“He darted around the building. Out of sight.”
“What’d you do then?”
“I sat there. I wasn’t sure what to do. And then the MPs pulled up, siren blaring. I guess that sort of shook me out of my reverie. I climbed out of my jeep and walked forward and I was standing at the front door identifying myself to one of the MPs when Marnie came out.”
“What’d she say to you?”
“Nothing. She just stared at me, with that old disapproving look, like I’d done something wrong.”
“Had you?” Ernie asked.
“Get bent,” Embry replied.
“Easy, Embry,” I said.
“That’s Captain Embry to you.”
“Okay,” I said. “Captain Embry. You still have a thing for Marnie. That’s obvious.”
Embry didn’t reply.
I looked around the small room. “They tell me you have a good career going here. You’re a respected officer in the 19th Support Group. The brass watches USO tours closely, Captain Embry. Don’t screw things up. Don’t interfere with Marnie or the show. Stay away from her. Stay away from the Country Western All Stars and you’ll be all right.”
“You have no authority to tell me to stay away from her.”
“The hell we don’t,” Ernie replied. “One false move and we’ll arrest you for stalking a USO civilian. And for being a Peeping Tom.”
Embry rose to his feet. “Get the hell out of my room.”
Atop a metal wall locker, Ernie spotted a cowboy hat. He pulled it down and examined it, flipping back the inner lining. “Good brand,” he said. “Handmade. Direct from Austin, Texas.” Ernie tossed the cap in the air. Embry caught it on the fly. “Don’t turn this little drama into High Noon,” Ernie told him. “You’re outgunned.”
We walked out of the room.
As we walked back toward the NCO Club, Ernie asked me, “Why didn’t you arrest him?”
“He seemed like a decent enough guy.”
“But it had to be him. If we search his room, I bet we’d find that red bra and panties.”
“Maybe. And maybe he’s the one who’s been stalking them since they arrived in-country.”
“Yeah. Maybe we’d find everything there. Like the microphone and the cowboy boot, all that stuff.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But try to cop a search warrant from the Camp Henry Provost Marshal. Never happen.”
Ernie knew I was right. The officer corps protects its own.
“But if something happens to Marnie?” he said finally.
“You’ll just have to be more diligent in your protection,” I told him.
Ernie thought about that. “Maybe I will,” he said.
The Country Western All Star Review at the Camp Henry NCO Club that night was another resounding success. The G.I. s went nuts, as usual, even those who maybe weren’t crazy about cowboy music but certainly appreciated the tight blue jeans and tight blouses the ladies wore-and the way they jiggled. Marnie seemed even more animated than she usually did, maybe because she thought her exhusband might be in the audience. Even if he wasn’t, he’d hear about the performance and, being human, he’d be jealous of all those G.I. eyeballs lingering over her voluptuous curves. Anyway, if she thought Captain Embry might show up, she was wrong, because Ernie and I stayed sober and patrolled the packed main ballroom and mostly empty backstage area at regular intervals.
There wasn’t enough billeting space in the Camp Henry BOQ to house the Country Western All Stars, so the USO popped for rooms at the New Taegu Hotel downtown. After the show, while Mr. Shin and his crew were loading equipment in the vans, Ernie and I talked it over.
“We have to find Pruchert,” I said.
“And I have to make sure Embry doesn’t harass anybody,” Ernie replied.
“Right. So I’ll take the sedan and drive down to Haeundae Beach. You stay with the girls.”
“Tough duty,” Ernie replied. “I’ll do my best.”
“In the best traditions of the service.”
During the show, Ernie and I had taken turns eating some decent chow in the NCO Club dining room, and the bowl of chili beans and the fried chicken with rice and gravy had made me feel more human. Still, I was exhausted. In the last few days, what with all the running around we’d done in the southern end of the Korean peninsula, I’d managed to catch only catnaps. I was afraid that my exhaustion might be more than I could handle while driving, so I asked the club manager if he had a spare thermos of coffee. I promised to bring the jug back once I was done with it. He complied. Thus fortified and provisioned, I grabbed the keys from Ernie and set off south on the main supply route, heading toward Pusan.
If Pruchert was like most compulsive gamblers-and if he hadn’t been lying to Lucy-he’d most likely still be in the Haeundae Casino. It’s a twenty-four-hour operation, although they have to lock the doors during the midnight- to-four curfew-nobody in or out. Regardless of whether Pruchert was there, I resolved to report to Inspector Kill, and to 8th Army, as soon as I found the chance. They’d probably been wondering what we were up to, and-unlike Ernie-I was worried about aggravating them unduly.
Not that they deserved much consideration from us. After all, they’d assigned Ernie and me to two details- protecting the Country Western All Stars and finding the Blue Train rapist-both, in and of themselves, full-time jobs. And I was still worried about the rapist and his “corrective actions” and who else would be on his checklist. He’d strike again. Every moment brought us closer to his next attack.
With two jobs to do, I had no choice but to return to Pusan alone. Still, there was an advantage to being alone. Sergeant Norris, the Hialeah Compound MP, had given it to me. The merchant steamer known as the Star of Tirana was scheduled to pull into the Port of Pusan at 2 a.m. tonight. Aboard, according to Norris, was an East European sailor who’d been searching for me.
Why would a man I’d never heard of be looking for me? A man who came from a country in which I knew no one and where I’d never been?
As far-fetched as it sounded, I thought I knew the answer. Or, at least, I was afraid I did. If my hunch was right, I was in for a lot more sleepless nights.
If and when I met this man, I wanted to be alone. I certainly didn’t want to involve Ernie, or anyone else, in something that might prove to be more dangerous than anything I’d encountered before.
12
For ten minutes I pounded on the big double door of the Haeundae Casino. Finally, I heard a voice shout from within, “Nugu-syo?” Who is it?
I held my badge up to a peephole and shouted back “Kyongchal!” Police!
There was a discussion behind the padded door, and it took another two or three minutes for the door to creak open. I pushed through, holding my badge in front of my face. In Korean, I said, “Where’s the manager?”
A young man in black slacks, white shirt, and bow tie closed the door behind me. Next to him stood a dapper middle-aged Korean in a neatly pressed gray suit. He smiled benignly at me.
“I am the manager,” he said in perfectly pronounced English. “My name is Han.”
I held out my hand. He shook it.
“I’m Agent Sueno,” I told him. “Eighth Army CID in Seoul. I’d appreciate it if you would not alert your customers or staff that I’m here.”
“They know someone’s here,” he said, turning and staring into the carpeted expanse of the casino. “They heard the pounding. Of course, most of them are too entranced by the game to pay much attention.”
Entranced? I had to ask. “Are you from the States?”
“Went to school there. The University of Nevada at Reno.”
“Hotel and Casino Management?”
