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."
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.