Buddha's Money (15 page)

Lady Ahn resumed speaking in Korean to the policeman. "You can't stop us from visiting my mother," she said, "just because we didn't bring our engagement paperwork."

The policeman's face was very red now. Obnoxious GIs and stubborn Korean women weren't something he had to deal with every day.

A policeman with more gold braid on his shoulder than the inspector strode over, his face calm, his arms behind his back, acting as unperturbed as a Confucian scholar strolling through a grove of flowering plum blossoms. The first cop turned to him and explained rapidly. "They don't have their engagement paperwork."

"We forgot it," Lady Ahn said in Korean.

The honcho ignored her and pointed to me and Ernie. "Are they soldiers?" he asked the red-faced cop.

"Yes."

"Let's see their identification."

Lady Ahn translated and both Ernie and I flashed our military ID cards.

The honcho studied the ID cards intently. Then with a flick of his wrist, he waved us through. He sauntered off.

We scurried onto the ferry.

IT TOOK THE REST OF THE DAY TO REACH THE ISLAND OF Sonyu. A tiny village clung to the feet of a jagged cliff. The hooches were made of driftwood and roofed with straw thatch. Nets hung drying from the rickety wooden quay and women squatted in the shade of cherry trees, weaving straw mats. There weren't many boats along the quay. All were out fishing.

The three of us stood along the railing.

"Your mother lives
here?"
Ernie asked Lady Ahn.

"Yes. My family has lived here for six centuries."

Ernie whistled. "Not much business for the van and storage boys."

Lady Ahn pointed to the gray-shrouded distance. "See that island there?"

I could barely make it out on the western horizon. Craggy rocks rose straight out of the sea. 'Yes," I said.

"That is Bian-do," she said. "That is where the jade skull is hidden."

"That's
where we're going?" Emie asked.

"Yes," Lady Ahn said happily. 'Tomorrow at dawn."

"Bian-do," I said. "The Island of Mysterious Peace."

Lady Ahn swiveled her head. "Yes, Agent Sueño. You are correct."

Her pleased expression was worth more to me than all the gold in Genghis Khan's tomb.

LADY AHN'S MOTHER BOWED AS WE ENTERED THE SMALL courtyard of her home. It was a large ramshackle building on a hill overlooking the village of Sonyu, much too large for one old woman. It had been an ancestral home, built originally by Ahn the Righteous Fist in the fourteenth century, and rebuilt repeatedly over the years.

Within minutes we were seated on the polished wood-slat floor and a table was placed before us spread with rice and kimchi and
kalchi,
a scabbard fish found only in Far Eastern waters.

The food was delicious and both Ernie and I were famished. We polished off every plate in short order. As was ancient custom, the women ate in the kitchen and later came in to clear our plates.

Lady Ahn seemed to be glowing, as if returning to the island of her birth had infused her with a strength of spirit that made her even more impressive than she was on the mainland.

She wore traditional Korean clothing. A long white skirt called
chima,
tied high up along the ribs, and a short powder-blue
chogori
vest coat with long flowing sleeves. Her short hair was brushed back but fell forward and caressed her smooth cheeks when she bent to pick up the small serving table.

The sun was almost down now, and Lady Ann's mother fixed one of the many rooms for Ernie and me. Ernie hit the sleeping mat almost immediately. Lady Ahn and I strolled down to the beach and watched the fishing boats sail in, floating across the red glimmer of a sinking sun.

The moon started to rise and I held my breath. But it still wasn't full. Not quite. We still had time.

As Lady Ahn outlined her plan to me, I realized that she'd been setting it up for years. Her scheme was brilliant and in it all of us would have our roles. And, as she told me more about the island and the mythology surrounding it, I realized that by taking such a bold step as to defy the monks of Bian-do, she was overcoming many of her own misgivings.

Still, she was a modern woman. Not one to be awed by superstition. A great beast supposedly protected what was left of the Treasure of the Sung. But as I pointed out to her, whatever this creature was, it hadn't been able to stop ancient Japanese pirates. Hadn't she told me they had looted most of the treasure?

She agreed. The monster was probably just something conjured up by the monks to keep adventurers away from the monastery.

Still, the corpse of the commando in the photo she'd shown me had been carried to the shore of Sonyu Island by the current from Bian-do. The dead man's wounds were clearly not from a knife or a bayonet.

In fact, if I had to guess, I would have to say that the wounds were from claws.

17

FISHERMAN YUN, LADY AHN'S THIRD COUSIN, STOOD AT THE stern, rough hands gripping the thick oar that both propelled and steered the little skiff. He leaned forward and then pulled, creating a rhythm that moved us through the sea like a wriggling snake.

Ernie sat on a splintered wooden plank, clicking loudly on his ginseng gum, scanning the darkness before us. What he was looking for, I wasn't quite sure.

A blanket of clouds swept across the sky. For an instant a gap opened in them and I spotted the nearly full moon. Not much time left to turn over the jade skull to Ragyapa and his Mongols. Not much time to save Mi-ja's life. Then the clouds closed and opened again on the other side of the cosmos. The vast panorama of the Milky Way glittered above us. I wasn't used to stars being so bright, or so close. In East LA the only contact with heaven I had was reaching up and touching the smog inversion layer.

Out here, on the Yellow Sea, heading for the remote island of Bian-do, the air was fresh and laced with salt, as if it had been created yesterday—solely for our enjoyment.

It seemed like a good time for a burial.

I reached into my jacket pocket, pulled out the bloody handkerchief containing Mi-ja's ear, and dropped it into the cold, choppy waters. The white linen swirled. Then it sank into an endless world of water.

Before we'd left Taejon the day before, I'd placed a call to the pharmacy in Itaewon because I wanted to find out if the kidnappers had contacted Herman again. Slicky Girl Nam had picked up the phone. She was hysterical.

"Most tick full moon! They will cut Mi-ja again! This time they will kill!"

I tried to calm her down. She kept jabbering.

'You find old jade head they look for?" she shrilled.

"We're going for it now."

"You find
bali bali"
Quickly. "Maybe they call soon. I go now."

She hung up on me.

Lady Ahn shifted her weight in the boat and gazed at me with her shimmering black eyes. Her face was scrubbed clean, and she was wrapped in the gray robes of a Buddhist nun. Her legs were enfolded in white linen, laced with string, her feet bound tightly in leather sandals.

She tapped Ernie on the shoulder. He swiveled and the three of us went over the plan one last time.

LADY AHN HAD BEEN PAYING HOMAGE TO THE MONKS OF THE Monastery of the Sleeping Dragon since she was a little girl. She came as a supplicant and worshiped in their temple carved out of the side of Bian-san, the Mountain of Mysterious Peace.

Through the years she had gained the monks' trust. They were aware of her descent from the imperial court of the Sung. They treated her with the respect due one of a royal line, even if the line had fallen centuries ago.

She had found many opportunities to inspect the monastery and committed much of its layout to memory. It was a vast complex, expanded over the years and connected to a network of volcanic caves that honeycombed Bian Mountain.

Deep in the tunnels of the old volcano, the last relics of the Treasure of the Sung were hidden. That's where we'd find the jade skull of Kublai Khan.

In a few minutes, Fisherman Yun would be dropping Ernie and me off on the back side of the mountain, on a rocky cliff remote from the main buildings of the monastery. Lady Ahn would continue in the skiff. She'd arrive at the entranceway to the Bian Temple in about an hour. Just in time to make the predawn call to meditation with the monks.

Ernie dipped his palm into the cold sea and splashed a handful of salt water onto his face. Grumbling. As if to remind us that he wasn't pleased about the early hour.

Lady Ahn ignored him and continued her explanation.

The Dragon Throne of China had been stolen from her family. As far as she was concerned, any possessions of the Mongol rulers, including the jade skull, were nothing but ill-gotten booty. She had no qualms about stealing it back.

But the monks who had protected the treasure all these centuries didn't see it her way. They were aware of the power of the skull. Of the untold riches it could lead to. And although they had taken a vow of poverty, they knew of the allure that wealth held for most men.

The monks had taken an oath to protect the stolen relics in their possession. And they had sworn to allow the Great Khan Genghis to rest peacefully in his tomb, hidden far away on the mainland, high in the hinterlands of the vast steppes of Mongolia.

When Lady Ahn explained this, Ernie piped up. "So you're saying that if they catch us trying to rip off the skull, they'll jack us up royally."

Lady Ahn turned to me for translation.

"They'll fight," I said.

She nodded her head solemnly.

Our goal was to sneak in, snatch the jade skull, and creep back out without being noticed.

Lady Ahn went over the instructions again.

The morning meditation lasted an hour. That would give Ernie and me time to enter through a tunnel in the back of the mountain and make our way deep into the earth, to a vast chamber where lay entombed the relics of Buddhist saints. There, we would wait for Lady Ahn. Her job was to make sure that no one would be working in the back caverns. Once she slipped away from the monks, she would find us and lead us to the skull. Then we'd grab it and slip out a back entrance. Outside, Lady Ahn's cousin, Fisherman Yun, would be waiting for us with his boat.

"Piece of rice cake," Ernie said. Then his brow furrowed. "What about this commando who got sliced up?"

Lady Ahn shook her head. "He was not careful."

"Not careful about what?"

A rock-strewn shoreline burst into view in the swirling mist. The roar of the breakers filled our ears. The skiff bobbed high in the air, but Fisherman Yun guided us expertly past the churning waves. Once we hit land, Ernie and I hopped out. We dragged the little boat up onto the pebbled shore.

Before we left, Lady Ahn touched my hand and stared into my eyes. It was a look of promise, I thought.

Of what, I wasn't sure.

Fisherman Yun shoved the boat back into the water, hopped aboard, and, like the great seaman he was, soon had the rickety little craft sporting proudly through the waves. In seconds, their silhouettes disappeared into the dark mist.

"Do you think that chick is going to come through on all this?" Ernie asked.

"Damn right she is."

We trudged through heavy brush. A pathway led toward a cave that sat high on the side of the cliff wall.

THE CREATURE COULD SMELL THEM BEFORE IT HEARD THEIR footsteps. Vibrations quivered through the soil, up the trunk, and through a sluggish body.
Predators.
A surge of fear rushed through its flesh. The creature hugged the heavy branch tighter, claws clicking free, ready to swing.

Were they coming closer? No. The pounding moved away. And then it heard rocks sliding, grunting, and finally silence.

The monsoon wind rustled through the thick foliage of the jungle.

The intruders were gone. Slowly, the fear seeped from the creature's body. It reached for food and chewed, weak eyes glazing over, gradually drifting back into the stupor that was its beloved natural state.

Before fading completely into sleep, it felt what seemed like footsteps again. It opened its eyes again but swiftly closed them. The sound was not footsteps. Merely the first droplets of rain, pelting rocks and trees and leaves. A flash of lightning tore the sky. Thunder roared. An entire ocean of wetness fell from the heavens.

The creature lay soaked, clinging to the branch, steam rising from rancid fur. It thought of nothing.

After an hour, hunger stirred. There was no food left on the tree. It decided to reposition itself.

ERNIE CURSED AS WE CRAWLED THROUGH THE NARROW tunnel.

'You got to be
shitting
me. This tunnel leads nowhere, Sueño. You must've taken a wrong turn."

We'd been crawling through bat shit for half an hour. I was just as fed up as Ernie was. Still, I wasn't going to admit it. Lady Ahn would be waiting and I couldn't let her down. And I mustn't let Mi-ja down.

As we rounded a corner, a red light glimmered up ahead. I motioned behind me for Ernie to be quiet.

Sweat poured down my forehead. I wiped it with the back of my hand. Quietly, I inched closer to the light, stretched forward, and peered around the granite wall.

A skull grinned into my face.

I leapt back. Ernie grabbed me.

"What the shit?"

"Quiet!"

I crept back to the corner. When nothing moved, I rose and stepped out into a small cavern.

In front of us, cross-legged, sat the skeletal remains of a man, draped in tattered gray robes. In front of him, guttering softly, was the flame from a small oil lamp. Next to that sat a bowl of fruit. I pinched the pear and the persimmon.

"Both fresh," I told Ernie. "The monks make regular offerings."

Behind the cross-legged skeleton loomed a silk screen painting of ancient Buddhist saints engaged in various struggles with the powers of evil.

Ernie reached down, grabbed the pear, and took a bite. "Who the hell is this guy, anyway?"

"Maybe one of their leaders. From the past."

He crunched on the pear. "From the past is sort of obvious, George."

We left the ancient monk and wandered into another tunnel, much larger than the one we'd been crawling through. This one was high enough so that by bowing our heads, we could walk almost upright. As the light from the oil lamp faded behind us, I switched on the heavy flashlight Lady Ahn had provided.

"We must be getting close," Ernie said.

There was less bat shit on the ground. Someone had been cleaning this portion of the tunnel network regularly.

In another open cavern, we found pools of water. Ernie almost stepped into one but I stopped him in time. I pointed the beam of the flashlight into its depths. The water was clear but agitated by the pebble Ernie had kicked into it. Still, we could see down at least ten feet before the pool faded into darkness.

"How far down does this thing go?" Ernie asked.

"I don't know. This mountain is porous. Filled with tunnels. And water."

"That's interesting," Ernie said, "but do you know where in the fuck we are?"

I glanced at the sketch map Lady Ahn had given me. After the myriad turns and twists we'd been through, the diagram had long ago stopped making sense.

"Sure," I said. "No sweat. We're almost there."

Ernie sighed. "We'd better be."

I pointed the beam of the flashlight back into the water. The ripples had settled now, and the light probed to a depth that must've been at least thirty feet. That's when we saw them. Shimmering and white. Globes of death.

Human skulls.

"For Christ's sake," Ernie grumbled. "These damn monks aren't as peaceful as Lady Ahn makes them out to be."

I resisted the urge to cross myself. "Maybe this is just the way they bury their dead."

"Maybe, but I don't think so. Some of those skulls have been crushed."

He was right. Deep gouges slashed into the bony craniums. Other bones lay snapped in two, as if some great beast had feasted on human marrow.

"Come on," I said. "Let's keep moving."

Ernie didn't argue. He just followed me deeper into the catacombs. Anything to get away from that pile of the macabre.

Ernie pulled out his pack of gum and offered me a stick. This time I accepted. The stuff was bitter and tart in the mouth, but at least the juices started flowing again.

Finally, we reached another cavern and another shrine. Instead of a skeleton, this one featured a bronze statuette about three feet high. Of our old friend Kuan Yin, the goddess of mercy. I sighed with relief.

"This is where we're supposed to meet Lady Ahn," I said.

Ernie flopped down at the naked feet of the goddess and glanced around. Disappointed. "Doesn't this little gal rate any pears?"

"I guess not."

I sat at the entrance to the tunnel leading deeper into the mountain and leaned my back against granite. When we were both settled, I flipped off the flashlight. The darkness became absolute. All we could hear was the steady drip of water on rock and the occasional squeak of a bat.

Ernie spoke in a voice of reverence. "This is like being high," he said. "Not on booze. But on the real stuff. Pure China White."

"Cheaper though," I said. "And easier on the liver."

"Maybe so," Ernie answered. "Unless those damn monks show up."

THE SOFT FOOTSTEPS JOLTED ME OUT OF A DOZE, THE FOOT-steps stopped just a few feet from us. When I realized it was only one person, I rose to a crouch and switched on the flashlight.

Lady Ahn covered her eyes.

"They're following me," she said.

"Who?"

"The monks. Come. We must hurry."

Ernie was up and right behind us, molars grinding on stale gum.

We wound through passageways for what must've been twenty minutes. Finally, we stopped in another cavern, this one with a pool much larger than the ones we had seen before.

Lady Ahn pointed. "It's down there. The jade skull of Kublai Khan."

Ernie peered after the beam of my flashlight. "Must be a little soggy."

"No. There is a chamber," Lady Ahn said. "There. See the dark spot on the water's bottom? It leads back up toward the surface. And there is a dry area with an airhole. Many of the remaining artifacts of the Sung Treasure are still there. Along with the skull."