Spec 4 Jorgenson, the CQ, Charge of Quarters, slouched in a big chair in front of the entrance to the barracks. His khaki uniform was as wrinkled as if he'd slept in it all night. Which he had. He roused as I approached.
'Sueno,' he said, rubbing his eyes. 'Did your partner ever find you?'
'What do you mean?'
'I mean Bascom left for Itaewon after you did. Said he was going to look for you.'
I rubbed my head. 'I don't know if he found me or not.'
'Tied one on, eh?'
'Yeah.'
'So anyway some chick came looking for him.'
'What chick?'
'You know. The little one. With the real short hair.'
Choi So-lan, the ex-nun. Her hair had started to grow out and she'd stopped wearing her cap.
'I hope it was all right,' Jorgenson said. 'I let her in his room.'
'You did?'
'Sure. I'd seen her here with him before. You know, spending the night. I figured he wouldn't mind. And she was crying and all. I didn't want her sitting out here in the hallway bawling.'
I grabbed him by the lapels and pulled him to his feet. 'Gimme the key!'
'Sure. Sure. It's on the ring here.'
He rattled a loop lined with about fifty keys.
I snatched it out of his hands and ran for Ernie's room. In the dark I was fumbling with the keys, trying each one. Jorgenson approached with his flashlight.
'Here. Let me do that.'
He found the right key and opened the door. I switched on the light.
Ernie wasn't in his bunk. The blankets hadn't been mussed. Still out in Itaewon, I figured.
It was the wall locker I was worried about. Ernie had an extra bolt on it and a double padlock, always bragging that it was burglar-proof.
The padlocks hadn't been moved.
But the hinges lay on the floor in pieces. Someone had patiently scraped off the thick layers of olive-drab paint and unscrewed the hinges and pried them off. The door of the locker was slightly ajar.
'Shit,' Jorgenson said. 'I didn't know she was a slicky girl. I thought she was his girlfriend.'
'Did you see her leave?'
'No. She must've slipped out the side door.'
A drop of rain splatted on my leg. The window was open, the screen set on the floor below it.
I peered into Ernie's locker. Jorgenson shone the flashlight in. Propped up on a set of folded fatigues was Herman's phony American passport and the wad of Korean and U.S. bills. I counted them. They hadn't been touched.
But the jade skull was gone.
Jorgenson reached in and lifted out a felt purse. 'What's this?'
I snatched it out of his hands and examined it. I saw the neatly embroidered Korean lettering: Choi So- lan.
I pulled back the strings of the purse, opened it, and turned it upside down. Out fluttered two handfuls of freshly shorn black hair.
'Looks like somebody cut their hair,' Jorgenson said.
I nodded.
'Not that chick who was looking for Ernie?' Jorgenson asked. 'If she cut off this much hair, she must be bald by now.'
I nodded again, thinking of Choi So-lan. Of Lady Ahn. Of Mi-ja. Of Kublai Khan's jade skull. 'I think you're right, Jorgenson. She's bald all right. As bald as a Bride of Buddha.'
