Back in Itaewon, Ernie and I didn’t seek out Jimmy Pak right away. And we didn’t leave word with the manager of the Seven Club or do any of the things that one would normally do when requesting an audience with Snake. At the Itaewon Police Station, Captain Kim was out but I wrote a short note in English, folded it over two times and left it with the desk sergeant. All I wrote was the day, the time, my name and Going to see Snake.
The desk sergeant took the note but he was distracted, ordering his cops to pull candles and flashlights and batteries out of the storage bin, expecting the usual power outage that strikes so often in Seoul during a sudden storm. I hoped he’d remember to give the note to Captain Kim. I had to believe he would. Then, we drove directly to Snake’s home.
Snow was falling steadily now and Ernie had to bulldoze a three-foot-high drift out of the way to make a parking space next to the big stone walls in front of Snake’s mansion. He waited in the jeep, alert.
I stood beneath the stone arch in the recessed entranceway, out of the way of the ice-laced wind, and buzzed the bell of the intercom repeatedly. No answer. Finally, I started kicking the bottom of the wooden gate. Ernie climbed out of the jeep and walked over.
“Nobody’s home,” he said.
Just then the intercom buzzed. A voice said. “Nugu syo?” Who is it.
“Sueno,” I said. “Here to see Snake. Important. You alla? I have to see him now!”
The intercom buzzed off.
Ernie studied me, a little shocked by my impatience but I was thinking of Doc Yong. I hoped that Snake’s taunts about her being subject to a lot of “boom-boom” were just that-taunts and nothing more. It was even possible that they didn’t have her. Maybe she had left town for some reason of her own or they had frightened her away. I had to assume the worst until I knew for sure that she was OK.
Snake wouldn’t risk hurting Ernie and me ordinarily. The 8th United States Army was his bread and butter. He wouldn’t do anything to piss them off. Not unless he thought he could get away with it, that is. But at the moment no one at 8th Army knew we were here. In fact, we weren’t supposed to be here. Snake might risk taking us out. After all, he had offed Moretti. But that had been a long time ago, before Snake became rich and controlled a myriad of business interests. Corruption had imposed certain rules, the purpose of which was to make the rich richer and the poor poorer. I was still hoping Snake would honor our deal. If he didn’t, Ernie and I were armed and ready to fight.
As for the murder of Two Bellies and Auntie Mee, and locating the bones of Moretti, first things first. After I’d freed Doc Yong, I’d think about the next problem.
The door creaked open.
Ernie and I walked in.
Snake was wearing a papa-san outfit: turquoise blue silk vest, billowing white pantaloons tapered at the ankle, white socks, and slippers. He held a long-stemmed pipe to his mouth.
“Welcome,” he said, smiling. “Sit, sit.”
Snake pointed to a hand-carved mahogany divan with embroidered cushions. We were in a large traditional room whose floor was covered with tatami mats. In the corner a bronze Buddha was enshrined in front of paintings of silk-robed goddesses floating through billowing clouds and star-filled skies. Everything in the room-celadon vases, porcelain jars, bronze incense burners- appeared to be an antique and signified Snake’s Buddhist faith. Ernie slapped snow off the shoulders of his jacket and stomped his feet. He didn’t like the place. We both ignored Snake’s invitation to sit.
“Where is she?” I asked.
Snake puffed on his pipe, still smiling, and a cloud of tobacco smoke floated in front of him. “First,” he said. “What you got?”
“A list,” I said, “right out of Cort’s Serious Incident Report, of the families that left valuables with Moretti for safekeeping. And I’ve compared it with another list of every orphan that was taken from Itaewon after Moretti’s murder.”
As I said the word murder I stared into Snake’s eyes, searching for a reaction. What I found was an amused smile. I continued.
“According to the Buddhist nuns at the Temple of Constant Truth, all of the children stayed here in Korea. None of them were adopted overseas. The list the nuns gave me is almost identical to Cort’s. Only a few names differ.”
I handed the copies to Snake. He shuffled through them.
“A lot of people here,” he said. “So which one kill Horsehead? Which one kill Water Doggy?”
“There were two men,” I said, “and three women. It figures that their names are on that list.”
“But which ones? And where are they now? How I find up?”
I shrugged. “Send your boys out.” There were about a dozen of them standing in the foyer behind us. “Put them to work instead of letting them stand around with their thumbs up their ass.”
Ernie pulled a stick of ginseng gum out of his pocket, unwrapped it, and stuck it in his mouth. He chewed slowly and steadily. A sure sign that he was nervous but ready to fight.
“No way,” Snake said. “You find up which ones on this list kill Horsehead. Then we talk.” He handed the list back to me. Ernie tensed. Slowly, I folded the paperwork and stuck it in my pocket. When my hand came back out of my jacket, I was holding my. 45.
Ernie’s had appeared in his hand as if by magic. He stepped quickly toward the foyer and trained his pistol on the thugs that were lurking about.
“Umjiki-jima,” Ernie growled. Don’t move.
Sometimes, when he has to, Ernie speaks enough Korean to surprise me.
“Where you think you go?” Snake said. “You think you can get away from Snake?
I stood next to him and pressed the business end of the. 45 against his temple.
“Now!” I shouted. “Doc Yong. Bali bali!” Quickly.
Snake glanced at his men and nodded. One of them stepped forward, holding his hands at his side, palms out.
“He show you,” Snake said.
“No. Not him. He stays here with Ernie and the rest of them. You show me.”
Snake was starting to sweat. Maybe he knew that love can make an American G.I. act irrationally. Maybe he thought I really would shoot him.
I thought so too.
“Move!” I said.
Snake started moving.
Ernie motioned for the thugs to kneel on the floor. They did, still keeping their hands up.
Gun control is absolute in Korea. Only the police and the military are allowed to carry firearms. You could bet that Snake had a few weapons squirreled away somewhere but they were for emergency use only. To be seen carrying one or, worse yet, to use a gun in the commission of a crime would bring the wrath of Korean officialdom down on him. Connections or no, Snake was too smart to risk it. Therefore, for the moment, Ernie and I were holding all the firepower.
Snake and I waltzed down a long corridor lined with oil-papered sliding doors. At the end we turned down a varnished wooden stairwell that creaked beneath our feet. I held his frail left arm firmly in my grip, keeping the. 45 pointed at his head. He was sweating profusely now, and breathing rapidly.
We reached an underground stone-walled corridor that was lined with barred wooden doors.
“Which one?” I asked.
Snake pointed to the third one down.
We moved down the damp corridor quickly and, still holding the. 45 to his head, I ordered Snake to open the door. He slid back a metal rod and then pulled on a flat handle. The door creaked open.
Inside, a single naked bulb hung from a wire. There was a small diesel space heater in the middle of the room and, on either side, broad wooden benches. On one of them a woman sat. Her hands were clasped over her knees. She wore blue jeans and sneakers and a warm woolen jacket. She wore spectacles. Turning her head slowly, as if disoriented, she gazed at me. And then she struggled to focus, as if straining to see what stood there in front of her. She didn’t smile, she just stared.
Doc Yong.
