“So if she’s in a union,” I asked, “why haven’t you arrested her?”
“Maybe we do someday. Right now, we watch.”
“You want a bigger catch,” I said.
Lieutenant Taek looked at me, puzzled.
“A bigger fish,” I said, spreading my arms.
He smiled, understanding now.
“Do you think the North Koreans are helping the union?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe no. Anyway, we watch.”
I took another look through the telescope. The gigantic cannery loomed over dozens of tin-roofed shanties. What was taking place behind those walls was probably a scene right from an Upton Sinclair novel, and in a way I was glad I couldn’t see it. I thought of another question.
“What’s it mean, koshigi?”
Lieutenant Taek smiled even more broadly. “Who teach you?”
“I heard it. In Seoul.”
Taek shook his head. “Seoul people no speak. Only Cholla people.”
Of course, I knew that Miss Jo was from here, from Cholla province. “What’s it mean?” I asked.
Lieutenant Taek thought about that. “It’s like when you forget something or don’t know. So you wanna say something, anything.”
“So it means nothing,” I said.
“Or everything,” Taek responded. “But most important thing, koshigi means you’re Cholla people.”
“And Cholla people are troublemakers,” Ernie said.
Taek’s face darkened. He turned to Ernie. “Seoul people say so. Maybe they are troublemakers.”
His face flushed red. He’d said more than he intended to. But what he’d shown me was that the ancient animosity between the people of Cholla, who’d once been an independent kingdom, and those who imposed a central government from Seoul, ran very deep indeed.
I thanked Lieutenant Taek for his help and we returned to KNP headquarters.
An hour before noon, Ernie and I drove out to a long wharf near the cannery. It was lined with a promenade along the beach and what appeared to be hundreds of small fish eateries. Live mackerel splashed in green tanks. We climbed out of the jeep and walked.
“Do you suppose they’re close?” Ernie asked, meaning In-ja and my son.
“Impossible to say.”
“Right,” Ernie said. “You don’t know where they are, and if you try to find them you put them both in danger.”
“You think they’d hurt the boy?”
“Probably not,” Ernie replied. “But he’d be left without a mother.”
I nodded, knowing from experience how painful that was. My mother died when I was a toddler. My father disappeared into the endless murky sea known as Mexico. I’d been brought up by the Supervisors of the County of Los Angeles, moving from foster home to foster home. When I turned seventeen, I joined the Army.
Ernie stared out to sea. A blue KNP sedan sat parked near the beach, not too far from our jeep.
“They’re watching,” Ernie said.
“I know.”
He sighed. “You need to let it go, Sueno. In-ja and Il-yong have made a life without you. Not because they wanted to, but because they had no choice. Now it’s up to you. You can wallow in grief forever or you can suck it up and get on with it.”
“Get on with my life?”
“Yeah. With somebody else.”
“You mean Leah.”
“Whoever. That’s up to you. But someone. You’re not like me. You’re a homebody, a one-woman man.”
Beyond the vast bay in front of us, small islands dotted the horizon.
“You want some haemul-tang?” I asked. Ernie stared at me blankly. “Fish soup,” I translated.
“Before we hit the road?”
“Yes,” I said. “Before we hit the road.”
“You’re on,” Ernie said, patting the envelope in his pocket. “I’m buying.”
– 14-
We drove straight through and made it back to Seoul two hours after close of business. Staff Sergeant Riley was still at his desk.
“I know. I know,” Ernie said. And then, in a nasal voice, “Where in the hell have you two guys been?”
“The Provost Marshal is about to bust a gut,” Riley told us.
“We were on an investigation,” Ernie replied.
Riley stuck his finger into the center of his desk blotter. “You’re required to report in at zero eight hundred hours every day, Trooper. No exceptions. No ifs, ands, or buts.”
Ernie ignored him and stalked to the counter in back and tilted the stainless steel coffee urn. “What, no java?”
“You’re late,” Riley said. “By about twelve hours.”
Ernie fiddled with the coffee urn for a while, as if to prepare another pot, but finally gave up in disgust.
I sat down in front of Riley’s desk. “What’d you find out about Major Schultz?”
“What’s to find out?” he said, pulling out a sheaf of papers. “Been in the army for twelve years. ROTC from some agricultural school in Texas. Pretty good efficiency ratings. Comes to Korea and is assigned to the J-2.”
“What’d he do there?”
“His official title was Adjutant. But in reality, he was a gopher. Go for anything Colonel Jameson wanted.”
“Isn’t Jameson the J-2?” This was the full colonel in charge of military intelligence for the Joint Staff of the United Nations Command, US Forces Korea, and 8th United States Army.
“Yeah,” Riley said. “Took over about five months ago. They say he’s a go-getter.”
“So Schultz was, too?”
Riley shrugged. “Hell if I know.”
“What was Schultz working on?”
“I don’t know that either. What’s that have to do with being stabbed by some business girl in Itaewon?”
“Maybe nothing.”
“Maybe nothing is right.” Riley pointed his forefinger at me, resembling some sort of debauched Uncle Sam. “Don’t be poking your nose into things that don’t concern you, Sueno. Especially when it deals with those spooks over at J-2.”
Ernie walked back from the counter. “Who turned you into an enforcer?”
“Just a word to the wise,” Riley said.
“Wise? You’re nothing but a paper-pusher.”
After all that driving and lack of sleep and a painfully jammed finger, Ernie was in a bad mood. I stood up.
“Come on, Ernie,” I told him. “Let’s get some chow.”
He glared at Riley on the way out, and Riley glared back.
Leah Prevault, at least, was glad to hear from me.
After washing up in the barracks, I called her BOQ-Bachelor Officer Quarters-from the Charge of Quarters phone. Even though the BOQ phone sat on a small table in the hallway, shared by all the female officers who lived there, she picked up after two rings.
“I was hoping it would be you,” she said.
“Can I come over?” I asked.
“All clear on the female BOQ front,” she said.
Twenty minutes later I was knocking on her door and she let me in, glancing up and down the hallway as she did so.
“Did anybody see you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Good,” she said, throwing her arms around my neck. “That means you can stay the night.”
“Is that an order?” I asked.
“Consider it so.”
Later, I told her about Mokpo. She was quiet as she listened, and for a long time after I finished. Finally, she said, “What happens if you find her?”
“I take care of my son, that’s first and foremost.”
She waited. I knew the unspoken question she was asking. I continued. “Between me and his mother, I’m not sure. It’s been a long time.” I paused. Captain Prevault was a good shrink. Instead of prompting me with another question, she waited for me to go on. “I believe I’m over her,” I said.
She had a sharp intuition, and she also knew me well. The question rushed out of her. “But if you saw her, if she was standing right in front of you . . .”