Free Buddha's Money by Martin Limon

couldn't speak Korean, didn't know anything more about the country than what he learned on the military base, and once he was out in the Korean villages, he had no more idea of how to proceed than the Man in the moon. Ernie and I, however, had proven our ability to work off-post. I spoke Korean. Ernie had an almost instant rapport with people of any nationality—when he chose to. We were the best investigative team the First Sergeant had. And he knew it.
    And the pressure was on him. The honchos at the Eighth Army head shed were raising hell. Now that the word was out that a military dependent—even an unofficial one—had been kidnapped, the howls for revenge were rising. The secret fear of every American colonel and hotshot diplomat is that some sneaky Korean will some day swipe their child. It had never happened before, but now something close to it had happened.
    The American community in Korea wanted blood.
    And that wasn't the only case Eighth Army was barking about.
    The First Sergeant reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a Korean newspaper, unfolded it, and slapped it down on his desk in front of us.
    "Anybody here look familiar, Bascom?"
    The photo was grainy, but the image was unmistakable. Ernie. Manhandling the business girl who had tried to claw his eyes out last night. Behind him, I emerged from the black and white shadows, carrying the little nun. We looked like pirates preoccupied with rape and pillage. The headline said it all: GI ATTACKS BUDDHIST NUN.
    Nothing else was on the front page. Only feature stories about the riot that followed and the outraged reaction from the Temple of the Celestial Void, the little nun's home base. And a short bio of Choi So-lan. Who she was. How she came to be a Bride of Buddha.
    "It hasn't hit the television yet," the First Sergeant said. In Korea, the government doesn't allow the TV stations to start broadcasting until five P.M., after the end of the working day. "But it will tonight, and then Eighth Army's going to be in a world of waste."
    Ernie spread his fingers. "A little bad publicity, Top. We've been through it before."
    "Why were you attacking that whore?"
    "I wasn't. She was attacking me."
    "Sure. And now that she has this photo to back her up, she'll probably file a charge against you and try to settle for big bucks."
    "No way, Top."
    The First Sergeant raised his gray eyebrows. "Why not?"
    "She's an Itaewon business girl. They all love me. That was her method of showing affection."
    "My ass. The Community Affairs Officer at Eighth Army's about to shit a brick over this. He and the Commanding General want you both to stay away from cameras. You got that?" The First Sergeant turned to me. "What do you have so far, Sueño, on the mugging of that nun?"
    "We spotted the perpetrator, but didn't get a positive ID on him because of the poor lighting. I do suspect, however, that he might be reporting into sick call for a broken rib."
    I held up my left fist. Ernie guffawed.
    The First Sergeant jotted a note. "I'll have somebody check with the medical command. Anything else?"
    "And you might also have them check on a damaged finger," I told him. "The nun claims she chomped down on him pretty hard. Drew blood."
    "Will do," the First Sergeant said. This is what he liked. Crisp police work. What I added to my report brought a frown back to his face.
    "The perpetrator appeared to be a black GI," I said.
    "Shit! That makes it more complicated."
    Ernie's eyes shone at the First Sergeant's discomfort. "Why's that, Top?"
    The First Sergeant either didn't notice Ernie's enjoyment or didn't care. He lowered his head, still talking but lost in thought.
    "Because the CG has been trying to improve race relations in the command. This will just complicate things."
    "Why?" Ernie asked. "She was a Korean nun, not a white nun."
    "Still, some of the blacks might think we're just pinning it on them."
    "Meaning we have to arrest somebody?"
    "The Korean government is demanding it."
    "Whether