by Martin Limon
He gunned the engine, cutting off a kimchi cab and flipping the irate driver the bird.
This entire mess started when Lady Ahn approached Herman the German about smuggling the jade skull out of Korea. Had she told him she didn't have the skull yet? That she was just making preparations so she could move it quickly once the skull came into her possession? Maybe. Or more likely, Herman had guessed. Maybe she'd been vague about the exact dates. And Herman would need exact dates to set something up. GIs left Korea only under military orders. With precise "will proceed" dates. Herman would have to know exactly when the skull would be available in order to set up someone to ship it out of the country for him.
When Lady Ahn couldn't give him a precise date, he'd known she didn't have the skull yet.
And then Ragyapa came onto the scene. Had he been following Lady Ahn? Yes. And when she approached Herman, Ragyapa waited until she was gone, then approached Herman himself.
I almost leapt out of my seat. That was it. Ragyapa and Herman were working together.
Ernie glanced over at me. "What's wrong?"
I explained my suspicions. When I'd finished, he slammed the palm of his hand against the steering wheel. "I'm going to waste me some goddamn Herman the German."
The alley narrowed, two cabs tried to squeeze past us without slowing, and Ernie scraped by them, grinding his teeth.
I should have seen it earlier.
When we made the first rendezvous with Ragyapa, Herman had been willing to let me go upstairs alone. Even though he knew Mi-ja might be there.
Maybe he had been afraid. But there was more.
Ragyapa's thugs had been waiting for us when we arrived on the ferry in Ok-dong. How had they known we were there? By torturing the Widow Fifi Kang. But how had they known we'd gone to Taejon? Only a few people knew. One of them was Herman.
And the clincher was the fire at the yoguan. Ragyapa and his boys had known Lady Ahn was there. They took a chance that maybe she had the jade skull with her. They were wrong about that, but they were right about her whereabouts. Other than me and Ernie, only Herman knew where she had been staying.
Herman the German had been working with Ragyapa.
Why?
It was clear from our experiences on Bian-do that a foreigner like Ragyapa, even with the help of all his thugs, would never have been able to sail out to that hidden island and steal the jade skull from the monks on his own. Ragyapa must've realized that such a theft would take connections. Connections that only Lady Ahn could provide.
How much easier it would be to wait until she had stolen the jade skull, and then take it from her. And when best to grab it? When it came into the hands of Herman the German.
But why kidnap Mi-ja?
Maybe Ragyapa and Herman decided that Lady Ahn would need help. Koreans were certainly capable of helping her, but they all had connections in-country, debts to pay, families to support. Betrayal was a real possibility. The jade skull, once stolen from Bian-do, might never reach Herman the German. Or Ragyapa.
But who could help Lady Ahn? Who was trustworthy? Who had a reason to make sure that the skull reached the greedy hands of Herman the German?
GIs. No connections in-country. No families. No baggage of heavy indebtedness. And amongst GIs who had investigative experience? Who spoke the language? Who had CID badges that would help ward off the Korean police? Who was available right here in Itaewon, ready and waiting to be manipulated into a fool's errand?
The answer was simple: George Suefio and Ernie Bascom. At your service.
But they had to give us a reason to go along with such a dangerous mission. Money wouldn't be enough. Only one thing would be enough. Saving the life of a little girl. Saving the life of Mi-ja, Herman's own daughter.
The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. Herman had been working with Ragyapa all along. He had probably delivered Mi-ja to him. He had faked the anger at Lady Ahn in the subway, faked his hatred of Ragyapa and his thugs at the Temple of the Dream Buddha. But maybe there was one thing he hadn't faked. He hadn't faked his anguish at seeing her little ear sliced off and chopped up for dumplings.
I knew about the betrayal of children. When my mother died, my father took off and didn't return. Leaving me alone forever.
Had Herman been there when they'd chopped off Mi-ja's ear?
It was a question I was looking forward to asking him.
When the jade skull actually arrived in Seoul, I was the one who'd made the mistake of calling Herman. To lessen his anguish. To let him know that his nightmare—his daughter's nightmare—was almost over.
And what had he done in return? He'd notified Ragyapa of Lady Ahn's whereabouts.
Was it then that he decided to double-cross Ragyapa? Not to wait until we turned the jade skull over in exchange for Mi-ja, but to break into the CID office and steal the jade for himself?
Or was it Ragyapa who double-crossed Herman first? By snatching Lady Ahn at the yoguan? Ragyapa believed she had the jade skull with her. Herman would've been cut out of the deal if Ragyapa had managed to obtain the skull himself. Maybe it was the fire that made Herman decide to buy a few drinks for Staff Sergeant Riley, let him liquor himself up, and then steal the combination to the CID safe.
Double cross on top of double cross. Was that the ancient legacy of the jade drinking skull of Kublai Khan?
And now the skull was gone. Herman had it and he was running. And I was left with the rare honor of informing the murderous Ragyapa about that fact, while at the same time trying to keep Mi-ja and Lady Ahn alive.
All in a day's work for a U.S. Army CID agent.
I TOOK A DEEP BREATH, SMELLING THE SALT TANG OF AN INLET of the Han River Estuary. We were close to the bridge now. Very close.
Ernie turned off the jeep's engine, coasted next to a rickety wooden fence, and jerked back the emergency brake. As he chained and padlocked the steering wheel, I whispered in his ear.
"Let's check out the approaches to the bridge first."
He nodded.
This neighborhood of Seoul seemed to be ancient. The old homes were made of wood, and most had blue or red tile roofs. A few, especially those near the listless waters of the narrow inlet, were covered with straw thatch. As we stopped and peered around, we heard rustling in the straw.
"Mice," I whispered. "They bring good luck."
Ernie nodded.
As the pathway neared the river, the mud turned into a thick goo. It was hard not to make a sticking sound as we walked. The waterway was lined on either side with thick stone, like a canal. Spanning it was the graceful arch of a wood slat bridge. The Bridge of the Golden Tribute.
The bridge had been famous at one time. It was here that envoys from the Dragon Throne were greeted by officials of the Korean court at the end of their long journey from China. It was also here that the Korean king gave his approval to the annual caravan of riches that was sent as tribute to the Chinese emperor sitting on the Dragon Throne in the ancient capital of Peking.
Now the bridge was nothing but an eyesore in a slum. The wood was rotting. Lewd graffiti, scribbled in the Korean hangul script, scarred the twenty-yard span. Feces and stinking garbage and the corpses of vermin floated in the stagnant water below.
"Place smells like shit," Ernie said.
We checked the alleyways carefully. Empty.
Across the canal it was dark. We saw no movement.
"I'll go across and check it out," I told Ernie. "You wait here."
He stuck his arm out. "No. I'll go."
Before I could protest, he had scampered across the bridge. Wooden slats creaked under his weight. He disappeared into the darkness.
Five minutes later, he reappeared. He flashed me the hand signal for all clear.
Where were they? It was already two minutes past the midnight curfew. Did Ragyapa know Herman had stolen the jade skull? Were he and Herman already winging their way out of the country, laughing and sipping champagne? Were Lady Ahn and Mi-ja on their w
ay back to their families? Or were they dead?
I didn't know the answer to any of these questions. All I could do was wait. It was four minutes past curfew.
Ernie found a secluded spot near a tiled overhang and leaned back into the shadows. I heard the cold metal clang of the charging handle of his .45 as he chambered a round.
The canal smelled rancid, the path was thick mud beneath my feet, the night was humid and starless and threatening to rain. Only the moon shone full. Dreadfully full. This would be our last chance to save Mi-ja. I settled back, reminding myself that I was part Yaqui Indian. Patience was bred into my bones.
But my sore muscles were all American.
We waited.
WATER SLAPPED AGAINST WOOD.
I peered around the corner. The monsoon moon glimmered off the greasy water, making the stinking little canal seem almost beautiful.
A boat was approaching. Full of men. Although they were rowing, I could make out an outboard motor in the back. One of the men, one near the front, had a head like a lightbulb. A turban. Ragyapa.
I motioned for Ernie to keep alert. They could also come at us from behind.
When the boat was ten yards from the bridge, I stepped out of my hiding place and strode to the center of the span.
The oarsmen brought the little craft to a halt. Ragyapa rose to a standing position, his legs braced wide, keeping his balance. An oily voice slithered through the air like an eel.
"Do you have the jade skull?"
That nailed it. He didn't know about Herman. How to play it now? How to keep Lady Ahn alive? How to keep Mi-ja alive?
"First," I said, "I have to see the woman. And the girl."
Ragyapa gestured with an open palm at the boat and spoke in his precisely pronounced English. "Do you think we could fit them in this? You have no choice. You must turn over the jade first, then we will release them."
"What guarantee do I have that you won't kill them?"
"None. But when I have the jade skull, I will have no reason to kill them."
He was lying. Their testimony wouldn't do much good if he escaped and left the country. But that was a big if.
One of his thugs steadied the rocking boat by gripping the stone wall. Silently, the monk hopped up on the wall and crouched there.
Ernie had a good line on him. I wasn't worried. But there was no sense putting it off any longer. I had to level with Ragyapa, strike some sort of bargain.
"Your friend," I said. "Herman. The one who was working with you." I waited. No emotion showed in the shadows of Ragyapa's face. "He has disappeared."
The crouching thug straightened and took a few steps toward the bridge. Off to the side, I sensed movement in the shadows. Ernie. I didn't look in his direction.
"Tell your man to hold," I told Ragyapa.
Ragyapa barked something in an indecipherable tongue. The thug froze, shoulders hunched, glaring at me.
Ragyapa spoke again. "What is this about Herman?"
"Earlier this evening, he broke into our office on the compound. Through trickery, he managed to obtain the combination to our safe."
"And the jade skull?"
"It is gone. He took it with him."
The thug didn't seem to understand, but his body tensed and he stood up straighter, glancing back and forth between me and Ragyapa, waiting for instructions.
Ragyapa's voice lowered, sounding now like a cobra in an ancient tale. "Where is Herman now?"
"I don't know," I replied. "He has disappeared."
He barked a sharp invective. That was all the thug needed. With no further order from Ragyapa, he charged up the walkway leading to the bridge.
I reached under my coat for my pistol.
Just before the thug hit the bridge, Ernie stepped from the shadows and smacked him on the temple with the butt of his .45. Somehow the man spun away from the blow and kept spinning until he grabbed Ernie by the neck.
A shot rang out. Red flame rocketed into the air.
Ragyapa shouted out more orders. The boat emptied. Like a swarm of locusts, his men clambered onto shore.
Ernie and the thug were still struggling. I propped my outstretched elbows on the railing of the bridge and pointed the business end of my .38 revolver directly at Ragyapa's forehead.
"Call them off," I shouted. "Now!"
Ragyapa stared at me for a second. Then he barked another series of orders. His men stood still. Ernie and the first thug were locked in an embrace, Ernie pressing his .45 to the man's head, the thug with a tight grip on Ernie's neck. They were frozen. Like two wrestlers in midbattle.
"We can stand here and slaughter one another," I told Ragyapa, "or we can try to find a way to work this out."
Ragyapa breathed in sharply. "What do you suggest?" he asked.
"First, I need your assurance that Lady Ahn and Mi-ja are still alive and that they will stay alive."
He shrugged. "We have not killed them."
"What proof do you have?"
"I will give you proof when the time comes."
'You don't need both of them," I said. "Let one of them go"
Like a teacher studying a student, Ragyapa stared at me patiently for a moment, trying to decide if I was precocious or just noisy. "The child has already been freed."
"Where can we find her?"
"You will find her in good time. Enough of that. Now what of the jade?"
"I'm the only one who can catch Herman," I said. "You need to deal with me if you want the jade skull."
Slowly, Ragyapa nodded.
"Remember," I told him. "You will get nothing if Lady Ahn is killed."
"I will give you forty-eight hours," Ragyapa said. "By then, if you haven't found Herman, if you haven't recovered the jade skull, I will take it as a sign of bad faith and you will never see your fine lady again."
Forty-eight hours, I thought. Not much time. But he said that Mi-ja had been freed. That was progress. And I still had forty-eight hours to save Lady Ahn. If we were ever going to catch Herman, odds were that we would catch him early, in his first few frantic hours of trying to escape. If we didn't capture him early, we probably wouldn't capture him at all. The nightmare wasn't over yet but we'd passed the threshold of the full moon and still had hope.
"Done," I said. "Where will I meet you?"
He raised his forefinger into the night air. "That will remain my secret for the moment. I will notify you shortly before the meeting."
He didn't want to give us a chance to set up a police reception.
Ragyapa barked orders in his native tongue. The men on the shore hopped back into the boat. All except for the big thug still wrapped in an armlock with Ernie.
"Call your friend off," Ragyapa said. "He has a gun to my man's head. Tell him to point the gun at the sky, my man will let him go, and we will be gone."
Ernie tilted the barrel of the .45 skyward. The thug snorted, stepped back, loosening his grip. He lowered his body and, like a leopard flipping an antelope, he swiveled and tossed Ernie head over heels into the air.
Ernie screamed and soared for a moment, flailing. He splashed into the rancid water below the Bridge of the Golden Tribute.
I pointed my .38 at the thug but didn't pull the trigger as he scampered down the edge of the canal and leapt onto the boat. Someone had already started up the engine and they were swinging in an arc, heading back up the canal the way they had come.
At the last moment, Ragyapa shouted up at me. 'You wanted proof that she is alive. Here it is!"
At first my eyes couldn't focus and then I saw it. He was clutching hair in his fist, a head dangling below it.
Lady Ahn.
I almost squeezed off a round but then I realized that there was a neck below the head and her body was attached below that. Her arms bound. Her face bruised, lips puffed and bloody.
The outboard motor roared and Ragyapa and his boys sped off down the canal.
If I shot now they would kill her. Instead, I reholstered the .38. The en
gine noise faded.
I ran down to the edge of the canal, lay on the ground, and reached out my hand to the sputtering Ernie.
"Son of a bitch!" he shouted, as he splashed and kicked his way toward the shore. I grabbed his hand and hoisted him over the rock ledge.
He still held on to the .45. I grabbed the barrel and pulled it gently out of his grip.
Frantically, Ernie slapped at his face and his jacket and his trousers.
"Shit! Shit! Shit!" he said. "I'm swimming in shit."
He smelled like a sewer.
"We'll get you cleaned up, pal. Sorry that happened."
"Next time I see those assholes," he groused. "I'm gonna jack me some Mongolian dude up. I'm gonna jack me up a whole lot of Mongolian dudes!"
28
DROPS OF WATER FROM THE LEAKING FAUCET SPLASHED ONTO Mi-ja's swollen tongue. It reeked of rust, but it had been a long time since she cared. All she knew was that her throat was burning dry.
Bound wrists throbbed beneath thick knots of hemp rope. Her left ear still ached, as if some evil beast had chewed it oft" just moments ago. Her sliced finger shot globules of pain up the length of her arm.
She hadn't eaten in three days. She was still alert enough to know she should be hungry, but the muscles enveloping her stomach were clenched in a tight ball that refused to relax or complain.
She heard footsteps.
As the wooden door of the bathroom creaked open, she pulled as far away from the sound as she could. The chains around her ankles rattled.
The door popped open. Mi-ja clenched her eyes tightly shut.
The man squatted in front of her.
She relaxed somewhat. He was the oiler, the man who had prepared her before taking her to the leader. At least he wasn't the cutter. At least she wouldn't lose another ear or a finger or a toe.
She noticed he didn't have the bottle of oil in his hand. Why was he here?
The man checked her chains and the hemp ropes binding her wrists. When he was satisfied that they were secure, he smiled.
To Mi-ja, the smile was nothing more than the grimace of a skeleton. A death's head.
The man reached into his tunic and pulled out a handful of straw. The smell of it was strangely comforting to Mi-ja. She remembered the animals on her father's farm. The small black goats that were raised for meat. The large ox of which her father was so proud. And she remembered the tears that welled up in his eyes the day he had taken the ox to the market to be sold.
