in the darkness, I could see that Herman's features were bunched into wrinkles of worry.
"Follow my lead," I told him. "But if you see a chance to grab Mi-ja, take it. Better to have her and to fight for her—no matter what happens—than to let them keep her."
Herman nodded. "What if they have guns?"
"Not likely. They're foreigners."
In Korea, gun control is absolute. No nonsense like the bad guys have guns but the good guys don't. No way. In Korea, nobody has guns. No one except the Korean National Police and the military. And each weapon is tightly accounted for, from manufacture to dismantling. No black market for guns exists in Korea. And if anybody tried to start one and was caught, the sentence would be death.
The chances of a group of foreigners managing to buy small arms once they arrived in-country was slim to none. Knives, though. Clubs and axes. That was a different matter. What happened next in the temple could get rough. But I knew that Ernie wouldn't let me down. And something told me that, in a fight, Herman wouldn't be any slouch, either.
When we'd busted him for black-marketing, I'd seen Herman's military record. He'd been a straight-leg grunt in the Korean War and an infantry platoon sergeant in Vietnam.
I pulled the roll of dimes out of my pocket and clenched them in my left fist. Herman adjusted a short cudgel beneath the belt behind his back.
We stepped across the cobbled street to the Temple of the Dream Buddha.
____________
IT WAS DARK INSIDE, I KNEW IT WOULD BE, BUT THERE WAS NO way to hide our entrance. The old varnished boards creaked with every step.
I felt bad about not taking off our shoes at the entrance— it seemed like a great sacrilege—but with a little girl's life at stake we couldn't add the disadvantage of being barefoot to all the other disadvantages we were facing. The golden Buddha seemed to recognize our breach of religious etiquette: Somehow the corners of his smile had lowered into a frown.
The heavy sting of incense pricked its way up my nostrils. I snorted a couple of times. So did Herman.
Brightly painted statues of saints and demons flanked the Buddha. In the darkness, some of their faces seemed almost human. Something moved. Herman grunted. I swiveled.
A man, a dark Asian man, stood next to the red-faced effigy of a snarling demon. The man's arms were crossed, he wore a heavy jacket and wool slacks, and his head was shaved bare. He smiled at our surprise. With one finger, he pointed up the stairs in front of us.
I turned and looked. It was dark up there.
As if on cue, another high moan drifted down from the upper floors. Mi-ja.
Herman took a step toward the man. I grabbed his arm.
"He's just a lookout," I told Herman. "If we beat the crap out of him, they could hurt her. Our only choice is to go upstairs, listen to what they have to say."
Herman was breathing heavier now. He didn't answer me but turned and followed me up the stairs.
The only light was the glimmer from the candles below. The stairs were so narrow that I had to cant my shoulders to squeeze through. Helpless, I thought. And the kidnappers are waiting for us. I felt my heart beating wildly in my chest, pumping blood up through my throat.
Finally, a shaft of moonlight revealed an open chamber. I stepped into it. Men pressed around me. All of them Asian, burly, their arms crossed. Knives stuck in broad sashes around their waists. I scanned the room for Mi-ja. She wasn't there.
One of the men stepped forward. I raised my fists but he paused and held up his open palms. Then he made patting motions. He wanted to frisk me.
Another moan drifted down from upstairs. "She's up there," Herman said hoarsely.
"And they won't allow us to see her," I told him, "unless we allow them to frisk us."
"No sweat," Herman said, glancing at the tough faces around the room. "My little cudgel wasn't going to do much good, anyway."
"Okay," I said. "But be careful when they get close. It could be a trick."
I
"Follow my lead," I told him. "But if you see a chance to grab Mi-ja, take it. Better to have her and to fight for her—no matter what happens—than to let them keep her."
Herman nodded. "What if they have guns?"
"Not likely. They're foreigners."
In Korea, gun control is absolute. No nonsense like the bad guys have guns but the good guys don't. No way. In Korea, nobody has guns. No one except the Korean National Police and the military. And each weapon is tightly accounted for, from manufacture to dismantling. No black market for guns exists in Korea. And if anybody tried to start one and was caught, the sentence would be death.
The chances of a group of foreigners managing to buy small arms once they arrived in-country was slim to none. Knives, though. Clubs and axes. That was a different matter. What happened next in the temple could get rough. But I knew that Ernie wouldn't let me down. And something told me that, in a fight, Herman wouldn't be any slouch, either.
When we'd busted him for black-marketing, I'd seen Herman's military record. He'd been a straight-leg grunt in the Korean War and an infantry platoon sergeant in Vietnam.
I pulled the roll of dimes out of my pocket and clenched them in my left fist. Herman adjusted a short cudgel beneath the belt behind his back.
We stepped across the cobbled street to the Temple of the Dream Buddha.
____________
IT WAS DARK INSIDE, I KNEW IT WOULD BE, BUT THERE WAS NO way to hide our entrance. The old varnished boards creaked with every step.
I felt bad about not taking off our shoes at the entrance— it seemed like a great sacrilege—but with a little girl's life at stake we couldn't add the disadvantage of being barefoot to all the other disadvantages we were facing. The golden Buddha seemed to recognize our breach of religious etiquette: Somehow the corners of his smile had lowered into a frown.
The heavy sting of incense pricked its way up my nostrils. I snorted a couple of times. So did Herman.
Brightly painted statues of saints and demons flanked the Buddha. In the darkness, some of their faces seemed almost human. Something moved. Herman grunted. I swiveled.
A man, a dark Asian man, stood next to the red-faced effigy of a snarling demon. The man's arms were crossed, he wore a heavy jacket and wool slacks, and his head was shaved bare. He smiled at our surprise. With one finger, he pointed up the stairs in front of us.
I turned and looked. It was dark up there.
As if on cue, another high moan drifted down from the upper floors. Mi-ja.
Herman took a step toward the man. I grabbed his arm.
"He's just a lookout," I told Herman. "If we beat the crap out of him, they could hurt her. Our only choice is to go upstairs, listen to what they have to say."
Herman was breathing heavier now. He didn't answer me but turned and followed me up the stairs.
The only light was the glimmer from the candles below. The stairs were so narrow that I had to cant my shoulders to squeeze through. Helpless, I thought. And the kidnappers are waiting for us. I felt my heart beating wildly in my chest, pumping blood up through my throat.
Finally, a shaft of moonlight revealed an open chamber. I stepped into it. Men pressed around me. All of them Asian, burly, their arms crossed. Knives stuck in broad sashes around their waists. I scanned the room for Mi-ja. She wasn't there.
One of the men stepped forward. I raised my fists but he paused and held up his open palms. Then he made patting motions. He wanted to frisk me.
Another moan drifted down from upstairs. "She's up there," Herman said hoarsely.
"And they won't allow us to see her," I told him, "unless we allow them to frisk us."
"No sweat," Herman said, glancing at the tough faces around the room. "My little cudgel wasn't going to do much good, anyway."
"Okay," I said. "But be careful when they get close. It could be a trick."
I
Similar Books
