wrist. 'She said noon. It's almost that now.'
The next question I left unasked. If this antique was so valuable, would Lady Ahn be willing to give it up? Even to save the life of a child?
We would see.
The rain hit the windshield in a drizzle. The herd of red taillights before us clumped tighter as Ernie bulled his way into the traffic of downtown Seoul.
Herman had told us that Slicky Girl Nam's hooch was crawling with Korean police. 'They smell a buck,' he'd said. A cop had been stationed at the pay phone outside the pharmacy on the corner, waiting for it to ring again with a message from the kidnappers. But so far this morning, nothing.
With a screech of tires, Ernie pulled over in front of a long taxi queue.
A thick chain was welded onto the floorboard of the jeep in front of the driver's seat. Ernie lifted it, wound the chain loosely through the steering wheel, and padlocked it. With the short chain looped through the steering wheel, no potential car thief would be able to make turns and therefore wouldn't be able to make a getaway. Like most military vehicles, the jeep didn't have an ignition key, just an on and off switch that anyone could use.
We piled out. Both Ernie and I were wet. So was Herman, but he didn't seem to mind.
We waded through the crowd: businessmen on their way to working lunches and women bundled in raincoats, umbrellas over their heads, clutching string-handled bags with the logos of upscale shops emblazoned on them in glossy print. A wrinkled crone dressed in rags pushed a cart carrying a hot pan. She wailed out her message as we passed.
'Bam sajuseiyo!' Please buy chestnuts!
Even in the gray afternoon dimness, neon spangled the main road of Mukyo-dong and lit the narrow side alleys jammed with dress shops and coffeehouses and pool halls.
We rounded a corner and Herman stepped down a flight of broad marble stairs. The steps led into what seemed to be an explosion of jogging shoes hanging by their laces. A cloudburst of rubber and canvas.
Pushing with our hands, we bulldozed our way through the hanging shoe garden and emerged onto a walkway illu- minated by a row of overhead fluorescent lamps. All around us were stands packed full of T-shirts and leather bags and thick silk blankets and mother-of-pearl-inlaid jewelry cases. Men on bullhorns hawked their wares.
'Shopping,' Ernie grumbled. 'Somehow I always end up goddamn shopping.'
We had burrowed our way into an underground market.
After another twenty yards or so, the lane widened and a sign pointed the way to a well-lit corridor. Ji Ha Choi, the sign said. Subway.
Here, stands sold newspapers and snacks and cups of iced coffee to go. Pedestrians streamed back and forth. In the middle of the intersection stood a tall woman in a light blue raincoat and matching broad-brimmed hat.
Long fingers with wickedly red nails held the blue raincoat clutched across her chest. Pale skin was pulled tautly across a face chiseled with high cheekbones. Her lips were full and clamped tightly. Her eyes were black, blazing with defiance.
A goddess, I thought. A goddess like I'd seen in the National Museum, carved in bronze, floating in silk robes across the face of the moon.
Ernie chomped on his gum. 'Not a bad-looking chick.'
Herman stopped a few feet in front of the woman, peering up into her unblemished face. A medieval serf paying homage to a feudal princess.
I realized now why she'd chosen this place. Commuters streamed past but none of them did more than glance in our direction. They were busy. In a hurry to get to work or squeeze in some midafternoon shopping or finish whatever errand seemed pressing enough to bring them out on this rainy monsoon day.
We were surrounded by people/and yet we were alone. No one was listening. Even an overweight fireplug of a retired American infantry sergeant and two dripping wet GIs and a statuesque Korean woman in a tailored blue raincoat weren't enough to garner more than passing interest.
Herman stood with his fists clenched at his sides, his blue eyes watering like peeled grapes. The Moon Goddess gazed down at him and began to speak.
'Why you bring two men?'
Her voice was low and strong, used to projecting command. The English was well-pronounced, with a hint of an accent that seemed almost French. A few words were left out of the sentence but not enough that you couldn't understand her meaning.
Slowly, she turned toward me. The eyes of a she-wolf burned into mine. Under their challenge I almost stepped back. I forced myself to hold my ground.
Usually it's Ernie who attracts all the feminine attention. The excitement he generates seems to enflame every female nerve ending within a hundred yards of his antics, as if his hormonal system was steadily broadcasting waves of magnetism. But Lady Ahn seemed immune.
She stared only at me.
Herman glanced back at us, his blue eyes suddenly befuddled, as if he'd forgotten we were following him.
'They're helping me,' he told the woman. 'I have a problem.'
Lady Ahn's tapered eyebrows lifted slightly. 'I don't know about your problem. You and I, we only do business. That's all.'
'But this is more important than business,' Herman insisted. 'Someone stole my daughter.'
Lady Ahn took half a step backward but quickly regained her composure. Long fingers rippled across the buttons of her raincoat.
'I am sorry,' she said courteously, 'but that is not my problem.'
'The men who took her,' Herman persisted, 'they want the jade skull.'
'No!' Lady Ahn shook her head. 'They cannot have it. I only pay you to have an American ship it to the United States. That's all.'
Herman held his stubby body still. 'These guys are Mongols. Not Koreans. You must sell the skull to me now. These foreigners want it. If they don't get it, they will kill my daughter.'
Lady Ahn clutched her raincoat even tighter and looked from side to side, as if contemplating an exit.
'I am sorry,' she repeated. 'I am sorry if this business has caused you trouble. But I cannot turn over the jade skull to foreigners. It is too important. More important than you can possibly know.'
'It's just a piece of artwork,' Herman said.
'No!' Lady Ahn snapped. 'It's more than that. It is the key to everything. The key to the restoration of my country.;
'But I need it nowl'
The sudden rage in Herman's voice startled Lady Ahn. It startled Ernie and me, too. Before we could react, he'd lunged toward her.
She stepped back swiftly, but Herman was too quick for her. He grabbed Lady Ahn by the elbows, lifted her off her feet, and carried her back toward the small coffee stand with white-smocked girls milling around filling orders.
Lady Ahn's beautiful. face twisted in rage. She shouted: 'Salam sollyo!' A person needs help!
Ernie chuckled. 'Goddamn Herman knows how to negotiate, doesn't he?'
I slapped him on the shoulder. 'Come on!'
We rushed forward and grabbed Herman's arms, but still he managed to shove Lady Ahn up against a cement pillar. She was kicking back now, screaming at him, her long red claws slashing at his eyes.
Herman screamed, let go of her, and clutched his forehead. Lady Ahn started to run but Ernie jumped in front of her, holding his hands in the air, hopping from side to side as she tried to dodge past him.
'Wait now,' he said. 'A little girl's life is at stake. More important than any goddamn antique. We have to talk about it.'
Lady Ahn continued to scream: 'Salam sollyo! Salam sollyo!'
A crowd gathered. In the distance I heard the heavy tromp of boots, then a police whistle.
No sweat. Once I flashed my CID badge and explained the situation, the Korean police would interrogate
