Ernie’s military training had stood him in good stead during two tours in Vietnam and it stood him in good stead now. He flattened himself and as he did so a second gunshot erupted from the front of Snake’s mansion. The round winged through the air just a few feet above Ernie’s head. He low-crawled across the roof.
I jumped down into the cul-de-sac first, then helped Doc Yong. Ernie followed. From the shouts in front of Snake’s mansion, his men had realized where we’d gone. In seconds they’d be scurrying through connecting pathways, trying to cut us off.
We ran.
Itaewon is a maze of pedestrian walkways. All the twists and turns and dead ends and curving paths doubling back on themselves would baffle an Apache tracker, especially on a dark night with snow falling. But Ernie had a general rule: head toward booze. That is, keep yourself oriented on the two- and three-story buildings that rise along the edge of the strip that is the beating heart of the nightclub district of Itaewon. The neon was not blinking because of the lateness of the hour-and the electricity outage. And the night sky with its overhanging snow clouds was pitch black. Only the occasional flicker from indoor candlelight or the flame of a charcoal stove illuminated a small portion of the world. Despite these handicaps, Ernie somehow kept us oriented. The pathways were covered with slippery snow as were the rooftops and the ledges and the windowsills and since it was past the midnight curfew not a soul was on the streets except us. Even the white mice seemed to have hunkered down in their barracks for the night. Occasionally, we stopped and listened. Muffled shouts. Footsteps tromping on ice. Snake and his gaggle of fledgling Dragons were still following.
Finally, an alley we were traversing emerged onto the main drag just north of the King Club. Ernie peered around the corner. Then he leaned back toward me and whispered, “Looks like it’s all clear.”
“Let’s hope,” I said.
“Where to now?” Ernie asked.
The only place of safety I could think of was the Itaewon Police Station.
Ernie nodded. “It’s a long straight run. They might’ve stationed some of their boys in the alleys off to the side, figuring we’d come this way.”
“We’ll have to chance it,” I said.
Doc Yong tugged at my sleeve. I turned to look at her and in the darkness I could barely make out the smooth features of her face. I leaned closer until our noses touched.
“Across the street,” she said. “Someone’s waving.”
I turned and studied the area she’d indicated. Rotating my head, using my peripheral vision, I finally saw it. Movement. And then I realized it was someone’s hand, waving back and forth, trying to catch our attention while being careful to stay out of sight from the main street.
Ernie followed my gaze. “Who is it?”
I shook my head. I didn’t know.
Doc Yong stepped between us and said, “Miss Kwon. She’s trying to lead us to safety.”
“Her?” I asked. “What’s she doing out so late?”
“People must’ve seen your jeep entering Itaewon,” Doc Yong said. “Word spread. Someone told her you were back. She knew you were probably looking for me so she’s been standing here, waiting to help.”
True dedication to Doc Yong. No time to discuss that now.
“I’ll go first,” Ernie said. “You two follow, if I don’t get shot.”
“No,” I said. “I’ll go first.”
“Not a chance.” Ernie dropped to the ground and low-crawled into the street. He moved amazingly fast, like a serpent slithering across tile. Seconds later, he was standing next to Miss Kwon, beckoning for us to follow.
I told Doc Yong that speed was more important than keeping a low profile so, instead of trying to crawl like Ernie, she darted across the ice-covered main drag of Itaewon in a crouch. I held my. 45, ready to return fire if anyone took a potshot at her. No one did.
I was next and I sprinted at top speed across the road figuring that quickness and the element of surprise would keep me safe.
With her single crutch propped beneath her arm, Miss Kwon bowed to Doc Yong. Then, without a word, she turned and hobbled off into the dark maze, leading the way.
Ernie sensed it before I did. Footsteps behind us. Miss Kwon was moving faster now-one step and a thump, one step and a thump. We were still following a long, seemingly endless footpath.
Behind us, urgent speaking. Men’s voices. Then footsteps, picking up speed.
“Bali,” Miss Kwon said. She broke into a more rapid step, thump, step, thump.
We trotted forward, moving as fast as we could but our progress was impeded by Miss Kwon. Doc Yong stayed beside her, holding her arm, letting me know that there was no way we were going to leave Miss Kwon behind.
The footsteps were gaining.
Ernie turned, pulled his. 45 and said, “You go on ahead. I’ll hold them off.”
“No. Come on. We’ll make a turn up here and lose them,” I said.
“There,” Ernie said, pointing to an overturned handcart. It blocked most of the open space at an intersection of two narrow pedestrian pathways. Ernie crouched behind it. Looking back, he had an unimpeded line of sight of about ten yards. In the middle of the ten yards another extremely narrow alley-just a fissure between buildings-ran off on one side of the pathway. It was unlikely that Snake’s boys would find cover there.
“When they round the corner,” Ernie said, “I’ll fire over their heads. That’ll give you guys time to get away. Then while they’re hiding and trying to figure out what to do, I’ll sneak off after you.”
“OK,” I said, “but remember, only fire over their heads.”
“Don’t sweat the small stuff, Sueno. Where will I meet you?”
It would be impossible to reach the Itaewon Police Station. They expected us to head there and they’d have plenty of men, and firepower, waiting for us. I was still thinking this over when Miss Kwon piped up.
“Itaewon Market,” she said. “I know good place.”
“Where?” Ernie asked.
“No sweat. We hide. Warm place. Wait till sun come out.”
Footsteps crunched on ice. We turned. Doc Yong dragged Miss Kwon off into the shadows. Two shadows emerged from around the corner ten yards away as Ernie and I crouched behind the handcart. More shadows joined the lead two and, like a phalanx of ancient warriors, the men marched down the narrow pathway.
Ernie leveled his. 45 at them.
“Higher,” I said.
The barrel didn’t move. The men continued down the pathway. Ernie’s fist tightened. Just as the gang of thugs reached the halfway mark, another shadow emerged from the fissure between the buildings on the other side of the road. It was huge, like a tall stick figure, and something long and dark swung in a wicked arc. The thump was so loud I felt it rather than heard it. The first two shadows at the head of the formation crumpled to the ground. Then the stick swung again and another thump ensued, and then another.
The formation backed up around the corner, away from us. The stick figure ran toward us, rod upraised, like a gangly avenging angel. Ernie pointed the barrel of his. 45 right at him. When he was a few feet away I recognized him from the thin, angular shape of his body.
“Cort,” I said and Ernie lowered the barrel of his. 45.
“How’d you find Miss Kwon?” I asked.
“I’ve known her a long time,” Cort answered.
We sat in a wooden enclosure about ten feet by ten feet and only four feet high. The floor was stained with purple dye and the entire enclosure reeked of lard.
“Pigs’ house,” is what Miss Kwon called it as she’d led us into the Itaewon Market. We moved through abandoned stalls laden with freshly fallen snow and then beneath canvas overhangs to a tightly packed grouping of wooden counters. We crawled beneath the counters and then through a low wooden door and entered a manmade tunnel that twisted twice before ending in this vile enclosure. The place reeked of flesh and a sheen of ice covered the cement, as if it had been thoroughly washed as the freeze set in.