Buddha's money

Начало книги

Three miniskirted business girls flitted around Ernie like butterflies bothering a bear. He pulled out a packet of ginseng gum, grinned, and passed out a few sticks.

Another business girl, her face as brightly painted as the flickering neon of Itaewon, trotted across the road. I recognized her. Her name was Sooki. She grabbed Ernie's arm and peered up at him.

"You MP, right?"

"CID," Ernie told her. "Criminal Investigation Division. Not MP."

"Same same," Sooki said.

"Not same same." Ernie pointed at his skull. "I use my brain. MPs just beat the hell out of everybody. And anyway, I'm working tonight. So don't bother me."

We were working, all right. The black market detail. Undercover. Wearing our running-the-ville outfits: blue jeans, sports shirts, sneakers, and black nylon jackets with golden dragons embroidered on the back. Trying to catch off-duty GIs trading PX liquor and cigarettes for the charms that only a beautiful young woman can provide.

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