revealed nothing other than that Hap was a respected, honest soldier. No proof that he might have deserted. But no proof that he hadn’t.”
“Elvis hasn’t come up with any responses to the ads he placed in the Korean newspapers,” Jake added. “Our backs are against the wall here and we’re coming up empty-handed. That, added to the lack of a relevant cause of death…” Jake let his comment trail off.
Sam held her hands up in surrender. “All right. Okay. Enough already.” She peered through the window toward Murphy’s office. He wasn’t in. She studied the two detectives. There was something in their eyes. Chief Connelley had told her she had it. And maybe that was what she was seeing. When she looked at their eyes she saw the hunger, the desire to get at the truth. Unrelentless.
She smiled slowly and said, “I don’t believe you. I don’t believe either one of you can walk away from Hap without knowing the truth.”
Chapter 36
A normal day for Lincoln Thomas was twelve hours. From seven in the morning until seven at night. He always brought his lunch and ate at his desk.
Some evenings were filled with meetings with local organizations and new business owners who were building hotels or convention centers and might need the assistance of Thomas Associates.
Lincoln had picked his American name from two presidents — Abraham Lincoln and Thomas Jefferson. It wasn’t that he lacked pride in his given name. After the war, he had stowed away on a ship to Seattle. He had been afraid he would be hunted down.
He could still hear them yelling, “You can’t hide. We’ll find you. And when we do, we’ll cut your tongue out.” He had run as fast and as far as he could that day. Never returned to the Base Commander.
The thought of them having a nationwide hunt for Ling Toy was his worst fear. So he had changed his name, found someone in the Korean underground to give him fake I.D. s, and hid himself deep in the Seattle Korean community.
He slept in a storage room above a bakery at night, helped with the baking between three and seven in the morning, then went to school. Melee, the bakery owner, was the biggest Korean woman he had ever seen. The Korean War had made her a widow. No children but enough friends and connections to help her open her own business in the States.
She never asked Lincoln about his nightmares, but would stay by him until he went back to sleep. She had a great business sense and within three years opened a small restaurant next door to her bakery.
Lincoln had been with her for seven years. He had no idea she had no living relatives. So it took him by complete surprise that she had willed him her businesses.
After a few years, Lincoln sold the businesses and headed south to California, to San Francisco. He had admired pictures of the bay and the Golden Gate Bridge when he had seen the colorful postcards at the command post. Now he would see them for himself.
Lincoln knew he had been blessed finding Melee. She had always told him that if each person returned a favor given to him, the whole world would be a lot happier.
“Mr. Thomas, this is the last of them.” Sherita, a young black high school student who worked after school at Thomas Associates, placed a stack of newspapers on his desk.
“Thank you, Sherita.”
Raymond, his son-in-law, passed Sherita in the doorway. Raymond was tall by Korean standards, at least six feet.
“Do you need help, Lincoln? Are you looking for something in particular?” Raymond flipped through some of the papers. “ Chicago Tribune, Sun-Times. How was Sherita able to find all these back issues?” Raymond’s slicked- back hair revealed a distinct widows peak.
“The hotel across the street usually keeps their leftovers. Saves them for the school paper drives.” Lincoln carried the papers to an oblong conference table. “I believe there is a conference in Chicago I wanted to go to. I thought the paper might have an ad.”
“I’ll help you.”
Lincoln placed his hand on the stack of papers, saying a little too quickly, “That’s okay. Really. I need a diversion right now.” He checked his watch. “Why don’t you meet with Mr. Hensen? And maybe you and Nina can plan on attending the museum reception tonight.” Raymond gave a puzzled look as he retreated. There was rarely a benefit or meeting that Lincoln missed.
Lincoln remembered the article in his Korean paper stating Hap Wilson’s body had been found in Chasen Heights, a suburb south of Chicago. Since none of the hotels or stores sold newspapers from Chasen Heights, he decided there had to be something in the papers in the largest city closest to the suburb.
With a pair of scissors he cut out all the articles pertaining to the body found in concrete. He read about the investigation and circled the names of the detectives.
Then he went through each of the papers a second time to make sure he didn’t miss anything. He was surprised to read that the police were closing the case since there was no evidence of foul play. He was also surprised that the article intimated that Hap was possibly a deserter. Lincoln sat back and rubbed his eyes. Where had Hap been all those years since the war? He thought for sure he had been killed with all the rest. Briefly, Lincoln closed his eyes and thought back to that hot August day in 1951.
“ Do you think they’ll make it, Sergeant?” Hap Wilson asked Booker, a muscular black man with a shaved head and eyes that naturally bulged.
Ling Toy looked up at the two men as his hands bandaged the shattered remains of a soldier’s leg. Ling Toy understood English better than he spoke it. The injured numbered eight and they were all unconscious.
Ling Toy shook his head in despair. “Need doctor.” He looked past Hap and Booker, beyond Bubba’s bulky frame hovering over the combat radio and Shadow who was studying the picture of his wife and baby, down the tree-lined dirt road which led to the killing field where they had found the ambush victims.
“ Yeah, we’re going to get them a doctor,” Booker said clapping a hand on Ling Toy’s back. “Just try to keep them alive until we can get them back to Base.”
Hap crumpled an empty cigarette package and patted his pockets. His hand touched damp fabric. They were all covered with dirt, sweat, and the blood of war. Booker shook out two cigarettes from his pack and held them out to Hap.
“ Thanks, Sarge.” Hap broke out in a broad smile. His trembling hands had trouble striking a match so Booker lit one for him.
Ling Toy marveled at the camaraderie of the black men and the loyalty of the Americans to their cause. But he still couldn’t understand why there were separate units for blacks and whites.
Hap took a long drag off his cigarette and winced.
“ Still got those cramps?” Booker lowered his muscular frame onto a flat rock next to Hap.
Hap nodded. “Feels like someone’s puttin’ my intestines through a wringer.”
“ Bad river.” Ling Toy stood up, his clothes hanging loosely over his frail body.
Booker sucked long and deep off his cigarette, savoring one of the few luxuries of combat. “That’s what you guys get for bathin’ in that river two days ago. I told you there’s enough stuff floating in these rivers to make you sick for a month. Even a guy your size, Hap.”
Hap nodded toward Bubba and Shadow. “Did Base confirm that the injured are the guys who were missing?”
“ Yes. We’re looking at what’s left of Task Force Kelly. They were dispatched to Mushima Valley yesterday. Supposed to climb Hill Fifty-six and report back. It doesn’t seem they ever made it up that hill. The last communications Base received yesterday was that the civilians they had found were decoys.”
Along the horizon, a number of smoke trails spelled the demise of more villages. Beyond kelly green rice fields, Ling Toy could see the sun, a huge yellow ball setting quickly. He listened, deciphering the words Hap and Booker spoke, how they wondered how the North Koreans could be so brutal in their killing by the looks of those who didn’t make it out of the valley.
