“The navy. .?”
“It’s gathering there,” said Sergeant Yun, waving his hand as if in surrender, “because the administration is in a mess.”
“Must have been a few leaks from here, too?”
“And I’m sure you guys have none at all. Hey, let’s not do this to each other. All we took out were some raisins.”
“We hear there’s been a Korean woman hanging around here.”
“A woman. . not that I know of. Quite a few Koreans been going to the supply warehouse for services, though.”
“That hole’s been sealed,” Yong Kyu said, lightly tapping the sergeant on the chest with his fist, “because everybody knows about it.”
“Exactly my point. Who in their right mind would touch combat rations, out of everything there is? That’s all I’m saying.”
“Crossing the river can be a good reason for that.”
“Of course. If you want to bite off a big chunk, you gotta use the markets across the river. For smaller quantities, the base villages around here can swallow the stuff easy enough.”
Just then the door opened and in walked a man wearing a woven hemp vest over a black shirt. His hair was styled in a slicked-back regent style and two gold bands adorned the index and middle fingers of his hand.
“Are you the guy looking for me?”
Yong Kyu nodded. Sergeant Yun moved swiftly. He had to identify Yong Kyu’s status immediately so that the staff sergeant from the army band detachment would speak carefully.
“Watch your mouth. Our friend here is with CID.”
His immediate unease was apparent on his face. Yong Kyu gave him no time to think.
“Do you take orders through that platoon leader? I heard you have a performance planned for seven o’clock this Saturday.”
“Ah, that’s a. .”
“As I understand it, the army band is mobilized solely for performances arranged to enhance the morale of Korean forces to improve their readiness for battle. My question is, who is your promoter? Who gave you permission to perform at your pleasure for money?”
Sergeant Yun giggled.
“Hey, hey, Corporal Ahn, just close your eyes to the kids trying to make a little pocket change, you know. And you, Pak, just give him all the information he wants.”
The army band sergeant stood there awkwardly, combing back his hair with his fingers.
“What did you do as a civilian. .?”
“He’s a saxophonist,” interjected the gunnery sergeant. “You should hear him play sometime, damn good, really.”
“Were you in a show group?”
“I worked in Eighth Army. Shouldn’t have come here. The pay is shit. I’d have been better off back home.”
“You know most of the women dancers, don’t you?” Yong Kyu asked after a pause.
Before responding, the slick-haired sergeant looked over at Sergeant Yun as if to ask “What’s this all about?” and the latter murmured in a low voice, “C-rations.”
“It’s about C-rations, he said.”
“You know how many of those women are around Da Nang?” Yong Kyu asked.
“Hard to say. They may come here for a few days for a performance, then they slip off to places like Chu Lai, Tui Hoa, or Na Trang.”
“They say quite a few foreign girls who hitched up with entertainers’ troupes later got left behind on their own,” said Sergeant Yun, trying to be helpful.
“I’m sure there are some girls doing you know what and some even shacked up with GIs.”
“Lots in Saigon and up here I’ve heard of a few, too.”
“I wonder if you can find out who there is. .”
Yong Kyu looked at his watch. Twenty minutes had already passed since he got there.
“Can you check out everybody who’s gone to Monkey Mountain for performances?”
“That’s easy,” said the band sergeant. “All you have to do is go there and see the wet canteen master sergeant and ask him to show you the performance contracts.”
“Can I also check for all the Korean women who’ve performed there over the past six months?”
“Why not? Not so many of them, anyhow. But we wouldn’t know where they live. Probably hard to get any personal information on them at all.”
“Thank you,” Yong Kyu said, “and I’ll be dropping in again to say hello.”
As he walked away the gunnery sergeant kept on pleading for him to give them a break. When he reached the Land Rover he found Toi asleep with his legs hanging out of the window. He was about to wake him up when he heard Sergeant Yun call to him from inside the hut.
“Corporal Ahn, there’s a phone call for you.”
“Who is it?”
“Your boss.”
Yong Kyu rushed over to get the phone. There was urgency in the captain’s voice.
“It’s streaming out into the market again. Take Toi to the market and check it out. Have you found the woman?”
“Got some leads that may help.”
“It’s definitely a woman. The American side got eyewitness testimony from some Vietnamese. She’s an Asian, tall and good-looking.”
“I’ll run by Monkey Mountain first and then hit the market, sir.”
The Land Rover sped away from China Beach and headed northwest. Refugee barracks whizzed by on both sides of the road. The briny wind off Da Nang Bay penetrated to the heart. Toi asked Yong Kyu if he had any smokes. Yong Kyu lit a cigarette and put it in Toi’s mouth.
“Get some information?” Toi said casually.
“Not much. May be a woman, after all.”
“Korean?”
“I don’t think a Vietnamese woman would get involved in a deal like this.”
Toi chuckled, nodding.
“What’s so funny?”
“In Da Nang you have women from all over the world. They range from fifteen to five hundred dollars.”
“Why is that funny?”
“It’s your attitude that’s funny. Women come in all shapes and sizes, but once you’ve done it, they all look the same. Once at the Hotel Thanh I did it with a big blonde built like you wouldn’t believe.”
“I’m not interested.”
“It was lousy. I paid a good three hundred dollars, and I felt like I was inside a giant sponge.”
Yong Kyu remained cold and distant.
“What I’m saying has to do with information,” Toi continued. “Listen carefully, Corporal Ahn. If it’s a Korean woman, she’s probably hooked up with a Vietnamese.”
Yong Kyu stared at him without speaking.
“It’s plain as day. GIs, they’ll sleep with anyone, but not with high-priced dancers or women from third countries. I told you, it’s all the same down there. White, black, yellow, I say, there’s no difference. To the white men, however, the yellow people like you and me are different. GIs sleep with the cheapest Vietnamese women, just like they drink a beer and crush the empty can before tossing it away. The black market dealings for the Vietnamese women are usually cigarettes or chocolate. That is what the women get paid. The Americans refuse to mix black market dealings with their whoring. Dealing contraband is one thing, and buying a woman is something else. If the woman involved in this case is a Korean, I bet she’s got some connection with a Vietnamese. Understand what I’m saying?”
“No, not yet.”
Toi abruptly stopped talking. The car was passing smokestacks on the way across the bridge leading downtown. In the distance across the bay you could see Monkey Mountain, called Bai Bang in Vietnamese. It was like an island jutting out of the water. Yong Kyu wondered where all the monkeys had gone. Bulldozers had cleared the jungle away, and in its place a vast headquarters compound, heliport, and naval harbor had been constructed. Had the monkeys fled into the dense forests of the Central Highlands? Ahn Yong Kyu already guessed what Toi had been getting at, but he did not know why he had clammed up and what he was waiting for.