Cold Snap (21 page)

Except for the giant desk, the office was
sparsely furnished. A pair of metal folding chairs was the sole
concession to visitors' comfort. Ari concluded the few customers
who entered this room already knew what they wanted and did not
stay long.

"He hasn't seen our missing man," Ari told
Lawson.

"He told you that?"

"And I tend to believe him," Ari
answered.

Elmore made a condescending sound, as though
commenting on unresisting stupidity.

"That still doesn't mean we can't talk," Ari
continued, lowering himself into one of the chairs. "A-Zed Imports
is multi-faceted. They're not only in the business of causing car
wrecks."

"You say that," said Rhee sourly. "I don't.
Hey, Mr. Ugly, why don't you sit, too? You make my neck hurt
looking up."

Lawson growled. Ari found it impressive. So
did the young man, who tried to leave but was trapped by the closed
wall of T-shirts.

"You don't like good manners?" Rhee
persisted. "I offer you seat. But you can leave, if it suits you.
No mind to me. What's wrong with insurance company, anyway? They
stop hiring humans?"

Ari wagged a finger at Lawson, then pointed
down at the seat. "I think our friend here has plenty to tell
us."

"I tell you nothing," Rhee hissed.

"You've told me plenty, already," said Ari,
leaning forward and giving the trinket display a fillip that set
their tiny chains jingling. "What else do you import?"

"Plenty things." His hand crabbed over the
desktop in search of his tobacco pouch. He craned his head at
Lawson. "Sit down. Your hand in your coat like that makes me think
you have gun."

"Is there a reason why I should bring a gun
in here?" Limping forward, Lawson propped his cane sideways and
began lowering himself into the folding chair. Ari was tempted to
reach out and steady the chair for him, but decided it would be a
show of weakness. He hid his sigh of relief when Elmore landed
without tipping over.

"Don't forget, this is Virginia. We encourage
people to carry firearms."

Ari wondered if this was true. His own Glock
was resting in his deep coat pocket. Could he wear a hip holster,
like a cowboy? Flaunt his weapon for all to see? He had not noticed
the local citizenry toting six-shooters, but maybe Virginians
preferred understatement. And handguns could be heavy. He had
witnessed at least two Iraqi officers whose holster belts snagged
on their pants and dragged them down. One of those officers had
used the offending gun to shoot a soldier who dared to laugh at the
sight.

"I might have gun in desk," Rhee said,
crouching forward against the top drawer. He nodded at the two
badboys. "They might have guns."

"In their skivvies?" Lawson snorted. He
turned to Ari. "Shoot."

"Excuse me?" Ari said.

"You said you had some questions for the
man."

"Ah. 'Shoot'." Ari smiled and took out his
Winstons. "I'll make smoke instead."

Grunting, Lawson reached into his pocket and
drew out his Pall Malls. The Koreans watched with interest as he
lit up using one hand, as though they were watching a carnival act.
Soon, the three older men found themselves trying to scrutinize
each other through a choking haze.

"What's so important about my novelties?"
Rhee asked, delving his hand at the display.

"You sell them to tourist outlets?"

"Mmmm..."

"And who else?"

"No big market but tourists." Stretching
forward, Rhee turned the display around and scowled at the gewgaws.
"Tourists like crap."

"A Korean selling bona fide Virginia trinkets
made in China to American tourists," Ari grinned, genuinely
amused.

"So? Russians sell American guns to Afghans
to kill Americans. Russians, too, if they stupid enough to go
back."

"Is this going anywhere?" Lawson demanded. He
exchanged glances with Rhee, who nodded in agreement.

"I was wondering if you handed out trinkets
like this to your other imports. Sort of as boob prizes, I
mean."

"You mean 'booby'?" Lawson inquired.

"Is that the word?"

"You talk shit," said Rhee.

"I have frequently been accused of such a
crime," Ari nodded. "But in this case I'm referring to the people
you smuggle into this broad land."

He offered the room an innocent smile,
although he was in fact scanning for reactions. The most
informative came from the young man, who renewed his attempt to
squeeze past the T-shirts. Receiving no instructions from Rhee, the
badboys remained immovable. The young nephew appeared to seriously
consider climbing the wall. That must have been, in his eyes, more
feasible than rushing past his uncle for the front door.

"Your multiple businesses must be very
lucrative," Ari continued. "I couldn't help but notice you
discarding many computers the other day."

Rhee flattened his nephew with a sooty gaze.
"We also do disposals." He turned back to Ari. "Guess you couldn't
help notice because you stickin' your fat nose in our
business."

"Fat?" asked Ari, touching his nose. He had
been gratified by the young man's visible shock when he mentioned
the computers. What surprised him, however, was a slight gasp from
Lawson.

"You finished, now you know all my business?"
Rhee demanded. The buff badboys edged a little further into the
room. They did not put on a display, refrained from growling or
cracking their knuckles. They just stared blankly, like missiles
aimed at a potential target. Ari suspected they only knew a few key
words in English, like "Attack!" and "Kill!" What would 'Down
Boys!' be in Korean?

"I wanted to ask your nephew..." He swiveled
in his chair to face the young man fully. "Did you receive a call
from a strange woman a week ago? Did she say something like...oh,
'Is Ethan there'?'"

Unlike his uncle, the nephew had never
learned the art of maintaining a poker face. "No!" Feeling his
uncle's gaze on him, he repeated, "No!"

"You get lot of calls," said Rhee, his voice
fluting around smoke and phlegm and anger. "Maybe I take away your
phones, too."

"I never heard of anyone named Ethan! I told
her—!"

"Big dummy," Rhee interrupted. "Big computer
geek has big empty zero for brain. Here..." He leaned over the
notepad. Shielding his writing with one hand, he wrote out the
password. "Take this and don't come back. And don't call
anyone."

Eagerly, the young man snatched up the pad
and raced through the gap the badboys made for him.

"Fucking ninny," said Rhee, throwing the pen
down in disgust.

A warm sensation on the side of Ari's face
informed him Lawson was boring through him with his remaining
eye.

"And you, full of tall tales...crashing cars
and people imports...you go get shrink scream around in your head.
I got no use for you."

Ari opened his mouth to serve up one of his
platitudinous lies, but the proprietor had turned his attention to
Lawson.

"And you, Mr. Ugly—"

"Fuck you."

"We can do business. Pull up your pants
leg."

"Didn't I already say 'fuck you'?"

"You shy?" He made a gesture and the buff
badboys disappeared back up the hallway, one of them unable to
subdue a yawn. They had not been eager for a fight, Ari concluded.
They had been bored to death.

"OK, goons gone," said Rhee. "Now pull up
that pants leg. Not the real one. The gimp. I'm not joking. I tell
you, we can do business, both profit."

Ari was as stumped as Lawson. He looked at
the insurance man and shrugged.

"What are you thinking?" Lawson asked
him.

"I'm thinking I'm curious about what Mr. Rhee
is getting at. I won't look if you don't want me to."

"You've seen everything, remember?" He
hesitated. "I'm curious, too." Laying his cane on the floor, Lawson
curled his fingers around his pants cuff and pulled upwards,
exposing a long, hinged shank that rounded at the bottom in a
Buster Brown clubfoot.

"Higher," said Rhee.

"Let me save us both the bother," said
Lawson. "It goes halfway to my hip."

"Ha!" exclaimed Rhee. "Your great army gave
me the same piece of shit. Transfemoral crap. How long before it
wears out? They say four years? Lucky if it lasts one. How's the
COP on the foot?"

"COP?" asked Ari.

"Center of Pressure." Lawson's eye narrowed
on Rhee. "You know something about prosthetics?"

Rising from his seat, the proprietor circled
around and lifted his leg. There was a loud thump as it landed on
top of the desk.

"Get load of this." He unsheathed a gleaming
prosthetic. "It's an Indian knockoff of the one they make in
Hampshire, England. Got microprocessors, perfect gait. Check out
the knee. Hydraulic, with stance manager. Carbon fiber, urethane
kneel pad, cadence control, even has a switch to ride bicycles. You
look like athletic man. One of these'll last you for years. I've
had this for two, and not one complaint."

Lawson leaned forward and stared in
admiration.

"And no limp! Ask your friend here. He spy on
me the other day with his sharp eagle eyes. Ask if he saw a
limp."

"Well?" Lawson asked Ari, who shook his head
sadly, disappointed that his power of observation had failed
him.

"What Americans gave me was cheap shit, just
like that stick you're wearing."

"True that," Lawson nodded. "The U.S
Government gave it to you? Was it an accident? What insurance
companies were involved? Or were one or both parties
uninsured?"

"Not here. Back home. I had a shop in
Daeseong-dong, right in the DMZ. Sold gum and cigarettes and my
little sister to GI's. One day they have one of their big-cheese
REDCON alerts, like the North Koreans pooping over the border. It
was just practice, but they still run you down you get in the way.
I was with my nephew...that thing you saw earlier. Even then he had
zero for brains. He was just standing there in front of Camp
Bonifas—you almost have to walk through minefields to get
there—when this deuce and a half comes up. Big Zero doesn't move,
like he don't understand what two and a half tons of moving metal
can do to you."

"You jumped into the road, saved him, and got
that for your trouble." Lawson nodded at the leg still propped on
the desk.

"You bet. Americans take look at me and
boohoo the day away. They wanted me to die—living costs them money.
But I didn't. They had to cough up, make Seoul so happy. Your
government has something called solatia and condolence payments for
people who have lost relatives. They say they paid for my leg
already, and I say my real leg was like a brother to me and now
it's gone. I threatened to go to The Chosun Ilbo with big story
about cruel Americans, and top it off about how their GI's gave my
little sister the clap. Next thing, the money rolls in, but not
enough to suit me and my extended family."

"How old was your nephew when this happened?"
Lawson inquired.

"Oh, five, six."

"And he's around eighteen, now."

"Came to the States eleven years ago. They
say, you want more money out of the bastards? Go where the lawyers
are."

"The USA." Lawson's half-grin was painful to
behold. "Use the bastards to sue the bastards."

"Didn't have to sue, in the end. Americans
paid my way over. I was a special case because I lived in DMZ and
U.S. Army ran me over—"

Lawson's grin vanished and he swore. "We give
foreigners room and board here for sucking up to us overseas, but a
real American grunt gets a letter of commendation, which is worth
nada in the marketplace. 'Thanks, pal, and try not to overuse the
VA facilities'. Fuck."

Ari shifted uncomfortably.

Rhee did not take offense. He shrugged.
"Funny country. I used my connections at home to start import
business, made more connections, everything A-Plus. No crashes, no
people imports." This last directed at Ari. "I got relatives in
Pyongyang, though. They might nuke you one day, you get too
pushy."

"Why are you telling us all of this?"

"Like I said, we do business. I can import
brand new factory-made lower body prosthetic from Mumbai, made from
isocyanate and polyol bonded in a mold to suit your leg."

"How much?"

"Usually goes for $8,000."

"But it has to be measured...fitted."

"I can arrange visit with doc in
Charlottesville, get measurements, fix you right up. Arm, too, but
I don't know much about them."

"You'll want a downpayment..."

"Exchange of services better," said Rhee,
lowering his leg and retrieving his cigarette from the ash
tray.

"Mmmm-hmmm," Lawson sighed. "You mean
'non-service' on my part."

"I mean stop bothering me with nonsense. Car
crashes, missing persons, other stuff. You get ugly serving your
country? You deserve to sit back and relax in a comfortable arm and
leg. Watch baseball. You need a girl? I can arrange that, too.
Good, obedient Filipino, and your looks no bother. Likes GI's. Her
family works for sailors at Subic Bay."

"You're more charming by the minute," Lawson
groused. "Just out of curiosity, what would you offer my co-worker
here?"

"Don't know. What you want?" Rhee asked Ari
warily, as though expecting the sun, or the moon, or a spit in the
eye.

"A cat," said Ari.

"No, really." When Ari did not respond, Rhee
continued, "I know what you want: no more trouble. I don't know
what happened to you the other day, this 'message' business you
talk about. But maybe I can ask around, make whoever it is lay off.
You don't like trouble, do you? Because what happened to you is
nothing. I do government work, too."

"The Korean government?" said Lawson.

"Hell no, U.S. Government. I waited a long
time, but now I becoming citizen. Who wrote the Federalist Papers?
Go ahead, ask me. I can tell you. How many Representatives are
there in Congress? What do the 13 stripes on the flag stand for? I
know it all. Going to Norfolk pretty soon to take naturalization
test."