Mortal Allies (52 page)

I waited till she got off the phone to room service before I explained what I hoped to accomplish. I wanted her to rifle through Choi’s files and pull aside every crime sheet that dealt with an American committing a felony, witnessing a crime, or in any way being involved in aiding or abetting a crime in Itaewon. Don’t bother to read them, I told her. Sift them out and place them in a pile. And nothing older than three years ago. And be sure to write the subjects’ names and ranks in English on the cover sheets.

I dug through Bales’s files. The good thing about being a highly experienced criminal attorney was that I’d spent eight years looking at crime sheets. You do develop a certain expertise. You know which data sections are substantively important and which are filled with meaningless procedural details. You know which pages to flip to immediately and which to ignore.

The other thing was that Bales was highly organized, precise, and not the least bit wordy. I recalled that from his statements in the Whitehall packet, and the same characteristics were evident on his crime sheets. Too bad he was rotten right down to his skivvies. Other than that, he was a dream cop.

I ruled out any crimes committed by anybody lower than a major. Not that lieutenants and sergeants and privates aren’t possibly traitorous, or in vitally sensitive positions, because the clerk to the general in charge of operations sees almost everything his boss sees. I just couldn’t be bothered at this stage. Somebody else could sift through later and see if any of those crime sheets were worth investigating more thoroughly.

I pulled out every crime sheet involving a major or higher, including those that involved their wives and kids. Army regulations require active files to be kept two years back, and a third year back for inactive files. So what I had was Bales’s records going back three years.

It was surprising how many officers or family members were connected in some way or another with a crime. It took me three hours, and Carol and I ate as we worked, but I ended up with a stack of nearly one hundred files. Most of the crimes looked fairly petty — DUIs, shoplifting, blackmarketing PX goods on the Korean economy, Peeping Toms, that kind of thing. But you never know what pushes somebody’s hot button. One guy’s innocuous trifle is another’s unbearable embarrassment. And some of the crimes looked fairly salacious. Several involved prostitution, including the wife of a full colonel who got caught three different times. An Army captain was arrested for armed robbery. A major was caught peeking in a window at a general’s wife. A lieutenant colonel flashed some schoolkids.

Carol’s stack looked twice as large as mine, and she still had another box to go. Both of us were rubbing our eyes a lot. We’d been awake since two o’clock in the morning the day before, when she and Mercer had knocked on my hotel door.

I got up and stretched and then went to the bathroom and threw some cold water over my face. When I came back, Carol was pacing and sipping from her third bottle of Evian. She’d decided to get more comfortable. She’d removed her shoes and stockings and her suit coat, so she was wearing only a short skirt and a thin, sleeveless blouse.

I said, “Tired?”

“Exhausted. This reminds me of first-year finals at law school.”

I chuckled. “Now you see what us lawyers do for a living. See what you’re missing?”

She collapsed onto the bed and her body bounced. “God, this bed feels great.”

Before she could give up on me, I said, “Hey, why don’t you go through that box? I’m gonna start cross-indexing the files.”

She groaned but sat back up. “Is there a method to this?”

“Actually, yeah. Here’s the way I figure their scam works. Choi does the initial investigation anytime an American is involved in a crime in Itaewon, right? He’s the first one on the scene, the first one to gather the facts, interview the witnesses, and collect the evidence. Then he calls Bales. Say the culprit looks malleable and entrappable. What would they do next?”

She ran both her hands through her hair, massaging her scalp. “I don’t know. He’d bring Bales in to meet the suspect, to have an American police officer on the scene.”

“Right. When the suspect sees an American CID investigator, he knows the shit is hitting the fan. Suddenly it’s no longer some infraction committed off base, limited to the Korean courts. Suddenly it’s serious. It’s going to seep into American channels, be reported to his commanding officer, put his career in jeopardy.”

“Putting the fear of God into him.”

“Right. Then maybe Bales’s job is to decide if the victim’s worth the trouble — maybe run a quick background check, see if the culprit’s got any value, if he seems susceptible, if he looks like someone they want and maybe could get.”

“In the meantime, the suspect’s left twisting in the wind, wondering if his life’s over.”

“They let the fear and tension build.”

“I can see it.”

“Okay, say Bales comes back to Choi and says they don’t want him, or he doesn’t seem the right type. They decide to throw the fish back into the sea. How do they do that?”

“I guess Bales goes ahead and fills out an American investigation report on the suspect. He gets the crime entered into the garrison blotter.”

“Exactly. They put the wheels of justice in motion. The suspect has no idea he’s just been vetted and found unworthy.”

“So we’re looking for officers who were arrested by Choi but there’s no corresponding American report filled out by Bales?”

I smiled. “In some cases, it may turn out somebody other than Bales handled it from the American side. In others, maybe the investigation didn’t pan out. But I’m willing to bet we’re going to see some that smell like they could get convictions, except they mysteriously stopped at the American fenceline, if you get my drift.”

“And you really think Choi would keep those files around?”

“Any other course would be stupid. Dangerous even. My bet would be he stamps them ‘closed for insufficient evidence,’ or titles it a dead end, then stuffs it in with everything else. He’s the chief of detectives at the precinct. Who’s gonna backcheck his cases? Plus, what happens if anybody ever asks, ‘Hey Choi, whatever happened to that old case with that American officer who got caught lifting that expensive Rolex from Old Man Lee’s jewelry shop?’ This way he can pull out the file and everything’s hunky-dory.”

Carol started going through another box, while I began cross-referencing the Korean and American files. I had organized Bales’s files alphabetically. That made it go faster. When I was done, I had about twenty unmatched Korean files.

I put them in a neat stack. Carol had culled six more out of the last two boxes. I quickly crossed-referenced the first four, but the fifth caught my attention real fast. It was Colonel Mack Janson, aka Piranha Lips, Spears’s legal adviser.

I put that one in a pile all by itself. The dessert pile.

Carol got on her knees on the floor beside me. We started going through our stacks. I asked her to read the crime, then what the witnesses said, and what evidence was collected. We eliminated six files right way, because the crime was too insignificant, or because the evidence was so flimsy the case probably fell apart under its own weight. Somebody else could double-check later to see if we underestimated or overlooked anything.

Then we hit the first one that looked suspicious; then after two more eliminations, another. When we were done we had nine that in some way smelled.

I had saved the best for last, of course. I handed Carol Mack Janson’s folder and asked her to read me the pertinent details.

She put a finger to her lips. “Let’s see. Arrested and detained on April 19, 1999, for . . . Oh my God, you’re not going to believe this.”

“Tell me,” I nearly yelled.

“Pedophilia.”

She flipped through several more pages, reading the details. Then she said, “Apparently there’s an American housing area that’s off base on the outskirts of Itaewon?”

“That’s right. Two big apartment buildings. One for junior officers and one for senior enlisted.”

“There were several reports of American children being fondled by a large Caucasian male. The reports went to the Itaewon station because the children were lured outside the grounds of the housing area before they were molested. In fact, it was Michael Bales who reported this to Choi and handled the American side of the investigation.”

“Then there should’ve been a report in Bales’s file.”

Carol still had her perky little nose tucked inside Choi’s file. “The Itaewon station put up a stakeout around the housing area at the request of American authorities. On April 19, a police officer named Pang saw a large American male wearing jeans and a sweatshirt leading a small boy out of the housing area. He led the child behind an office building and into a vacant courtyard. When Pang moved in, the man had his trousers down and was in the process of taking down the little boy’s underpants.”

I said, “Yuck, I hate child molesters.”

“Don’t we all. Anyway, the American was arrested and brought to the Itaewon precinct house. Choi took a statement from the arresting officer and handled the booking. He called in Bales, and they conducted a joint interrogation.”

“Turn to the interrogation sheet and tell me what it says.”

She flipped through the pages for a moment, then looked up. “There’s no interrogation sheet.”

“Figures. The last page, the disposition, what’s it say?”

She turned to the last page. “Closed due to lack of evidence.”

“Lack of evidence my ass. The son of a bitch had his pants down.”

“You know him?”

“Yeah, I know him. Janson is Spears’s legal adviser. He’s a lawyer. He’s also the guy overseeing the disposition of the Whitehall case. He made sure it was put on a fast track and expeditiously handled. He worked the deal to get Whitehall transferred to the Korean prison. He picked the judge. He picked the prosecuting attorney. He’s probably the guy who selected the potential members of the court-martial board.”

Carol dropped the file. “Wow.”

“Yeah, wow. The son of a bitch has been putting loads in the dice.”

I
t made no sense to sleep, so we kept working. Carol wrote down English summaries of every relevant point contained in the nine reports we’d culled out. I read through her notes and tacked on recommendations on how to further winnow down the pack.

All nine remaining files appeared in some way suspicious, but three others stuck out like outrageously rotten thumbs. For one thing, like Janson’s, they contained no witness statements.

One concerned an Army major in the intelligence section whose Korean wife was caught running a blackmarket ring. When she was arrested, she was driving a van loaded with over a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of American cosmetics. Korean women are nuts about foreign cosmetics, which have ridiculously heavy duties tacked on by customs in Korea’s staunchly protected economy. As blackmarket goods go, they’re hot sellers. Given that she was caught red-handed driving a truck filled with contraband, it seemed impossible the charges were dropped.

A second case involved an Air Force lieutenant colonel in the strategic plans shop who was arrested on charges of raping a fourteen-year-old Korean girl. You get an instinct for these things, and something smelled wrong. The girl’s photo was in the packet; she didn’t look fourteen. Not to me. But maybe she was just physically precocious. Another thing, though, there was a raw hardness to her face. It was like that hackneyed look an experienced streetwalker acquires after her third or fourth hundredth john. The American officer swore she was a whore, that he’d paid her, while she claimed he’d yanked her into an alleyway and forced himself on her. No medical exam was performed. The girl claimed she had five witnesses, but none of them were ever interviewed. There was no way to tell on such thin evidence, but it smelled like a setup.

The third case involved the Navy captain who was in charge of protocol at the headquarters. Protocol is the office that plans for and oversees all important visitors, making sure they have hotel rooms, cars and drivers, experienced guides, and security if necessary. It even puts together their schedules. In this case, the captain was arrested for a hit-and-run that resulted in a death. He was investigated for DUI and manslaughter, specifically for running over a twenty-year-old pregnant Korean girl, who survived but lost her baby. He’d attempted to flee but was forced to stop by a crowd of irate Koreans who witnessed the accident. Case closed; no grounds for prosecution.

By four-thirty, Carol was napping on the bed, and I decided to slip into the bathroom and take a shower. My body stank and I needed to clean and re-dress some of my stitched-up cuts.

When I came out, Carol was hanging up the phone.

“Who was that?” I asked.

“Your co-counsel, Miss Carlson.”

“What did she want?”

“She didn’t say. She hung up.”

This didn’t sound good. “How come?”

“I don’t think she was expecting a woman. I told her you were in the shower.”

I had bigger fish to fry at the moment, so I merely grunted my acknowledgment, then asked Carol to call whomever to pick up these files.

We ordered a room service breakfast — in my case a greasy, cheesy omelet and another pot of coffee; in hers, a fruit bowl and two more Evians. Our eating habits, among many other things, implied we were not a compatible couple.

Then we straightened up the room and put all the files back in the boxes, excepting of course the nine we’d earmarked as suspicious. The food came. We dug in.

While we ate, I asked, “How come you get so coy and withdrawn around Korean men?”

She pondered that a moment, like it was some unconscious thing. “My father’s a very traditional Korean man. He loves America, but he stays with his Korean customs. I suppose I picked it up from him.”

“What? So every Korean male reminds you of your father?”

She chuckled. “I hope not. It makes Korean men more comfortable. Most American women get under their skin. They consider them bossy and pushy, rude even. They’re especially peeved when the woman is racially Korean.”