Ernie shot a warning look at Fifi. For once, she kept quiet. Lady Ahn sipped once more on her tea and cleared her throat.
"I don't have the jade skull," she said.
"But you made arrangements with Herman-"
She held up the soft flesh of her palm to quiet me. 'Yes. I made arrangements. With something as valuable as the jade skull, one must make all arrangements in advance. Even before the piece comes into your possession."
Lady Ahn stared out the sliding paper door that led onto a narrow balcony. The gray pallor of the sky was darkening. A light rain began to fall. If it kept up, I wouldn't be able to see the moon tonight. How close was the silver orb to full? Too close. And getting closer.
We were on the top floor of a three-story brick building. Fifi had led us all up here the back way so the neighbors wouldn't see her bringing in two foreign men. She'd also called the girl at the antique shop and told her to lock up and go home and under no circumstances to tell anyone- especially the Korean National Police-the whereabouts of the apartment.
It was a nice joint. Plenty of antiques, a few paintings, everything immaculately clean. Ernie felt right at home. He was used to having women take care of him. He expected it. His attitude didn't seem to bother Fifi though.
Lady Ahn spoke again. "The skull was carved from one solid piece of jade during the Yuan dynasty."
I clicked it through my memory bank. Ernie was always laughing at me for checking out books from the post library on the history of the Far East. He said it was a waste of time.
"What are you going to do with it?" he often asked.
I never really had an answer for him. Until now.
The Yuan were the first foreign dynasty of China. The Mongols. Established more than seven centuries ago. Contrary to popular belief, Genghis Khan didn't conquer China. He conquered some of the northern provinces, but the conquest was completed, and the great Southern Sung dynasty finally defeated, by his grandson, Kublai Khan.
I said the name aloud, hardly aware that I was speaking. Lady Ann's eyebrows lifted slightly. In approval, I hoped.
"That's right," she said. "The jade skull belonged to Kublai Khan."
My heart flushed with pride. I was glad this woman realized that I wasn't just some dullard who did nothing but drink beer and watch football games.
From what I'd read about Kublai Khan, he probably would've fit right in at Eighth Army headquarters during Happy Hour. He was a drinker. Not of beer or liquor but of kwniis, fermented mare's milk. As a matter of fact, most of his biographers say he died of alcoholism. It was something a lot of the Mongol conquerors had a problem with, although they didn't see it as a problem in those days.
Ernie was having trouble taking all this in. "Okay," he said, "you have some jade skull that belonged to an old Chinese king. So what's the big deal?"
Lady Ahn looked at Ernie as if he were a clump of night soil. But to give him his due, it wasn't a bad question. She must've realized that because she answered it.
"There is a very 'big deal' about this jade skull," she said carefully. "The design was not exquisite. Not that Kublai Khan minded. He was a Mongol, a warrior, a rough man. They say that the green jade carving of the skull is so ugly it looks like a pockmarked face."
At the words, Fifi Kang flinched. Every vain woman's worst fear. Facial blemishes.
"But the skull served more than one purpose," Lady Ahn continued. "Kublai Khan, it is said, used the skull to drink his kumiis. Some even said that the skull was a replica of his grandfather's skull."
In my surprise, I made a gurgling sound. Graciously, Lady Ahn turned to me and nodded.
"So they say. But it was more important than just an unusual drinking cup. In fact the purpose was so important, Kublai Khan kept the skull near him always. Even sleeping with it."
Her gleaming black eyes searched Ernie's face, then Fifi's. They finally rested on mine.
"The carving disfiguring the top of the jade skull…" She twirled her fingers above her head. "… was actually a map. How do you say it in English? A map with bumps?"
"A topographical map," I said.
"Yes. A topographical map. A map that shows the way to the burial place of Kublai Khan's grandfather."
A silence followed Lady Ahn's pronouncement. I tried to catch my breath. I thought of Ragyapa and the scars etched into the top of his head. The monks who had trained him as a young boy had molded him into a living replica of the jade skull. A constant reminder of his one mission in life: to find the jade skull and the precious map on it.
Fifi Kang bowed her head as if in respect for revered ancestors. Ernie swiveled his eyes, studying our expressions.
"Okay," he said. "A map to the grave of his grandfather. So like I said, what's the big deal?"
Lady Ahn sipped on her tea, through talking for the moment. I explained it to Ernie.
"Kublai Khan's grandfather was the greatest conqueror the world has ever seen. No one, even to this day, comes in a close second. His empire stretched from Korea to Poland, from Russia to Persia.
"That jade skull," I told Ernie, "is carved with a map to the Tomb of Genghis Khan."
Ernie still didn't seem too impressed. But he sipped on some more tea and held the fragrant fluid in his mouth for a while. Savoring it.
Beams of red and blue and gold glinted from the million tiny mirrors that formed a beach ball-sized globe. The globe spun atop the dance floor of the Lucky Dragon Cabaret and Beer Hall.
Ernie was truly happy now. We had cold liters of Oriental Beer in front of us and a plate of sliced chestnuts and radishes and an occasional shot of imported brandy to wash it all down with.
I was pretty happy myself.
Lady Ahn had changed into a black lace evening gown, and if we had been in America, every man in the place would've been spending half the night ogling her. I'm not sure if it's from politeness or merely from male self-absorption, but in Asia, ogling of women is rare. Even one as statuesque and as beautiful as Lady Ahn.
Fifi Kang wore a tight red blouse and a miniskirt with knee-high leather boots. Ernie kept staring at the stiletto heels, occasionally rubbing his crotch. I think he was formulating some sort of plan.
The band was too loud but stuck to Korean pop songs. At least I could tune out the meaning and not be nauseated with American rock and roll lyrics.
As it was, I kept my concentration on Lady Ahn. I didn't want to stare, so I did my best to keep her entertained, so we'd have a reason to look at one another. I borrowed a paper and a pen from a waiter and wrote the various Chinese characters for Yuan dynasty and for jade skull and for Mongolia and for tomb. Occasionally, I missed a stroke or two, and with a serious expression, Lady Ahn took the pen from my hand and wrote the symbol correctly.
After a couple of sips of brandy and cola, Lady Ahn filled me in on her background.
She claimed to be royalty. Not Korean but from the Chinese dynasty known as the Southern Sung. It had taken the Mongols many decades to finally defeat the fierce Chinese warriors of the Southern Sung. I. ady Ahn's ancestor, an admiral in the Imperial Navy, had been a nephew of the great emperor himself. After the capital city had been stormed by the Mongols, near the end of the thirteenth century, the admiral was one of the last survivors. He and his family sought refuge in the hinterlands of the mountainous province of Szechwan.
Later, his great-grandson, a man called Ahn the Righteous Fist, led a rebel band against the Mongols. Revolution spread throughout China. When the dynasty collapsed, Lady Ahn's ancestor Ahn was able to break into the fortress of the last Mongol emperor and spirit away as much treasure as he and his men could carry. The most valuable piece of loot was the jade skull of Kublai Khan.
In the chaos that followed the collapse of the Mongol dynasty, no one was safe. Ahn the Righteous Fist, along with his entire clan, fled in ships to Bian-do, a remote island off the coast of Korea.