“Nice company you keep, Weyworth.”
“What do you want?”
I shrugged. “Just want to talk to you.”
One of the Greeks stepped forward. Ernie raised his pool cue. The man stopped.
“Tell your buddies to lay off. We’re not after them. We’re after you.”
“You tell ’em,” Weyworth said.
Apparently, he just had. One of the Greeks waved his free hand at me and said, “Go. You go.” He motioned toward the back door.
Ernie grabbed a second pool cue and tossed it to me. I grabbed it on the fly.
“How was your trip to Seoul?” I asked Weyworth.
“How do you know about that?”
“What was the purpose of the trip, Nick? Sightseeing?”
“None of your damn business.”
“Or maybe picking up some contraband and selling it to these gentlemen.” I studied the bar and the coats the Greeks were wearing. If Weyworth had just dropped off some contraband, it had to be small, something like jewelry. Dope was out of the question. Not only is there a small market for it in Korea but, more importantly, the punishment for trafficking in narcotics in the Republic of Korea is death. I couldn’t imagine even these guys would be that stupid. “Maybe these guys brought something into port,” I said. “Something valuable, and you transported it north to Seoul and made the sale.”
Weyworth squirmed. “Get the hell out of here.”
“You’re coming with us, Weyworth.”
Ernie stepped toward him. The Greeks started forward, but we both brandished our pool cues. They stopped. The sailors spoke enough English to understand that we weren’t after them, only Weyworth. And if the transaction had already been made, if they already had their money, they wouldn’t be willing to fight over keeping him here.
At least that’s the way I read the situation.
I covered Ernie as he approached Specialist Four Nicholas Q. Weyworth at the end of the bar. The Greeks stood their ground. Ernie finally reached Weyworth and shoved him with his pool cue. He threw him up against the bar and turned him around, keeping a weather eye on the Greeks. He was about to handcuff the young man, who kept squealing in protest.
“I ain’t done nothing.”
But just as Ernie snapped shut the cuffs, a plate flew through the air. I ducked. Another plate swooped toward me, and this one connected. I shrugged it off, but by now one of the Greeks had taken advantage of the distraction and was scuttling toward me, a knife with a gleaming blade held in front of him.
I swung the pool cue. He dodged it and lunged. I sidestepped, feeling the blade slice my jacket near my elbow. I twisted the cue and slammed him flush in the gut. As he doubled over, another Greek jumped on my back and I rolled with the jarring force of his body and twisted forward and then he was upside down careering through the air.
Glassware and chairs and pool cues flew everywhere. Weyworth ran past me, heading for the front door. I lunged for him but missed. I saw Ernie punching and wrestling with two Greeks, and I ran toward them. At the same time I heard footsteps tromping in from the back and someone shouting “Halt!” The front door slammed open, and there was cursing in Greek. I shoved a guy away from Ernie, and he reeled toward the front door. I ran after him.
Just as I stepped outside, watching for knives-and just when I started to breathe the fresh tang of mist-laden air-I was hit with something heavy.
Right in the face.
When I woke up, I was lying flat on my back in a bed with crisp white sheets. My eyes focused on a weasel staring down at me. Then I realized it wasn’t a weasel, but something worse: Lieutenant Messler.
“You look like shit,” he said.
I tried to move my lips. They weren’t working very well. Finally, I croaked out a sound. “Where’s Ernie?”
“Oh, he’s fine. A couple of scratches and bruises. Nothing serious. Lucky for you Sergeant Norris and his partner hung around the area.”
Probably on Messler’s orders, to keep an eye on the CID guys from Seoul who were messing around in their area of operations.
“Who hit me?” I asked.
“Don’t know. Probably a third-country national. Try to remember, Agent Sueno, Eighth Army encourages us to make friends with our international neighbors.”
I meant to say “Screw you,” but I think it came out more like “Scoo you.” I can’t be sure, because my hearing wasn’t too great either. Suddenly I felt dizzy staring at Lieutenant Messler, and a nurse came over and shooed him away. “What about Weyworth?” I managed to croak before he walked away.
“Who?” he said, stepping back to the edge of the bed.
“Spec Four Weyworth.”
“Nobody else was there when Norris and his partner found you. Just you and Bascom. Knocked out. Lying on the floor.” Then he grinned a weasel-like grin. “Good show, old chap.”
He chortled and disappeared.
My eyes popped open. I’m not sure how long I’d been out, but it was still dark outside. A yellow-bulbed lamp glowed dimly next to my bed. A figure sat in a chair, so silently that I almost hadn’t noticed he was there. He grinned and leaned into the light.
Ernie.
“They say you’ll be fine,” he said. “Just a mild concussion. Nothing to worry about.”
“Good.”
I started to get up. He held out his hands. “You should rest. At least until the morning.”
“What time is it now?”
“Zero five hundred.”
I groaned. “Do you know who hit me?”
“Greek sailors,” he replied. “I popped a couple of them good. Would’ve popped more if Norris and his partner hadn’t interrupted me.”
“Chased them away?”
“Yeah.”
“What about Weyworth?”
“One of the Greeks managed to get hold of my keys somehow.”
“He escaped?”
“Yeah.”
Ernie hadn’t been “popping them good” like he’d claimed. He’d been overcome just as I had. Sergeant Norris and his partner had apparently saved our butts.
There was a metal guard taped to my nose. I pulled it off.
“You look mah-velous, dah-ling,” Ernie said.
“Screw you.” I climbed out of bed, found my clothes stuffed in a bag beneath the nightstand, and started slipping them on. “Maybe we should wake up the armorer,” I said.
Ernie opened his coat. The butt of a. 45 peeked out of a holster.
“‘Great minds’ and all that,” he said.
Two hours later, we were sitting at the PX cafeteria sipping coffee and perusing the morning edition of the Pacific Stars and Stripes. I was very conscious of my nose. It was puffed up and bright red and almost glowed, and it was very tender to the touch. While drinking, I was careful not to tilt my coffee mug back too far.
We’d already been out to Weyworth’s hooch. Jeannie’s mother woke up angry and remained angry while we asked about Weyworth, claiming he hadn’t come home last night. We searched her hooch and its environs just to make sure. Ernie thought she was cute when she was angry.
“She’s cute when she does anything,” I replied.
We returned to the compound, and by then the cafeteria was open.
Now that the grill was heated up, I hobbled over to the serving line and ordered a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich, hold the mayo. Ernie had scrambled eggs and sausage. While we ate, I gradually started to feel more human.
“So, if you were Weyworth,” I asked Ernie, “where would you go?”
“Back to my hooch.”
“To face your angry girlfriend?”
“Hell, yeah. She’s cute.”
“But eventually you’d be arrested by the likes of you and me.”
“Maybe. But I wouldn’t be locked up long. The Greeks don’t talk-mouthing off to cops isn’t in their nature-and if I kept my mouth shut and said nothing more than that I wanted to talk to a lawyer, I’d be out in a couple of hours.”
“You know that because you work in law enforcement. Weyworth doesn’t necessarily know that.”