“One more thing, Geogie.”
“What’s that?”
“Your interrogation technique, not too good.”
“What do you mean?”
“Eun-hi. She told us something that she did not tell you.
“Like what?”
“Like in U.N. Club that night there was a strange man.
I snapped my head and stared into his face. “What strange man?”
“The night she gave you a message. An American was there. Someone Eun-hi never see before.”
“What was he doing?”
“Nothing. Just watching. And after you left, he left, too.”
Maybe he was the same foreigner who had paid Miss Ku to deliver the message to us. “Has she seen him since then?”
“No. Never.”
“What did he look like?”
He shrugged. “Like GI. Big nose.”
“Brown hair? White hair? Black hair?”
“Maybe light color. GI haircut. Tall, like you. Strong. Not fat. Blue jeans, shirt, jacket.” He shrugged. “Like all GI’s.”
“Did she talk to him?”
“No. Another girl served him. She don’t remember anything either.”
“You believe her?”
“Yes. Just another customer. He did nothing unusual.”
“Then why did Eun-hi remember him?”
“Because he stared at you. When you left, he leave full beer. Follow.”
She’d remember a full beer. Your typical Cheap Charley GI would never walk off and leave a virgin bottle of suds.
The police sedan pulled up to the front of the main gate of Yongsan Compound. I opened the door and started to climb out.
“Remember, Geogie.”
I looked back.
“You off case now. But maybe this man, maybe he don’t know that.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Maybe he doesn’t.”
I grabbed the handle and slammed the door.
The guy in the U.N. Club whom Eun-hi had seen could’ve been just your regular lookey-loo. Ernie and I attract a lot of attention everywhere we go. Most people don’t have their own life; they like to stare at ours. I’m dark, tall, big, Mexican, and used to being stared at. Ernie is always doing something weird. And girls like him. Why, I’ve never been quite sure. But when women look at him, guys will be jealous and stare.
Leaving the U.N. Club after we did could’ve been just a coincidence, and not touching a full beer could’ve meant that the guy either had a sour stomach or suddenly decided to reform.
Maybe.
And maybe he was following us.
I sat at Riley’s desk with a big, steaming cup of snack bar coffee, reading the just-flown-in-from-Tokyo edition of the Pacific Stars amp; Stripes. I had stopped at the barracks, showered, shaved, and changed into my coat and tie. I felt a hell of a lot better. Revitalized.
The big double door down the hallway creaked open, then banged shut. Footsteps clattered down the varnished wood slat floor. When he burst through the door, he looked as pleased with himself as a deacon on his way to church.
“Ernie,” I said. “What the hell you doing in so early?”
He marched straight to the unplugged coffee um and rattled the empty shell.
“Jesus, no java. How do they expect a man to live?”
I realized that although he was clean and dressed neatly, his eyes were rimmed with red and his cheeks seemed to be sagging a bit.
“She kept me up all night,” he said.
“Miss Ku?”
“Yeah. Crazy broad. I thought she was going to scratch off my third layer of skin.”
I shook my head. This meant more trouble with the Nurse. She’d attacked him with sticks and knives before. All I could do was pray she didn’t get her hands on a bazooka.
In the distance, doors slammed open. Upstairs, shoes pounded on cement. Eighth Army was coming to life.
Ernie found a cup and I shared half of my coffee with him. We sat like dazed prizefighters between rounds, sipping gratefully on life-giving fluid.
I tried to think of the case but nothing fit. Not yet.
When Riley stormed through the door of the Admin Office, he stopped and looked back and forth between us, pink tongue flicking between crooked teeth.
“Damn. The Honor Guard is already here.”
There was so much starch in his fatigues that when he sat down at his desk the fabric crackled.
Ernie started fiddling with the coffee urn again. “Where can I get some coffee around here?”
Riley ignored us. He had already grabbed a stack of paperwork from his in-basket and, licking his thumb every third page, riffled through it.
“I need something from you, Riley,” I said.
“Have to do with the Whitcomb case?”
“Maybe.”
“Name it. At your service.”
“We’re looking for a former GI.”
“Good. That narrows it down to about fifty million souls.”
“He’s here in Korea.”
“Scratch forty-nine million.”
“He might’ve been involved in black market operations. Phony Ration Control Plates. Stuff like that.”
Without looking up, Riley reached for a pad of paper and a pencil and started making notes.
“I figure we should check the KNP Liaison blotter reports. Find out if any Americans have been arrested by the Korean authorities lately for customs violations, assaults, anything at all. If so, I want all the information we can find on them. Date they entered the country. If they’ve left yet. Anything.”
“Won’t be much,” Riley said. “The ROK’s don’t arrest many tourists. Bad for the travel industry. If they get out of line, they just hustle them onto the next flight out of country.”
“Yeah. But find out what you can.”
“A former GI, huh? I’ll check the AWOL register too.”
“Great.” I don’t know why I hadn’t thought about that. The brain wasn’t functioning well this morning.
“And ROK immigration,” Riley added. “See if we’ve got any Miguks who’ve overstayed their welcome.”
“And other foreigners, too,” I said. “There’s always the possibility that he’s not really an American. After all, it was an Englishman who was killed.”
“Right you are. Anything else?”
“Don’t say anything to the First Sergeant about this.”
He looked at me.
“Not until I’m sure.”
He nodded. “I’ll make some calls.”
I stood and grabbed Ernie by the elbow.
“Come on, pal. Let’s go. I’ll buy you some coffee at the snack bar.”
That mollified him somewhat but he was still grumbling as we walked down the long empty corridor and
