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, Herman, 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.
"Sueno, 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.