'I need more time.'
'No more time! Midnight. Or the child dies.'
The line went dead.
I opened the door of the admin office with my key and switched on the lights. In front of the safe, I turned to Ernie.
'Do you have the combination?'
'No. I thought you had it.'
'Shit. I don't have it either.' I glanced at the clock on the wall. 'No sweat. We still have an hour until midnight. All we have to do is track down Riley. He has the combination.'
'Right.'
We locked the office back up and headed for the Lower Four Club.
We found Riley, all right. passed out in a puddle of bourbon. When I slapped him a couple of times, he raised his head and groaned.
An old lifer at the bar named Kenny told us the story.
'Herman the German was in tonight. Paying for every round. Never seen him so generous.'
'Which explains why Riley was putting it away.'
'Sure,' Kenny said. 'He can't pass up a freebie.'
I checked Riley's pockets, looking for his wallet. Ernie finally spotted it on the floor beneath the cocktail table. A couple of dollars' worth of Military Payment Certificates and his weapons card and photos of smiling Caucasian faces were strewn all over the filthy carpet. But no safe combination.
'Enough of this shit,' Ernie said.
We dragged Riley into the latrine and stuck his head under the cold water faucet. Finally, he sputtered to life. 'What the hell?'
I slapped his cheeks. Hard. 'Gimme the combination to the safe!'
'What?'
I slapped him again, maybe a little harder than necessary. 'The combination, Riley. What's the goddamned combination?'
'Okay,' he said in a hurt voice. 'Why didn't you say so?' He reached for his back pocket. 'It's in my wallet.'
'No, it's not,' I said. 'We already checked there.'
'Okay, then. I remember it. Just give me a minute.'
Ernie shoved him back toward the water faucet and Riley started to spout out the numbers. I memorized them as fast as he said them.
Ernie clicked in the tumblers and swung open the heavy door. We peered inside.
'Son of a bitch!' Ernie shouted.
The safe was empty.
I swore and slumped down on one of the straight-backed chairs.
Once again, as it had done so often before, the jade skull of Kublai Khan had vanished. But this time, I knew who had stolen it.
An old lifer and an infamous black marketeer. The man who'd treated Riley to so many drinks he'd passed out. The husband of Slicky Girl Nam. The father of the kidnapped Mi-ja. The man everyone in Itaewon knew well. Or thought they did.
Herman the German.
26
The first thing Ragyapa noticed was how large she was. How unlike other women. This creature known as Lady Ahn talked back when spoken to. And whenever someone made the mistake of letting one of her fists swing free, she punched the nearest of Ragyapa's disciples. Two of the monks had to struggle to twist her arms behind her back. They'd shackled her to the metal ring in the basement floor.
She looked like a woman-the small waist, the large breasts, the round hips-but she punched and spit like the most ferocious of men. A she-tiger. Not at all like the compliant little girl, Mi-ja.
Ragyapa wanted to meditate with this woman. The monks took off her clothes and oiled her down but as soon as they unbound her wrists she started fighting again. No matter how often she was beaten, she kept fighting back.
Was it because of her royal blood? Ragyapa doubted it. True royals have everything done for them-from birth until death-and are the most docile people in the world. No, it wasn't her lineage that caused this woman to be so arrogant. It was the way she'd been brought up.
That was it, Ragyapa decided. She was nothing more than a peasant who thought too highly of herself. Trying to teach her proper behavior would be a waste of time.
He imagined her in the lotus position, oiled down, sitting across from him. Naked. For some reason the vision didn't excite him. She was too big, too gross, too full of her own desires.
No, the girl Mi-ja was much better. But she was growing weak.
Ragyapa ordered one more try with the big Korean woman. But this time, when the monks ripped off what little clothing she had left and pinned her down, she kicked one of them in the groin and bit into the ankle of another.
The men were enraged. They seldom meditated and had little control over their emotions. Should Ragyapa allow them to vent their foolish desires?
Ragyapa wavered for a moment, studying the woman called Lady Ahn. Her eyes flashed with hatred. Another foolish emotion. One that would take days-maybe weeks-to beat out of her.
No time for that, Ragyapa decided. In her present state, she held no interest for him.
Ragyapa flicked his wrist in a dismissive gesture. The two injured monks bowed deeply, showing their appreciation. When they dragged the big Korean woman away, she was still kicking and biting.
Later, while in silent meditation, Ragyapa heard her screams. All his disciples took their turns with her. Like a pack of beasts, Ragyapa thought, crawling all over her. His lips curled in disgust.
The monk in attendance rubbed oil on Ragyapa's body. Ragyapa thought of the little girl. Finally, he motioned with his finger.
Mi-ja was brought to him. She was as listless as a puppet whose strings have been cut. But she was breathing.
The monk laid her naked body at Ragyapa's feet.
Ragyapa gazed down at her for a long moment. Finally, he reached forward and began rubbing oil on her flesh, hoping the soothing sensation would bring her back to consciousness.
It didn't.
He was forced to use the hot needles.
27
Ernie whizzed through the late night traffic as if he had the entire transportation grid of Seoul preprogrammed into his brain. Headlights erupted from the dark, swerved, and disappeared behind us like swarms of fireflies. To our left was Seoul yok, the train station, with its huge Russian dome. Off to our right glittered the green lights of Namdae-mun, the Great South Gate.
I checked my watch. Twenty minutes to midnight. We had to hurry or the roads would be blocked by the
