round-bottomed clown. Ernie towered over him. So did I, being a couple of inches taller than Ernie.
'I don't know,' Ernie said, gauging Herman's steadiness. 'A simple burglary. The Korean National Police can handle it. What'd the thieves take? All your black market shit?'
'No.' Herman was still woozy. Even when he was clearheaded, Herman the German wasn't the most articulate guy in town.
'No?' Ernie asked.
'No. They weren't those kind of thieves.'
Ernie's face darkened like the monsoon sky. He was suspicious now. Smelling a rat in the rice wine jar. 'If they don't want stereo equipment and liquor and cigarettes, then what the hell kind of thieves are they?'
'The kind who want people.'
'People?'
I thought of Herman's wife. Slicky Girl Nam was one of the oldest hags who had ever worked the streets of Itaewon. Nobody wanted her. It was even doubtful that Herman wanted her.
Ernie lost his patience. He shoved Herman's haunch of a shoulder. 'What the hell did they steal, Herman?'
Herman stood perfectly still, his thick arms hanging at his sides. Somewhere in the short gap between his chin and his shoulders, he swallowed.
'Mi-ja,' he said.
Mi-ja. A name that in translation is simple and direct: Beautiful Child. The little Korean girl whom Herman's wife had adopted. The girl with the topknot tied by a pink ribbon and the sparkling smile and the bright eyes like black diamonds.
Every day Mi-ja could be seen flitting to and from the Itaewon market. Snatching candy from the business girls, making them laugh. Bantering with the playful GIs. Mi-ja was the mascot of Itaewon. The one fine thing that prompted everyone-no matter how debauched-to remember where they came from. Remember that they were once part of a loving family. Remember that they once had brothers and sisters and wives and parents and children.
Taking in Mi-ja was the only good thing two lowlifes like Herman the German and Slicky Girl Nam had ever done.
No one doubted that Mi-ja was adopted. Slicky Girl Nam had probably had venereal disease so many times that her reproductive tubes were nothing more than a burnt-out memory.
'How old is Mi-ja?' I asked.
'Nine,' Herman answered.
Ernie chomped on his gum. 'Why would anyone want her?'
Herman wasn't surprised by the question. In Korea, after the devastation of the Korean War, children were an economic burden, not a prize. Especially girls. Not something to be fought over. Even now, more than twenty years later, things hadn't changed much.
Saliva bubbled on Herman's lips. 'I don't know,' he told Ernie. 'But you've got to help me get her back.'
'It's a matter for the Korean National Police,' Ernie said. 'It happened off-post. A Korean was kidnapped so it falls under their jurisdiction. You're here now. Report it.' Ernie glanced around at the shoving and hollering and screaming going on outside. 'After things calm down a bit.'
'I can't,' Herman insisted.
'Why not?'
'The guys who took her already told me. They'll kill her ifltelltheKNPs.'
Ernie scowled. 'Don't worry about threats from a bunch of crooks. Kidnappers always say that kind of shit. Doesn't mean nothing.'
'No KNPs,' Herman said. His round body was frozen like a rock. 'This time they mean it.'
'How do you know?'
'Because the kidnappers are not Koreans, they're foreigners. Some sort of brown guys, I don't know which kind. And they're after something. Something valuable.'
'What? Your new stereo?'
'No.' Herman's big moist eyes searched Ernie's soul. 'I've seen you guys let people off after busting them. Maybe they gave you a little money, maybe something else. I don't know. But if you don't help me, I'll turn you in. I'll say I saw you taking bribes.'
Ernie leapt forward and shoved Herman's shoulders with all his might. The former First Sergeant barely budged.
'I ought to pop you for that remark.' Ernie cocked his fist.
Herman stared at the naked knuckles. 'If you don't help me now, they'll kill her. And you know as well as me that the KNPs will only be interested in keeping the ransom for themselves.'
Herman was right. Kidnapping, especially of female children, is not seen as being the most serious offense in the country. Tragic but not serious. The KNPs would go through the motions but if they didn't solve the case easily, they'd move on to more pressing matters.
When Herman didn't jump at him, Ernie slowly lowered his fist. He turned to me and grinned.
'I've never heard our man Herman here make such a long speech.'
The crowd outside was becoming even more unruly. In the back room, Captain Kim shouted into the telephone.
If it had been Herman who was kidnapped, or Slicky Girl Nam, neither Ernie nor I would have bothered. But Mi-ja was an innocent child. She didn't deserve what had happened to her.
Besides, Ernie and I were constantly on the outs with the Eighth Army honchos-for our unorthodox methods, for busting people regardless of their rank. Any formal accusation made against us-even a false one-would make our working life more uncomfortable than it already was.
'It wouldn't hurt to take a look,' I said.
'Yeah,' Ernie said. 'Why not?'
Herman straightened himself and took a deep breath. He stood shakily on his two broad feet, like a bull in the middle of a ring. He snorted in acknowledgment, turned, and stumbled toward the front door.
I grabbed him by his thick forearm. 'Hold it, Herman. Let's wait until these folks outside quit discussing religion.'
Herman gazed up at me, confused. It was as if he hadn't even noticed the riot going on outside the Itaewon Police Station.
Sirens sounded in the distance. Plaintive wails that grew steadily louder. Headlights converged on the concrete-block walls of the station. Reinforcements unloaded from jeeps. That must've been what Captain Kim ordered on the phone. More troops.
Suddenly, the commander of the Itaewon Police Station stormed out of his office. He pulled a dented metal helmet down low over his eyes and snapped shut the leather chin strap. He gave the pack of policemen at the door a short pep talk and led them out the door. Responding crisply to his orders, they formed up in ranks and unhooked their riot batons. After Captain Kim shouted the command, the policemen charged into the crowd.
People screamed, cursed, and fell back in panic. Over the sea of heads, I glimpsed nightstick-wielding policemen, whaling away. Swiftly, the crowd started to melt into the night.
The policemen surged forward, chasing the retreating foe.
Herman and Ernie and I walked outside. On the wet pavement lay wounded rioters, some in pools of blood.
Ernie surveyed the damage. 'These KNPs sure know how to bust up a party,' he said.
A battalion of monsoon clouds drifted low, blotting out the gray pallor of the moon. Rain started to pelt down and we hurried through the narrow lanes, swerving always in the direction of Herman's hooch.
My blue jeans and black nylon jacket were soon soaked and clung to my body like bloody sheets on a corpse.
In the distance, far up amongst the jumbled tile roofs that spread like a maze behind the bar district, we heard a shriek. From a shredded voice.
The forlorn wail of a woman in anguish.
