by Martin Limon
A KNP leapt on Ernie's back. Without thinking, I hopped forward and smashed the cop's head with a sharp left jab. He flopped to the ground like a sack of barley.
Another KNP came at me. I crouched and punched him in the stomach, and then I was shoved against a wall and I saw Ernie barreling toward the door, pushing the women in front of him.
Lieutenant Ho charged me with his nightstick. I hooked one of the wooden benches with my foot and slid it in front of him. The lieutenant crashed into it with his shins, howled, and slammed face-first onto the floor. As the other policemen started to close in, I picked up more of the short benches, tossing them into the narrow corridor, forming a barricade, and then I was backing out the door.
Through a curtain of rain, I saw Ernie and Fifi Kang and Lady Ahn disappearing down an alley. Ernie waved for me to follow.
I did. Sprinting at full speed.
We sloshed through the alleys, making dozens of hairpin turns, the heavy footsteps behind us gradually fading.
All four of us were breathing heavily when we finally stopped long enough to look back and catch our breath. Rainwater ran in rivulets down my face.
"We lost 'em," Ernie said.
"Great," I wheezed. "But for how long?"
Ernie caressed the raw knuckles of his right fist and grinned. "But it was worth it, wasn't it?"
I could never figure why he loved trouble so much. We were in deeper shit now than we had been since we first heard about this kidnapping two days ago, but Ernie seemed elated.
The two women seemed a lot more worried than Ernie.
"Bali wa," Fifi Kang said. Come on. "We go my hooch. Policemen no catchy up there."
"Yeah," I said. "You bet. Policemen no 'catchy up' there."
Ernie slapped me on the shoulder.
"You worry too much, George. Think positive." He pointed to the side of his skull. "That's the secret."
As we wound through the narrow pathways of Taejon, rain slamming down on our backs, Ernie offered the two women a stick of ginseng gum.
Fifi Kang accepted. Lady Ahn stared at him as if he were a piece of dragon dung. Even with her hair sopping wet, she looked regal. Ernie grinned sheepishly and stuck the gum back in his pocket.
14
Lady Ahn sat on a plump pillow, the pale blue silk of her billowing skirt spread before her. Her chima was embroidered in red and gold with the Chinese characters su, for long life, and bok, for good fortune.
Fifi, the Widow Kang, knelt on the floor and bowed, placing a lacquered wooden table in front of Lady Ahn. The table was laden with handleless porcelain cups and a steaming pot of imported Black Dragon tea. Shuffling backward, Fifi waited, her hands on her knees, until Lady Ahn poured steaming tea into the cups and handed them to Fifi, who in turn handed them to us.
Royalty doling out favors.
I'd heard a lot about royalty when I was growing up. Mexicans, like most people, are slightly in love with it. I was told proudly about Maximilian, the red-bearded Austrian archduke who'd been appointed by Napoleon III to become Emperor of Mexico. I was told somewhat less proudly about Quatemoc, the last emperor of the Aztecs, who'd been murdered by the treachery of the Spaniard Hernan Cortes.
I'd heard plenty about royalty, but I'd never seen it up close. Not until now.
Lady Ahn looked gorgeous on her low dais. Anybody's idea of a queen, or an unfortunate princess stranded amongst commoners.
Ernie chomped on a pecan cookie and slurped on his barley tea. "You have any soju around here?"
Fifi Kang shot him an evil look. "You wait for soju. You drink too early, pretty soon too much stinko."
"Hey," Ernie objected. "The sun's almost down."
I knew what he meant. Back at Eighth Army headquarters it was Happy Hour. The go-go girls were dancing, the cheap booze flowing. We both missed it. But my aching need was eased every time I gazed at Lady Ahn. The skin of her face was as smooth as the handcrafted porcelain cup I held in my hand.
She looked so gorgeous, so serene, that I almost didn't want to bother her with my questions. Still, questions had to be asked. I took a deep breath.
"Lady Ahn," I said, "tell me about the jade skull."
She tilted her head toward me and her eyes tightened slightly. "Why should I?"
Her English was pronounced expertly. No doubt that she'd been well educated.
"You know why you should," I answered.
I reached in my pocket and pulled out what even Ernie didn't know I had, a clump of red-stained newspaper. I tossed it on the table next to the tea. Slowly, the crinkled sheets opened, revealing the gore inside: crusted blood, shredded flesh, the shriveled remains of a little girl's ear.
Lady Ann's face paled.
Fifi screeched, recoiled, but recovered quickly.
"What's the matter you?" she hollered. "Why you do that? Your brain go TDY?"
TDY. Temporary duty, when GIs are sent for short periods of time to assignments away from their base camp. With that one slip of the tongue, I learned a lot about Fifi Kang. She'd dealt with GIs before. Extensively. She knew our jargon. Maybe she worked on the compound as a clerk or a waitress. Maybe she dealt on the black market. Or maybe she had been a business girl.
A woman alone, building up the capital to open her own antique shop. Unless she were an heiress, the fastest way to do that was by becoming a professional girl. Looking at Fifi Kang, that's where I'd bet my money.
Ernie picked up on it, too. He chuckled and bit back into his pecan cookie.
Lady Ahn couldn't keep her eyes off the slivers of mottled flesh. Slowly, her face drained of blood. Pulling out my handkerchief, I picked the shredded ear up again and tucked it back into my pocket.
"That ear," I said, "belonged to an innocent child. The men who are holding her have already cut off one of her fingers. If we don't give them the jade skull by the full moon, they will kill her."
Trying to keep her hand from shaking, Lady Ahn reached for her tea. She sipped on it daintily.
Fifi Kang swung her mane of black hair toward me. "You bother her too much, GI. Why don't you shut the mouth?"
Ernie growled at her. Fifi tightened her lips.
"What I need," I said, still addressing myself to Lady Ahn, "is the jade skull. If I give the skull to these men, they will let the little girl go."
Lady Ahn didn't answer.
"We're willing to pay for it," I continued. "Between the two of us," I nodded toward Ernie, "we could probably raise a few hundred dollars."
For the first time Lady Ahn laughed. The soft derisive laugh of a queen.
'Yes," she said. "You will pay for it. Everyone pays for the possession of the jade skull."
I waited for her to go on. She didn't. I leaned forward. "Tell us about it, Lady Ahn."
Ernie shot a warning look at Fifi. For once, she kept quiet. Lady Ahn sipped once more on her tea and cleared her throat.
"I don't have the jade skull," she said.
"But you made arrangements with Herman-"
She held up the soft flesh of her palm to quiet me. 'Yes. I made arrangements. With something as valuable as the jade skull, one must make all arrangements in advance. Even before the piece comes into your possession."
Lady Ahn stared out the sliding paper door that led onto a narrow balcony. The gray pallor of the sky was darkening. A light rain began to fall. If it kept up, I wouldn't be able to see the moon tonight. How close was the silver orb to full? Too close. And getting closer.
We were on the top floor of a three-story brick building. Fifi had led us all up here the back way so the neighbors wouldn't see her bringing in two foreign men. She'd also called the girl at the antique shop and told her to lock up and go home and under no circumstances to tell anyone- especially the Korean National Police-the whereabouts of the apartment.
It was a nice joint. Plenty of antiques, a few paintings, everything immaculately clean. Ernie felt right at home. He was used to having women take care of him. He expected it. His attitude didn't
seem to bother Fifi though.
Lady Ahn spoke again. "The skull was carved from one solid piece of jade during the Yuan dynasty."
I clicked it through my memory bank. Ernie was always laughing at me for checking out books from the post library on the history of the Far East. He said it was a waste of time.
"What are you going to do with it?" he often asked.
I never really had an answer for him. Until now.
The Yuan were the first foreign dynasty of China. The Mongols. Established more than seven centuries ago. Contrary to popular belief, Genghis Khan didn't conquer China. He conquered some of the northern provinces, but the conquest was completed, and the great Southern Sung dynasty finally defeated, by his grandson, Kublai Khan.
I said the name aloud, hardly aware that I was speaking. Lady Ann's eyebrows lifted slightly. In approval, I hoped.
"That's right," she said. "The jade skull belonged to Kublai Khan."
My heart flushed with pride. I was glad this woman realized that I wasn't just some dullard who did nothing but drink beer and watch football games.
From what I'd read about Kublai Khan, he probably would've fit right in at Eighth Army headquarters during Happy Hour. He was a drinker. Not of beer or liquor but of kwniis, fermented mare's milk. As a matter of fact, most of his biographers say he died of alcoholism. It was something a lot of the Mongol conquerors had a problem with, although they didn't see it as a problem in those days.
Ernie was having trouble taking all this in. "Okay," he said, "you have some jade skull that belonged to an old Chinese king. So what's the big deal?"
Lady Ahn looked at Ernie as if he were a clump of night soil. But to give him his due, it wasn't a bad question. She must've realized that because she answered it.
"There is a very 'big deal' about this jade skull," she said carefully. "The design was not exquisite. Not that Kublai Khan minded. He was a Mongol, a warrior, a rough man. They say that the green jade carving of the skull is so ugly it looks like a pockmarked face."
At the words, Fifi Kang flinched. Every vain woman's worst fear. Facial blemishes.
"But the skull served more than one purpose," Lady Ahn continued. "Kublai Khan, it is said, used the skull to drink his kumiis. Some even said that the skull was a replica of his grandfather's skull."
In my surprise, I made a gurgling sound. Graciously, Lady Ahn turned to me and nodded.
"So they say. But it was more important than just an unusual drinking cup. In fact the purpose was so important, Kublai Khan kept the skull near him always. Even sleeping with it."
Her gleaming black eyes searched Ernie's face, then Fifi's. They finally rested on mine.
"The carving disfiguring the top of the jade skull…" She twirled her fingers above her head. "… was actually a map. How do you say it in English? A map with bumps?"
"A topographical map," I said.
"Yes. A topographical map. A map that shows the way to the burial place of Kublai Khan's grandfather."
A silence followed Lady Ahn's pronouncement. I tried to catch my breath. I thought of Ragyapa and the scars etched into the top of his head. The monks who had trained him as a young boy had molded him into a living replica of the jade skull. A constant reminder of his one mission in life: to find the jade skull and the precious map on it.
Fifi Kang bowed her head as if in respect for revered ancestors. Ernie swiveled his eyes, studying our expressions.
"Okay," he said. "A map to the grave of his grandfather. So like I said, what's the big deal?"
Lady Ahn sipped on her tea, through talking for the moment. I explained it to Ernie.
"Kublai Khan's grandfather was the greatest conqueror the world has ever seen. No one, even to this day, comes in a close second. His empire stretched from Korea to Poland, from Russia to Persia.
"That jade skull," I told Ernie, "is carved with a map to the Tomb of Genghis Khan."
Ernie still didn't seem too impressed. But he sipped on some more tea and held the fragrant fluid in his mouth for a while. Savoring it.
Beams of red and blue and gold glinted from the million tiny mirrors that formed a beach ball-sized globe. The globe spun atop the dance floor of the Lucky Dragon Cabaret and Beer Hall.
Ernie was truly happy now. We had cold liters of Oriental Beer in front of us and a plate of sliced chestnuts and radishes and an occasional shot of imported brandy to wash it all down with.
I was pretty happy myself.
Lady Ahn had changed into a black lace evening gown, and if we had been in America, every man in the place would've been spending half the night ogling her. I'm not sure if it's from politeness or merely from male self-absorption, but in Asia, ogling of women is rare. Even one as statuesque and as beautiful as Lady Ahn.
Fifi Kang wore a tight red blouse and a miniskirt with knee-high leather boots. Ernie kept staring at the stiletto heels, occasionally rubbing his crotch. I think he was formulating some sort of plan.
The band was too loud but stuck to Korean pop songs. At least I could tune out the meaning and not be nauseated with American rock and roll lyrics.
As it was, I kept my concentration on Lady Ahn. I didn't want to stare, so I did my best to keep her entertained, so we'd have a reason to look at one another. I borrowed a paper and a pen from a waiter and wrote the various Chinese characters for Yuan dynasty and for jade skull and for Mongolia and for tomb. Occasionally, I missed a stroke or two, and with a serious expression, Lady Ahn took the pen from my hand and wrote the symbol correctly.
After a couple of sips of brandy and cola, Lady Ahn filled me in on her background.
She claimed to be royalty. Not Korean but from the Chinese dynasty known as the Southern Sung. It had taken the Mongols many decades to finally defeat the fierce Chinese warriors of the Southern Sung. I. ady Ahn's ancestor, an admiral in the Imperial Navy, had been a nephew of the great emperor himself. After the capital city had been stormed by the Mongols, near the end of the thirteenth century, the admiral was one of the last survivors. He and his family sought refuge in the hinterlands of the mountainous province of Szechwan.
Later, his great-grandson, a man called Ahn the Righteous Fist, led a rebel band against the Mongols. Revolution spread throughout China. When the dynasty collapsed, Lady Ahn's ancestor Ahn was able to break into the fortress of the last Mongol emperor and spirit away as much treasure as he and his men could carry. The most valuable piece of loot was the jade skull of Kublai Khan.
In the chaos that followed the collapse of the Mongol dynasty, no one was safe. Ahn the Righteous Fist, along with his entire clan, fled in ships to Bian-do, a remote island off the coast of Korea.
That was six centuries ago.
Ahn the Righteous Fist found a suitable hiding place for the jade skull and some of the more valuable pieces of their treasure trove. Afterward, he and his followers settled on a nearby island, an island more suitable to agriculture. Their goal was to bide their time and eventually return to China and reclaim the throne of the Sung dynasty. But with constant warfare in China-and a new dynasty in power called the Ming-the moment never seemed auspicious. In the years that followed, the men of the Ahn family took Korean wives. Life went on. The grandiose goal of reclaiming the lost Dragon Throne was forgotten.
More than a century later, a monastery of devout Buddhist monks was established on the island of Bian-do. The monks took it as their mission to protect the jade skull, along with the remaining Sung artifacts. The ones they could find, anyway. Some of the riches had been so cleverly concealed that all memory of their whereabouts had been lost.
The descendants of the admiral, Lady Ahn's ancestors, stayed on, becoming farmers and fishermen like everyone else in the area. But they never forgot their heritage, their lineage that led directly to the emperor of the mighty Sung dynasty.
From generation to generation, they kept their secrets.
Lady Ahn's family always had relatives in the monastery who kept them apprised of the monks' activities.
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Occasionally Japanese pirates landed, stealing many of the remaining treasures. Over the years, the monks became adept at fending off the pirates. But for the last couple of centuries it seemed that nothing of the riches of the Sung had escaped the thievery of others. And the jade skull of Kublai Khan appeared to have been lost. Or at least that's what everyone thought-until a few months ago.
A young monk had been excavating a new meditation chamber beneath the mountain of Bian-do. Buried beneath a giant rock, he discovered an iron box that contained the jade skull of Kublai Khan.
The monks of Bian-do are honest men, unconcerned with the wealth of the world. But inevitably, word of their precious discovery reached the nearby islands.
It was commonly believed that the Tomb of Genghis Khan held enormous riches, many of them looted from the Chinese people. Looted, even more specifically, from the Sung dynasty.
When he died, Genghis Khan's body had been carried back to Mongolia by trusted lieutenants. These lieutenants went far into the plains and beyond the mountains, searching for the ideal spot to bury the great Khan and his wealth. After the burial, most of the warriors who had accompanied Genghis Khan to his final resting place were executed, along with thirty "moon-faced" virgins, to service the great Khan beyond the grave. The secret of the whereabouts of the Tomb of Genghis Khan had been buried with them.
The only map that remained was the etchings on the jade skull.
Why had none of Lady Ahn's ancestors retrieved the skull and claimed the riches of Genghis Khan for their own?
For one thing, over the years the Buddhist monks of Bian-do had become fierce in their protectiveness of their holy artifacts. They allowed no one on their island, and myths of strange beasts protecting their wealth had sprung up amongst the fishermen on nearby islands.
And Lady Ahn's ancestors had become complacent. They prospered and lived well as yangban, the educated landowning class. None of her ancestors had had the nerve to risk it all and go off after the treasure of Genghis Khan.