Buddha's Money

by Martin Limon

  Herman jerked like a stung bear. Crimson gore gushed from five spots. He dropped the .45, stared up into space, and performed a graceful pirouette.

  Slicky Girl Nam held up her hands but it did no good. Herman's body crashed down on top of her.

  Ernie and I splashed forward. We rolled Herman off of Slicky Girl Nam and helped her to her feet. I knelt, probed my fingers into Herman's neck. No pulse.

  Nothing.

  Captain Kim barked crisp orders. Policemen approached. Four of them hoisted Herman's fat body into the air and carted it off through the muddy alleys.

  Ernie gazed after them. When he finally spoke, there was awe in his voice. "Don't ever point your pistol at a Korean National Policeman," he said.

  Slicky Girl Nam was shaking. She shrugged off my hand and marched over to the first policeman who had shot Herman. He noticed her standing in front of him with her feet spread and glanced down at her. She spoke first.

  "Ku namja na ui nampyon ikun!" That man was my husband!

  She'd been about to kill Herman herself, and now she was pissed because somebody else had done the job for her.

  No emotion showed on the policeman's face.

  Without warning, Slicky Girl Nam swung her small fist and smacked the KNP on the side of the head. The cop raised his rifle to ward her off but she kept coming, scratching and kicking and spitting.

  Other policemen rushed over to help. Slicky Girl Nam smacked them, too.

  Finally, they wrestled her to the ground.

  A red-faced Gaptain Kim didn't hesitate when he shouted his commands. The policemen hoisted Slicky Girl Nam into the air, as they had done the corpse of her husband, and carted her off, too.

  With muddy fingers, Ernie unwrapped a new stick of gum, popped it into his mouth, and started chomping. "Hate to see a family destroyed like that," he said.

  Blood swirled in the puddle around our feet.

  "You're developing a conscience," I told him.

  Ernie seemed amazed. "Me? No way."

  We tromped back through the rain to the Itaewon Police Station.

  38

  THE DOCTORS AT THE 121 EVACUATION HOSPITAL CUT OFF LADY Ahn's leg. Just below the knee.

  When she was released, Ernie and I carried her out to our new jeep and drove her all the way down south to the ferry at Ok-dong. Ernie said his good-byes and strolled away so we could be alone. I helped her to the loading ramp. She had one crutch and was becoming pretty skillful with it. She kept slapping my hand away.

  "I will do it myself," she said.

  Before she boarded the ferry, I told her that I wanted to see her again.

  "Why?"

  "You should know," I said.

  "Because you love me?"

  "Because I'm starting to."

  "Then stop," she said.

  Normally, I wouldn't have argued. My pride would've stood in the way. But this time pride didn't seem to matter. It didn't matter at all.

  "Why?" I asked. "You know that we're made for each other. You're too independent for most Korean men. We could go together back to the States. You could be anything you wanted to be there. You could become someone important."

  "I am someone important."

  Heat swept over my face. "Yes. Of course you are."

  "Don't forget that/' she said. "And that's why I won't marry you."

  "Because you're someone important?"

  "Yes. And because I am royal."

  I spread my hands. 'Tour family was royal at one time. Not anymore."

  Her eyes shot bolts of anger into mine. "We are still royal. And that's why I can't marry you. It would defile my blood."

  I thought of more words to say. A lot of them. But all of them were stopped by the knot in my throat. She had decided that she wouldn't stoop so low. Not as low as a GI. Not as low as me.

  I envied her such arrogance. Life had punched mine out of me years ago. But she would need hers. I hoped it helped her as much as that crutch did.

  I decided to settle for what I could get.

  "If you ever come to Seoul, will you visit me?"

  "No. I will never see you again, George Sueño."

  She turned and hobbled up the loading ramp.

  I stood and watched the ferry for a long time. Even as it pulled away, she didn't appear on deck.

  When we drove off, Ernie didn't say anything. For the entire drive back, he didn't even click his gum.

  _____________

  WHEN WE ARRIVED BACK IN SEOUL, WE DIDN'T BOTHER GOING to the compound. Instead, we parked the jeep in Itaewon and slipped into the nearest barroom.

  Like a pharmacist administering a drug, Ernie purchased a double shot of bourbon at the bar and set it on the table in front of me.

  "You'll feel better after this," he said.

  I jolted it back. Then I had another. Still, I didn't feel better.

  "She'll change her mind," I said.

  Ernie shook his head. "Don't count on it."

  "There's got to be a way." Finally, it hit me. I clutched Ernie's forearm. "I didn't tell her about the jade skull."

  Ernie blew breath between his lips. "So you figure that if we find the skull you can get her back?"

  "Sure, I can."

  "But for how long?" Ernie asked.

  We let that question hang. I had a couple more shots.

  After a while, we were reeling from bar to bar. Making a night of it. It was in the King Club that we saw her.

  She was small, almost tiny compared to the business girls who surrounded her. She wore a blue cotton skirt that stopped just above her knees and a red-and-white polka-dot blouse. Atop her head, pulled down until it almost covered her ears, was a bright red cap with a fuzzy white tassel on the top.

  When she approached us, Ernie waved her off perfunctorily but I grabbed his hand and made him look again.

  Round balls of rouge exploded off the woman's cheeks. She smiled bravely but it seemed as if she was about to break down in tears.

  We both recognized her at the same time: Choi So-lan. The Buddhist nun.

  "What the hell happened to you?" Ernie hollered.

  Her face fell. She covered her mouth with both hands, turned, and ran off toward the back of the King Club.

  "What the hell did you say that for?" I yelled to Ernie.

  Ernie could only point and sputter. "That was the little nun!"

  "I can see that. Apparently, she's quit her job and now she's in Itaewon, looking for you. And you treat her like she's some sort of freak."

  "She is! With that makeup and those clothes. She looks like a clown."

  "So she's not up on the latest fashions. She'll catch up."

  Ernie and I gulped down our drinks and walked over to the back hallway and convinced one of the business girls to go into the women's latrine and ask the nun to come out. About five minutes later she emerged, her face pink from crying.

  We pulled her out of the King Club and down the street to a little bistro where it was darker and quieter. In a secluded booth, I sat her down next to Ernie and made her tell us what was going on.

  "I quit," she told me.

  "You quit being a nun?"

  "Right."

  "Why?"

  "I don't know." She squirmed in her seat. "I want come Itaewon. I want see Ernie."

  Her English was rudimentary, but better than either Ernie or I had suspected. Ernie finally overcame his surprise and even started being a little nice to her. He handed her a stick of ginseng gum and she chomped on it happily. When he bought her a cola, you would've thought he'd just presented her with a diamond ring.

  After a while, they were sitting close to one another and chatting, and I decided to leave them alone. I tossed back a couple more shots and wandered off into the neon alleys of Itaewon.

  After she had decided not to burn herself to death, the loss of face for the little nun—and for the Buddhist church—must've been difficult to bear. That plus the world she had experienced in Itaewon—and Ernie's hold on her—ha
d been enough to make her decide to quit being a nun.

  What would she do now? If she was relying on Ernie to provide for her happiness, she was in for a rude surprise.

  I kept drinking and soon forgot about Ernie and the nun. I had problems of my own.

  A vision of Lady Ann's face started to float in front of me. Just out of reach. I stumbled after it. The face kept laughing at my foolish antics.

  THE NEXT MORNING, ERNIE BEAT ME INTO THE OFFICE, I CAME in red-eyed and hungover, my head pounding.

  "Where the hell did you run off to?" Ernie asked.

  "I wanted to be by myself," I answered.

  Ernie handed me a cup of coffee. I sipped on it. "How'd it go with the nun?" I asked.

  Ernie shrugged. "So-so."

  I knew what that meant. If Ernie hadn't gotten what he wanted, he'd be complaining.

  "Did you take her to a yoguan?"

  "Shit, no. Too expensive. I took her back to the barracks."

  I nearly spit out my coffee. "Choi So-lan, the most famous Buddhist nun in the country, spent the night with you in the barracks?"

  "She's not famous anymore," Ernie said.

  I shook my head. "Not a nun anymore either," I told him.

  Ernie grunted.

  For some reason it depressed me. Talk about a long dismal fall.

  Before we could finish our coffee, the First Sergeant called us into his office. He informed us that he had filed the paperwork with Eighth Army Finance to dock us for Lady Ahn's hospital expenses.

  "It'll come out of your pay," he said. "Medical care for an unauthorized civilian." He almost yawned before he added the next sentence. "If it causes you any hardship, go see Army Emergency Relief."

  Neither Ernie nor I saw another paycheck for three months. And neither of us went to Army Emergency Relief.

  They could go fuck themselves as far as we were concerned.

  THE STUDENT DEMONSTRATION WAS REPORTED IN THE WESTern press; there was even a blurb about it in the Pacific Stars & Stripes. But the articles didn't get the number of students killed right. Not by a long shot. Nor the number injured. They relied on government press releases which mainly told about the riot police who were hurt.

  None of the soldiers of the White Horse Division were injured.

  Except two.

  THERE WAS A LOT OF NEGOTIATING GOING ON BACK AND FORTH between the Koreans and Americans. Neither side really wanted to see Pfc. Hatcher burned. The Koreans because they didn't want to endanger the millions of dollars in military aid they received from the U.S. every year. And the U.S. because, in the eyes of the Eighth Army honchos, what Hatcher had done wasn't so bad. After all, the nun hadn't even been raped or permanently damaged. Not physically, anyway.

  But both sides had to go through the motions to assuage Korean public opinion. Everyone at JAG figured Hatcher'd be slapped with a pretty long sentence, but be let out after a few months for good behavior.

  THE KOREAN NATIONAL POLICE CHARGED SLICKY GIRL NAM with assaulting a police officer, but didn't implicate her in the kidnapping and murder of her daughter, Mi-ja. We told them that everything she did was simply the performance of a good wife taking orders from her husband.

  Even the assault on the policeman was a filial act: a faithful wife avenging her dead spouse. Captain Kim listened to that argument, but he wasn't going to take a chance on allowing any disruption of public order. Especially when that disruption took the form of an attack on a police officer.

  Slicky Girl Nam was sentenced to ninety days in the Kyongki Provincial Prison in Suwon.

  If we hadn't put in the good word for her, it could have been worse.

  I MADE ARRANGEMENTS AT THE EIGHTH ARMY MORGUE TO OBtain Herman a brass plaque issued by the Veterans Administration upon the death of any honorably discharged veteran.

  Herman's coffin was too wide for the narrow Korean vans usually used as hearses. Instead, we hired a truck.

  Ernie and I rode in the truck into the countryside to the place GIs call Happy Mountain. We had no clue what religion Herman believed in—probably none—so we paid a Buddhist monk to wave some incense over his grave.

  We buried Herman right next to his adopted daughter. I figured it was too late for her to mind.

  Nobody else was there and nobody said a eulogy. Both Ernie and I knelt and touched the sod atop Mi-ja's grave.

  As we walked away, Ernie stepped over to Herman's eternal resting place. He gazed down at the fresh soil. Then he spat on it.

  RAGYAPA AND WHAT WAS LEFT OF HIS THUGS WERE PICKED UP by the Korean National Police. Charges were filed concerning the murder of Mi-ja, and they were awaiting trial in less than a week. Both Ernie and I would have to testify and Ernie, especially, was looking forward to it.

  "They have all those cute chicks taking dictation."

  The Korean prosecutor told us we didn't have to worry about Ragyapa getting off. "The last Korean citizen tried for a major crime in Mongolia was given fifteen years."

  "What's that got to do with it?" I asked.

  The prosecutor's eyes widened. "We'd lose face if we gave one of their citizens any less."

  He had a good point.

  THAT NIGHT ERNIE AND I HOPPED FROM ONE BAR TO ANOTHER throughout Itaewon. Even though there was much laughter and many business girls and rock and roll blaring so loudly that it rattled my skull, I still could think of nothing other than Lady Ahn.

  We sat at a cocktail table in the UN Club, a little candle flickering between us. Ernie slapped me on the shoulder. "Get over it, pal. If she don't want you, she don't want you. There's plenty more."

  I nodded dumbly and sipped on my shot glass full of bourbon.

  "I've made my decision," I told Ernie.

  "What's that?"

  "Tomorrow we drive out to the jail in Suwon."

  "To see Slicky Girl Nam?"

  "Right."

  "What the hell for?"

  "There's still something missing."

  Ernie thought about that for a moment, sipped on his beer, and peered at me cagily. "The jade skull of Kublai Khan," he said.

  I nodded. "You got that right."

  Choi So-lan, the former nun, entered the club, found Ernie, and clung to him fiercely, warding off all the business girls. It would be a long night.

  39

  THE MONSOON RAIN HAD LET UP, THE BLUE SKY WAS CLEAN, and blue jays chirped in the rustling elms that lined the road to Suwon. Ernie downshifted the jeep's engine as we pulled up to the chain-link fence surrounding the cement block walls of the Kyongki Provincial Prison.

  When we entered the visiting room, Slicky Girl Nam was already sitting on the other side of a flimsy wooden partition. She wore a shapeless gray smock, her face was scrubbed clean, and her hair was tied back in a neat bun. We sat down on the splintered bench opposite her.

  "How it hanging, GI?" she said.

  She asked us if we had cigarettes, but neither one of us had brought any. A mistake. She pouted and looked away from us.

  "We came to see how you were doing," I said.

  "Better if you bring GI tambei," she said.

  I handed her a five-dollar bill. "Here. Buy some."

  She studied the bill, then stuck it in her brassiere beneath her smock. "GI cigarettes better," she said.

  We chitchatted for a while, not wanting to come right out and say why we were here, which was to find out if Slicky Girl Nam knew anything about the whereabouts of the jade skull. After the death of Mi-ja, Herman had been frightened that his wife would try to take revenge. And he had been even more frightened of the slicky boys. But he had never wanted to cut Slicky Girl Nam in on the money he planned to make from the jade skull. Still, she might know something.

  She asked me about Herman's funeral, and I did my best to try to make it seem better than it was. Ernie became restless and started fidgeting in his seat. I figured I'd better wrap this up.

  "Did you search your hooch?" I asked Nam.

  "For the skull?"

  "Yeah."


  "Of course I search. I search everything. Nothing there."

  I noticed a smudge of charcoal on Nam's fingers.

  "You have to change your own charcoal here?" I asked.

  "Yes. No Herman anymore do it for me."

  She hacked out a laugh, and as I gazed into her dark eyes it hit me. The whole scheme. Herman's plan to get away with the jade skull of Kublai Khan.

  I sat up and leaned toward Nam. Even Ernie noticed my excitement.

  "The night Herman was killed," I said, "he was heading toward your hooch?"

  Slicky Girl Nam thought about that. "Maybe. He go that way."

  "When you received his note asking you to come to the Virtuous Dragon Dumpling House, you were at home, weren't you?"

  "Yeah. I at home. We play huatu." She slapped her hand down, mimicking the action of playing Korean flower cards.

  "Was the floor warm?"

  She gazed at me, puzzled. "Of course it warm. After Herman run away, ajjima next door start change charcoal all the time."

  Her voice trailed off and her eyes widened. She stood up. So did I.

  'You son bitch!" she hollered. 'You no can go. You no can go without Nam go with you!"

  I motioned for Ernie. "Time to head back to Seoul," I said.

  Ernie looked back and forth between me and Nam. "What the hell's going on?"

  "I'll tell you when we get in the jeep."

  Slicky Girl Nam started to climb across the counter. A female guard ran forward, grabbed her by the shoulders, and shoved her back.

  'You no slicky from me!" Nam yelled. "It mine. You got it? I put up with that Herman son bitch for too many years. It mine!"

  Three guards had to hold Slicky Girl Nam down as we backed out of the room.

  WHEN WE WERE ON THE ROAD HEADING BACK TOWARD SEOUL, Emie swerved around a line of slow-moving buses. "What the hell was Nam so worked up about?"

  "About the jade skull," I answered.

  "I figured that much. But we still don't know where in the hell it is."

  "We do now."