Flower Girl: A Burton Family Mystery Part 10

"I will carry this beauty with me," I said, as we departed Gyeongju for our final stop on our tour, the place of my mother's death.

We slowly wove our way through the traffic heading out of Gyeongju. Hamish stopped for gas at the entrance onto the Gyeongbu Expressway to Seoul.

I nudged Rhyly and whispered, "Is that flashy looking dude over by the souvenir stand the same guy from the service station we stopped at before visiting the Mommy Bell?"

"If the license plate on that Benz reads RG 22-N-78, it's the same dude," I said.

Rhyly was at a better angle and said, "Same Benz, and I'm pretty sure he's the same dude. If we see him again, let's tell Reddy. No point in getting paranoid yet. He's probably just another tourist."

I replied, "If we've seen him, so has Reddy." Then I saw the black motorcycle parked alongside the Benz, with a dog standing guard, but not the rider.

One more stop on our tour.

Chapter 9: My First a.s.signment.

I had a poster on my bedroom wall in Berkeley of the place that was the last stop on our tour, Namdaemun Gate; however, I had never seen the Gate firsthand. Hamish promised that some day he would take me on a tour that included the remaining historical gates. The walls were demolished during j.a.panese occupation to make way for roads and a tram system.

Hamish knifed the SUV through the heavy traffic entering Seoul, and then we circled slowly around the newly restored Namdaemun Gate and past the busy market area. Back-dropped by several twenty-story skysc.r.a.pers, the Great South Gate was topped by two red and green paG.o.da style roofs. Officially called Sungnyemun Gate, more popularly called Namdaemun Gate, it was one of the eight gates in the fortress wall that surrounded Seoul during the Joseon dynasty, several hundred years after the Silla dynasty. Four of these magnificent paG.o.da style gates remained.

"What a fantastic contrast in architecture," I noted.

As we entered the Great South Gate to Seoul, Sister Cerice said her goodbyes. "I have enjoyed meeting you and I hope we can stay in touch. I shall send Hamish some of my recent translations of ancient historical records to be forwarded to you both. May I contact you if I have need of a.s.sistance with some difficult linguistics?"

"We would be pleased to a.s.sist, any time," I replied as Rhyly nodded.

"I trust you will continue your interest in research on the historical contributions of women. Perhaps we can meet and expand on our brief tour someday. I can always be reached through Hamish. Kamsamnida!"

Sister Cerice quickly vanished into the bustling marketplace crowds; however, her presence lingered as Rhyly and I discussed her and the importance of her research on the wanton destruction and obfuscation of women's contributions to the development of the Korean peninsula. We were especially intrigued by the Silla era which produced the first queen to rule in these parts, and we couldn't wait to find out more about the almost forgotten Wonhwa.

When the man-in-black s.n.a.t.c.hed me away from the home for girls, I thought I would never have the opportunity to enjoy the sights and sounds and smells of the great city of Seoul that I heard the guards speak of frequently. With my mother and myself declared dead, I had been immediately transported to the south, to Parks' Home for Girls and Clinic off the southern coast of Korea on Cheju-do Island. The plan was that by age thirteen I would be sent to my husband. Reddy interrupted the plan.

I learned many things at the Parks' Home for Girls. Tutors came to teach us language skills as well as music and etiquette. I learned Korean, Arabic, j.a.panese, and Mandarin and was fluent in all four by age ten. I also picked up some English slang from the guards at the clinic who were all ex- ROK Special Forces, trained by the US Army from nearby Camp Casey. I enjoyed the history lessons nearly as much as the stick fighting, my favorite martial art. I still practice daily with my long stick.

"Rhyly, did I ever tell you about my skill with the jang bong, the long stick?" I asked.

Rhyly replied, "Is stick fighting a subst.i.tute for sword fighting?"

"No, that's called gumtoogi," I answered. "As you know, I'm an aficionado of bontoogi, Korean stick fighting. I learned the art when I was a child at a dojang next to the Parks' Home for Girls on Cheju-do Island. My instructor taught me hand fighting, and only when my skill was sufficient was I graduated to weapons skills. The instructor saw that I had a talent for stick fighting so I kept practicing and he overmatched me at every opportunity until I defeated all the boys in the dojang except the oldest. By then I was eleven years old. The oldest boy was Sincere Park. At fourteen, Sincere bragged that he was the best stick fighter in the dojang. He was a bit of a bully so none of the other boys, younger and smaller than he was, ever challenged him. At age eleven, I defeated Sincere in a bontoogi match. Defeated by an eleven year old girl he knew as Carrie Lee was too much shame for him, to the point that he didn't show his face at the Pak Dojang for months."

"I would love to learn, can you instruct me some day?" Rhyly asked.

"My pleasure, we can start tomorrow if you'd like?"

Reddy heard me talking about Sincere and stick fighting. "Two stalkers have followed us on our tour, the guy in the Benz and the black motorcycle dude. One of them could be Sincere Park. Sincere was teased mercilessly about his defeat at the hands of an eleven year old girl. It's possible he's carried a grudge all these years."

Our tour was almost over. We had one more place to visit, the Parks' Seoul Clinic, located near the Namdaemun Gate. But first we headed to the Namsan Chosun Hotel. We entered by the rear entrance and headed straight for a red leather upholstered booth next to the bar. There were big screens surrounding the booth which swiveled to give Hamish a 360 degree view. It resembled a hi-tech operations planning center. World and local news and stock market reports from New York to Dubai to London were all there for the viewer. This was Hamish's place of business.

Reddy says, "Anyung has.h.i.+m nika, Hamish, I see you've made a new friend," referring to the police officer we had watched carry a case of Johnny Walker Blue Label scotch out to the trunk of his police cruiser.

"The Captain's been a friend for many seasons," Hamish replied as he shook Reddy's hand and waved for me to take a seat opposite him in the booth. "Good morning, G.o.ddaughter," Hamish said, adding, "has Reddy told you how I came to be your G.o.dfather?"

"I didn't even know you were a Catholic until you told us about Sister Cerice, but it pleases me greatly, G.o.dfather Hamish. I feel we've known each other for many years. I'm looking forward to learning more about my mother from you."

"I never knew Anne; however, I have a.s.sisted Reddy for many years," Hamish said as we sat down opposite him in the posh red leather seats, but not before holding up three fingers and gesturing to the barman.

"What details do you have for me on the Parks?" Reddy asked. Hamish's grapevine had uncovered info about a recent partners.h.i.+p meeting in Seoul between the Parks and an American, Courtney Blaine Grey.

"Dr. Evel Park Junior and his brother Sincere have plans to expand operations to Dubai and Guatemala. Even more importantly, my operatives have photos that have verified the evidence that the three year old Arab girl has been delivered along with another girl, as yet not identified, to the Park's Cheju-do Island Home for Girls.

"Princess Zubaida has seen the photos and she replied with pictures of her and her daughter as children. They both have a small, distinct rose-shaped birthmark on the right side of their necks, a family birthmark. The three year old who recently arrived at the Home for Girls has the same birthmark. Better than DNA as evidence of who she really is," Hamish added.

"To better answer your earlier enquiry about your mother, I was the one who tipped Reddy to the discovery that his daughter was actually alive. You were one of Dr. Evel Park Senior's earliest victims, a sort of test case. Park could not resist when Anne Burton, Reddy's wife and your mother, entered his Seoul Clinic almost exactly twenty-seven years ago. She was six months pregnant and feverish with a deadly case of malaria."

Reddy cut in on Hamish's story of my mother and said, "Had I not received word from Hamish that Park had at least two western girls in his Cheju-do Island Clinic-Compound and had I not acted immediately, I'd still be wandering around the Mansions in Hong Kong following trails to nowhere and no one."

It was clear that Reddy wanted to change the subject, away from Anne. I said, "I need to know this, Reddy. Please let Hamish continue."

Hamish said, "Well, I don't want to dwell on the negatives. He rescued you and he returned another girl to an expat family in Oregon. They had suffered nearly eight years over the loss of their daughter in childbirth at the Park's Seoul Clinic. Same M O. Their joy was only surpa.s.sed by their shock as they had absolutely no idea that their baby girl had survived.

"After Reddy rescued you fifteen years ago, Dr. Evel Park, Sr. never expanded his child bride operation to more than ten girls at any one point in time. However, two years ago, Park's son, Evel Junior, took over as CEO. He lacked his father's knowledge and skills and he was still learning the family business. Profit was the entire motivation for getting into the exotic child brides business. My sources estimate that it cost the Parks a bit over $60,000 to raise and train one girl until she is twelve and ready for sale as a child bride to a rich client for $300,000.

"Junior couldn't resist what he saw as an opportunity when Princess Zubaida's daughter checked into the new offices of the Park Clinics in Singapore. She was six months pregnant, and the younger Dr. Park made the mistake that she would be convinced by his simple argument that her baby had been still-born. But, after the doctor told Zinni that the fetus was still-born, she insisted on knowing if it was a boy or a girl. She also felt certain that the baby was viable at six months, perhaps a mother's instinct. First, she challenged her husband, asking if it was a question of life for her versus for her baby. He a.s.sured her it was not, telling her that he too asked Dr. Park if he could see the baby and if he would return her corpse to the family for a proper burial. The doctor told them she had already been cremated."

"Couldn't a four pound fetus have survived, with better care?" I asked.

"That is precisely what the mother thought. However, Dr. Park stonewalled her further. Her servants reported that she cried for two days and nights. Then she awoke one morning, sat up suddenly, and told her husband: 'My mother knows Dr. Matte Morgan of RVU, a clinical psychologist and counselor who specializes in cases of child brides and child slavery. I shall ask mother to contact Dr. Morgan to see if she knows an investigator we might hire.'"

Hamish concluded: "That's the story of your mother and of how Reddy's contract with Princess Zubaida began. He was fortuitously the best choice she could have made as only he had the experience that approximated hers. Furthermore, the name Park shot through his heart."

"I get it," I said. "Dr. Evel Park, Jr. hadn't factored Reddy into the equation. Junior expanded operations to securing babies from Singapore, and now he's s.h.i.+fting to Central America, India, and Africa where there are fewer rich families to deal with. In his mind he has reduced the risk factor to zero."

"Exactly!" Hamish concluded as the barkeep arrived with the refilled tea pot.

"Anyung has.h.i.+m nika, G.o.dfather," I said, sliding across the posh red leather upholstery. I gave him a big hug, breaking my no contact rule. Matte would be proud of my progress.

Reddy and I had one more question for Hamish. "Since Dr. Park's Seoul Clinic is still in operation, under the leaders.h.i.+p of Dr. Evel Park, Junior, can we safely visit without being identified?"

"That red brick one story building that is to the west of Namdaemun Gate surrounded by the market area is the Park's OB/GYN Clinic," Hamish said. "It was on our left as we circled around the Gate. Yes, the clinic is most certainly still operating. Did you notice the line of limousines in the driveway?"

Just then, Rhyly came into the bar to tell us, "I'm packed and I've checked out of the hotel. How about a lift to the airport?"

"I'll drop you off at the hotel by the Incheon Airport for your return flight to the States," Hamish replied.

Rhyly said, "Kamsamnida, Hamish, thank you for the wonderful briefing and tour. It's been a delight and made my research on the women of seventh century Silla come to life." Then she whispered to me, "I trust that this tour was helpful to Reddy and you. Someday I hope you'll fill in the blanks on what you two are up to. Meanwhile, I'll be in touch after I get home to River View. I hope you get to visit your mother's grave before you return stateside. Stay safe, girlfriend."

Outside, a black motorcycle darted past. The stalkers that followed us on our Gyeongju tour were making me jumpy, especially the Phantom motorcycle rider. Then another rider all dressed in black went by, and another. Maybe I was getting spooked over nothing more than a biker fas.h.i.+on. However, the thought of visiting the clinic where I was born and where my mother died had my nerves on edge, even more than the thoughts of stalkers.

After we said our goodbyes to Rhyly, Hamish turned to Reddy and me. "I'll pick you two up at the hotel after I drop Rhyly at the Incheon Airport. Our appointment to visit Dr. Evel Park, Jr. at the Park's OB/GYN Seoul Clinic is at 2pm." That gave me three hours to dress and prepare for playing the role of a prospective mother. I needed to get a fix on Dr. Park Junior, and I was mindful of Reddy's earlier warning that I might be recognized. I decided to take a run through Seoul to clear my head.

It was summer in Seoul but a cold wind cut through me as I started out of the Namsan Chosun Hotel for a run to relax me before my forthcoming visit to see Junior at the clinic. I went back to my hotel room and grabbed a light jacket. The sun was making an appearance through the clouds as I headed past the vacated hotel swimming pool where the only living soul was a slender boy in his teens, vacuuming the pool and checking the chlorine level of the water. I stretched for five minutes and started out at a slow jogging pace, wis.h.i.+ng Shy and Comet were with me.

My run took me around the gra.s.s covered circle of Seoul Plaza, then south to Namsan Park, then on to the Han River. I crossed over the river at Yoido Island and went northwest along the side road of the Olympic Expressway. As I crossed the bridge to the old World Cup Stadium, a black motorcycle reappeared briefly. This time it got close enough in bridge traffic that I saw a red dragon decal on its rear fender.

I continued back across the river to World Cup Stadium, then back to the hotel. It was a run of contrasts of old and new architecture, bustling traffic, bicycles, motorbikes, cars, lorries, and people rus.h.i.+ng in and out of subway stations to get to work. A typical work day in Seoul. I estimated the run at eight kilometers out and five kilometers back totaling thirteen kilometers or about nine miles. Near the end of my run, across the six lanes of traffic near the entrance to Songong underground market, I spotted another black motorcycle parked at the curb with a dog guarding it. Why was this image sticking with me?

Refreshed by a long shower after my run through Seoul, I changed into a frilly blue and white dress that was slightly loose so as to hide my figure, draped a dark blue silk shawl over my bare shoulders, and preened a moment in the hotel room mirror. I slipped on an expensive diamond cl.u.s.ter ring and a matching wedding band that Hamish had loaned me for the occasion. Okay, I said to myself, as I added a dash of jasmine perfume and adjusted the leather strap of an authentic Gucci handbag over my left shoulder, you now look like a wealthy respectable bride and mother-to-be. I heard the hotel room door lock behind me as I headed for the elevators and the lobby entrance to meet Hamish and Reddy who were already in the lobby.

"You do make a stout but well groomed chauffeur and body guard," I said with a grin as Hamish held open the rear door of the Benz limousine in the circular drive at the front entrance to the hotel.

"Mrs. Bendix, you are looking lovely. Your limousine awaits." Hamish gestured for me to sit in the right rear of the vehicle, then closed the door and circled behind to enter the driver's door. Hamish drove Reddy and me to the Parks' Clinic. As we arrived, he said, "The appointment with Junior will be a test of your acting skills as a prospective mother."

"A test of my nerves is more likely," I replied.

After thirty minutes of ten miles per hour b.u.mper to b.u.mper driving through a mix of pedestrian crosswalks, cars, mini-buses, a peloton of bicycles, motorbikes, and lorries, we arrived at Park's OB/GYN Clinic.

"Don't forget that most of the Park's OB/GYN Clinic's legitimate clientele are wealthy Korean and foreign women," Hamish said. "Check out the Benz limousine across the street with the chauffeur leaning against it, and three more limos in the parking area. One of them has a Russian amba.s.sadorial flag."

I caught a glimpse of Reddy in the rear mirror as he literally bailed out of the front of the limo and vanished into the vast market area across the street from the clinic.

Hamish repeated the Benz door opening routine, holding the door open for me as if I were royalty. He walked me to the front door of Park's Clinic, again holding open the door. Hamish sure dressed and acted the part. Doffing his black flight cap with a flourish and carrying it under his arm, he said to the clinic receptionist, "Mrs. Caroline Bendix to see Doctor Evel Park Junior."

The receptionist pushed a b.u.t.ton and a door to her left opened. "Please be seated in the lounge. The doctor will be with you shortly." The lounge was quite posh with lots of rich dark brown leather upholstered furniture and mocha colored velvet wall paper. We were immediately served tea.

Within five minutes, Junior entered, still changing from his scrubs to a suit coat and adjusting his necktie. The dude was a slick dresser. d.a.m.n, I thought, he was the reincarnation of his father. I tried not to gag. Hamish, at attention a few feet to my left, did not take a seat, and instead offered me a hand as I rose to meet the doctor.

"Mrs. Bendix, it is a pleasure to meet you," Dr. Park said, without extending a hand.

"Kamsamnida, Dr. Park. I will be needing your services in a few months and wish to speak with you and see your facilities."

"We could schedule an examination for whenever it is convenient for you, Mrs. Bendix," Dr. Park replied. "Miss Kim, our receptionist, handles all appointments and my a.s.sistant, Dr. Chang, will be delighted to give you a tour of the facilities."

Hamish said, "Mrs. Bendix would prefer to keep the number of people who know of her condition as small as possible. Could you please lead the tour and answer her questions?"

Junior looked slightly miffed as he pressed a b.u.t.ton on the wall next to the door we had entered through. "Miss Kim, inform Dr. Chang that his services will not be needed and clear my schedule for twenty minutes so that I may accompany Mrs. Bendix on a tour of the clinic," Dr. Park said, without a please or a kamsamnida. Treats her like a servant, not an employee, I thought.

Matte told me later that I was reinforcing my hate for Junior, building up a case for revenge.

The clinic had the sterile and antiseptic odor that seemed to be universal to all medical facilities, I thought as we entered. I needed to suggest to Dalisay that her clinic find a way to reduce or eliminate the medicinal and antiseptic tang. Perhaps eucalyptus would be better.

The operating rooms captured my attention, equipped with what looked to be the latest and most expensive equipment. Mostly, I watched Junior's every move and burned his image into my memory.

At 5' 4", Dr. Evel Park Junior was of medium to stout build. When he s.h.i.+fted his weight to start walking or change direction, he was always balanced, carried himself like someone well trained in tae kwon do and hwarang-do fighting skills. His slicked back black hair was showing some grey at the temples, and he rarely looked me in the eyes when speaking to me. While I had not seen him since I was twelve and he was sixteen years old, I had seen his father Dr. Evel Park, Sr. many times before my rescue. Junior was his spitting image, right down to the few occasions when I caught a glimpse of the flecks of yellow and red in his eyes. I recalled how the girls all commented on his evil eyes.

I asked Ms. Kim if Dr. Sincere Park or Dr. Park Junior would be my primary physician. She replied that Dr. Sincere Park was out of town on business in the Middle East for the next few weeks. I made a follow-up appointment with Miss Kim that we would be canceling later, citing my mother-in-law's insistence that I give birth to our first child in Hawaii, my husband's home.

We finished our visit to the clinic in twenty minutes as advertised and said our goodbyes, but not until we had learned that Dr. Park Junior would be visiting the Cheju-do Home for Girls on the morning of the 31st of May.

Reddy met us ten minutes later at Hamish's office in the hotel bar. "He has the same evil look as his father."

"Yes, he does, the same devil's eyes. He's kind of scary," I replied. "Junior meets Reddy's Rule # 1 on appearance alone. And speaking of Rules, the second target is out of country for several weeks."

Reddy replied, "Sincere can wait for another day. Besides, you and I will be too busy for a twofer."

"Where were you all this time, hiding in the markets and watching us with your scope?" I asked a bit too sharply, as I began to tear up, releasing some tension. I was misty eyed for nearly a minute as my thoughts returned to a memory that had so recently been retold to me. I have no real memories of my mother; however, the visit to the place where she died while giving birth to me left me feeling the pain of her demise more intensely than ever before. I wondered how I would feel if I ever got to visit her grave.

"We find ourselves once again investigating a case involving the Park's family business," Reddy said to Hamish as we lounged in the hotel bar for refreshments before driving to Incheon Airport to catch our flight back to Cheju-do. "Sometimes I think we'll never be free of these b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. Shannon and I are taking care of some family business as well as Zubaida's case while in Cheju-do. Give me a call on my cell when Junior departs for the island."

So, I thought, Hamish is in on the Zubaida case. It figured that he was all along.

Standing in line on the domestic side of Incheon airport, waiting for the same flight Reddy and I are scheduled to take back to Cheju-do, was a familiar looking slender athletic woman.

"Might you folks be in need of a Pilatus PC12 qualified co-pilot for a return flight to the USA?" she asked nonchalantly. It was a rhetorical question; however, I answered with a rare hug. Reddy nodded knowingly. Rhyly said, "You tell me when you're ready to fly back to the States. Don't forget, you promised me a three day stopover on Kamchatka to do my research on the Ainu. Meanwhile, I'll keep out of the way and out of sight. Secrets are my specialty."

Hamish said goodbye to the three of us at the domestic departure gate at Incheon, and in an hour we were flying back to Cheju-do to what we hoped would be a successful mission.

Zubaida's Case: Enacting the Rescue Plan "Okay, here's the plan," Reddy said. "I'll handle the breakout at the Parks' Home for Girls. You take up position on the mountain on Udo Island. Securing the girl is step one. This has to be synched with a distraction. Your first a.s.signment is to provide this distraction, drawing the guards to the front of the compound away from the girls' dorm while I make a break for the Zodiac with the girl. Step two is getting the girl to the PC12 and off the island quickly, before all h.e.l.l breaks loose and the airfield is shut-down by the police."

Reddy calculated that if the PC12 was fueled the night before, already had a flight plan, and was wheels up within twenty minutes of his departing the Park's compound with the girl, then we just might pull this rescue off. He broke his no partners rule and solicited Rhyly as pilot for this part of the plan. Somehow I knew all along she was going to get involved.

Step three of our plan is for Rhyly to drop the girl off in Hakodate where she'll be picked up by Ms. Betty-Sue Curfew's Bombardier jet and flown to Bahrain on the Gulf coast of Saudi Arabia to be reunited with Princess Zubaida and Zinni.

I thought back to Reddy's referring to his magic, thinking we would need some magic to pull this off, but I didn't push it.

Critical to our plan was getting the timing right on the two separate but simultaneous activities: first, Reddy's breaking Zubaida's granddaughter out of the compound and second, my providing the distraction by completing my first a.s.signment.

If we were to make a successful exit from the island before the authorities could track us, especially if our tourist cover didn't hold up, we would need to move fast, immediately after both parts of the job were done. To be honest, before Rhyly reappeared and volunteered to be our co-pilot for the return flight, I wasn't sure that Reddy had a getaway plan.

Reddy turned to me. "You can handle the distraction by yourself. Check the computer results and get the h.e.l.l out of there for my place. Rhyly will have the PC12 refueled and waiting with engines running and a call in to Jeju Tower for clearance for take-off. I briefed Rhyly and she knows the timing and will file a flight plan first thing in the morning, then hang around the aircraft as if she's checking or repairing something, refueling and all that. Rhyly has corralled a few local kids to join her in the hangar area, to deflect attention from me when I arrive with Zinni's daughter. By the way, thanks for purchasing a couple of changes of clothes for the girl. I want to change her appearance as soon as possible after I s.n.a.t.c.h her.

"You need to complete your a.s.signment as soon as Junior arrives. I will take my cue from the frantic activity at the front gate of the Park's compound and move in with the Zodiac from the seaside entrance. Then I'll make the extraction, reverse my route, abandon the Zodiac a kilometer or so south on the beach, and drive over to the airport to meet Rhyly at the PC12 with our cargo. Then I'll join you at home and we'll continue playing tourist for a few days."

"So this is what you really meant by a twofer," I replied with a smile.

"I reckon so," Reddy answered. "It is not always a matter of two shooters and two targets. Actually, Sincere did us a favor by being out of country. It's an issue of coordination that means extra risks as multiple partners and multiple targets are involved. Besides, breaking my rule about no partners is flexible when it comes to having a competent family partner as a shooter and a crazy female professor as a co-pilot."

Reddy often finds humor in the riskiest of circ.u.mstances. I found myself smiling, not at what I was about to do, but at the trust Reddy was extending to me for a difficult task.

Once again Professor Marshall Hunt's quote came to me, "No plan is worth spit, if it cannot be properly implemented." The timing and coordination challenges were not the only unexpected implementation issues Reddy and I would encounter during the rescue and escape from the compound and the distraction.

I don't think the Parks and their guards ever recognized that their sea route to the offsh.o.r.e Texas tower was a weakness to their security system, a way to transport girls both in and out of the compound.

Reddy had noticed during his reconnoitering of the compound and the Texas tower owned by Russo-Grey Enterprises that similar Zodiacs were used by the Parks to transport four or five people or small cargoes back and forth to the tower. He chose the same model Zodiac and painted a number on the side, Parks' Clinic # 7, to make it appear that the craft was one of theirs, at least if one did not look closely.