Buddha's Money (24 page)

27

ERNIE WHIZZED THROUGH THE LATE NIGHT TRAFFIC AS IF HE had the entire transportation grid of Seoul preprogrammed into his brain. Headlights erupted from the dark, swerved, and disappeared behind us like swarms of fireflies. To our left was Seoul
yok,
the train station, with its huge Russian dome. Off to our right glittered the green lights of Namdae-mun, the Great South Gate.

I checked my watch. Twenty minutes to midnight. We had to hurry or the roads would be blocked by the curfew police.

My tourist guide to Seoul informed me that the Bridge of the Golden Tribute was located on the outskirts of the city, near the Han River Estuary.

I thought about Herman the German, a man I thought I knew.

He was a lifer like so many others. Hanging around Itaewon, living off his army retirement check and the few dollars he could hustle off the black market. It was an easy life. No worries. No job. His only commitment was to take a free military flight back and forth to Japan every ninety days to renew his three-month Korean tourist visa. Piece of cake. Sit in the Military Airlift Command terminal, sip coffee, shoot the breeze with the other lifers. A mellow way to pass one's golden years.

But then he complicated things by marrying Slicky Girl Nam. She brought the hammer down on him. Demanded that he increase his black market activities, bring in more money. She watched his hours. Didn't let him stay out all night carousing the ville. Kept him away from the young business girls who would wink and crook their fingers and make off with a few of those retiree greenbacks.

Slicky Girl Nam wanted those dollars all to herself.

And maybe she felt that she needed more than just the force of her personality to keep Herman in line. Maybe she felt that what their little family needed was a child.

The result had been instant responsibility for Herman the German. A guy who for most of his life had only two responsibilities: to make military formations every morning and to show up in the pay line at the end of every month.

It was clear to me now. Herman had wanted the jade skull all along. Maybe he had fantasies of smuggling it out of the country, selling it on the illicit art market in New York or in Europe. Taking the money and never returning to Korea. Never black-marketing again. Never again seeing Slicky Girl Nam. Maybe he grew tired of being knuckled on the head every time he spoke, of being humiliated in public, of being berated by a woman whose only accomplishments lay in the realms of prostitution and thievery.

But how had it all worked? Why had Herman entrapped us in all this? Why had Ragyapa kidnapped Mi-ja? How many people were being double-crossed? What the hell was really going on here?

Ernie pulled up to Sodae-mun, the Great West Gate, the narrow stone edifice leading to the Bridge of the Golden Tribute.

"Where's the bridge?" he asked.

"Right at the next intersection," I said. "And at the third alley you come to, left for about a quarter mile."

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 way 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."