More sirens, louder now, screamed behind me; car doors slammed. Ernie was up, crouching over Paco. Jessica had stopped screaming but her eyes were flooded with tears. She shoved Ernie out of the way, reaching for Paco. Ernie shoved her back.
She stumbled, rose to her feet, and charged at me. I was still holding the smoking. 45 pointed directly at her. She knocked it out of the way and rammed both of her small fists into my chest.
“What have you done? Why’d you shoot him?”
She punched me two more times, in the face. I held my. 45 pointed at the floor and didn’t resist. Suddenly, she kicked off her high heels, and ran in her bare feet back to Paco.
Ernie was trying to stop the bleeding that pulsed from Paco’s chest. He looked around for a compress, noticed the wad of bills sticking out of Jessica’s purse. He snatched them. “Here,” he told her. “Press these down on the wound. Press hard! So the bleeding will stop.”
Jessica knelt on the bloody floor and did as she was told. Ernie hurried over to me, grabbed my shoulders, and gazed into my eyes; he didn’t like what he saw. He moved me over to an upholstered bench against the wall, sat me down, and pried the. 45 out of my fist. He took out the clip, stuck it in his jacket pocket, and put the empty weapon back into my shoulder holster.
“Don’t move, Sueno,” he said. “You stay right here.”
Then he returned to Jessica.
Even from this distance I could see the blood seeping past Jessica’s splayed fingers and dripping down Paco’s side.
The next morning, veins not only protruded from the first sergeant’s neck but they also pulsed beneath the skin of his forehead.
“You didn’t report it?” he asked. “The daughter of the Eighth Army J-2 is being held by a Japanese mobster and you decide it’s not important enough to let anyone know?”
Ernie shrugged. “You guys would’ve just got in the way.”
“Got in the way?” The first sergeant gets like that when he’s angry; he keeps repeating whatever you say. He raised his forefinger and pointed it at me and then at Ernie. “You not only botch the operation but you end up shooting a suspect and then, to top it off, the J-2’s daughter ends up disappearing all over again!”
“We’ll find her,” Ernie said. “Piece of cake.”
We were in the CID Admin Office, taking our ass-chewing-a serious one this time. So far, no one had questioned my decision to pop a round into Corporal Paco Bernal. In the KNP report a number of witnesses testified that he had been about to stab Ernie with his bayonet. I acted to protect a fellow CID agent and everyone agreed I had no choice. Even I agreed, I think.
Staff Sergeant Riley sat at his desk, head bobbing over a stack of paperwork, attempting to stay removed from this conversation. As soon as the first sergeant raised his voice, Miss Kim disappeared down the hallway. She hadn’t returned yet.
“The provost marshal has gone ballistic,” the first sergeant continued. “He has to report to the CG and Colonel Tidwell, and tell them that two of his investigators didn’t let him know they had a lead on the whereabouts of Jessica Tidwell and then, on their own, they shot an Eighth Army G.I. and allowed Jessica Tidwell to escape again.”
Ernie didn’t say anything this time. I hadn’t said anything since the first sergeant started screaming. Actually, I didn’t feel as bad as when I thought that Paco Bernal would die from the bullet I’d blasted into him. As it was, Paco was currently in the Intensive Care Unit of the 121 Evacuation Hospital. Prognosis: guarded. Which, although not good, is better than dead. He’d lose a couple of ribs but the bullet hadn’t passed through any vital organs.
At the White Crane Hotel, seconds after Ernie sat me down on that bench, the KNPs swarmed in and took charge of the crime scene. An ambulance arrived and carted Paco away. The head KNP investigator requested an interview with Ondo Fukushima and after a few minutes, he was allowed an audience with the great man. In the opulence of Fukushima’s suite, the KNP investigator determined that the Japanese yakuza wasn’t involved in the shooting and, in fact, this entire mess was an American-style soap opera- not Korean or Japanese.
I sat pretty much stunned by what I had done-shot a man- and rejoiced inwardly when the ambulance took him away and it was reported that Paco Bernal was still breathing. Ernie, as usual, started in with the KNPs and there was a scuffle and finally a half-dozen of them cornered him on one of the couches in the lobby and questioned him without letting him go check on me.
Meanwhile, no one was paying much attention to Jessica Tidwell. I pieced it together later, mostly by talking to the bellhops and the doormen outside.
A Korean man, a large Korean man, had shown up shortly after the arrival of the KNPs. He seemed to know some of the KNP investigators but stayed studiously out of their way and finally, when he had a chance, he approached Jessica Tidwell. They seemed to know each other. He lit a cigarette for her and while she smoked and nodded he whispered in her ear. Jessica kept nodding in an absentminded sort of way. After the paramedics took Paco away, she left with the tall Korean man.
I asked the KNPs why they’d allowed her to leave. They told me the name of the man she had left with: Son Ryu-jon. I didn’t recognize it. And then, in response to my blank stare, one of the KNPs finally relented and explained, “Everybody call him Maldeigari.”
Horsehead. His influence was such that no one had stopped them.
The first sergeant still hadn’t finished our ass-chewing. “They’re saying it’s your fault that Jessica is running wild,” he told us.
“Who’s saying?” Ernie asked.
“Colonel Tidwell, the CG, even the Officers’ Wives’ Club,” the first sergeant answered. “They’re saying if you had done your jobs and picked up Jessica, none of this would’ve happened.”
“Maybe it’s their fault,” Ernie said, “for raising her like they did.”
The first sergeant pointed his finger at Ernie’s nose. “Don’t you be showing disrespect to your superior officers, Bascom.”
Before Ernie could reply, I said, “We’ll find her, Top.”
Our ace in the hole was that, despite everything that had happened, Ernie and I were still the only 8th Army CID agents who had any contacts whatsoever in Itaewon.
The phone rang. It was for the first sergeant. He said, “Yes, sir” and then “Yes, sir” again and again. About a half-dozen times. He hung up the phone and looked at us.
“That was the duty officer over at the 121 Evac. A redhead in a short skirt was spotted in the intensive care unit, hanging around Paco. A medic tried to shoo her out. She threw a tantrum, told him to go to hell.”
“Sounds like Jessica,” I said, standing up from my chair. “Did she leave?”
“Not until he threatened to call the MPs.”
We ran outside and jumped in Ernie’s jeep. After he started the engine, Ernie turned to me and said, “You OK?”
I nodded. “I’m OK. And I’ll stay OK as long as Paco Bernal keeps breathing.”
Ernie jammed the jeep in gear and roared off towards the 121 Evacuation Hospital.
When we arrived, the redhead in the ICU had already left. I asked the medic how long ago she’d left and he said about ten minutes.
In front of the main entrance to the 121 was a PX hot dog stand and a turnaround for the big black Ford Granada PX taxis. I spoke to one of the drivers and he used the radio bolted beneath his dashboard and called dispatch. The driver and the dispatcher chatted for a while in Korean and the dispatcher contacted other units, eventually locating a driver who had picked up Jessica Tidwell. I took the mic and spoke to him, surprising everyone by using Korean. This driver said the woman he picked up in front of the 121 wore a short blue dress and had been quite agitated. She’d ordered him to take her to Itaewon. He let her off on the MSR across from the UN Club, at the front entrance to the Hamilton Hotel.