Buddha's Money (6 page)

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 stepped away from Herman and raised my arms, signifying that I would allow them to search me. The dark Asian man who had approached me patted me down quickly, stepped back, and pointed upstairs.

I was free to go.

That was fine but I didn't particularly want to go alone. I pointed at Herman.

The man shook his head.

Herman understood. "They only want you to go up there," he told me. "Don't worry. If anything happens, give out a holler. I'll be up there lickety-split."

I gazed around the chamber. "There's six of 'em, Herman."

"They won't be able to stop me," he said, "if they start to hurt Mi-ja."

Hollow words. I knew we were playing right into their hands. No weapons. Our strength divided. And I sure as shit didn't want to climb those last stairs alone. But what choice did I have? These foreign thugs were holding Mi-ja and they'd already proven that they'd do anything, including slicing off her ear and sending it special delivery to her mother, if we didn't follow their instructions exactly.

I started up the creaking steps.

THE TOP CHAMBER WAS THE SMALLEST OF ALL. THE ONLY LIGHT was moon glow filtering through oil-papered windows. A dark figure sat in the center of the wood-slat floor. Against the far wall, a shadow moved slightly and whimpered.

I could barely make out who she was: Mi-ja.

I could kick the shit out of this guy, grab Mi-ja, and carry her downstairs. But how far would I get? All the thugs downstairs looked tough and determined, and all of them made a big display of the leather-handled knives stuck in their waistbands. I wouldn't get far. But if it came to that, I'd have to try.

Better to try talking first.

The dark figure in the center of the chamber rose straight up, almost as if he were levitating, until he stood on two feet.

He was a husky man. Not as tall as me, but he exuded an aura of strength. Dark. Asian. Everything outsize. A big-boned man of raw power. He wore trousers and a tunic, like the men downstairs, and dirty linen wrapped around his head.

"Where is the jade skull?"

The voice cut into me like a blade. I took an involuntary step backward and cursed myself for showing weakness. It was the same voice I'd heard on the phone. In English. The voice that sounded like grating gears.

"We don't have it," I said. "The girl's father doesn't have it. He's never had it."

There was a long silence. "Then you must acquire it."

I pointed at the small figure cowering at the edge of the wall. "Let her go. You can get your jade skull without hurting her any further."

Stray beams of light shone into the man's eyes. For a moment it was as if two tiny moons were floating in the center of the chamber. I thought I heard something, along the outer wall. A scraping. If he heard it, too, he showed no sign.

"Do you have any idea how valuable this jade skull is?" he asked.

"Not as valuable as a little girl's life."

He barked a harsh laugh. "You are a fool. The jade skull is the most valuable antique in the
world!"
His eyes blazed brighter. Muscles in my face must've twisted. He noticed and stared at me quizzically. "You think I'm mad, don't you?"

I didn't answer.

"Then let me show you." He leaned over and lit a small oil lamp. The guttering flame cast eerie beams into the thick darkness. He reached atop his head, grabbed at the dirty linen, and ripped the turban off his head. Laughing crazily, he bowed. The flickering light showed a thousand scars crisscrossing the top of his head like some sort of nightmarish spider's web.

He rose and his mad eyes stared into mine.

"Do you know
why
these lines were etched on my skull? Do you have
any
idea?"

I realized that my mouth was open. I closed it.

"These scars are a badge of honor,'" he continued, "designed to remind me that my mission in life is to find the jade skull! They were put there when I was a boy, by the monks who trained me. Monks who trained me for high position. Why me? Why the son of a common Mongol yak herder? Why should I be trained for high position? Because the monks had determined that inside here . . ." he pounded his gnarled fist on his chest. ". . . inside here resides a great soul. The reincarnated soul of a great man. The reincarnated soul of the emperor who had once owned the jade skull!"

I suppose he mistook my stupefied expression for understanding. He lowered his voice, as if we were conspirators.

"My name in this life is Ragyapa." He waved his hand dismissively. "Don't bother to write it down. You will find the name Ragyapa on no passport. It is my religious name only, not my official name. But centuries ago, while wearing a different body, I was known by the name of Kublai Khan, grandson of Genghis Khan and the Emperor of the entire Central Kingdom!"

He laughed through yellowed teeth.

Kublai Khan was a conqueror greater even than Napoleon. In addition to his native land of Mongolia, he ruled China and Burma and Vietnam and Korea and Tibet. He tried twice, without success, to invade Japan. The fact that this man called Ragyapa believed he was the reincarnated soul of Kublai Khan convinced me—beyond a doubt-that he was insane.

"So you see," Ragyapa continued, "I am only trying to reclaim my own property. And regain the jade skull of Kublai Khan for its rightful owners, the people of Mongolia!"

His eyes narrowed.

"Many men have died for possession of this jade skull, Agent Sueño . . ." How did he know my name? Probably through Sooki. Or anybody else in the village, for that matter. Ernie and I were famous in Itaewon. ". . . and many more will die soon unless / gain possession of what is rightfully mine!" Once again, he thumped his fist on his chest. "The dead will include this undisciplined child, if you don't produce my jade skull for me."

"I told you, I don't have it."

"Then
get
it!"

Ragyapa's voice roared so loudly that for a second I thought he had suddenly transformed himself into a beast of the jungle. The sound thundered, filling the room.

"You have until the full moon," he told me. "If you do not turn the jade skull over to me by then, Agent Sueño, I will wring her scrawny neck. And each time I think you are not making progress in finding the jade skull, I will send her old hag of a mother another gift. Another gift such as the one she received in the plate of dumplings. Do you understand?"

Rage made my arms start to quiver. Why not punch out this creep right now? He was only another nut case. As mad as any bum wandering the streets of East L.A. What was holding me back? Fear. Yes, that was it. Fear. And in my entire life only one thing had ever allowed me to overcome my fear. And that was rage. This man of such greed and such brutality, this man who could hurt a child who had never harmed anyone, was filling me with that rage now. I fought it back. If rage blinded me, I would act foolishly.

"I understand," I said. "We will find your jade skull. But while I'm looking," I pointed at the cowering figure against the wall, "you will not mistreat this child. Do you understand
me?"

Before he could answer, something crashed through the oil-papered window. Something black. Something huge. A giant raven smashing into the chamber. Wood splintered everywhere.

I knew what it was immediately. Ernie.

I lunged at Ragyapa.

It was my rage and my desire to free Mi-ja that made me move in on him so quickly. Still, his reflexes were those of a Siberian tiger. Something whizzed out of the darkness. Not his fists because I had my eyes on those. But his foot. Somehow I sensed it coming and twisted out of the way at the last moment. The toes slammed into me like blocks of iron, missing my crotch but ramming full force into my stomach.

Air exploded out of me. I fell to the floor, clutching my stomach, floundering for breath like a giant catfish.

Ernie was stunned by his crash through the window and crawled on all fours on the wood-slat floor. Ragyapa shuffled forward and kicked him hard in the ribs. Ernie let out a groan and rolled over.

A herd of footsteps charged up the stairway. If any of them belonged to Herman, he'd be greatly outnumbered.

Whistles shrilled through the night. The KNPs. They were downstairs. Ragyapa and his Mongolian thugs would be trapped.

I still couldn't breathe. I tried to rise. It wasn't working.

Ragyapa snatched up Mi-ja, shuffled through the darkness, and pushed on something that creaked and let out a groan. Suddenly starlight streamed through a rectangle in the temple wall.

As the herd of men trampled over me, I raised myself up and took a swing at one of them but all my efforts got me was a thump on the side of the head. I fell back down.

Ernie was on his feet now, bouncing around like a marionette, throwing jabs and neat combinations. One of the thugs noticed, stepped inside his punch, and elbowed him neatly in the throat. Ernie crashed to the floor.

I heard more footsteps downstairs. Boots. Maybe it was Sooki who'd notified them. Whoever it was, the KNPs would save us. I was sure they would.

I tried to crawl toward Mi-ja. If I could hold her, protect her, maybe I could keep these foreign thugs off of her until we were rescued.

But when I looked up, she was gone.

A large plank had been laid down outside of the rectangular hatchway in the side of the pagoda. I dragged myself along the floor until I could see that the splintered board reached to the top of the stone wall, more than twenty feet across a dark chasm.

Ragyapa scurried across the plank, holding Mi-ja under his arm.

I bellowed in anger. None of the thugs even looked back. One by one, they tiptoed across the narrow causeway.

We had been so close. Why hadn't I brought my .38 to Itaewon tonight? We never carried arms on the black market detail, but if I'd only made an exception this one time. I wanted to blow their brains out. Each one of those arrogant bastards.

Still, I admired their planning. A wooden plank through a secret opening in an ancient Buddhist temple.

No way I could've picked up on that one.

Soon, all of Ragyapa's thugs had crossed to the safety of the stone wall. I heard gruff cursing in Korean and then the cops started upstairs. I crawled toward the plank.

If I could just hold it, I thought, so the KNPs could use the plank to cross the chasm and chase those Mongols down. We could get Mi-ja back.

Still barely able to move, I slithered closer to the edge, reached out with both hands, and grabbed on to the plank. At that moment, two thugs atop the stone wall gave it a mighty tug. I held on as tightly as I could but the wood slid through my grip. A splinter needled my skin and, as they pulled, sliced deeper into my flesh.

I screamed.

The plank slid through my fingers, tearing my flesh, and fell into the chasm, clattering to the cobbled road below. The last of the dark figures leapt off the far side of the stone wall and disappeared.