A Korean Tiger (14 page)

When he entered the bar it had been clear and the sun shining. Now it was raining again in bucketfulls, a sheer gray wall of water that toppled on him like surf. Nick tugged down his hat brim and trudged toward a side door leading into the train shed. As he passed his jeep he saw that it was already half full of water.

Jimmy Kim was smoking a cigarette near a baggage truck. He was a tall, good-looking man with shiny black hair and perfect teeth. Usually he dressed elegantly in tight pants and narrow shoes and a colorful sport jacket; today he was nondescript in the poncho and a dirty plaid cap.

They were on Platform 1. The station was a dank cavern smelling of sweat and urine. Down a way a group of Korean women squatted patiently, waiting for the local to Taegu.

Nick Carter halted beside Jimmy Kim. On Track 4 they were beginning to make up the Seoul train.

Nick lit a fresh cigarette. "What's the poop?"

"A Mr. and Mrs. Haikada Koto. Going to Seoul on business. She's tall for a Japanese and she does all the talking. Could be he doesn't know Japanese. Both of them wearing Western clothes. She's dowdy, plain, almost ugly. — but she doesn't, move like that, if you get what I mean?"

Nick nodded. "I get. But it isn't much to go on, is it? What put you on to them?" He failed to keep the impatience out of his voice and Jimmy Kim caught it. He smiled. "Patience, dad! It's sort of a funny story. In the first place they were the only possibles, so I stuck pretty close to them. And they didn't waste any time — they went straight to their car and got on." He nodded to Track 4 where a wheezing little switcher was shunting more cars in to join those already there.

"They're in their compartment now. Car 1066. They're locked in, and not answering the door. Sound a little funny?"

Before he answered, Nick shot a glance at the car. "You've got someone watching the other platform? They could go out a window."

Jimmy flashed his teeth. "Keep your cool, dad. You think I'm an amateur, maybe? Dinky Man is over there with a hammer or something, acting like a railroad man. They can't leave the car without our knowing."

Dinky Man was a short, powerful Korean whose real name was Chang Ho Choi. How he had come by the name of Dinky Man, Nick was never to discover. Jimmy said that Dinky Man was an ex-CID spy, had probably worked for the Commies when they had most of Korea, and could be trusted because he, Jimmy Kim, had enough on him to hang him. Nick accepted that. He trusted Jimmy — as far as he ever trusted anyone.

"We might have something this time," he told Jimmy now. "And we might not. Give me the rest of it."

"Sure. When the Kotos came off the ferry he was wearing a clean white patch over his left eye. Very clean. Like he'd just put it on. I didn't think much of it then — a lot of people wear patches. Or it could just be part of his disguise..."

Nick interrupted. "This Koto fits the part physically?"

"Perfect. A little guy, scrawny, made up to look like a Jap. If he isn't a Jap, of course."

"That's the big
if
I'm worrying about," said Nick. "Get on with it."

'They were in a hell of a hurry to get to their compartment," Jimmy went on. "I walked through the car once myself and their door was tight shut. I listened. Couldn't hear a thing."

Nick scowled at him. "That was stupid! You might have tipped them."

"I didn't. Now listen — I put Dinky Man on the job and went into the station, to the latrine, so I could use the radio. They got booths now, you know. Just like Stateside. When I came out I saw this kid at the station-master's desk. A kid in a dirty white sailor suit. So what? In a minute the stationmaster picked up the mike and started paging the Haikada Kotos!"

Nick stared at him. "Paging them? That doesn't make any sense at all. We must be wrong. The last thing in the world they would do is have somebody page them. We..."

Jimmy Kim's grin was wide. "They didn't. The ferry people did. Mr. Koto had lost a contact lens on board and it had been found. They sent a boy with it. A smart kid — he got the stationmaster to help him. He was looking for some
won,
of course."

Nick rubbed his lean jaw. A contact lens and a new patch over a man's eye. Just maybe!

"Maybe they didn't hear themselves being paged," said Jimmy Kim, "or maybe they didn't want to come out again. They didn't show up. The kid hung around for a minute or two, then started back to the ferry slip. I collared him. I gave him a wad of
won,
which I will put on my expense account, and got his story. After I got it I thought we had something — I called you again but no answer. You were on your way by then. Anyway — Mr. Koto lost the contact lens just before they docked. There was a big search for it, with no luck. The kid said Mr. Koto kept his hand over his left eye all the time they looked — said it hurt him. Finally they gave up. And when they landed Koto had the patch over his eye. The kid noticed that because he was still trying to find the lens and he felt sorry for poor Mr. Koto. Now, Nick, you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Nick squeezed his arm. "If you're right it was damned good thinking, Kim. Mr. Koto's left eye is blue!" Bennett had blue eyes.

"I think both of his eyes are blue," said Jimmy Kim. "And I never saw a blue-eyed Jap. Here, look at this."

He took something from his poncho pocket and handed it to Nick. A contact lens. Dark brown. "I bought it from the kid," said Jimmy Kim. He glanced at Nick and laughed softly. "I thought maybe you would want to give it back to Mr. Koto in person."

Nick Carter made his decision. It was worth a try. It felt right. Killmaster had a tremendous empathy for the hunted — he had been hunted so often himself — and he knew, had he been in the shoes of Bennett and the Widow, that he would have tried it this way.

"All right," he told Jimmy Kim. “I’ll buy it. I think we've got them. I'll try to get a compartment on the same car and..."

Jimmy Kim reached into his pocket again. "Have, yes, sar." He affected a pidgin at times, though he spoke perfect English. "I took the liberty, sar. You likee?" He handed Nick a ticket in a buff envelope.

Nick grinned. "I likee — you're a good boy and I'll tell them so in Washington. Now cut out the crap and listen."

"Yes, sahib."

"I've got to check this out," said Nick. "If we're right then okay — I'll handle it. All of it. If we're wrong I'll head back here as soon as I can — probably be faster to go on to Seoul and fly back. Meantime I'm making you 2IC, temporary case officer. You and Dinky Man stay on the job here. Keep meeting the ferries the same as before — those two, the Kotos, could be decoys. If anything pops here call me at the Chosen Hotel in Seoul after six in the morning — if I'm not there I'll probably be at Number 23 Dongjadong. That's out in Choonkoo. If worst comes to worst and this is a false trail, you might have to send Pok up for me in that thing you call a plane. I hope not."

Jimmy Kim showed all his teeth in a wide smile. He was delighted to be 2IC. "You're talking about the plane I love, dad. But that old jalopy will fly to Seoul and back, don't worry. It's about time we did a little work for you people, anyway. You've been subsidizing us long enough." The Flying Turtles, more formally known as Chosen Airways, Inc., had long been a "front" for AXE.

"We've been here too long," Nick said. "Let's move around a little. In a few minutes you circle around and check on that other platform and Dinky Man. We can't afford to take any chances now."

"Dinky Man will stay on the ball," said Jimmy. His tone was grim. "He knows I can get him a fast firing squad if he doesn't."

They drifted down toward the main entrance to the station and waiting room. On the way they were besieged by a horde of beggar boys, endemic to every Korean railroad station, all in rags and with sores and scabs on their shaven heads. Most of them were war orphans — and most of them would die of disease and hunger before they attained manhood.

Jimmy Kim distributed
won
to the boys and chased them away. They halted again near a news kiosk, from where they could keep an eye on Car 1066. The Seoul train was being steadily put together now as the little switcher rumbled and puffed back and forth, adding more cars. There were already ten in the string on Track 4. As they watched, another car was added, a shiny new car with a white band painted along its sides. Nick saw MPs riding in the vestibules of the car.

"That's a military car," he told Kim. "What's up?" He was frowning. If he had to kill Bennett on the train, as well he might, he didn't want to get mixed up with the military. Bennett's execution, as well as the reasons for it, had to be top secret. Killmaster had no official standing in Korea, no one to whom he could turn for help. He had, literally, only his weapons and the clothes he stood in.

"Nothing to worry about," Jimmy said. "I know all about it. A bunch of big shots, VIPs and ROK and Yank officers, are going on a tiger hunt. It was in the paper this morning."

Nick shot his subordinate a quizzical glance. "A tiger hunt? In Korea?"

Jimmy nodded. "It happens once in a great while, dad. Some beat-up, toothless old tiger wanders down south from Manchuria. The old cat can't catch game anymore, so he has to eat peasants. I've been reading about this one — he's killed four or five farmers up around Yongdong. That's in the mountains near Taejon. So some of the brass got the bright idea of organizing a tiger hunt — saves the peasants and gives the brass something to do. Look — some of them are boarding now." Jimmy Kim laughed. "They've got a bar on that car. If I was a betting man I'd put my money on the tiger."

They watched a party of American and ROK officers boarding the special car. One of the ROK officers carried a Tommy gun. Nick smiled faintly. The tiger didn't figure to have much chance.

He turned to Jimmy Kim. "Okay, kid. Go check on Dinky Man now. And from now on we don't know each other — unless an emergency pops. I think I'll just stooge around for awhile. I won't board until the last minute. So long — and luck."

"So long, dad. Good luck to you. And happy hunting. Don't worry about a thing — I'll handle things here."

Nick Carter watched the boy bounce away on springy heels, full of verve and confidence. A good kid. For just a moment Nick felt old. His stomach pained him a bit. He glanced again at Car 1066. The blinds were drawn in all the compartments.

Nick went back into the bar and had a couple more shots of the bad whisky. He lingered there, not drinking more, until the loudspeaker rasped and a singsong voice began to call the Seoul train, first in Korean, then in English: "Taegu-Kumchon-Yongdong-Taejon-Chochiwon-Chonan-Seoul. Change at Seoul for Yongdungpo and Inchon and Ascom City. The Seoul Express — leaving in ten minutes from Track 4."

Killmaster waited until one minute before train time, then walked rapidly to the train. A huge diesel was snorting softly at the head of the fifteen cars. Nick glanced at his ticket, saw that his car was 1105. Two cars removed from Car 1066.

As he walked down the line he saw Jimmy Kim lingering near the open vestibule of 1066. Nick glanced through the vestibule as he passed, saw the squat figure of Dinky Man on the far platform.

As Jimmy Kim turned away he nodded slightly and flipped his cigarette butt at the train. It hit the car midway and fell to the tracks below. Nick looked straight ahead, but he had the message. The Kotos' compartment was midway in the car.

He reached his own car and swung easily up into the vestibule. He glanced down the long line of cars. Most Korean trains were pretty bad, and anything like a time schedule was mere wishful thinking, but this train, the Seoul Express, was the Koreans' pride and joy. It had, on occasion, actually arrived in Seoul on time after a four-teen-hour run.

Nick clung to the handrail. He lit a new cigarette. Fourteen hours was a long time in his business. Almost anything could happen. On this trip it probably would.

Near the engine a little Korean conductor was waving a green flag. There was a shrill of whistles and a last-minute running by two
ichibans
in tall horsehair hats, and their fat little wives. One of the wives was carrying a huge fish. They would be traveling third class.

The long metal snake jerked and jolted as the wheels of the giant diesel spun and bit into track. The Seoul Express moved out. Nick spotted Jimmy Kim in the crowd on the platform as the train glided slowly out of the station.

A tiny Korean boy in a smart uniform showed Nick Carter to his compartment For a Korean train it was luxurious. The boy seemed proud of it. He gestured around and said, "Number one, I think. Hokay?"

Nick smiled and handed him a few
won.
"Hokay, junior. Thanks." The boy left and Nick locked the door after him. It was time now for a little planning. How was he to get in to the Kotos' compartment to check things out? See if it was really Raymond Lee Bennett and the Widow? And if it was — what then? He didn't want to kill Bennett on the train if it could possibly be avoided. But how to get him off the train? Perhaps he could arrange an accident of some kind. Maybe...

There was a soft tapping at the door of his compartment. Nick Carter came off the seat with the easy flow of a powerful cat and stood to one side of the door. He checked the Luger and the stiletto before he asked, "Who is it?"

The boy's voice said: "Is me, sar. Porter boy. I bring you towels."

"Just a minute."

Nick checked the tiny lavatory. There were no towels. He went back to the door. "Okay."

He opened the door. The woman who stood there was very beautiful, with a tall, sturdy body. Her hair was auburn, her eyes green. The little gun in her hand was rock steady on Nick's belly. Behind her was the Korean boy, staring at Nick with wide eyes.

The woman spoke to the boy. "Go now. You know what to do. Hurry!" Her English was heavily accented. A Slavic accent. So they were here, too, and they had wasted no time.