During much of the Yi dynasty, before 1911, the Koreans were probably as independent as they'd ever been. But this was because of the growing power in the Far East of Japan and Russia. And the weakness of the Chinese Empire, which was being carved up by foreign powers and ravaged by the scourge of opium.
When the antique dealer had told us that Lady Ahn was from nobility that predated the Yi dynasty, he was speaking of traditions that were ancient indeed.
The wooden stairs creaked as Herman and I walked up the short flight of steps that led to the Beik Hua Yoguan, the Inn of the White Flower.
Immaculate varnished floors and railings led to a small foyer with a vase of white peonies and a display with a black-and-white photo of someone's ancestor in traditional dress. The odors of incense and ammonia wrestled in the dust-speckled air. We found the owner squatting on the vinyl floor, scrubbing nonexistent dirt with a kullei, a thick hand towel. She was a husky woman, with black hair tied back by a white bandanna. People spent their lives in places like this. Scrubbing floors, changing bedding, suffering obnoxious customers. This woman looked as if she had. Rising easily, she gazed calmly at Herman and me.
'Bang pillyo heiyo?' she asked. Do you need a room?
I answered in Korean. 'We don't need a room. We're looking for a woman who is staying with you. A tall woman. Young. Maybe twenty-two. From the south. She calls herself Lady Ahn.'
The woman broke into a broad grin, as if satisfied about something. 'Ah,' she said. 'The good lady.'
'is she here now?'
Her brow wrinkled. 'Who are you?'
I showed her my badge. 'Mipalkun honbyong.' Eighth Army Military Police.
She gazed at the badge for a moment, then looked up. 'What has she done?'
'Maybe nothing. We just want to talk to her.'
'Not possible now. She left over an hour ago.'
Herman's shoulders sagged.
'Did she say where she was going?' I asked.
'No.'
'Show us her room.'
It was upstairs on the third floor and just as fastidiously clean as the other rooms. It told me nothing.
'Show me the guest register.'
Back at the counter, the woman pointed a finger at Lady Ann's signature. Ahn Myong-lan, it said. Ahn, one of the venerable family names in Korea, and Myong-lan, meaning Bright Orchid. Her Korean National Identification card number was there, too. I copied it down. Every place of lodging is required to record them. Place of residence: Taejon, a major city halfway down the peninsula. But no other address.
I looked at the innkeeper. 'She must've said something about where she was going next.'
'No. She kept to herself. She was out a lot.'
'Doing what?'
'I don't know. But she never brought a man back with her.'
'You called her 'the good lady.' Why?'
'Because she treated me, and everyone, as if we were servants.'
'And she has a southern accent?'
'Yes. Cholla Namdo, I would think.' South Cholla Province, two hundred miles away.
'But according to this she lives in Taejon, farther north than that.'
'Yes. She received a couple of phone calls from there.' The woman pointed to the heavy black telephone, which rested on a knitted pad.
'Who called her?'
'A woman.'
'Did you get the name? Her address? A phone number?'
'No.'
'But you must remember something.'
'Yes. When the good lady talked to that Taejon woman she did not seem so arrogant. In fact, she called her 'onni.' And she even laughed.'
Onni means older sister. But Korean women who are friends often refer to the older woman in the relationship as onni. It doesn't necessarily mean that they are actually related.
'What else did they talk about?'
'About old things. Buying. Selling.'
'Antiques?'
'Yes. And the place where this Taejon woman was calling from sounded like a business. I heard a bell tinkling in the background, people talking. It didn't sound like a home.'
So Lady Ahn was getting calls from an older woman who owns an antique shop in Taejon. It was something.
'When this Lady Ahn checked out, how did she act?'
'In a hurry. She came in and I heard her packing, getting ready to go. She called me from my cleaning to settle the bill.'
'Did she say anything to you?'
'Not to me. But she caught a cab right across the street. He asked her where she was going.'
'What did she answer?'
'Seoul yok.' The Seoul train station.
Herman looked confused. Even though he'd lived in Seoul for years and knew a lot of words and phrases, his Korean was still not able to keep up with complicated sentences. Of course, neither was his English. I thanked the woman and we started down the flight of steps toward the front gate.
The owner stood at the top of the stairs, arms folded.
'There's one more thing,' she said.
I turned. 'What's that?'
'The entire time she was a guest here, there were men waiting across the street. After she left, they left.'
'They were watching her?'
'No. I don't think they were watching her.'
'Then what were they doing?'
'They were old men. Sages. Disciples of Confucius. I think they were worshiping her.'
When we arrived back at the jeep, Ernie was cursing.
'Goddamn Happy Hour is over already,' he told us. 'By the time we get back, there won't even be one deviled egg left.'
Herman checked his wristwatch. 'Shit! I'm late.'
'Late for what?' I asked.
'To change the charcoal. Nam will kill me if I let it go out.'
The pressed charcoal briquettes of the ondol heating system have to be changed every few hours or the fire sputters and dies. It's an involved process to start it up again.
'You're pussy-whipped,' Ernie said.
Herman didn't answer.
'We'll drop you off,' I told Herman.
The rain kept up a determined drizzle and Ernie kept up his bitching, all the way back to Itaewon. Lady Ahn had escaped. She was our only connection to the jade skull and the jade skull was our only connection to Mi-ja. We had to keep searching. Taejon, where Lady Ahn's onni lived, was our best bet.
Ernie didn't know it yet, but he was going to miss out on a lot more than just a few chicken drumettes.
After grabbing some chow at the Eighth Army Snack Bar, we went straight back to the barracks, packed our overnight bags, and headed to the H-101 Helipad on Yongsan Compound South Post.
Now the rain was being whipped back and forth by wind gusts of up to eighty miles an hour. All flights other
