by Martin Limon
We ordered chow.
A boy from a Chinese restaurant brought in a tin box and Ernie and I stared at it suspiciously. But when the boy slid up the side panel and pulled out a plate of chap chae—fried noodles laced with beef—and two steaming bowls of shrimp fried rice, we relaxed, paid him, and commenced to wolf down the food.
We didn't speak as we ate. We were both thinking the same thing. How in the hell were we going to find this Lady Ahn in a city we didn't know? How in the hell were we going to keep little Mi-ja from having her throat cut by the scar-headed Ragyapa and his Mongol horde? And what the hell was this all about?
I glanced out the window. The first plump droplets of monsoon rain hit the sidewalk so hard that they bounced like Ping-Pong balls. A steady patter tapped against the wooden roof. I wondered about the moon. It would be more than three-quarters full tonight.
We finished our chow, went downstairs, told the yoguan owner we'd be out, and pulled our jackets over our heads. Splashing through puddles, we trotted into the bustling center of downtown Taejon.
A WISE MAN ONCE SAID THAT THE WAY TO GET RICH IS TO ASK A bunch of tomfool questions and listen well to the answers.
Apparently, this wise man had never been an American CID agent in the Korean city of Taejon. Most of the people we talked to didn't have answers. They were just frightened.
There isn't a very large American military presence in Taejon, and tourism in these parts is unknown. We might've been the first long-nosed foreigners many of these people had ever encountered.
Ernie wasn't helping matters much. He was impatient and surly, and the more people acted as if we'd just landed in a spaceship from Mars, the more Ernie felt compelled to feed into their neuroses and act weird.
At one shop that specialized in porcelain, he grabbed a teacup and sipped on it, slurping loudly. Of course there was no liquid inside. Ernie wiped the dust out with his tongue. At an antique furniture shop, he rummaged through an ancient hand-carved cabinet as if he'd stashed something there and forgotten where he'd left it.
It hadn't been a big problem finding the antique shops themselves. Most were clustered in the upscale shopping area downtown. At each place, I described the type of jade-carved skull we were after but every time I did, I received puzzled looks. No one had heard of such a thing.
I also described Lady Ahn. Everyone seemed intrigued by a woman so tall, so gorgeous, but no one had any leads for me. Until finally the face of one old crone puckered at the description. She pointed. A shop. Two blocks down the road, she said.
"The owner is very famous," the old woman said in Korean.
"Famous how?" I asked.
"Famous in nightclubs."
Her wrinkles drew in so tight around her lips that I was worried that her face might turn inside out.
Ernie looked at me quizzically, knowing something was up. "We have a lead," I said in English and switched back to Korean for the old woman. "What's the name of this shop?"
"Rising Phoenix," she replied. "Very easy to find. The outside is as brightly painted as the owner's face."
"What's her name?"
"The Widow Kang. But she never calls herself that."
"What does she call herself?"
"Fifi."
"Fifi? You mean like a Frenchwoman?"
"Yes. She thinks she's too good for Taejon." The old woman shook her forefinger at me. "But she's not. We're too good for her."
On the way down the road I explained to Ernie what the old woman had said.
"Fifi? You've got to be shitting me."
"No way. That's what she said. Fifi."
"And this gal, this Fifi, is hooked up with this Lady Ahn?"
"Looks like it."
BY THE TIME WE REACHED THE SHOP, ERNIE AND I WERE BOTH drenched. The front was ornately carved, each wooden knob painted with vivid splashes of color. A shimmering bird lifted off of the branch of a cherry tree, scattering pink blossoms in its plumed wake.
"Damn," Ernie said. "This Fifi would fit right in on Madison Avenue."
"She's not exactly a bashful maiden."
We pushed through the door. A bell tinkled.
An attractive young woman in a short skirt and silk blouse stepped out from behind a glass counter and bowed. "Oso-oseiyo." Please come in.
She must've been about nineteen, short hair, cute as one of the hand-painted dolls lining the shop's shelves. After a long day of interviewing sullen merchants, Ernie couldn't help but grin.
He ran his hand through his short hair, flicked monsoon rain onto the wood-plank floor, and pulled out a package of ginseng gum. He offered her a stick. She took it in her soft hand, smiled, and bowed again.
"Fifi oddiso?" I asked. Where's Fifi?
The girl shook her head. "Fifi's not here. Can I be of service to you?"
I decided not to translate that for Ernie. Vulgar retorts we could live without.
"It's very important that I talk to Fifi Kang immediately," I told her. "It has to do with Lady Ahn."
The color in the girl's cheeks began to fade. She shook her head.
"Fifi is not here now. If you give me your calling card I will be sure that she contacts you."
I glanced at Ernie, rolling my eyes. A look of disappointment descended on his face as he deciphered the signal—I suppose he had been looking forward to being nice to this girl—but he shrugged and shook the expression off almost as soon as it appeared. His eyes darted around the room, searching for something to smash.
"We must talk to Fifi," I told the girl. "If we don't, my friend will become very angry."
Her slim fingers began to quiver. "You can't talk to Fifi," she said. "She is busy. She must not be disturbed."
Ernie snatched up a crystal carving of Kuan Yin, the Buddhist goddess of mercy. Her long robes draped gracefully to her feet. Her face was as calm as the face of an eternally youthful goddess should be. No expensive salves. No face-lifts. Just eternal beauty. She would put Max Factor out of business.
Ernie surprised me. He didn't pulverize the statuette immediately. Instead, he walked slowly up to the frightened girl and faced Kuan Yin toward her blinking eyes.
"Do you know who this is?" he asked.
I translated. "Nugu inji allayo?"
When the girl didn't answer, Ernie continued. "It's you," he said, "and if you don't tell us where Fifi is, this is what's going to happen."
As soon as the last word of translation had emerged from my mouth, Ernie flicked his wrist and slammed the goddess into the glass counter. Shards of crystal exploded into the air. The girl leapt away, shoving her cupped fists against her mouth, her eyes wide with fright.
"Fifi oddiso?" I shouted. Where's Fifi?
"The bathhouse," the girl stammered. "In the alley behind the shop. Not far."
"And Lady Ahn?"
'Yes," she said, nodding, pressing herself up against the wall, as far away from Ernie as she could get. "She's there, too."
Ernie looked at me.
"Jackpot," I said and started toward the back door.
He gazed at the still intact Kuan Yin, kissed her on the top of her tiny head, and set her very carefully down on what was left of the shattered counter.
13
SINCE THE KOREAN WAR, PLUMBING HAS COME A LONG WAY. But in many areas of the country it's still primitive. People don't drink tap water, not unless they boil it first. Cold water service is provided almost everywhere, but hot-water heaters are still something few people in Korea can afford.
For bathing, people go to bathhouses. It's cheap and convenient and for many people somewhat of a social event.
Unlike the Japanese, Koreans don't take community baths. Women use one side of the bathhouse, men the other.
The Seven Luck Bathhouse was a long cement-block building painted powder blue. At the entrance sat a young woman nursing a baby.
The woman leaned back in fright when Ernie and I emerged from the rain. Her long bruised nipple popped out of the infant's moist mouth. Immediately,
the child began to wail, grasping with its tiny claws until the mother regained her composure and managed to shove her breast back into the baby's greedy reach. All was quiet again.
"Kang Kuabu oddiso?" I asked. Where's the Widow Kang?
The woman glanced toward the entrance marked yoja. Women. "In there," she said.
Ernie understood and started to push through the swinging door. The young mother shouted. "Women only!" She pointed. "Men must enter on the other side."
Ernie looked back at her, smiled, then pushed on through into the steaming darkness.
I slapped two thousand won, about four bucks, onto the rickety table in front of her.
"Police business," I said. "It will only take a minute. Don't worry."
The woman's face was still crinkled with concern but she grabbed the wrinkled bills and slipped them into a pocket in her long dress.
I pushed through the women's entrance and felt the steam grab onto my face.
The bathhouse reeked of mint-scented lather. At first I couldn't see Ernie. But my eyes became accustomed to the darkness and I made out his shadow down the long hallway. As I stepped down the corridor I felt the spongy spring of wooden slats beneath my feet. The walls were made of cement, and in each large room, water spit freely from nozzles onto women in various stages of undress. They were all busy. Scrubbing themselves with pumice stones, shampooing hair in great billowing cathedrals of suds, or drying themselves carefully while seated on short wooden benches.
Up ahead, Ernie stopped at the entranceway to each room and peered in, studying something carefully. I caught up with him. He glanced back over his shoulder.
"Checking the whazoos," he said.
"What?"
"Whazoos. When I find breasts large enough, I'll know we've found Lady Ahn."
What an investigator.
The women inside the bathhouse were so preoccupied with their own cleanliness, none of them had noticed us yet. We moved down the hallway. At the end, we heard wood slapping on flesh and the voices of two women. Laughing.
As we approached the room at the end of the hall, the slapping became louder. So did the laughter.
Inside, two tall Korean women, completely naked, were beating one another with willow branches. Both had their hair knotted up inside of white towels. With each slap, the women laughed louder, and each slap was delivered with more fervor. More joy.
Ernie and I stood mesmerized.
He mumbled through wet lips. "The whazoos," he said. "I'd pick 'em out of any lineup."
Lady Ahn was built like Venus, only better. Her limbs were long and straight, hips round, waist narrow, breasts heavy and ripe. At the V between her legs, jet black pubic hair stood out straight and lush with no hint of curl.
The other woman wasn't bad looking either. A little older, a little thinner, not quite as tall. Fifi Kang. She had a right to be proud of her figure, too. Still, she looked skeletal compared to the ravishing Lady Ahn.
The two women twirled, still beating one another with the quivering twigs. I was worried they might actually cause bruises, even cuts, on their golden flesh. But their swats were practiced. The flicks of the wrist delivered with just the right amount of snap. It was clear they'd enjoyed this ritual before.
Finally, Fifi Kang stopped, standing perfectly still, her eyes wide. She lifted the white towel higher up on her forehead.
Lady Ahn, waiting for the next blow, turned when she didn't receive it. She saw Ernie and me standing in the doorway.
I was beginning to sweat. It was hot in here, and I felt like taking off my shirt. In fact, after soaking up the beauty of Lady Ahn, I felt like taking off my shirt and my pants and everything else.
The four of us stood frozen, staring into one another's eyes. Neither Fifi Kang nor Lady Ahn made any movement to cover their nakedness. I expected one of the women to scream. Instead, Fifi Kang raised her willow branch and rattled it at us.
"Dumb GI don't know this lady shower?" She waved the twig. 'You go man side. Not here."
I started to speak but instead of words coming out I just croaked. Lady Ahn had me more worked up than I realized. I tried it again and managed something slightly better than a squeak.
"We're here about the jade skull," I said.
Lady Ahn stepped backward. Fifi Kang continued to brandish her twig.
'You go back my shop. You look at jade there. Plenty of jade. You no bother lady in bathhouse."
Ernie stepped into the shower room. Keeping his back close to the wall, he leaned in and switched off the water.
"What you doing?" Fifi Kang said. 'You kara chogil" Get out of here!
Ernie grabbed her twig and held it. Fifi Kang struggled for a moment but stopped when she realized struggling was useless. Ernie gazed deep into her eyes.
"Answer the questions," he told her.
By now, people had started to realize that two men were in the women's bathhouse. Behind us, we heard footsteps, concerned chatter, shower spigots turning off.
"We want the jade skull," I said. "I know it's valuable, but we're willing to pay for it. Without it, a little girl in Seoul will be killed. She's already been hurt badly. You must help us save her life."
I pointed at Lady Ahn. "You knew about this, but still you ran away."
She turned away from me, angry now, over her shock, for the first time realizing her nakedness. She snatched a towel from a peg on the wall.
"Why you follow me?" she demanded. "Why you bother me? Why you don't leave me alone?"
"I can't." Not sure what I meant by that. Maybe something about the case. Maybe something else. "A little girl has been hurt. We heard her scream."
Ernie tilted the end of one of the benches, lifting it into the air. What the hell he was planning to do with it, I didn't know. Fifi Kang caught on quickly, however. Whatever it was that Ernie was planning wasn't going to be good.
"Okay," Fifi agreed. "We will talk. In my shop. You go outside wait. We get dressed."
"We'll wait here," Ernie said.
The smooth skin of Lady Ann's forehead crinkled in rage. She'd had enough. She stormed forward, straight-armed Ernie out of the way, and pounded out the door past me. I gazed after her in admiration. All by herself, almost naked, she was as imposing as a royal procession. Unstoppable.
Fifi Kang, like a lady-in-waiting, scurried after her, droplets of water spraying in her wake.
Ernie dropped the bench with a bang and he and I followed. Ahead, soft flesh wiggled.
The dressing room had a plastic drape slid across it, and Ernie and I waited as the two women dried themselves and got dressed.
Back at the entranceway, a door slammed. Gruff male voices barreled down the corridor. Boots pounded on planks.
Ernie glanced at me and lifted his eyebrows. I shrugged. Whoever it was, now that we'd gone to all the trouble of finding Lady Ahn, I wasn't leaving. Not until we obtained the jade skull.
The footsteps grew closer. From the cloud of steam, dark figures emerged. Khaki-clad. Visored caps. Nightsticks slapping at the seams of their trousers. The Korean National Police.
Maybe the girl at the Rising Phoenix antique shop had called them. Or maybe the young mother guarding the entranceway to the bathhouse. Whoever it was, it didn't matter now. The KNPs clearly had our number.
There were four of them, and they came to a halt a few feet in front of Ernie and me. The leader had a dark, mottled face, and his mouth was open, his eyes wide, staring up at me, amazed that two grown men would somehow make their way into a women's bathhouse. I spotted the insignia on his collar and read the engraved plate on the flap of his breast pocket. Lieutenant Ho. Central Precinct.
Ernie thrust his chest out, tugged up on the belt around his waist, and chomped loudly on his ginseng gum. The four policemen formed themselves into a semicircle around us, hands on the hilts of their nightsticks.
Lieutenant Ho jerked his thumb toward the front door. "Pak ei kal" he snarled. "Bali." Go outside. Quickly.
Ernie snorted
. "No way, Charley. We're here on official police business."
Lieutenant Ho didn't understand but he knew Ernie wasn't planning on following his order. His face flushed red. "Jikum!" he shouted. Now!
Ernie laughed.
It was too much. One of the policemen stepped in and grabbed Ernie's elbow. As if he'd been raked by claws, Ernie spun, launched his knotted fist, and backhanded the cop up against the wall.
"Tangsin weikurei?" Lieutenant Ho shouted. What the hell's the matter with you?
All the policemen unsheathed their nightsticks.
I leapt in front of Ernie, fumbled in my pocket, pulled out my CID identification.
"Jom kanman," I said. Relax. "Uri Mipalkun honbyong." We're from Eighth Army.
I thrust the badge in front of me, waving it from side to side, as if it were a crucifix and I was trying to ward off a pack of vampires.
Lieutenant Ho clutched his nightstick, his knuckles turning white, his face burning crimson. Still, he somehow managed to control himself. He studied the badge carefully.
When he was finished, he gruffly told Ernie to show him his. Ernie bounced on the balls of his feet and puffed out his chest again, but I told him to cool it. Finally, he pulled out his badge and flashed it in front of Lieutenant Ho.
Lady Ahn and Fifi Kang stepped out into the hall. Both wore cutoffs and T-shirts and rubber thongs, routine garb for a trip to the bathhouse. Lieutenant Ho swiveled his attention to them.
"What is it with you?" he asked them angrily. "These two Americans, how do you know them? What are you doing with them?"
Lady Ahn stood taller and began to answer but the lieutenant cut her off, firing more questions at her. Ernie didn't like it. When he took a step forward, two of the policemen angled their nightsticks for a quick backhand to the skull if he came any closer. Ernie stopped, clicking furiously on his gum.
Lieutenant Ho was talking nonstop now, shouting, all his anger at not being able to arrest Ernie and me—at having his authority lessened in the eyes of his men; by foreigners yet!—focused now at the two women.