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Authors: Martin Limon
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of footsteps charged up the stairway. If any of them belonged to Herman, he'd be greatly outnumbered.
Whistles shrilled through the night. The KNPs. They were downstairs. Ragyapa and his Mongolian thugs would be trapped.
I still couldn't breathe. I tried to rise. It wasn't working.
Ragyapa snatched up Mi-ja, shuffled through the darkness, and pushed on something that creaked and let out a groan. Suddenly starlight streamed through a rectangle in the temple wall.
As the herd of men trampled over me, I raised myself up and took a swing at one of them but all my efforts got me was a thump on the side of the head. I fell back down.
Ernie was on his feet now, bouncing around like a marionette, throwing jabs and neat combinations. One of the thugs noticed, stepped inside his punch, and elbowed him neatly in the throat. Ernie crashed to the floor.
I heard more footsteps downstairs. Boots. Maybe it was Sooki who'd notified them. Whoever it was, the KNPs would save us. I was sure they would.
I tried to crawl toward Mi-ja. If I could hold her, protect her, maybe I could keep these foreign thugs off of her until we were rescued.
But when I looked up, she was gone.
A large plank had been laid down outside of the rectangular hatchway in the side of the pagoda. I dragged myself along the floor until I could see that the splintered board reached to the top of the stone wall, more than twenty feet across a dark chasm.
Ragyapa scurried across the plank, holding Mi-ja under his arm.
I bellowed in anger. None of the thugs even looked back. One by one, they tiptoed across the narrow causeway.
We had been so close. Why hadn't I brought my .38 to Itaewon tonight? We never carried arms on the black market detail, but if I'd only made an exception this one time. I wanted to blow their brains out. Each one of those arrogant bastards.
Still, I admired their planning. A wooden plank through a secret opening in an ancient Buddhist temple.
No way I could've picked up on that one.
Soon, all of Ragyapa's thugs had crossed to the safety of the stone wall. I heard gruff cursing in Korean and then the cops started upstairs. I crawled toward the plank.
If I could just hold it, I thought, so the KNPs could use the plank to cross the chasm and chase those Mongols down. We could get Mi-ja back.
Still barely able to move, I slithered closer to the edge, reached out with both hands, and grabbed on to the plank. At that moment, two thugs atop the stone wall gave it a mighty tug. I held on as tightly as I could but the wood slid through my grip. A splinter needled my skin and, as they pulled, sliced deeper into my flesh.
I screamed.
The plank slid through my fingers, tearing my flesh, and fell into the chasm, clattering to the cobbled road below. The last of the dark figures leapt off the far side of the stone wall and disappeared.
Ernie crawled over to me, clutching his side. Perspiration streamed off his forehead.
"Was that her? Was that Mi-ja?" he asked me.
I watched drops of blood squeeze past the splinter in my hand. "That was her."
Ernie spat into the night. "Next time, I'll blow me some asshole's brain out. Right through that pile of rags he calls a turban."
8
BLOOD FROM THE FIRST SERGEANT'S NECK RAN UP THE VEINS behind his jaw, reached his gray sidewalls, and began to pulse.
"Kidnapping? And you didn't report it?"
Ernie shrugged. "Herman the German didn't want us to."
"Herman the who?"
"Herman the German. An old retired lifer."
The First Sergeant of the Criminal Investigation Division paced around his desk, reached the coffee counter, and fumbled with a thick porcelain mug. He was a thick-shouldered man and always wore his dress green uniform to work, unlike Ernie and me, who were required to wear civilian coats and ties during regular duty hours. We both sat in straight-backed army-issue chairs. The ones we always sat in when we received our ass-chewings.
The First Sergeant returned to his desk, placed the half- full coffee mug
Whistles shrilled through the night. The KNPs. They were downstairs. Ragyapa and his Mongolian thugs would be trapped.
I still couldn't breathe. I tried to rise. It wasn't working.
Ragyapa snatched up Mi-ja, shuffled through the darkness, and pushed on something that creaked and let out a groan. Suddenly starlight streamed through a rectangle in the temple wall.
As the herd of men trampled over me, I raised myself up and took a swing at one of them but all my efforts got me was a thump on the side of the head. I fell back down.
Ernie was on his feet now, bouncing around like a marionette, throwing jabs and neat combinations. One of the thugs noticed, stepped inside his punch, and elbowed him neatly in the throat. Ernie crashed to the floor.
I heard more footsteps downstairs. Boots. Maybe it was Sooki who'd notified them. Whoever it was, the KNPs would save us. I was sure they would.
I tried to crawl toward Mi-ja. If I could hold her, protect her, maybe I could keep these foreign thugs off of her until we were rescued.
But when I looked up, she was gone.
A large plank had been laid down outside of the rectangular hatchway in the side of the pagoda. I dragged myself along the floor until I could see that the splintered board reached to the top of the stone wall, more than twenty feet across a dark chasm.
Ragyapa scurried across the plank, holding Mi-ja under his arm.
I bellowed in anger. None of the thugs even looked back. One by one, they tiptoed across the narrow causeway.
We had been so close. Why hadn't I brought my .38 to Itaewon tonight? We never carried arms on the black market detail, but if I'd only made an exception this one time. I wanted to blow their brains out. Each one of those arrogant bastards.
Still, I admired their planning. A wooden plank through a secret opening in an ancient Buddhist temple.
No way I could've picked up on that one.
Soon, all of Ragyapa's thugs had crossed to the safety of the stone wall. I heard gruff cursing in Korean and then the cops started upstairs. I crawled toward the plank.
If I could just hold it, I thought, so the KNPs could use the plank to cross the chasm and chase those Mongols down. We could get Mi-ja back.
Still barely able to move, I slithered closer to the edge, reached out with both hands, and grabbed on to the plank. At that moment, two thugs atop the stone wall gave it a mighty tug. I held on as tightly as I could but the wood slid through my grip. A splinter needled my skin and, as they pulled, sliced deeper into my flesh.
I screamed.
The plank slid through my fingers, tearing my flesh, and fell into the chasm, clattering to the cobbled road below. The last of the dark figures leapt off the far side of the stone wall and disappeared.
Ernie crawled over to me, clutching his side. Perspiration streamed off his forehead.
"Was that her? Was that Mi-ja?" he asked me.
I watched drops of blood squeeze past the splinter in my hand. "That was her."
Ernie spat into the night. "Next time, I'll blow me some asshole's brain out. Right through that pile of rags he calls a turban."
8
BLOOD FROM THE FIRST SERGEANT'S NECK RAN UP THE VEINS behind his jaw, reached his gray sidewalls, and began to pulse.
"Kidnapping? And you didn't report it?"
Ernie shrugged. "Herman the German didn't want us to."
"Herman the who?"
"Herman the German. An old retired lifer."
The First Sergeant of the Criminal Investigation Division paced around his desk, reached the coffee counter, and fumbled with a thick porcelain mug. He was a thick-shouldered man and always wore his dress green uniform to work, unlike Ernie and me, who were required to wear civilian coats and ties during regular duty hours. We both sat in straight-backed army-issue chairs. The ones we always sat in when we received our ass-chewings.
The First Sergeant returned to his desk, placed the half- full coffee mug
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