Martin Limón - Nightmare Range

“Massive hemorrhage of the brain.”

“Have you got your eyes on any particular group of sailors that might be preying on their shipmates?”

“Not really. The brass tends to think that it’s some Korean gangs working the streets. Maybe they’ve developed a taste for the Seventh Fleet payroll. That would explain why there haven’t been any arrests made.”

“The police here want to protect the sailors. There’s a lot of pressure from the ROK Government to make the US Navy feel welcome.”

“Maybe. But at a lower level, policies have a habit of being changed.”

“Do you buy all that, Chief?”

“Could be. I keep an open mind. But in general I tend to go with the scuttlebutt.”

“What’s that?”

“That it’s some of your local GIs that got a taste for the Seventh Fleet payroll.”

“If the average sailor starts to believe either one of those viewpoints, it could cause a lot of trouble down here on Texas Street.”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want to be a dogface on liberty in this town tonight.”

“Thanks for the encouragement.”

“You’re welcome.”

The Kitty Hawk finally pulled in at noon, and standing by the dock were the mayor and the provincial governor and the US Navy’s 7th Fleet band. The sailors lined the deck of the huge gloating edifice, their bell-bottoms and kerchiefs flapping in the breeze. The ship’s captain and his staff, in their dazzling white uniforms, bounced down the gangplank to the tune of “Anchors Aweigh,” and were greeted by a row of beautiful young Korean maidens in traditional dresses who placed leis over their necks and bowed to them in greeting.

The governor made a speech of welcome and the captain answered with a long rambling dissertation on the awesome firepower of the Kitty Hawk . Greater, he said, than the entire defense establishments of some countries.

“I thought he wasn’t supposed to confirm or deny that they have nuclear capability,” I said.

Ernie smirked. “He’s also not supposed to confirm or deny that he’s a jerk.”

After the tedious ceremony was over, the sailors-free at last-poured like a great white sea into the crevices and alleys of Texas Street.

The night was mad. The Shore Patrol ran back and forth, unable to keep up with all the explosions being ignited by the half-crazed sailors. Even the MPs had to keep on the move. They were tense. Alert.

I saw different faces in the jeeps tonight and asked one of the MPs about it.

“We’re on twenty-four hour alert while the Kitty Hawk is here, but we have to get some rest sometime.”

“Twelve-hour shifts?”

“Or more, if needed.”

Ernie and I wandered away from the bright lights, checking the outskirts of the bar district. Like all beasts of prey, the muggers would look for stragglers, strays who’d wandered from the main herd.

It was mostly residential area back there, high walls of brick or stone and securely boarded gates.

There were a few bars, however, and a few neighborhood eateries. Some sailors were wandering around, those who wanted to get away from the hubbub.

A couple of big Americans about a block in front of us turned a corner. They looked familiar to me somehow. We trotted after them, but by the time we got to the dimly lit intersection they were gone.

“Who was it?”

“I’m not sure.”

We walked into a bar closer to Texas Street proper and ignored the girls until they left us alone with only two cold beers for company.

“We’re not getting anywhere,” Ernie said.

“Something’s got to break soon.”

“It better. It’s not just muggings any more. It’s murder.”

I felt my innards sliding slowly into knots.

“We got to stay out tonight. Through curfew if we have to.”

“Yeah.”

I looked at Ernie. “Could it be the Koreans?”

“It could. But if the Korean National Police really believed it, they’d be cracking down on every local hoodlum hard, trying to squeeze the truth out of them.”

“What if the local police are in on it?”

“Then we’re in trouble. But I don’t believe it. Too much pressure from up top. The Koreans need us to ensure that their Communist brothers to the north don’t pour down here like they did two decades ago. And maybe more important nowadays is that they need the foreign exchange the fleet brings in.”

“And if the navy seriously believes that the Koreans aren’t doing everything they can to stop the assaults on their sailors, they could stop coming into port here.”

“They’d lose dock fees and re-supply money …”

“Not to mention tourism.”

We both laughed.

“Somebody in the navy then. In the advance party.”

“Could be that, since the Kitty Hawk was still at sea last night.”

I thought about the map I had made and the blotter reports. “The last time the Kitty Hawk was here, there were no muggings until they had docked.”

“So?”

“We’ve been assuming that it’s probably a gang of sailors aboard the Kitty Hawk that have been preying on their own shipmates.”

“Yeah, but maybe there’s more than one group. Ideas like this are catching.”

“That’s possible. But maybe it is somebody in the advance party or maybe it’s somebody who’s here all the time. Somebody who knows the terrain, the lie of the land, the ins and outs of all the back alleys.”

“And if it’s not Koreans …”

“That’s right. GIs. GIs who spend a lot of time down here.”

“Village rats.”

“All the GI village rats have gone into hiding until the fleet leaves.”

“So it seems.”

I took a sip of my beer. I didn’t like what I was going to say. “That leaves the MPs.”

Ernie thought about it for a minute. “That would also explain why there were no arrests made in the past.”

“It sure would.”

He looked at me. “But why do the muggings only occur when the Kitty Hawk is here? And not other navy ships?”

“That I don’t know yet.” I looked around. “Let’s find a phone.”

“A phone?”

“Yeah. I got a call I want to make.”

The desk sergeant didn’t want to answer any of my questions at first because he could see what I was getting at, but I reminded him that this was an official investigation and he would be obstructing that investigation if he didn’t cooperate in every reasonable way.

I borrowed paper and pencil from the mama-san and wrote furiously, trying at the same time to keep one finger in my ear to drown out the insane rock music. I seriously considered asking Ernie to hold his finger in my ear, but he was busy flirting with a couple of the girls.

Besides, there are limits to a partnership, even for crimebusters.

I had what I needed. Ernie looked at the sheet. A bunch of names, ranks, and times scribbled across the wrinkled paper.

“What’s that?”

“No time to explain. Let’s go.”

The girls pouted on our way out.

The MP jeep that held the central position on Texas Street was cruising slowly down the crowded block. I waved them down, and they came to a halt. I looked at my notes and read off thee names to them.

“Have you seen any of these guys? Tonight? In civilian clothes?”

I’m not too good a judge of whether someone is telling the truth or lying, but this time I had an edge. The young buck sergeant on the passenger side let the muscles beneath his cheek flutter a couple of times. Then he blinked and said, “No.”

I thanked him for the information. He’d given me more than he knew.

We walked off into the darkness away from the men, heading from the center of Texas Street toward the place a few blocks away where I had seen the two big Americans turn down a dark alley and disappear. We wandered around for a while, and in order to cover more ground we split up, agreeing on our routes and where to meet in fifteen minutes.