pass—could purchase a ticket at the RTO, but once again—it being the military—they would demand to see his identification and he’d be logged in with his purchase point and destination.
I studied the names.
“The courier,” Ernie said, pointing at the name Runnels.
“Figures he’d be on the train returning to Pusan,” I said. “It’s his job to carry classified information back and forth from Seoul.”
“He’s the one who talked to the guy who got off the first train in Anyang, isn’t he?”
“He’s the one.”
“So if the same guy was on this train, Runnels would’ve seen him.”
“Maybe. Whether he did or not, we need to talk to him.”
“I’ll find him,” Ernie said. He left me and spoke to the MP desk sergeant, who made a phone call.
While Ernie tracked down Runnels, I continued to study the list. The names were unfamiliar to me, except one. Specialist Four Weyworth, Nicholas Q. He hadn’t been on the first Blue Train but he’d been one of the G.I.s I’d identified as being stationed at Hialeah Compound and on in-country leave on the day of the first Blue Train attack. I underlined his name. Ten minutes later, Ernie and I had left our travel bags in the expert care of the Hialeah Compound Military Police. We were armed with information and directions, and we were off into the Pusan night.
* * *
Ernie and I made a quick trip to the barracks on the compound and rousted Private First Class Runnels out of his bunk. The courier who transported classified documents between Pusan and Seoul was less than thrilled.
“What the hell do you want?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. “Didn’t you harass me enough when you questioned me in Seoul?”
“This is the army,” Ernie said. “There’s never enough harassment.”
I told Runnels to put his clothes on and follow us into the dayroom. I wanted him completely alert when we questioned him. He did as he was told, stopping in the latrine to splash water on his face. Finally, he joined us at the vinyl-covered chairs near the pool tables. The television was running, an old black-and-white movie that no one was watching. I knew it would be the last thing scheduled, because both the Korean stations and Armed Forces Korea Network stop broadcasting at midnight. Ernie switched the television off and returned to stand near me.
Runnels sat with his elbows on his knees. “What is it?” he asked.
“You took the five p.m. Blue Train back from Seoul yesterday.”
“That’s my job.”
“You remember that guy you sat next to the first time we questioned you? The guy who disappeared after the train stopped in Anyang?”
“Yeah. You think he’s the rapist.”
“You don’t?” Ernie asked.
Runnels shrugged. “How the hell would I know?”
“So, yesterday,” I continued, “on the Blue Train from Seoul, did you see the same guy again? Was he on that train?”
Runnels looked away from me, scrunching his forehead. I held my breath. Ernie held his too.
“No,” Runnels said finally. “Can’t say I did see him.”
“Were you looking?” I asked. “Did you get around the train much? Or did you just stay in your seat?”
“I’ve seen the train,” Runnels said, exasperation in his voice, “too many times. These days I just stay in my seat. Especially when I have a good book to read. The Last Detail, by Darryl Ponicsan. It’s about military life. Real military life. You ought to try it.”
“Maybe I will. Did you see anybody else you know on the train? Or anything unusual?”
Runnels thought again. “No. Not that I remember.”
I checked my notes. “Do you know a guy named Weyworth, Nicholas Q.? He’s a Spec Four and he’s stationed here on Hialeah Compound.”
“What’s he do?”
“Supply.”
Runnels took his time thinking over the question. “No. The name doesn’t ring a bell. I might recognize his face if I saw him, though.”
“Did you recognize anybody on the train? Anybody who you thought might be
I studied the names.
“The courier,” Ernie said, pointing at the name Runnels.
“Figures he’d be on the train returning to Pusan,” I said. “It’s his job to carry classified information back and forth from Seoul.”
“He’s the one who talked to the guy who got off the first train in Anyang, isn’t he?”
“He’s the one.”
“So if the same guy was on this train, Runnels would’ve seen him.”
“Maybe. Whether he did or not, we need to talk to him.”
“I’ll find him,” Ernie said. He left me and spoke to the MP desk sergeant, who made a phone call.
While Ernie tracked down Runnels, I continued to study the list. The names were unfamiliar to me, except one. Specialist Four Weyworth, Nicholas Q. He hadn’t been on the first Blue Train but he’d been one of the G.I.s I’d identified as being stationed at Hialeah Compound and on in-country leave on the day of the first Blue Train attack. I underlined his name. Ten minutes later, Ernie and I had left our travel bags in the expert care of the Hialeah Compound Military Police. We were armed with information and directions, and we were off into the Pusan night.
* * *
Ernie and I made a quick trip to the barracks on the compound and rousted Private First Class Runnels out of his bunk. The courier who transported classified documents between Pusan and Seoul was less than thrilled.
“What the hell do you want?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. “Didn’t you harass me enough when you questioned me in Seoul?”
“This is the army,” Ernie said. “There’s never enough harassment.”
I told Runnels to put his clothes on and follow us into the dayroom. I wanted him completely alert when we questioned him. He did as he was told, stopping in the latrine to splash water on his face. Finally, he joined us at the vinyl-covered chairs near the pool tables. The television was running, an old black-and-white movie that no one was watching. I knew it would be the last thing scheduled, because both the Korean stations and Armed Forces Korea Network stop broadcasting at midnight. Ernie switched the television off and returned to stand near me.
Runnels sat with his elbows on his knees. “What is it?” he asked.
“You took the five p.m. Blue Train back from Seoul yesterday.”
“That’s my job.”
“You remember that guy you sat next to the first time we questioned you? The guy who disappeared after the train stopped in Anyang?”
“Yeah. You think he’s the rapist.”
“You don’t?” Ernie asked.
Runnels shrugged. “How the hell would I know?”
“So, yesterday,” I continued, “on the Blue Train from Seoul, did you see the same guy again? Was he on that train?”
Runnels looked away from me, scrunching his forehead. I held my breath. Ernie held his too.
“No,” Runnels said finally. “Can’t say I did see him.”
“Were you looking?” I asked. “Did you get around the train much? Or did you just stay in your seat?”
“I’ve seen the train,” Runnels said, exasperation in his voice, “too many times. These days I just stay in my seat. Especially when I have a good book to read. The Last Detail, by Darryl Ponicsan. It’s about military life. Real military life. You ought to try it.”
“Maybe I will. Did you see anybody else you know on the train? Or anything unusual?”
Runnels thought again. “No. Not that I remember.”
I checked my notes. “Do you know a guy named Weyworth, Nicholas Q.? He’s a Spec Four and he’s stationed here on Hialeah Compound.”
“What’s he do?”
“Supply.”
Runnels took his time thinking over the question. “No. The name doesn’t ring a bell. I might recognize his face if I saw him, though.”
“Did you recognize anybody on the train? Anybody who you thought might be
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