Her husband looked disheveled, his suit coat wrinkled, his collar loose and his brown tie askew. She wore a traditional Korean chima-chogori, the skirt and blouse of white silk with blue embroidery, as if she were on her way to church. Or a Confucian ceremony.
Apparently, hospital gossip had reached her already. She knew that her daughter had been shot by an American gun. One that had been lost in a most irresponsible manner. And she wasn’t happy with me. That much was clear.
“Tangshin!” she screamed. You!
Then she opened her fingers wide, sharp nails pointing at my face, and charged.
The thieves carrying my. 45 and badge walked into the Olympos Casino at eleven hundred hours, the minute it opened. They presented themselves to the security guard- speaking English, flashing my CID badge-and the guard ushered them behind the blackjack tables to the desk of the casino manager, Mr. Bok.
This is another example of the power of Americans in Korea. In the early Seventies, with the United States still in the throes of the Cold War tussle between capitalism and communism, the military junta running Korea receives millions of dollars annually in American military and economic aid. Therefore, representatives of the U.S. Government-even lowly GIs-are not questioned. We’re presumed to be legitimate. Questioning a GI would be like questioning cash.
The blond-haired criminal told Mr. Bok that they were from 8th Army CID. They were investigating a case concerning a GI who had been frequenting the casino, attempting to buy American currency with Korean won. Mr. Bok denied that there had been any such transaction. Buying American dollars with Korean won is a widespread practice on the black market, but it is not legal. Korean casinos allow players to buy chips with U.S. dollars but if you win, the winnings are paid in Korean won. Dollars will be replaced only up to the amount for which you bought in. Won is a controlled currency and is not internationally traded. Besides, Bok told them, few Americans venture into the Olympos Casino. He would’ve remembered.
Both of the supposed CID agents wore civilian jackets and ties-just like real 8th Army CID agents-and both wore sunglasses. The man doing all the talking resembled Ernie in that he had light, sandy blond hair and white skin.
The other man, the one who presented my CID badge, didn’t speak. He was dark-complected, with brown, wavy hair, and was dressed in the same manner, in coat and tie and shades. He appeared to be American. That is, he was tall, almost six feet, and his shoulders were husky and his arms and legs long, and he had hair on the back of his hands.
Maybe his appearing with an American, and being dressed the same way, had thrown Mr. Bok off. I asked him about this.
He disagreed. He knows a Korean when he sees one. This man wasn’t Korean.
I asked Bok if he’d taken a good look at the photograph that accompanied the CID badge. He admitted that he hadn’t. The dark man had flashed it at him as if impatient, and after Bok saw the official-looking American document in its impressive leather case, he hadn’t mustered the nerve to examine it more closely.
Understandable. Korea is a police state. People aren’t in the habit of questioning badges.
Most Korean casinos don’t have cameras. The film and the necessary apparatus are seen as being too expensive. What with total gun control, the rate of armed robberies in Korea is less than one-tenth of what it is in the States. Korea is a safe society. Even for a woman walking alone at night through a dark alley. At least, it’s usually safe.
Once the two phony CID agents were inside the cashier’s cage, the staff stopped paying attention to them. Quietly, so as not to ignite a panic, the Caucasian man pulled a. 45 and ordered the security guard to lie face down on the floor. He disarmed the security guard, kept his weapon, and tossed what I presumed to be my. 45 to his darker-skinned accomplice. While the Caucasian thief watched Mr. Bok stuff money into a canvas bag, the other thief exited through the back door of the cashier’s cage. The Caucasian thief seemed to be surprised and upset by this, Bok said, but he continued collecting the money and making sure that neither Bok nor the supine security guard nor any of the three cashiers alerted other casino personnel.
By Bok’s estimate, the Caucasian thief had systematically plundered 2.4 million won, about five thousand dollars U.S.
Ten minute later, the taller and darker thief returned, face flushed and out of breath. He was alone, but he looked extremely upset and agitated and, with his. 45, he motioned to his partner that it was time for them to leave.
They did. Without further incident. Carrying the canvas bag loaded with loot between them.
After they left, Mr. Bok notified the Korean National Police and soon the entire casino was aware of what had happened. Gaming stopped. Employees and customers alike gathered around the iron-barred cage as the cashiers tearfully told their story. With the now recovered security guard and a couple of the male pit bosses, Mr. Bok entered the hallway behind the cashier’s cage and ventured up to the owner’s office. There they found the smashed and torn photo of the owner’s relatives and, beyond that, the undisturbed office.
Or at least the office seemed at first to be undisturbed. The small fire-escape door was open, and sea air laced with rain blew in. When Mr. Bok went to close the door, he found her. Tearfully, he explained to Ernie and me that Miss Han Ok-hi lay naked and unconscious in a pool of her own blood.
Naked? I questioned him about that, but Lieutenant Won interrupted angrily and claimed that her lack of clothing had nothing to do with this case and nothing to do with Ernie and me finding the GI who shot her. When I asked about the whereabouts of the boss, he grew even more angry.
Apparently, the Inchon KNPs were on the payroll of the owner of the Olympos Casino. No surprise there. In Korea, civil servants supplement their income in creative ways. Technically, it’s not legal, but the practice is so widespread that people expect it, so much so that the official salaries of policemen and other government employees are purposely kept low. The public expects them to make as much as their salary, if not more, on the side. Why pay them well if they’re going to steal anyway?
I asked again about the owner. I felt it was important that we interview him. Lieutenant Won steadfastly refused. Ernie took over the argument, raising his voice, causing Lieutenant Won to grow red in the face. While Ernie waved his arms and ranted, I pulled Mr. Bok aside. Under further questioning, Bok admitted that occasionally some of the female blackjack dealers perform hostess duties for the casino owner when he entertains guests in his office. Had there been any guests today? No, not that Bok knew of. Then why was Han Ok-hi acting as hostess? Bok blushed at that but wouldn’t answer. I asked if Miss Han’s hostess duties included taking off her clothes. He flushed and shook his head and refused to answer further questions on the subject.
The Korean National Police arrived only moments after Mr. Bok’s telephone call.
A quick search of the surrounding area turned up nothing. It was thought that the thieves must’ve had a vehicle waiting nearby. So far, the KNPs had discovered no witnesses who had seen the two men enter the casino or, more importantly, leave. But they were still canvassing the neighborhood and had high hopes that they would convince some courageous citizen to talk to them soon.
Koreans, by the nature of their experience during most of the Twentieth Century, are reluctant to become involved with the police. But they will open up, Lieutenant Won told us, when offered an incentive. The weathered old cop slugged his fist into his leather-clad palm and grinned a crooked-toothed grin.
Before the claws belonging to the mother of Han Ok-hi could rip into my flesh, I threw up my arms. But by then it was too late. She was on me, swinging at my chest, my face, shoving into me with all her strength. I staggered backward and almost tumbled onto one of the patients, but at the last second the technician braced me and kept me from falling. By now, Ernie had stepped past me, and he and the husband and Doctor Oh surrounded the writhing woman and held her. Her face blazed an angry red and she screamed invective at me, most of which I couldn’t understand, and then she was spitting and trying to push forward again. The three men held firm. The mother of Han Ok-hi strained against them, and then, as if all her massive strength had left her, she stopped. Her mouth shut and she stared at me, confused. She gazed around the green glow of the Critical Care Unit, as if she had just awoken from a dream.