Buddha's money gsaeb-3

by Martin Limon

  It seemed like a good time for a burial.

  I reached into my jacket pocket, pulled out the bloody handkerchief containing Mi-ja's ear, and dropped it into the cold, choppy waters. The white linen swirled. Then it sank into an endless world of water.

  Before we'd left Taejon the day before, I'd placed a call to the pharmacy in Itaewon because I wanted to find out if the kidnappers had contacted Herman again. Slicky Girl Nam had picked up the phone. She was hysterical.

  "Most tick full moon! They will cut Mi-ja again! This time they will kill!"

  I tried to calm her down. She kept jabbering.

  'You find old jade head they look for?" she shrilled.

  "We're going for it now."

  "You find bali bali" Quickly. "Maybe they call soon. I go now."

  She hung up on me.

  Lady Ahn shifted her weight in the boat and gazed at me with her shimmering black eyes. Her face was scrubbed clean, and she was wrapped in the gray robes of a Buddhist nun. Her legs were enfolded in white linen, laced with string, her feet bound tightly in leather sandals.

  She tapped Ernie on the shoulder. He swiveled and the three of us went over the plan one last time.

  Lady Ahn had been paying homage to the monks of the Monastery of the Sleeping Dragon since she was a little girl. She came as a supplicant and worshiped in their temple carved out of the side of Bian-san, the Mountain of Mysterious Peace.

  Through the years she had gained the monks' trust. They were aware of her descent from the imperial court of the Sung. They treated her with the respect due one of a royal line, even if the line had fallen centuries ago.

  She had found many opportunities to inspect the monastery and committed much of its layout to memory. It was a vast complex, expanded over the years and connected to a network of volcanic caves that honeycombed Bian Mountain.

  Deep in the tunnels of the old volcano, the last relics of the Treasure of the Sung were hidden. That's where we'd find the jade skull of Kublai Khan.

  In a few minutes, Fisherman Yun would be dropping Ernie and me off on the back side of the mountain, on a rocky cliff remote from the main buildings of the monastery. Lady Ahn would continue in the skiff. She'd arrive at the entranceway to the Bian Temple in about an hour. Just in time to make the predawn call to meditation with the monks.

  Ernie dipped his palm into the cold sea and splashed a handful of salt water onto his face. Grumbling. As if to remind us that he wasn't pleased about the early hour.

  Lady Ahn ignored him and continued her explanation.

  The Dragon Throne of China had been stolen from her family. As far as she was concerned, any possessions of the Mongol rulers, including the jade skull, were nothing but ill-gotten booty. She had no qualms about stealing it back.

  But the monks who had protected the treasure all these centuries didn't see it her way. They were aware of the power of the skull. Of the untold riches it could lead to. And although they had taken a vow of poverty, they knew of the allure that wealth held for most men.

  The monks had taken an oath to protect the stolen relics in their possession. And they had sworn to allow the Great Khan Genghis to rest peacefully in his tomb, hidden far away on the mainland, high in the hinterlands of the vast steppes of Mongolia.

  When Lady Ahn explained this, Ernie piped up. "So you're saying that if they catch us trying to rip off the skull, they'll jack us up royally."

  Lady Ahn turned to me for translation.

  "They'll fight," I said.

  She nodded her head solemnly.

  Our goal was to sneak in, snatch the jade skull, and creep back out without being noticed.

  Lady Ahn went over the instructions again.

  The morning meditation lasted an hour. That would give Ernie and me time to enter through a tunnel in the back of the mountain and make our way deep into the earth, to a vast chamber where lay entombed the relics of Buddhist saints. There, we would wait for Lady Ahn. Her job was to make sure that no one would be working in the back caverns. Once she slipped away from the monks, she would find us and lead us to the skull. Then we'd grab it and slip out a back entrance. Outside, Lady Ahn's cousin, Fisherman Yun, would be waiting for us with his boat.

  "Piece of rice cake," Ernie said. Then his brow furrowed. "What about this commando who got sliced up?"

  Lady Ahn shook her head. "He was not careful."

  "Not careful about what?"

  A rock-strewn shoreline burst into view in the swirling mist. The roar of the breakers filled our ears. The skiff bobbed high in the air, but Fisherman Yun guided us expertly past the churning waves. Once we hit land, Ernie and I hopped out. We dragged the little boat up onto the pebbled shore.

  Before we left, Lady Ahn touched my hand and stared into my eyes. It was a look of promise, I thought.

  Of what, I wasn't sure.

  Fisherman Yun shoved the boat back into the water, hopped aboard, and, like the great seaman he was, soon had the rickety little craft sporting proudly through the waves. In seconds, their silhouettes disappeared into the dark mist.

  "Do you think that chick is going to come through on all this?" Ernie asked.

  "Damn right she is."

  We trudged through heavy brush. A pathway led toward a cave that sat high on the side of the cliff wall.

  The creature could smell them before it heard their footsteps. Vibrations quivered through the soil, up the trunk, and through a sluggish body. Predators. A surge of fear rushed through its flesh. The creature hugged the heavy branch tighter, claws clicking free, ready to swing.

  Were they coming closer? No. The pounding moved away. And then it heard rocks sliding, grunting, and finally silence.

  The monsoon wind rustled through the thick foliage of the jungle.

  The intruders were gone. Slowly, the fear seeped from the creature's body. It reached for food and chewed, weak eyes glazing over, gradually drifting back into the stupor that was its beloved natural state.

  Before fading completely into sleep, it felt what seemed like footsteps again. It opened its eyes again but swiftly closed them. The sound was not footsteps. Merely the first droplets of rain, pelting rocks and trees and leaves. A flash of lightning tore the sky. Thunder roared. An entire ocean of wetness fell from the heavens.

  The creature lay soaked, clinging to the branch, steam rising from rancid fur. It thought of nothing.

  After an hour, hunger stirred. There was no food left on the tree. It decided to reposition itself.

  Ernie cursed as we crawled through the narrow tunnel.

  'You got to be shitting me. This tunnel leads nowhere, Sueno. You must've taken a wrong turn."

  We'd been crawling through bat shit for half an hour. I was just as fed up as Ernie was. Still, I wasn't going to admit it. Lady Ahn would be waiting and I couldn't let her down. And I mustn't let Mi-ja down.

  As we rounded a corner, a red light glimmered up ahead. I motioned behind me for Ernie to be quiet.

  Sweat poured down my forehead. I wiped it with the back of my hand. Quietly, I inched closer to the light, stretched forward, and peered around the granite wall.

  A skull grinned into my face.

  I leapt back. Ernie grabbed me.

  "What the shit?"

  "Quiet!"

  I crept back to the corner. When nothing moved, I rose and stepped out into a small cavern.

  In front of us, cross-legged, sat the skeletal remains of a man, draped in tattered gray robes. In front of him, guttering softly, was the flame from a small oil lamp. Next to that sat a bowl of fruit. I pinched the pear and the persimmon.

  "Both fresh," I told Ernie. "The monks make regular offerings."

  Behind the cross-legged skeleton loomed a silk screen painting of ancient Buddhist saints engaged in various struggles with the powers of evil.

  Ernie reached down, grabbed the pear, and took a bite. "Who the hell is this guy, anyway?"

  "Maybe one of their leaders. From the past."

  He crunched
on the pear. "From the past is sort of obvious, George."

  We left the ancient monk and wandered into another tunnel, much larger than the one we'd been crawling through. This one was high enough so that by bowing our heads, we could walk almost upright. As the light from the oil lamp faded behind us, I switched on the heavy flashlight Lady Ahn had provided.

  "We must be getting close," Ernie said.

  There was less bat shit on the ground. Someone had been cleaning this portion of the tunnel network regularly.

  In another open cavern, we found pools of water. Ernie almost stepped into one but I stopped him in time. I pointed the beam of the flashlight into its depths. The water was clear but agitated by the pebble Ernie had kicked into it. Still, we could see down at least ten feet before the pool faded into darkness.

  "How far down does this thing go?" Ernie asked.

  "I don't know. This mountain is porous. Filled with tunnels. And water."

  "That's interesting," Ernie said, "but do you know where in the fuck we are?"

  I glanced at the sketch map Lady Ahn had given me. After the myriad turns and twists we'd been through, the diagram had long ago stopped making sense.

  "Sure," I said. "No sweat. We're almost there."

  Ernie sighed. "We'd better be."

  I pointed the beam of the flashlight back into the water. The ripples had settled now, and the light probed to a depth that must've been at least thirty feet. That's when we saw them. Shimmering and white. Globes of death.

  Human skulls.

  "For Christ's sake," Ernie grumbled. "These damn monks aren't as peaceful as Lady Ahn makes them out to be."

  I resisted the urge to cross myself. "Maybe this is just the way they bury their dead."

  "Maybe, but I don't think so. Some of those skulls have been crushed."

  He was right. Deep gouges slashed into the bony craniums. Other bones lay snapped in two, as if some great beast had feasted on human marrow.

  "Come on," I said. "Let's keep moving."

  Ernie didn't argue. He just followed me deeper into the catacombs. Anything to get away from that pile of the macabre.

  Ernie pulled out his pack of gum and offered me a stick. This time I accepted. The stuff was bitter and tart in the mouth, but at least the juices started flowing again.

  Finally, we reached another cavern and another shrine. Instead of a skeleton, this one featured a bronze statuette about three feet high. Of our old friend Kuan Yin, the goddess of mercy. I sighed with relief.

  "This is where we're supposed to meet Lady Ahn," I said.

  Ernie flopped down at the naked feet of the goddess and glanced around. Disappointed. "Doesn't this little gal rate any pears?"

  "I guess not."

  I sat at the entrance to the tunnel leading deeper into the mountain and leaned my back against granite. When we were both settled, I flipped off the flashlight. The darkness became absolute. All we could hear was the steady drip of water on rock and the occasional squeak of a bat.

  Ernie spoke in a voice of reverence. "This is like being high," he said. "Not on booze. But on the real stuff. Pure China White."

  "Cheaper though," I said. "And easier on the liver."

  "Maybe so," Ernie answered. "Unless those damn monks show up."

  The soft footsteps jolted me out of a doze, the foot-steps stopped just a few feet from us. When I realized it was only one person, I rose to a crouch and switched on the flashlight.

  Lady Ahn covered her eyes.

  "They're following me," she said.

  "Who?"

  "The monks. Come. We must hurry."

  Ernie was up and right behind us, molars grinding on stale gum.

  We wound through passageways for what must've been twenty minutes. Finally, we stopped in another cavern, this one with a pool much larger than the ones we had seen before.

  Lady Ahn pointed. "It's down there. The jade skull of Kublai Khan."

  Ernie peered after the beam of my flashlight. "Must be a little soggy."

  "No. There is a chamber," Lady Ahn said. "There. See the dark spot on the water's bottom? It leads back up toward the surface. And there is a dry area with an airhole. Many of the remaining artifacts of the Sung Treasure are still there. Along with the skull."

  "Cute," Ernie said. "How do we get in?"

  "I will swim." Lady Ahn began to unknot her robes.

  Ernie stood back, arms crossed, a half-grin on his face. Prepared to observe.

  I grabbed her arm. "No. I will go in."

  "You can swim?" she asked.

  I remembered the plunge on Slauson Avenue. Free on Thursdays. Compliments of the L.A. County Board of Supervisors. Half the kids there to swim were black. Half the kids were Mexican. About every third week, someone drowned.

  "I can swim," I told her.

  "Hurry, then. I had to make sure that the monks weren't planning any ceremonies back here today. They weren't but they missed me as soon as I slipped away. They have already started their search."

  I stripped down to my undershorts; Lady Ahn calmly folded every article of clothing as I handed them to her.

  Ernie gazed at the golden cross on my chest. "I didn't know you wore that."

  "Only when I break into heathen temples." I glanced at Lady Ahn. "Sorry," I said.

  No expression showed on her face.

  I tested the water. Icy as hell. I splashed some of it on my chest and arms. My body exploded with pimpled flesh.

  Lady Ahn knelt down and grabbed a handful of mud. "Here. Rub this on. It will keep you warm."

  "No time." I took a deep breath and, feet first, leapt into the pool.

  The shock almost collapsed my lungs. I felt as if a huge fist of ice was squeezing my heart out of my rib cage. Everywhere, my skin burned. Not with fire, but with a searing flame of cold as intense as a blowtorch. Somehow, I managed to keep the blood pulsing through my body. Still quaking with cold, I continued to sink into the water. At the bottom, I followed the beam of light Lady Ahn held steadily on my target. Reaching the narrow cave entrance, I slithered in.

  Inside, after a few feet, it became pitch-dark again. I rose quickly, expecting to break water, but nothing happened.

  My lungs ached with stale air. I let it out in a steady stream of bubbles. Soon, my lungs were empty, and screaming to be refilled.

  I must've swum up half the depth of the pool, maybe twenty feet. Still no air. Panic churned inside of me. I fought it down.

  I kept swimming, frantic to breathe again. Maybe I should turn back?

  I stopped, swiveled around, started to kick back the way I had come. But then I stopped. No way. I'd never hold my breath that long. I had to go on.

  I turned and continued up through the darkness. Reaching forward, groping for the surface, praying for it to arrive. My chest writhed in agony.

  I had to have air and I had to have it soon.

  Something slimy grabbed my arm.

  I wrenched at it. A poisonous eel? The tentacle of a great squid? Whatever the hell it was, I jerked it from my arm, my fingers sinking into mushy flesh, and broke free.

  Just some plant. Was this chamber clogged with seaweed? Or filled to the top with water? Had the airhole Lady Ahn mentioned been caved in centuries ago?

  I kept swimming upward; a blind creature thinking only of air. Suddenly my head smacked into rock. I almost passed out. I clawed upwards, fingernails shredding against the roof of the stone chamber. No air. I had to go back!

  I groped blindly, my lungs searing with the sharp prick of a dozen daggers.

  Air! I needed air!

  I kicked, trying desperately to turn myself around. I'd have to swim back down to the bottom again, out of this tunnel, and then back up to the surface of the pool.

  But how would I make it? There was no way I could stand this flaming pain in my chest any longer. I needed air now!

  Suddenly, my flailing arm broke through to open water.

  The rock wasn't a roof after all. Just an outcropping.
I shot up past it, an explosion of pain searing my lungs. The opening from the rock wall to the outcropping was very narrow; rock scraped the flesh of my chest as I pushed through.

  And then I felt it. The surface.

  I exploded up like some demented sea lion; roaring, gasping for air. I inhaled greedily. My lungs filled with dust and decay but also with air. Sweet air!

  I inhaled and exhaled with conscious effort. Savoring the sensation.

  In the darkness which surrounded me, I groped along a craggy limestone wall and found a ledge. Propping my elbows atop it, I pulled myself onto dry land.

  I crawled forward, still groping. Objects. Some made of wood. Some of metal. Some box-shaped, others like teapots or vases or delicately carved icons. Some were cool to the touch. Smooth. Carefully varnished.

  What treasures these must be if I could only see!

  Finally, I found what I was after. Even though it was larger than I expected, there was no mistake.

  It had the smooth, solid feel of jade. Curved, its surface pimpled with details. All along the inner and outer surface, it was intricately crafted with minute design. Not a pattern. Everything slightly different. Never repeating itself.

  I'd found the jade skull.

  I hefted the skull in both hands, turned it upside down, imagined it filled to the brim. I could almost smell the biting, rancid odor of the fermented mare's milk Kublai Khan used to drain from it seven centuries ago.

  The skull made me feel oddly powerful. Any man who could drink from an object such as this had to be a man amongst men. A king. An emperor. Definitely a standout at Eighth Army Happy Hour.

  Something slithered against my thigh. I recoiled instinctively and reached down. A snake! No, whatever it was wriggled out of my grasp. A lizard, I decided. Maybe a salamander.

  No sense waiting down here to find out what other types of critters might be intrigued by a warm body. I took three deep breaths, then lowered myself back into the icy water.

  Sinking down with the jade skull was easier than com- ing up. I knew what to expect now and wouldn't panic. I'd make my air last longer. When I reached the bottom, I cradled the antique in my arms to protect it from jagged granite. As I swam back into the bottom of the pool, I was almost blinded by the quavering beam of the light far above. Soon, I could see her. Lady Ahn. Crouched forward. Ernie hovering behind her.