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“Yep.” The sergeant pointed to the file. “Right there in the police report. The wound was pretty significant. It took a couple dozen stitches to sew her arm up.”
“Seriously?” Luke repeated. “Man, this is a first.” He closed the folder and stood. “Come on, Tony. Let’s go take care of our customers.”
* * *
AS TONY MANCINI FOLLOWED Luke from the room he was struck for about the twentieth time by the lieutenant’s size. He’d known Luke for a year but had known of him for nearly a decade. Luke didn’t quite rate being called a legend, but he was pretty close. Indeed, it was rare for a man from one of the service academies to be drafted into the NFL, but Luke—an outstanding football player for the Naval Academy—had been selected by one of the pro teams. Tony didn’t recall which. In the end, though, Luke had decided to keep his commitment to the Navy and the NFL had lost out.
As he trailed the lieutenant, Tony could certainly see why the NFL wanted him—the man was a barn. In his fifteen years in the Corps, Tony had never seen anyone that big wearing a uniform. The man was at least six foot six and weighed somewhere north of 260. Come to think of it, Tony wasn’t certain where Luke got his clothes; he didn’t think the Navy made standard uniforms that large.
The embassy’s Marine guard detail genuinely liked Luke and enjoyed when he was the weekend officer-in-charge. Luke took the duty seriously—some of the officers didn’t—and he didn’t look down on the enlisted guys—some of the officers did. Luke was an intelligent and affable Texan, and he’d done several tours in the Middle East—that alone had earned their respect. He was amiable most of the time, but tough when he needed to be. He played a good game of poker and was a magician when anyone was having problems with anything electronic. In addition, he was the only man Tony had ever seen actually bench-press 400 pounds. In truth, the guys were a little in awe of the big man.
* * *
AS THE TWO MEN strolled down the wide hallway toward the large waiting area, Tony said, “Heard you were getting out... Any truth to the rumor?”
“Yep.” Luke’s drawl became more pronounced. “Got three weeks left in Seoul. I’m off to Honolulu around the first of May to sign papers and get counseled. Then I’m headin’ home.”
“Well, dang,” Tony replied. “Since this is your last weekend with us, we need to pull together a game of Texas Hold ‘em. You’ve got a reputation as an easy mark. We’re gonna miss you.”
Luke scoffed good-naturedly and opened the door to the large waiting room. He saw two women looking a bit lost among the dozens of chairs.
The American Embassy in Korea was located in a converted seven-story office building. During normal working hours, the waiting area was often standing-room-only.
During the weekends, the embassy was essentially closed, though Americans were allowed in for emergencies. Those situations were evenly split between U.S. citizens experiencing accidents, serious illnesses or even death and situations in which U.S. citizens—typically young men—got into legal trouble. Most of those cases involved too much alcohol. This case was baffling, however, because in nearly a year as substitute duty officer, Luke had never even heard of a case of a random mugging, much less a physical assault on an American woman.
Luke studied the two women as he crossed the wide waiting area. The closer woman was blonde and appeared to be on the tall side. She was attractively dressed in skinny jeans and a snug red sweater. Beyond her was a slender Korean woman, more somberly dressed in a long gray skirt and hip-length tan jacket. Both women stood as the two military men approached and Luke noted that the blonde was indeed—as Tony had remarked—a looker. Her wavy, streaked, shoulder-length hair was brushed back, accenting intelligent blue eyes. Her deep-pink painted lips parted in welcome, revealing pretty white teeth.
Luke had years of training and experience in observation and assimilation of details, and his immediate impression was of a very attractive young woman. But he would have estimated that she was in her mid-thirties, not the 25 that had been reported on the form. Despite her pretty, inviting smile, that vague disconnect piqued his curiosity, causing his naturally skeptical mind to become even more alert.
Shifting his eyes a bit, Luke quickly looked at the Korean woman standing a few paces back. She was a little taller than most of the local women but had the slender build and staunchly erect posture commonly encountered here. Her black hair was pulled up in a clasp and she was wearing dark-rimmed glasses which—along with her rather frumpy clothes—contributed to a “geek chic” look. Luke got the impression that she was more nervous than her friend. She’d appeared ill-at-ease when she saw the uniformed men descending on them. Luke was very aware that his size was disconcerting to most people and was used to the response. Nonetheless, her reaction seemed a little extreme.
Deciding to start with a friendly approach, Luke addressed the tall curvy blonde. He held out his hand, and with his most reassuring smile drawled, “Hello, Ms. Olsen. I’m Lt. Llewellyn. I understand that you had a problem last night. We’re here—”
His introduction was simultaneously interrupted by Tony and the blonde.
“Oh, no! Not me—” The blonde’s cheeks darkened and she shook her head.
“Uh, Lieutenant—” Tony held up his hand.
Luke glanced back at his comrade who motioned toward the dark-haired woman. “Lieutenant, this is Ms. Olsen.” He indicated the blonde who was now grinning. “This is Ms. Jessica Tyson. Ms. Olsen is staying with Ms. Tyson while she’s in Seoul.”
Luke took a step back and glanced sheepishly between the two women. Trying to smooth over his discomfiture, he shook his head slightly and said, “Uh, sorry. Excuse me.” He held out his hand again. “Ms. Tyson, nice to meet you. Sorry for the mix-up.”
“Not a problem,” she answered, her voice tinged with humor. He shook her hand quickly before turning again to the other young woman, who was still standing several feet away.
She wasn’t smiling.
Luke covered the distance in two steps. This time when he looked at the dark-haired woman he took in details that he’d missed previously. On closer examination he realized that she was not Korean, or at least she was not full-blooded Korean. Her hair, while very dark, was not a flat black. Rather it carried deep brown highlights, and it was very glossy. Her skin was a soft, creamy color rather than the paler shades that many Korean women tried to maintain.
Then Luke realized that the most unusual thing about her appearance—what he should not have missed—was her eyes. Now that he was close enough to look past the dark-framed glasses, he could see the color—or rather colors—of her eyes. For the most part they were greenish blue, which alone would have been striking. But what was remarkable was that the outer one-third of both irises was a warm, coppery brown, interrupted periodically by small bluish flecks. The result was stunning.
Luke suddenly realized he’d been staring. Recovering his composure, he held out his hand. “Let me try this again... Ms. Olsen, I’m Luke Llewellyn, U.S. Navy. I understand that you have an incident to report.”
Cautiously, she placed her hand in his and practically gaped. Luke’s grip was gentle, but his hand was huge and it completely swallowed her much smaller, finer-boned one. Quickly she pulled her hand back and blinked nervously. “I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do. Last night the police detective said I would have to come by the embassy to apply for a replacement passport, and that while I was here I should talk to someone about...well about being mugged.” Her voice was soft and a little tentative, and she made a slight waving gesture with one hand.
Luke was still recovering from his embarrassment. In his peripheral vision he got a glimpse of Tony trying to keep a straight face. Ignoring his snickering colleague, he gave his best effort to appear competent and reassuring. Using his most professional tone, he explained, “In cases like this, where U.S. citizens are harmed, embassy personnel try to work as closely as possible with the police to resolve the case and ensure that it doesn’t happen again. If you’ll come with me, I need to get a little more information.” He motioned toward the hall that led to his borrowed office.
Claire hesitated a beat before responding, “Yes, okay. But...would it be all right if Jessica comes, too?”
“Of course. Ms. Tyson, you’re welcome to accompany us but I’ll ask you to avoid interfering.”
“Thanks,” the blonde replied in a friendly tone. “I promise I’ll keep quiet.”
Luke led the quartet down the hall with the curvy blonde beside him. Claire Olsen stayed a few paces behind and the Marine sergeant brought up the rear. Trying to appear casual with his initial questioning, Luke asked, “Ms. Tyson, have you been in Seoul very long?”
“It’s Dr. Tyson, actually. PhD, not M.D. And yes, I’ve lived in Seoul about seven years.” Her voice was a little throaty, and Luke discerned a bit of a northeastern accent, perhaps New York or another part of New England.
“What do you do?” he asked. They had arrived at the office. Luke entered first and pulled a couple of chairs forward to face the desk. He gestured for the women to sit before retreating behind the desk and taking a seat.
“I’m a professor of cultural anthropology at Seoul National University”
Luke responded, “Hangukmal hasil jul aseyo?”
“Yae, jogeumyo. Hangukmal hal jul ani?” she answered, looking amused.
Luke grinned and just shook his head. “No. Other than ‘hello’, ‘thanks,’ ‘how much’ and ‘where’s the men’s room,’ that’s pretty much the limit of my Korean. Do you actually teach in Korean?”
“No. I teach graduate courses, so my classes are all in English,” Jessica replied. “Most of my students want to go to the U.S. to study further, and they need to practice writing and conversing in English.”
Luke glanced toward the woman’s silent roommate and asked, “How are you two acquainted? Did you know each other before coming to Korea?”
“Seoul National provides me with a very nice three-bedroom apartment,” Jessica said. “Although I’ve lived here for so many years, it can get pretty lonely being a random American in a big city.” She shrugged. “From time to time I offer one of my spare bedrooms to visiting scholars.”
Luke nodded and turned to Claire. “Is that what you are? A ‘visiting scholar’?” He pointed to the form the sergeant had completed. “It says here you’re a nurse.”
Claire was sitting very erect. Although his question was mild, his tone indicated doubt. She cleared her throat before answering. “Well, kind of.” She shifted as if her chair was uncomfortable. “I’m in a graduate program at the University of Minnesota. I’m involved in a project for one of my professors, so I’m working at Samsung Medical Center...collecting data for a research study.”
Luke had been jotting notes as she spoke. He glanced up, “What is your professor’s name?”
“I’m sorry?” Claire responded.
“The name of your professor in Minnesota...”
“Sung...Dr. Lin-yeong Sung, but she goes by ‘Cindy’ in the U.S. Dr. Sung is Korean, but she’s been working at the Mayo Clinic Hospital for nearly twenty years.” Claire seemed to be growing even more uncomfortable. “What does that have to do with me getting mugged?”
“I’m just trying to get background information for the file.” He made another note. “What do you do for this ‘research study’?”
“I work with children who have cancer.”
He glanced back at her and then looked down to scrawl something on his pad. “In what capacity?”
“What difference does that—”
“Please just answer the question.” Luke kept his voice without inflection.
“I work on a hematology-oncology unit with children fifteen and under.” She squirmed and sighed. “We’re collecting data on play therapy involving three different activities—computer games, pets—particularly dogs—and musical instrumentation... We actually teach the children how to play either the piano or a flute. The dependent variable—or rather variables—are symptom experiences and side effects of their therapy—usually a combination of chemo, radiation and sometimes bone marrow transplant.”
He didn’t respond so she licked her lips then continued. “Specifically, I collect information on when and to what extent the children experience symptoms, including nausea, pain, anorexia, insomnia and depression. I periodically measure salivary cortisol levels and take daily blood samples looking for signs of infection or anemia. We also evaluate other parameters such as anemia, leucopenia, weight gain or loss, vital signs, alopecia and dehydration.” Her rapid, matter-of-fact explanation was done in monotone and she stopped abruptly. “Does that answer your question?”
Sometime during her recitation, Luke had stopped writing. He was watching her eyes. Several seconds passed where he tried to come up with a response, but his brain seemed to have clicked off. His mouth was dry and he had to clench his teeth to keep his face expressionless. He knew he was staring and forced himself to look down at what he’d written. Finally, he managed to come up with what he hoped was a reasonable response.
“Hematology-oncology. Is that like leukemia?” He scribbled something.
“Yes, for the most part.”
Luke knew it was his turn again. He feigned looking down at the form. “So you’ve been here a month? How long is your...um...assignment?”
“The fellowship is for three months. I should be here through May.”
He jotted something down then sat back in his chair. Staring at her with renewed intensity, he said, “Tell me about last night.”
In a few sentences, she told him about being assaulted by two men in the hospital’s parking lot. When she concluded, he watched her for a moment. “Ms. Olsen, I’m sure people have told you that physical assaults such as you describe are very rare in Seoul.”
“Well, yes... I was told Seoul is very safe. But, evidently not...”
“So, why do you think someone would attack you?”
“Mr., er, Lieutenant...I’m sorry I don’t recall your name—”
“Llewellyn,” his response was curt, and he motioned toward the name pin above his left chest pocket.
“Lieutenant Llewellyn, I’ve no idea why someone would attack me. It was dark and I was alone. I guess I looked like an easy target.”
“Target for what?”
“I’m sorry?” she said.
“What were you targeted for?”
She blinked several times and sat back in apparent confusion. “Why, my purse, of course. They stole my purse.”
“Ms. Olsen, that seems to be the case. But purse thieves don’t typically resort to violence. Why do you think you were attacked with a knife?”
“I...I guess it was because I fought back.”
“How were your approached? Did they try to grab your purse from the outset?”
She considered his question for a few seconds. “I...er... Now that I think about it, maybe at first they were trying to grab me...”
“Did they say anything?”
She looked pensive. “One kind of yelped when I kicked at him, but he didn’t say anything to me. They might have talked to each other, but I really wasn’t attuned to that, and it would have been in Korean....” She blinked and shifted again.
“Why did you fight back? Why didn’t you just give them your purse?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t stop to think about it. It happened really fast. I was frightened and I just...reacted.” Each word was spoken with emphasis and mounting irritation. She sat up even straighter and her tone carried a hint of belligerence. “Lieutenant, I don’t like being questioned as if I was somehow responsible. All I did was walk across the parking lot. Two men attacked me! I lost my purse, some credit cards and my passport. Plus I’ve got a gash on my arm that’s really throbbing right now. I came here to follow up with someone at the embassy. That was what I was told to do, and for some reason you’re treating me like it was my fault.” Her face was flushed.
This whole case was bothering Luke. He watched her expression through the outburst...she seemed overly defensive, so he persisted with his questions..
“Ms. Olsen, you weigh—what—115? How were you able to fight off two men, at least one of whom had a knife, and come out with only a cut on your arm?”
She lurched from her chair. “That’s it. I’m leaving.” Her voice was blunt.
Jessica stood, too, and joined the conversation for the first time. “Lieutenant, this type of questioning seems inappropriate—”
Luke remained seated and his expression didn’t change. Interrupting both women, he said, “Ms. Olsen, sit down, please.”
“I was the victim! I thought someone here was going to help!” Her voice grew louder and her face redder.
Luke stood then, extending to his full height, looming over the two women. He stared into the oddly colored eyes and repeated, “Ms. Olsen, please sit down. You’ll need to answer a few more questions.” His eyes remained fixed on Claire’s although he addressed her roommate. “Ms. Tyson, you can stay or go, it’s your choice.”
A brief staring match ensued before Claire exhaled then sat down on the edge of her chair. Jessica glanced at her roommate and copied her.
* * *
AS HE WATCHED THE EXCHANGE from his station near the door, Tony was becoming exasperated. He was surprised by Luke’s brusque manner and tough interrogation. The lieutenant’s scowl was uncharacteristic. He was usually obliging and sympathetic, particularly when working with civilians. Tony’s agitation edged toward anger as his superior officer’s questions and manner grew increasingly harsh.
Despite Tony’s growing consternation, he snapped to attention when Luke addressed him. “Sergeant Mancini, the police report notes that there were surveillance cameras in the parking lot. Have one of the translators contact the precinct office and ask for a detective. See if they can send me a video file or web link so I can review the encounter.”
Tony gave an almost indiscernible nod and replied with a crisp “Yes, sir.” Immediately, he departed to follow the order.
* * *
LUKE CONSIDERED the now-tense women and decided to try to defuse the situation. Addressing Claire but including her friend he said, “Ladies, I’m sorry if my questions seem unsympathetic, but I need to file a complete report.” He tried a wry half smile and gave a brief wave to nothing in particular. “You know, the brass and all. They’ll have my head if I’m not thorough.”
That was actually stretching the truth. He would not be expected to do much beyond cursory data collection, and it was very unlikely that the Marine Duty Officer or any of the consular staff would do more than skim his report on Monday. But something bothered him about the whole episode. Physical crimes of that sort were virtually unheard of—even purse snatchings were rare. Looking at Claire and talking with her, he couldn’t conceive of how she could fend off two armed men who were intent on stealing her purse.
But she’d answered his questions about her work without pause—he was certain that part of her account was true. Plus, her roommate had seemed honest—although he would check her story after the women left.
Liars came in all sizes, and gorgeous, arresting eyes aside, the details of the attack didn’t make sense. It was conceivable that she’d harmed herself, in some kind of attention-grabbing situation, or maybe she was involved in something sordid or illegal that went wrong. If there was surveillance video, though, he could get a few answers fairly quickly.
“While we’re waiting, can I offer you something to drink? We have coffee or all kinds of soft drinks... Water?” His drawl became more pronounced.
Luke’s change in manner and engaging grin worked with Jessica. She smiled. “A Diet Coke would be wonderful, if you have one.”
“Can do. Ms. Olsen?”
“Just water, please.” Her response was flat, and Luke realized the only expressions she’d exhibited so far were frustration, irritation and anger, with maybe a hint of fear or timidity.
