull up to the fluorescent light.
Miss Kim swiveled on her typing chair and gaped at the shimmering green glow. Even Riley stopped scratching at his pile of paperwork and adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses to take a better look.
"It wasn't easy getting ahold of this jewel," I told them. "Not exactly on sale in your usual five-and-dime."
Miss Kim rose from her seat and clicked over in her high heels. She stood in front of the jade and held out her manicured fingers. "May I see it?"
I handed it to her. She fondled it. Slowly. Sensually.
The First Sergeant propped his butt on the edge of Riley's desk and crossed his arms. "So you have the exchange set up for the girl?"
"We're working on that. When the kidnappers call Herman, he'll set it up."
Miss Kim examined the intricate carving. Tiny pearls of drool bubbled on her red lips.
Ernie bounded out of his chair, walked over to the counter, and drew himself a cup of coffee from the stainless steel urn. It was boiled as black as ink so he poured about a half a cup of sugar and cream into it. As he stirred the concoction, I knew he was working up some mischief.
I was right.
"Seems like the rioting outside the gate has made the head shed a little nervous, eh, Top?" he asked.
The First Sergeant's fingers tightened beneath his biceps. "We've been through this shit before. In 'Nam. We know how to handle it."
"How's that?"
"Bust some heads. That's how."
Ernie and I were both thinking the same thing. Busting heads wouldn't stop the nun from burning herself to death. In fact, it would ensure that she'd go through with it. There was only one way to stop her: Find the man who had attacked her in Itaewon.
"What about the mugger of the little nun?" I asked.
The First Sergeant's fingers clenched the flesh of his arms more tightly. "What the hell do you think I been waiting for you two guys for? The information you gave us before you left was for shit."
Ernie sloshed coffee when he swiveled. "You mean you haven't caught him yet?"
"That's right, Bascom. We haven't caught him yet."
"We gave you a complete description before we left. You have six other CID agents besides me and George. All any investigator would have to do is bust some heads and ask some questions out in Samgakji. Pick up the mugger in no time."
Samgakji was the Korean nightclub district that catered to black GIs.
"What the hell do you think we've been doing, Bascom? We identified the guy the first day. All it took was gathering some information and checking some old blotter reports. His name is Hatcher, Ignatius Q., Private First Class."
"Ignatius Q?" Ernie asked.
"That's right. Ignatius Q. But all the bloods out in Samgakji call him Bro Hatch."
Ernie sipped on his coffee. "Beats the shit out of Ignatius Q."
"The problem with picking him up," the First Sergeant said, "is that as soon as he got wind that we were looking for him, Hatcher went AWOL."
"Of course he went AWOL, Top," Ernie said. "He's probably hiding out in Samgakji. Didn't you send anybody out there?"
"Do you think we've had our thumbs up our butts, Bascom? I've had agents in Samgakji day and night. They've come up with zilch."
"White agents or black agents?"
The First Sergeant glared at Ernie. We all knew the answer to that. The Eighth Army CID Detachment didn't have any black agents.
Admin Sergeant Riley buried his nose deeper into his paperwork, worried that Ernie might go too far. Riley was a bureaucrat and a lifer. He wasn't going to take a no-power lowlife staff sergeant's side against the First Sergeant, the top noncom in the CID Detachment.
Miss Kim paid attention only to the jade skull. She was used to GIs arguing over things that couldn't be changed. Since English wasn't her first language, it was easy enough to tune us out.
Not easy for me. I figured I'd better back Ernie off or the First Sergeant was going to grind his teeth so hard his molars would pop out. Top hated admitting that he couldn't get a job done without me and Ernie to help.
"Who'd you send out there?" I asked.
"Burrows and Slabem," he replied.
Ernie groaned. "Not those two dorks!"
The First Sergeant's face reddened. "They're good investigators."
"They're two white nerds," Ernie said. "The soul brothers out there in Samgakji aren't going to have shit to do with them. And the Korean business girls, less."
"And you two can do better?"
"You know we can do better. We speak the language of the night. That's why you been waiting for us to get back. So somebody can go out to Samgakji and collar this mugger once and for all."
Ernie was right. All the other CID agents in the Detachment prided themselves on staying away from the drunks in the bars and the dopers dealing drugs and the Korean prostitutes who swarmed through the GI villages. Ernie and I thrived in that environment. And we were known out there. And trusted. When you needed something done in the red-light districts of Korea, Ernie and I were the investigators to see. The other CID agents couldn't sniff out a correct quote on the price of kimchi.
The First Sergeant was silent for a long time. His fists clenching and unclenching, his jaw working away as if he were gnawing on a bone. Finally, he nodded.
"All right. You two are such hotshots. Get your butts out to Samgakji, like right now. And find this asshole for me. The honchos up at the head shed are about to shit a brick because we haven't been able to pick up the GI who jacked up that Buddhist nun. So you guys are back. So you're the experts on the Korean villages and the biggest ville rats in Eighth Army law enforcement. So you set down those mugs of coffee and you put on your jackets and you hop in your jeep and you get your asses down to Samgakji. Right now! You understand me?"
The First Sergeant stabbed his forefinger into Ernie's face and then into mine. "Do either of you have any questions?"
"Yeah," Ernie said.
The First Sergeant swiveled on him. Glaring.
Ernie's face was as relaxed as that of a Buddhist saint. "What's for chow?"
After Riley pulled the First Sergeant off of Ernie, he escorted him down the hallway, whispering soothing words into the old sergeant's ear. When he returned to us, Riley shook his head.
"Ernie," he said. "You have to stop messing with the First Sergeant like that. He's going to burst one of his blood valves some day."
Ernie swallowed the last of the coffee in his cup. "Not to worry
. Army medical coverage is a hundred percent."
Trying not to laugh, I managed to pry the jade skull from Miss Kim's soft hands. Riley filled out a receipt for it, handed me the pink copy, and slid the original into his files.
He had written: Skull, jade, ancient, one each.
I wrapped the skull in some brown pulp hand towels. Riley opened the big wall safe behind his desk and slid the precious antique onto the widest metal shelf.
He slammed the door, cranked shut the handle, and twisted the dial.
BEFORE GOING TO SAMGAKJI, WE CHECKED WITH A COUPLE OF our contacts on the compound. The first one was scared shitless when we mentioned the mugging of the Buddhist nun, and he wouldn't tell us anything. The second snitch, a small-time dope dealer known as Brother Andrew, was foolish enough to provide us a little leverage.
Ernie didn't smoke much marijuana, but when he had the urge he always bought the reefer from Brother Andrew. When Ernie asked him about copping some shit, Andy didn't hesitate. As soon as the transaction was complete, I entered the barracks and read Brother Andrew his rights. As I did, he wheeled on Ernie.
"You wouldn't do this to me."
"Watch me, Bro," Ernie answered.
Andrew had a shaved head shaped like a peanut and a neatly trimmed goatee. The goatee was allowed by the doctor because Andy suffered from folliculitis and couldn't shave. It drove the lifers mad, but they couldn't do anything about it.
Ernie folded his arms. "Tell me about the guy who jacked up the Buddhist nun."
Andy wouldn't tell us anything at first. Apparently, the guy who had attacked the nun had a lot of people terrorized. We had to actually handcuff him, shove him in the back of the jeep, and drive him down to the MP station. When Andy was finally convinced that we were going to book him, he started to talk.
"His name's Bro Hatch," Andy told us.
"We already know that," Ernie told him. Bored.
"He hangs out with a fine-looking sister. Everybody says she's half white and half Korean. Name's Sister Julie."
"Where's she work?"
"In Samgakji. The Black Cat Club."
"Is Hatcher there now?"
"I don't know. But once you take a look at Sister Julie you'll realize that no man in his right mind would stray far. She's one fine hammer."
