"She's got balls," Herman said.
We finally shoved our way past the last of the demonstrators. The riot police were in total flight now. Their ranks had been broken. Many of them lay wounded and bleeding on the ground, their helmets and shields and batons scattered everywhere.
I felt sorry for them. Sure, they were the symbols of oppression. But in reality they were just a bunch of farmers, beaten up by a bunch of rich students. No one in the government, until now, realized how much rage the assault on the Buddhist nun had released. And no one had been able to predict that the riot police would be outnumbered ten to one.
Ernie once again pulled out his. 45. "So we go after her?"
"Of course, we go after her. They'll kill her this time."
"Why the hell is she so crazy about the damn skull? The money?"
"It's more than that to her," I said. "It's the restoration of her family's honor. The restoration of her dignity."
"And she's willing to get killed for shit like that?"
Herman nodded vigorously. "Sure she is."
Without hesitation, Ernie slapped him once again on his round skull. "What the hell do you know about it, shit-for-brains?"
"Hey, I know a lot about that stuff."
"You guys argue on your own time," I said. We had reached the mouth of the alley. "Ernie, you take the left. I'll take the right." We didn't have any handcuffs-I'd dropped them at the jeep-so all I could count on was Herman's sense of honor as a soldier to stay with us while we were engaged in combat with the enemy.
"Herman," I said, "you protect our rear."
He nodded.
Ernie pointed his forefinger at him. "And remember, you're still our prisoner."
"Don't sweat it," Herman said.
We stepped into the darkness.
36
The alley was cool and damp and the walls loomed over us like moss-bearded gods. Murky water trickled through an open gutter, stinking of decayed flesh.
Covering one another, Ernie and I rounded one corner and then the next. The sun had almost lowered and dark clouds shrouded the rising monsoon moon.
When we rounded the third corner, we saw them. Ragyapa, Lady Ahn, and the thug with the M-l rifle. The thug aimed the rifle at Lady Ann's temple, cursing softly, his finger on the trigger. Ragyapa slumped on the cobbled lane, moaning, rubbing his lower leg, the jade skull plopped in a puddle in front of him.
Ernie whispered. "She doesn't know it's not loaded."
There was something I remembered vaguely from basic training, about the M-l rifle. Before I could voice my reservations, Ernie was on his feet, brandishing his. 45.
"Freeze, assholes! And drop that rifle right now!"
The rifleman whirled. The shot sizzled through the air and exploded in a cloud of dust in the stone wall two inches from Ernie's left ear.
That's what I had been trying to remember. Even though you pull the magazine out, if the bolt is forward, there will still be one round in the chamber. Ernie hadn't remembered. Some combat veteran. But at least the guy had missed. Otherwise, Ernie would be an ex-combat veteran.
No more bullets now. I leapt out of the shadows and charged.
The thug trained his rifle on me, pulled the trigger, but didn't have time to hear the metallic click. I barreled into him going about thirty miles an hour. He collapsed backward and I didn't give him a chance. I landed full force on top of him, my knee jamming into his solar plexus. Air exploded from his puffed cheeks, and I pummeled his face and kept pummeling until he went limp under me.
Then I turned on Ragyapa and kicked him in the leg. He howled. I kicked him again, then started punching, not caring anymore whether any of the monsters lived or died.
Ernie pulled me off of him. "Easy, pal. Easy."
Lady Ahn pressed against the wall, silent and wide-eyed. In the few seconds that the altercation lasted she had managed to grab the jade skull. Now she clutched it like an infant against her bosom.
For some reason the sight of her cradling that skull made me angry. Even now, I'm not sure why.
"Is that all you care about?" I yelled. "That goddamn skull?"
Her eyes widened even more, reflecting moonlight across the smooth flesh of her face. And then I realized that she was looking over my shoulder and I turned. So did Ernie.
Up the alley was a line of dark humps. Without any sound or hint of verbal signal, the humps rose, moved forward a few feet, and froze again. I wasn't sure if I'd imagined the movement. I turned and gazed at Ernie. He was just as confused as I was.
He motioned with his hand for me to wait, and trotted forward to the pedestrian lane that intersected the alley. Seconds later he returned.
"Troops." He whispered in my ear. "Combat soldiers. Not riot police. They're strung out all across the rise."
For the first time, it dawned on me what was happening. "They're moving down toward the demonstrators."
"You got that right," Ernie said. "And as quietly as death itself."
"We've got to get out of here."
"You fucking-A Tweety."
I glanced at Ragyapa and his thug. Both were hurt badly. When this riot was over, the Korean police would pick them up and probably deport them for being involved in the demonstration. I didn't want that to happen. Not until we could have them properly charged.
I searched their bodies hurriedly and found two passports. Both from Hong Kong, but both men had what seemed to be Mongolian names. I tucked the passports in my back pocket. Once I turned them over to the KNP Liaison, along with my report of their crimes, Ragyapa and his man would be locked up-and deported only if they were very lucky.
"Let's move," I told Ernie.
Lady Ahn had been listening to us. "Where?" she asked. "If we go downhill, we'll be with the demonstrators. It will be madness once the soldiers attack. Even being American won't save you."
"She's right," Ernie said. "We have to go uphill and slip past them somehow."
"All right," I said. "Let's do it."
"Where's Herman?" Ernie asked.
"Don't know," I said. "No time now."
Somehow Lady Ahn kept up with us, clutching the jade skull like life itself. When we reached a small pathway, Ernie checked both ways. The dark humps were still up ahead of us about twenty yards. We turned down the pathway, scurrying forward, looking for a place to hide. But there was nothing. Nothing but jagged stone walls and thick wooden gates shoved flush up against them. In the distance I heard movement. Gravel crunching. A long line of sound moving steadily toward us like a slowly cresting wave.
"They're coming down," Ernie said. "Hit it!"
He flattened himself facedown in the gutter against the wall. Lady Ahn and I crouched as best we could behind a wooden crate stuffed with rotting melon rinds. The biting aroma made me think of wine, somehow. Or champagne.
I had it alclass="underline" a beautiful woman, moonlight, naturally fermented vino.
Soldiers in combat gear, holding bayoneted assault rifles at port arms, filed down toward the big intersection in front of Guanghua-mun. A few broke off from the main line and trotted down our alley.
There was nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. I wrapped Lady Ahn's face under my arms and bent over her, pressing my lips into the nape of her neck.
The soldiers weren't fooled. I heard the footsteps stop right in front of us. Slowly, I looked up.
His face was a mosaic of rock-hard planes of stone, slashed with camouflage paint. A metal combat helmet shadowed narrow eyes. His body was lean and he wore combat gear that sat on him as comfortably as if he'd worn it all his life. Moonlight glistened off a patch on his left shoulder. A white stallion rising on a blue background. The ROK Army White Horse Division.
Judging from the number of soldiers I saw stretching down the long pathway, they must've pulled a battalion strength-maybe a brigade-off the Demilitarized Zone just to teach these demonstrators a lesson.