Martin Limon - Buddha's money

"We have good news," I told her. "Concerning the nun, Choi So-lan. Eighth Army will comply with all her wishes. There is no need now for her to burn herself."

The old nun's shoulders seemed to sag. "You are too late."

Ernie understood the Korean phrase. He stepped forward. I held him back.

"She's already burned herself?" I asked softly.

"No. She has been taken away. For purification."

"Where?"

"I don't know. Secrecy is part of the rite. No one but the monks who will assist her are with her now."

"But we must talk to her."

"No one can. Especially not a foreigner."

"Not a foreigner? Why not?"

The nun tilted back her head, her eyes widened, and for the first time she stared directly at me. A red glow-seemed to radiate from her pupils.

"Because you foreigners bring defilement. Everywhere you go. You defiled Choi So-lan. You defile everything."

Ernie looked at me with a questioning look, wondering what she had said. I didn't translate.

"You will never stop her," the old nun hissed.

She turned and disappeared into the shadows.

As we cut through the swirling neon of the city, gaggles of young men, and a few chicks, were hanging out at corners. They weren't your orderly demonstrators we'd seen earlier. More like street toughs. They waved photographs of the little nun over their heads and shouted anti-American slogans.

Ernie shouted back a couple of times, and I told him to cool it.

"If they don't like us Miguks," Ernie said, "they can go screw themselves."

"It's only because of what Hatcher did to the nun. That's what made them angry."

"It pissed me off more than it did them."

When we parked the jeep in front of the CID building, a bulb still shone in the Admin Office. Sergeant Riley sat behind his desk, his head lolling atop the ink-scribbled blotter. When he heard our footsteps, he jerked upright and rubbed his eyes.

"Been waiting for you guys," he said.

"More shit from the First Sergeant?" Ernie asked.

"No. Phone call. From your asshole buddy. Guy with a weird accent. Calls himself Rag Yapping. Or something like that."

"Ragyapa," I said.

Ernie and I both leaned forward. Riley smirked, delighted to be in the position of knowing something that we didn't.

"Spill, Riley," I said. "What'd Ragyapa tell you?"

"He said he's ready to meet and exchange the woman for the jade skull."

"Lady Ahn's still alive?"

"Heard her in the background."

"What'd she say?"

"She didn't say anything. She just screamed occasionally."

I didn't need any more detail. "When's the meeting?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. Four P.M. sharp."

"Four P.M.? That's the same time the nun torches herself."

"And the same time the Eighth Army honchos decided to release Hatcher," Ernie added.

"Yeah," Riley said. "It's almost as if this guy knew."

Ernie was impatient. "So where's this meet supposed to take place?"

"You'll love this," Riley said. "I don't know how he expects you guys to survive."

"Survive? What are you talking about?"

"The place you're supposed to meet. He made me write it down and spell it back to him so there wouldn't be any mistake."

Ernie grabbed for Riley's khaki collar. "Where, goddamn it?"

Riley brushed back Ernie's hand. "Take it easy, Bascom. I was going to tell you." He glanced down at his notes. "Guanghua-mun. The Gate of the Transformation of Light. Right in the heart of tomorrow's demonstration."

Riley smiled up at us.

"In the middle of a demonstration?" Ernie said. "We'll be killed!"

Riley smiled more broadly. "That's what I was trying to tell you:"

Ernie turned to me. "It doesn't make any sense."

I waited, thinking it over. Then I spoke. "Sure it does, Ernie."

"How?"

"We're American law enforcement. In downtown Seoul tomorrow, in the middle of an anti-American demonstration, there's no way we can deploy any backup."

"That's for sure. They'd be stoned to death."

"And even the Korean National Police will be totally overwhelmed."

"When there's thousands of demonstrators out after their blood, of course they'll be overwhelmed."

"So setting the exchange up in the middle of a demonstration is a brilliant move. Tomorrow afternoon, Guanghua-mun in downtown Seoul will be the most lawless piece of real estate in Korea."

Ernie let a long breath out between dry lips. "Strictly survival of the fittest," he said.

Riley barked a laugh. "For once, Bascom, you got it exactly right."

We kept Herman the german handcuffed to the roll bar of the jeep all night.

We parked in an unlit area behind the barracks and brought out a blanket for him, and even though he had to hold his arm straight up over his head, he spent a fairly comfortable night.

Why didn't we arrest him and book him and slap him in a holding cell at the MP Station? Because if we did, he'd never tell us where the jade skull was hidden. And without the skull, we'd never free Lady Ahn.

Ernie tried to wheedle it out of him by offering him a nice, comfortable bed in the barracks, but Herman wasn't going for it.

"We ought to just beat the crap out of him," Ernie told me.

I studied the scars on Herman's thick-boned forehead. He stared back at me impassively.

"It wouldn't do any good, Ernie," I said. "Herman will turn the jade skull over to us, but he'll turn it over only when he's ready. Which is just before tomorrow's rendezvous. Right, Herman?"

He stared at me with his moist brown eyes. A bubble of saliva emerged from the comer of his fleshy lips.

As we walked to the barracks, another burst of monsoon rain splattered the pavement. By the time we trotted to the doorway it was coming down in torrents. The little canvas-topped jeep sat huddled beneath a deluge of mist and spray, as if it were at the bottom of a waterfall.

Ernie went to his room. I went to mine. All I could see was the beautiful face of Lady Ahn. Before I fell asleep, I cleaned my. 38 three times.

The next day we stayed away from the CID office by leaving word for the First Sergeant that we were still trying to contact the Buddhist nun to convince her to call off the self-immolation. We kept questioning Herman about the whereabouts of the jade skull but he wouldn't spill.

Two hours before the rendezvous, Ernie went berserk.

He punched Herman and kicked him, so enraged that I couldn't hold him back. Finally, he reached into his shoulder holster, whipped out the. 45, and with a metal-on-metal clang, pulled back the charging handle.

He stuck the muzzle up against Herman's temple. "It's time, Herman. I want the jade skull. I want it now."

Sweat poured off Herman's forehead. For a moment I thought he was going to refuse like he had a hundred times before. But this time he changed his tune.

"Okay. It's in Itaewon. I'll show you where."

Ernie stuck the. 45 back into the holster. "That's better. Let's go."

Ernie drove us to Itaewon. When we approached the nightclub district, Herman piped up.

"It's at Mama Lee's," he said.

Mama Lee. The biggest black marketeer in Itaewon. Why in the hell would he leave something so valuable with her? I swiveled in the seat. Herman saw the unspoken question in my eyes and answered it.

"She's the most reliable person I know."

Which maybe wasn't saying too much.

"I hope the fuck for your sake," Ernie said, "that it's still there."

Herman sat quietly in the backseat, head down, occasionally jerking his handcuffs apart, making the chain rattle, like a child fascinated by a toy.

Once inside Mama Lee's courtyard, it took us about thirty seconds to locate the jade skull of Kublai Khan. The most priceless Mongolian antique in Korea was in a leather bag, bound in cheesecloth, stuffed behind brown bags full of American-made PX goods.