When I didn’t reply, Snake went on. “Once Snake have what Snake want, then you get what you want.”
He pulled something black and long out of his back pocket and tossed it atop my chest. I writhed in panic. For a second, I thought it was a snake; and then I relaxed. The metal disc at the end felt cold against my chest. It was a stethoscope.
“You bali bali,” Snake said. You hurry. “She strong woman, stubborn too, like you. But if no eat, all the time have boom-boom, then pretty soon die.
The faceless men behind Snake started to laugh. Their laughter grew louder and then Snake left the room and his men followed. Even after the footsteps of Snake and his thugs faded, I could still hear them laughing.
What Snake had that I wanted was Doc Yong. “Boom-boom” is G.I. slang for having sex.
I strained at the leather straps that held me. They wouldn’t budge.
I’m not sure how long I lay tied to the gurney. Maybe a couple of hours. I was dozing off again when I woke to the sound of someone fiddling with the door to the clinic. The door opened and amber light from a streetlamp streamed in. Then, whoever had entered, shut the door again. I strained to see but I was tied too flat to be able to get a good look.
Footsteps pounded toward me in an uneven rhythm: first a clump and then a step and then another clump.
A round face peered down at me. Miss Kwon. She placed her forefinger to her lips, warning me to be quiet. Then in the dim light she studied the leather straps that held me. With the hand that wasn’t holding her crutch, she systematically released them. Finally, I could sit upright.
“How did you know I was here?” I asked.
“I watch,” she said. “I see you talk Jimmy Pak. I see Jimmy Pak become taaksan angry.” Very angry. “Then I see they follow you. I know something bad happen. When I no see you later, I come here find up.”
“Thanks,” I said.
Her English was improving. Most of the business girls, even the ones with only a middle-school education, studied English in school. Once they arrive in Itaewon, they pick up the language fast as they gain the confidence to use what they already know.
“You gonna help Doc Yong?” Miss Kwon asked.
“How’d you know about that?”
“Anybody in village know already.”
Maybe Snake hadn’t been trying to keep it a secret.
I stood and found my shirt and jacket hanging on the back of a chair. My wallet was still in my pocket and none of my money or identification had been taken. My shoulder holster was there with the . 45 untouched. Snake and his boys had wanted to communicate, not to rob me. My head pulsed with a dull ache that seemed to radiate from my skull, slice through gray mush, and finally stab into my spine.
I buttoned my shirt and asked Miss Kwon, “Where are you going now?”
“Back to hooch.”
“To Hilliard?”
Her eyes crinkled in confusion.
“To Q?”
“Yeah,” she said. “To Q.”
She turned and hobbled out of the clinic.
I sat with my head on the front edge of the Admin sergeant’s desk, snoozing a little, mostly suffering from nightmares. I must’ve dozed off into an even deeper sleep when suddenly a doorknob rattled, the overhead fluorescent lights blazed to life, and a voice barked out, “What the hell you doing here, Sueno?”
Staff Sergeant Riley strode toward me, his polished low quarters clattering on the wood-slat floor. I sat upright, rubbing my eyes.
“You’re late,” I said.
“The hell I’m late. I’m an hour early. What’d you do? Sleep here last night?”
“No sleep,” I said. “I was reading this.”
I pointed to the stacked files of the Moretti Serious Incident Report.
“You opened my safe?”
“Why not?”
“Because I have classified documents in there. That’s why not.”
“I’m not interested in those.”
Besides, I’d relocked the safe. But I didn’t bother to explain that to Riley. He was just being his usual self. He stepped past me to the service counter and busied himself making a four-gallon urn of over-strengthed java to jump-start the staff of the 8th Army Criminal Investigation Division at the beginning of their workday.
When he was finished and the coffee was perking, I said, “I need something from you, Riley.”
He sat down behind his desk. “Will it get Mrs. Tidwell off our backs?”
“Not hardly.”
“Then don’t bother telling me. You ain’t getting it.”
I told him anyway. He listened, frowned, and the flesh of his narrow forehead wrinkled.
“How the hell am I going to find something like that?” he asked.
“You know everybody in the headquarters. Tell them to search their records.”
“Christ, Sueno, what do you need this for?”
“To save a life.”
I told him about Doc Yong. I told him about Snake.
“You mean Mr. Lim?” he asked. “The big construction honcho?”
“That’s the one.”
“You’re out of your gourd, Sueno. The 8th Army commander thinks Lim walks on water.”
“Well, he doesn’t and I’m going to prove it.”
Riley shook his head. “Is Bascom going to help you with this nonsense?”
“Of course,” I said. “And so are you.”
“What’s this gal’s name again?”
“Doctor Yong In-ja.”
“And Mr. Lim’s holding her?”
“That’s right. But in the ville they call him Snake.”
“‘Snake,’” Riley repeated. “And the guy you want me to find out about is called Cort?”
I nodded.
“Didn’t he put his full name in the SIR?”
“No,” I replied. “Just Cort.”
Riley shook his head. “Sloppy work.” Then he picked up the big black telephone on his desk. “Maybe Smitty’s in early.”
While Riley called, I continued to study the SIR. Snake said that in the SIR I’d find some clue as to who had murdered Horsehead and Water Doggy. How he knew that, I had no idea. Maybe he was just making it up, trying to get me to try all angles to solve the case. Or maybe there was something here. I went over the notes I’d made during the hours that I’d pored through the multiple folders and stacks of papers that constituted the Moretti SIR.
After helping myself to a cup of Riley’s coffee, I concluded that there was only one item in the SIR that might have a bearing on the murders of Horsehead and Water Doggy: the list of valuables that had been turned over by the refugee families to Mori Di for safekeeping. The names on the list were the names of aggrieved people who’d been robbed and-in some cases- killed in the Itaewon Massacre. People who had every reason to seek revenge on Horsehead and Water Doggy and on the Seven Dragons in general. But many of these people had either been slain in the massacre or had passed away from natural causes in the intervening two decades.
And then it dawned on me. Most likely, few of these people were still alive. But what of their children? They had been taken to an orphanage in the mountains. According to Cort, he’d traveled to the Buddhist temple there to interview the nuns who’d saved them. Maybe, if I compared the list of orphans with the list of people whose valuables had been stolen, I’d come up with a lead. Even if I didn’t, it would be something to show to Snake. Something that, just maybe, I could use to run a bluff. But I had to work fast. As soon as Ernie walked in, I told him what we had to do.
“But I’m restricted to compound,” Ernie said.
In the excitement, I’d forgotten about that. “This is an emergency,” I replied. “Staff Sergeant Riley will authorize it.”
Riley, mumbling to himself and cursing, was still working the telephone and waved us away, not hearing a word we’d said. We ran outside to the jeep. I noticed a bandage on Ernie’s hand. “What the hell happened to you?”
“I’ve taken up competitive needlepoint.”
After we pulled out the main gate and turned east on the MSR, another thought struck me. Even if I obtained the information I needed, once I went up against Snake and his thugs, I was going to need backup. But 8th Army wasn’t going to deploy a squad of MPs to go after their top civilian contractor. He didn’t even fall under 8th Army jurisdiction. I was going to need help from someone. I told Ernie to pull over and let me out in front of the Itaewon Police Station. He waited outside, engine running.