The Shadow of Arms (12 page)

“I'll have to change the team chief.”

Yong Kyu stood erect, looking straight at the captain.

“A woman? A Korean woman?” the captain murmured, tapping the table with his pen. Then he removed a sheet of paper from one of his drawers. “This is the last of the civilians in Da Nang. Take a good look. Those marked in red are the ones without jobs.”

“Could be some who overstayed their visas.”

“Certainly. Some have even lost their nationality.”

“What's that?” asked Yong Kyu, pointing to some odd foreign names among those on the list.

“They're the entertainers. But these are only the ones we could keep track of up to the end of last year. The ones who come in knowing how the embassy works usually keep their departure dates, but others are stranded here and hook up with the Filipinos or the Thais or the Japanese; they're hard to get hold of.”

“Sunny Lee, Susan Pak, Korean Honey . . . there's no detailed personal information at all.”

“They move all over Vietnam to different bases, barely scratch out a living by dancing or stripping or being magicians' helpers. Not to mention the prostitution . . . anyway, some of that sort might be around in Da Nang, you never know. Go to a few places and check them out. The rec center, China Beach, Army Stage Productions, and the Troop Information and Education Center at headquarters, well, that should keep you busy for now.”

As he was leaving the office Yong Kyu hesitated for a moment, then said, “Can you give me a car? I don't have a driver.”

“Huh? Still don't know how to drive?”

Turning to Miss Hoa, the captain said, “Call the Dragon Palace and have the team chief come in, and tell Toi to come see me, too.”

First to arrive was Toi, a Vietnamese informant the captain employed. Yong Kyu had never met him before but had heard him mentioned by the sergeant. He was middle-aged, said to have been discharged from the ARVN Quartermaster Corps. He walked into the office in a white shirt and black pants. His eyes were hidden behind mercury-mirrored sunglasses and his gold teeth sparkled through his permanent grin.

“Hullo.”

“Let me introduce you. This is Corporal Ahn, one of our staff.”

“Hello, I know you well.”

“Know me well?” said Yong Kyu, shaking his extended hand. Instead of explaining, Toi looked at the captain and smiled.

The captain said to Yong Kyu, “From now on he'll be your guide in the market. He'll be a big help to you in this case.”

The captain looked straight into Yong Kyu's eyes as he calmly added, “Toi knows all about the beer business; the team chief is starting with the Hong Kong Group.”

Yong Kyu spun quickly for another look at Toi. Now that he thought of it, the face was not altogether unfamiliar. Suddenly an image flitted through his mind of a pair of mirrored sunglasses sitting beside the Chinese woman they called “Chui” at a corner table in the Bamboo Club.

“There's a lot of work to do and he needs your help.”

“What is it?”

“C-rations.”

“They were pouring out for a solid week but then the flow suddenly stopped three days ago.”

Toi sat casually on the captain's desk as they went on talking. Such informality would seem insolent if the two weren't good friends, Yong Kyu thought.

“It'll be pouring out again.”

“My guess is they stockpiled it in a house somewhere and are releasing it into the market a little at a time.”

“You heard, didn't you?” the captain said to Yong Kyu. “Now that they've had a taste of it, they'll try to lift another truckload before long. We've got to nail them before the Americans do.”

Yong Kyu and Toi left the office. Toi had his old Land Rover parked outside.

“Where to?”

“You know the recreation center?”

“Sure. And I know Sergeant Yun very well, too.”

Yong Kyu said nothing. He didn't believe it. Toi must have sensed Yong Kyu's suspicion, because he also remained silent and just clenched the wheel. They went across the bridge, passed by the navy PX and, crossing through the helicopter base, sped on toward the seashore. The asphalt cut a perfectly straight line through the sand, rows of palm trees on either side.

The American recreation center stood in the middle of a clump of big trees. In the distance they could see a collection of shabby tents and huts made of plywood and sheet metal. Several sailboats were neatly lined up on the beach along with surfboards and dinghies. The rec center seemed quiet. They passed by an open-air theater and continued driving down the sandy beach.

They pulled up in front of a large tent, and an army band member lying inside poked his head out. The band members' hair was long and they were wearing bathing suits and Hawaiian shirts. It looked as though they had just polished off lunch as most of them were taking naps. Yong Kyu remembered how repulsed he was to see these cicadas from the band corps on the battlefield. Watching them rocking their heads and playing instruments, one of the grunts in the platoon had muttered he wouldn't mind mowing them all down with his machine gun.

“Where's the senior non-com?”

At Yong Kyu's question, the band member rubbed his cheek with the cold soda can he was holding, like a businessman on vacation. His oiled and well-roasted back was glistening.

“The sarge has gone to the PX, but he'll be back for lunch.”

“I'll be with Gunnery Sergeant Yun over there, so when you see him, tell him to hurry over.”

As Yong Kyu turned around to head off with Toi toward a nearby hut, the guy asked from behind, “What contractor you with?”

Yong Kyu turned back around.

“We need to know what company you're with so we'll know where to go to play.”

The man had made a mistake. At once Yong Kyu grasped what he had meant and went with it.

“We're with the Vinelli Company. Can you come this Saturday from around seven to nine o'clock?”

“That's a conflict. At seven on Saturday we're already booked at Monkey Mountain. Why not move it up to Friday?”

“I've got to see the gunnery sergeant, anyway.”

Yong Kyu felt like he already had them trapped. He looked back at Toi. “Why don't you wait in the car?”

“It's kind of hot.”

“There's a breeze.”

“Okay.” Toi grinned.

Yong Kyu went on by himself to the hut. An office desk coated with dust and some chairs were strewn about in disorder amid piles of assorted equipment, including slot machines and other games. Since relocating from Chu Lai they still had not set up the game room. On the far side of the hut the gunnery sergeant was playing paduk with a private. There was a cool breeze from the ocean.

“My, my, what brought a high and mighty man like you all the way out here? Haven't laid eyes on you for ages.”

Sergeant Yun set down his discs and got to his feet.

“Hey, how ‘bout bringing something cold to drink? Care for a beer? Or maybe cognac?”

Yong Kyu walked over and stood by the window. “I can't drink, I'm on duty . . . and I've got something to talk about.”

“To hell with duty, let's have a drink.”

“Who's going over to the Dong Dao junction these days?”

“Why . . ?”

They both feigned a blank stare.

“I am,” the private said.

Yong Kyu lit his cigarette.

“How many cases have you run for?”

“What's this all about, huh?” Sergeant Yun said, pounding the table. “If you start stabbing without rhyme or reason, the weaklings will all spill their guts. What is it, why are you doing this? Ask me, I'll tell you everything I know.”

“We hear C-rations are leaking out from here.”

With a look of dismayed astonishment, the sergeant blurted out a “Phew!” and raised his eyes to the ceiling. “You drive me up the wall. Look, Corporal Ahn, any bastard laying hands on C-rations is a damned fool. The risk is big and the profit small. Besides, we can't do that kind of thing.”

“Have any idea where the leak is?”

“Well . . .”

The sergeant and private exchanged glances. Yong Kyu calmly said, “Bring in the ration inventory list and the requisitions, and let's see the balance on hand here.”

“Why are you doing this? What do you get out of shaking us down?”

Yong Kyu waited.

“I think it's over at Monkey Mountain,” the private haltingly mumbled.

“The navy . . . ?”

“It's gathering there,” said Sergeant Yun, waving his hand as if in surrender, “because the administration is in a mess.”

“Must have been a few leaks from here, too?”

“And I'm sure you guys have none at all. Hey, let's not do this to each other. All we took out were some raisins.”

“We hear there's been a Korean woman hanging around here.”

“A woman . . . not that I know of. Quite a few Koreans been going to the supply warehouse for services, though.”

“That hole's been sealed,” Yong Kyu said, lightly tapping the sergeant on the chest with his fist, “because everybody knows about it.”

“Exactly my point. Who in their right mind would touch combat rations, out of everything there is? That's all I'm saying.”

“Crossing the river can be a good reason for that.”

“Of course. If you want to bite off a big chunk, you gotta use the markets across the river. For smaller quantities, the base villages around here can swallow the stuff easy enough.”

Just then the door opened and in walked a man wearing a woven hemp vest over a black shirt. His hair was styled in a slicked-back regent style and two gold bands adorned the index and middle fingers of his hand.

“Are you the guy looking for me?”

Yong Kyu nodded. Sergeant Yun moved swiftly. He had to identify Yong Kyu's status immediately so that the staff sergeant from the army band detachment would speak carefully.

“Watch your mouth. Our friend here is with CID.”

His immediate unease was apparent on his face. Yong Kyu gave him no time to think.

“Do you take orders through that platoon leader? I heard you have a performance planned for seven o'clock this Saturday.”

“Ah, that's a . . .”

“As I understand it, the army band is mobilized solely for performances arranged to enhance the morale of Korean forces to improve their readiness for battle. My question is, who is your promoter? Who gave you permission to perform at your pleasure for money?”

Sergeant Yun giggled.

“Hey, hey, Corporal Ahn, just close your eyes to the kids trying to make a little pocket change, you know. And you, Pak, just give him all the information he wants.”

The army band sergeant stood there awkwardly, combing back his hair with his fingers.

“What did you do as a civilian . . . ?”

“He's a saxophonist,” interjected the gunnery sergeant. “You should hear him play sometime, damn good, really.”

“Were you in a show group?”

“I worked in Eighth Army. Shouldn't have come here. The pay is shit. I'd have been better off back home.”

“You know most of the women dancers, don't you?” Yong Kyu asked after a pause.

Before responding, the slick-haired sergeant looked over at Sergeant Yun as if to ask “What's this all about?” and the latter murmured in a low voice, “C-rations.”

“It's about C-rations, he said.”

“You know how many of those women are around Da Nang?” Yong Kyu asked.

“Hard to say. They may come here for a few days for a performance, then they slip off to places like Chu Lai, Tui Hoa, or Na Trang.”

“They say quite a few foreign girls who hitched up with entertainers' troupes later got left behind on their own,” said Sergeant Yun, trying to be helpful.

“I'm sure there are some girls doing you know what and some even shacked up with GIs.”

“Lots in Saigon and up here I've heard of a few, too.”

“I wonder if you can find out who there is . . .”

Yong Kyu looked at his watch. Twenty minutes had already passed since he got there.

“Can you check out everybody who's gone to Monkey Mountain for performances?”

“That's easy,” said the band sergeant. “All you have to do is go there and see the wet canteen master sergeant and ask him to show you the performance contracts.”

“Can I also check for all the Korean women who've performed there over the past six months?”

“Why not? Not so many of them, anyhow. But we wouldn't know where they live. Probably hard to get any personal information on them at all.”

“Thank you,” Yong Kyu said, “and I'll be dropping in again to say hello.”

As he walked away the gunnery sergeant kept on pleading for him to give them a break. When he reached the Land Rover he found Toi asleep with his legs hanging out of the window. He was about to wake him up when he heard Sergeant Yun call to him from inside the hut.

“Corporal Ahn, there's a phone call for you.”

“Who is it?”

“Your boss.”

Yong Kyu rushed over to get the phone. There was urgency in the captain's voice.

“It's streaming out into the market again. Take Toi to the market and check it out. Have you found the woman?”

“Got some leads that may help.”

“It's definitely a woman. The American side got eyewitness testimony from some Vietnamese. She's an Asian, tall and good-looking.”

“I'll run by Monkey Mountain first and then hit the market, sir.”

The Land Rover sped away from China Beach and headed northwest. Refugee barracks whizzed by on both sides of the road. The briny wind off Da Nang Bay penetrated to the heart. Toi asked Yong Kyu if he had any smokes. Yong Kyu lit a cigarette and put it in Toi's mouth.

“Get some information?” Toi said casually.

“Not much. May be a woman, after all.”

“Korean?”