gunned the jeep’s engine and sped off.
Inside the office, both Miss Kim and Riley had already gone home. I picked up a phone and tried Captain Prevault’s number. Still no answer. It figured there wouldn’t be since the cannon had gone off signifying the end of the duty day. I used Riley’s Rolodex and then called the duty officer at 8th Army Billeting. I identified myself, gave him my badge number, and asked for the location of Captain Prevault’s BOQ, Bachelor Officer Quarters. He gave it to me. Yongsan Compound South Post, female BOQ 132, Unit 4. A pretty good walk but one I could manage.
A half hour later, I stood in a long central corridor lined with individual rooms and knocked on the door of Unit 4. It took a few minutes but eventually darkness covered the peephole. The door opened slightly, a security chain drawing taut. A smooth-complexioned face peeked out, hair wrapped in a white towel.
“Agent Sueño,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You didn’t call.”
“I tried.”
“Wait a minute. I have to get dressed.”
She closed the door. I stepped back and leaned against the far wall. Occasionally, a female officer entered or exited a room down the hall, glanced toward me, and when I smiled went about her business. With my short haircut and my CID coat and tie, I didn’t look too threatening.
The door to Captain Prevault’s room opened.
She wore blue jeans and sneakers and a light rain slicker over a white blouse. “You ready?” she asked.
“For what?”
“For a visit to a nut house.”
She smiled demurely, cocked her head, and walked down the corridor. I followed.
Our destination was in the northwest corner of Seoul, an area snuggled beneath Bukhan Mountain known as Songbuk-dong. The
kimchi
cab chugged up a winding road, past a break in the ancient stone ramparts that had once protected the city from waves of invaders: Chinese, Manchurians, Mongol hordes. Now lovers strolled along it, hand in hand, gazing down at the sparkling expanse of the city of Seoul.
“Where are we going?” I asked, staring out at the darkness.
“A sanitarium,” she replied. “What you call a ‘nut house.’ ”
“Sorry about that.”
She turned and in the light of a passing street lamp, I saw her prim smile once again.
A sign in slashed Chinese characters loomed ahead and Captain Prevault motioned for the driver to turn left through stone gates. The driveway wound another quarter mile through dense foliage and finally circled in front of an Asian-style building with moonlight reflecting off a tile roof. Clay monkeys perched on the edges, protecting the inhabitants from evil spirits. A yellow bulb in the entranceway illuminated a double front door painted crimson, and all around the light, moths flailed madly.
As I paid for the cab, I inhaled deeply of the tree-scented air until the cab sped off, spewing carbon.
Captain Prevault stood a few feet away, smiling and gazing around her. “It’s nice up here, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said.
She turned and walked toward the front gate. I followed. She pounded with a brass knocker. The gatekeeper must have been just inside because within seconds the big red doors swung open. Atoothy old man bowed to Captain Prevault, recognizing her. She smiled and bowed back, and then we were walking past the front building and climbing broad stone steps lined with more wooden buildings. Captain Prevault pulled a flashlight out of her bag and switched it on.
“It gets dark up here.”
“Where is
here
, exactly?” I asked.
“The National Mental Health Sanatorium. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
“A doctor or a patient?”
“Both.”
The steps stopped in front of a more modern building, one with plate glass windows through which to enjoy the view and a door reinforced with iron bars. Captain Prevault pressed the buzzer. A metallic voice said, “
Nugu seiyo
?” Who is it?
“Leah Prevault, here to see Doctor Hwang.”
Without further preamble, the
Inside the office, both Miss Kim and Riley had already gone home. I picked up a phone and tried Captain Prevault’s number. Still no answer. It figured there wouldn’t be since the cannon had gone off signifying the end of the duty day. I used Riley’s Rolodex and then called the duty officer at 8th Army Billeting. I identified myself, gave him my badge number, and asked for the location of Captain Prevault’s BOQ, Bachelor Officer Quarters. He gave it to me. Yongsan Compound South Post, female BOQ 132, Unit 4. A pretty good walk but one I could manage.
A half hour later, I stood in a long central corridor lined with individual rooms and knocked on the door of Unit 4. It took a few minutes but eventually darkness covered the peephole. The door opened slightly, a security chain drawing taut. A smooth-complexioned face peeked out, hair wrapped in a white towel.
“Agent Sueño,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You didn’t call.”
“I tried.”
“Wait a minute. I have to get dressed.”
She closed the door. I stepped back and leaned against the far wall. Occasionally, a female officer entered or exited a room down the hall, glanced toward me, and when I smiled went about her business. With my short haircut and my CID coat and tie, I didn’t look too threatening.
The door to Captain Prevault’s room opened.
She wore blue jeans and sneakers and a light rain slicker over a white blouse. “You ready?” she asked.
“For what?”
“For a visit to a nut house.”
She smiled demurely, cocked her head, and walked down the corridor. I followed.
Our destination was in the northwest corner of Seoul, an area snuggled beneath Bukhan Mountain known as Songbuk-dong. The
kimchi
cab chugged up a winding road, past a break in the ancient stone ramparts that had once protected the city from waves of invaders: Chinese, Manchurians, Mongol hordes. Now lovers strolled along it, hand in hand, gazing down at the sparkling expanse of the city of Seoul.
“Where are we going?” I asked, staring out at the darkness.
“A sanitarium,” she replied. “What you call a ‘nut house.’ ”
“Sorry about that.”
She turned and in the light of a passing street lamp, I saw her prim smile once again.
A sign in slashed Chinese characters loomed ahead and Captain Prevault motioned for the driver to turn left through stone gates. The driveway wound another quarter mile through dense foliage and finally circled in front of an Asian-style building with moonlight reflecting off a tile roof. Clay monkeys perched on the edges, protecting the inhabitants from evil spirits. A yellow bulb in the entranceway illuminated a double front door painted crimson, and all around the light, moths flailed madly.
As I paid for the cab, I inhaled deeply of the tree-scented air until the cab sped off, spewing carbon.
Captain Prevault stood a few feet away, smiling and gazing around her. “It’s nice up here, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said.
She turned and walked toward the front gate. I followed. She pounded with a brass knocker. The gatekeeper must have been just inside because within seconds the big red doors swung open. Atoothy old man bowed to Captain Prevault, recognizing her. She smiled and bowed back, and then we were walking past the front building and climbing broad stone steps lined with more wooden buildings. Captain Prevault pulled a flashlight out of her bag and switched it on.
“It gets dark up here.”
“Where is
here
, exactly?” I asked.
“The National Mental Health Sanatorium. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
“A doctor or a patient?”
“Both.”
The steps stopped in front of a more modern building, one with plate glass windows through which to enjoy the view and a door reinforced with iron bars. Captain Prevault pressed the buzzer. A metallic voice said, “
Nugu seiyo
?” Who is it?
“Leah Prevault, here to see Doctor Hwang.”
Without further preamble, the
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