Reaching for the ladder, I scrambled up and saw the square outlines of a trapdoor in the roof. I shoved upward. The door groaned but wouldn’t budge.
Ernie was right below me, glancing back at the rapidly approaching cart. “Push it open!”
“Too heavy!” I yelled.
“Here,” he said. “Brace your feet on that rock.”
I did as I was told, lifting myself off the ladder. Bolted into the stone wall, it was old and rusted. Using his legs for leverage, Ernie gripped the ladder and pulled. The ancient bolts groaned but didn’t budge.
The cart was only yards away now. It was all over.
Then, without warning, the bolts gave and the metal ladder popped free. Ernie shoved it up to me and stabbed his finger at an outcropping of granite.
“Use that as a lever.”
I did. With one end of the ladder braced against the trapdoor, the stone as a fulcrum, and Ernie pulling down on the other end of the ladder with all his weight, the trapdoor started to creak open.
Ernie hung from the far end of the ladder like a monkey after coconuts.
“Push, goddamn it!” he yelled. “Push!”
I shoved up on the trapdoor with all my strength. Lumber scraped on lumber, filth fell into my eyes and mouth, and suddenly the trapdoor popped free.
The cart was a moving shadow now, only yards away from us.
I scrambled up, reached back in, grabbed Ernie’s outstretched hands, and tugged.
The rumbling was like the approach of death itself. I jerked backward with all my strength, and Ernie’s head popped through the opening. His butt and his feet cleared the ground seconds before we were both knocked back by a tremendous crash.
We lay on a dirty wood floor, dazed and winded, peering down into the darkness and the billowing dust. Beneath us, as if its lethal mission had been accomplished, the big cart started to roll back the way it came.
Apparently, someone had been inside it, because four dark figures hopped out onto the tracks.
They were quick and we were exhausted and not thinking fast enough. By the time I pulled myself together they were climbing up the wall.
I shoved the trapdoor. It clapped shut, but that wouldn’t be enough to keep them away. Frantically, I searched the space we were in.
Dust, crates, grimy windows. We were inside a warehouse.
Against one wall sat an enormous crate. I forced myself to my feet and stumbled toward it. Stenciling. In English. Pittsburgh, PA. Some sort of machinery. A lathe, I think.
“Ernie! Help me with this.”
Together we tried to shove the crate atop the trapdoor. It wouldn’t budge. I wedged myself between the crate and the wall, set my sneakers against a wooden beam, my back against the box, and pushed. Ernie and I strained with all our might. The crate started to slide.
I heard the trapdoor creak open.
Ernie told me later that fingers crept over the edges of the opening like tarantulas crawling out of a hole.
The crate scraped forward, slid over the top of the trapdoor, and slammed it shut.
When we staggered back to the Nurse’s hooch, she slid back the paper-paneled door, opened her mouth when she saw us, and screamed.
We both crashed face-first onto the warm vinyl floor. Ernie waved his paw, like a canine begging for mercy.
“We’re okay,” he said. “We’re okay.”
Ajjima from next door rushed over, and soon she and the Nurse had us out of our filthy clothes. They washed our faces with hand towels and poured barley tea down our throats.
Gradually, the warmth and the hot water and the soap brought us back to our senses.
“What happened?” the Nurse asked.
“The slicky boys,” I said. “They kidnapped us.”
The Nurse’s face shifted from worry to panic.
“They were going to ask for a ransom,” Ernie said, “but it finally dawned on them that nobody was going to pay.”
For some reason we both found that uproariously funny and we howled with laughter.
Our hysteria seemed to make ajjima nervous. She loaded up a metal pan with the towels and the barley tea she had brought over. The Nurse escorted her out and bowed politely, thanking her for her help. Ajjima returned to her hooch on the other side of the courtyard.
The Nurse rummaged through her cabinet, pulled out a crystalline bottle of soju, and poured us each a shot in small cups. We tossed them down.
After we had calmed down a little, I started to explain.
I told the Nurse about the twelve guys who had jumped us and being wrapped in canvas and the beautiful Chinese woman and Herbalist So and the escape through the tunnel and the trapdoor in the warehouse on the 8th Army compound.
She was astonished. “On the compound?”
“Yes. An old warehouse. GI’s never go in there. Koreans do all the manual labor on the compound. Besides, it’s very well hidden. Nobody ever would’ve found it unless they were looking for it. And the slicky boys haven’t used it for years. Probably figured it was too risky.”
The warehouse was on Yongsan’s south post, in an old storage area of brick buildings built by the Japanese Imperial Army. When we left it and walked up behind one of the security guards, we damn near gave him a heart attack. Once he regained control of himself, however, he knew better than to ask questions.
The Nurse was curious about Herbalist So. She’d heard rumors about him, but no one in Itaewon was sure if he really existed. I told her what I had observed and then told her about the calluses he had mentioned on Miss Ku’s hands.
The Nurse rubbed the tips of her fingers. “The kayagum,” she said, nodding. “Very bad for woman’s hands.”
“We have to talk to Miss Ku,” I said. “She could be the key to this entire investigation. And at least now we know how to find her.”
“How?”
“There must be places where women study the kayagum, where they play it for fun, or to make money entertaining.”
The Nurse nodded gravely. “Yes. Many places.”
I raised my palms in the air, resting my case. “Then all we’ve got to do is hit a few spots in Seoul, places where kayagum players hang out, and we’ll find Miss Ku.”
“You must be out of your gourd,” Ernie said. “There’s probably a jillion joints like that.”
“We can do it.”
The Nurse nodded agreement. “I can help.”
“See?” I told Ernie. “We even have our own native guide.”
Ernie groaned and poured himself another shot of soju.
The Nurse squeezed my hand and smiled. I knew why. She was thanking me for including her in our investigation. She’d be happy to spend more time with Ernie, no matter what the reason.
Still, I was worried about including her. The slicky boys had a serious grudge against us. We had not only disrupted their operations, but we now knew the general whereabouts of their king and their headquarters. Maybe I should’ve kept her out of it.
She smiled again and her face took on a deep, satisfied glow.
I sighed. Too late now.
19
