Chris Kuzneski - Sword of God

The first officers at the scene-proudly wearing the new police insignia, a Steller's sea eagle carrying a Rose of Sharon-checked the theater for gunmen before rushing to the aid of six victims, all of whom had black ninja outfits and a number of bruises. One was missing a knee, and the others were visibly shaken.

Their Tiger-Strike teamwork had been ineffective against a more worthy opponent.

Other witnesses were rounded up. Some Koreans. Some Japanese. Even a few Europeans. When questioned, all of them said the exact same thing. A crazed American had started the brawl. A tall, muscular guy who carried a gun and wiped out half the crowd.

Then again, they said, his violent behavior should have been expected.

Why? Because he played in the NBA.

Payne knew the main roads would soon be blocked. So they left town to the east, taking Jung's fishing boat to the open sea.

The hardest part of the journey was the first thirty minutes. Sneaking the Parks into the marina. Convincing Jones, who was bleeding from his biceps, to play nice with the guy who'd just shot him. Hot-wiring the boat, since they didn't have time to wait for Jung's guide. And keeping the Parks calm as Payne steered past hundreds of boats that filled the harbor. Kia played a major role in the last one, speaking to the Parks in Korean, doing whatever she could to reassure them of their safety. Still, despite her best efforts, Chung-Ho refused to part with his gun.

He clung to it with one hand, his son with the other.

The waters of the Korea Strait were notoriously tough to handle, especially in the dead of night. The sea was deep, the currents were strong, and all the boat's gauges were in Korean. After some translation help from Kia, Payne called Jones to the wheel.

"How's the arm?"

"It's fine. I found a first-aid kit and patched myself up. I'm sending the bill to Harrington."

Payne laughed, glad to see Jones's sense of humor still intact. "Any mobility problems?"

"Jon," he stressed, "I'm fine."

"Good. Glad to hear it. Because we have a decision to make." He pulled out a map of the East Sea. "We don't have many choices. Either Japan, mainland Korea, or one of the islands along the way."

"Forget the islands. We could never blend in."

"What about Korea? We could make it in a few hours."

"That depends. How many people did you hurt back there? I hear Korean prisons are kind of brutal on pretty boys like yourself."

"Good point. In that case, what about Japan?"

Jones studied the major ports along the Korea Strait. There were several options. "Fukuoka is the closest big city. Roughly two million people. Plenty of places to sneak ashore. That might be our best bet…. Then again, what are we going to do when we get there?"

Unfortunately, Payne never got the chance to answer.

He was too distracted by the helicopter that hovered up ahead.

31

Monday, January 1

The roar of Jung's boat masked the chopper's engines until it was too late. Throw in the wind and the choppy seas, and Payne didn't spot it until it was a hundred yards away. Of course, even if he had, what could he have done? The damn thing just hovered there, directly in his path. No movement. No lights. Like an iceberg in the night, just waiting for the Titanic to strike.

Payne swore to himself and eased the boat to a stop. He told everyone on board not to panic, that everything would be all right. But deep down inside, he wasn't so sure. Technically, they were in a stolen boat and had just fled a country where he'd shot someone and assaulted five others. Park was carrying a gun and had recently fired it several times in the crowded streets of Seongsan. Jones was bleeding. The boy was traumatized. And Kia was privy to everything.

Yeah, they were screwed.

Things got worse when the chopper turned on its gigantic spotlight and shined it directly on the boat. Payne shielded his eyes, trying to figure out who he was dealing with. The police? The coast guard? The Korean Navy? Any of those would have ruined his New Year.

Suddenly a booming voice-like the voice of God- filled the night. It was broadcast in English over the chopper's speaker system, echoing louder than the roar of the turbines. "Do not be alarmed…. Do not make a move…. Prepare to be boarded."

Jones grimaced at the announcement. "That sounds painful."

"Let's hope not," said Payne as he inched his way toward Mr. Park, who sat in the back of the boat. When he got there, he spoke firmly into his ear. "If you want to help your son, drop your gun overboard. If they see it in your hand, you will be arrested. Or worse."

Park nodded in understanding.

Five seconds later it was sinking to the bottom of the sea.

The next few minutes were a whirlwind of surprises. The chopper rose several feet above the water, then crept forward until it hovered directly above the cramped deck of the boat. Payne heard the rumble of a large winch as two men were lowered on board.

Both of them were dressed in black, their faces covered with visors.

No patches. No badges. No insignias.

Neither man carried a weapon.

Confused, Payne stood there, assessing the situation. He knew they were in Korean waters, yet no one on the chopper had identified whom he worked for. The orders to halt had been given in English, not Korean. And the men standing across from him were tall and muscular, closer to Payne's size than Park's.

Something about this didn't seem right.

Things got stranger when one of them whipped out a cell phone and waited for it to ring. A few seconds later, it did. But instead of answering the call, which would have required him to take off his helmet and show his face, he walked forward and handed it to Payne.

The man said, "It's for you."

"It is?" Payne took the phone and answered the call. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end was American. Masculine. All business. He said, "We've been sent to evacuate you and your friends."

"Who is this?"

But his question was dismissed. Simply ignored. "We'll hoist you up one at a time. Jones first, then the others, then you. Later tonight you'll be briefed in private. Am I clear?"

"Crystal."

"Good. My men will remain on board. Tell them where to dump the boat and it will be done."

The United States and the Republic of Korea signed a Status of Forces Agreement (SOFA) in 1966, guaranteeing the presence of U.S. military personnel to protect against external threats. Currently, there are more than thirty thousand American soldiers stationed in Korea, scattered around the country on several official bases. And several more that are unofficial.

Payne and his crew were taken to one of those, tucked in the rolling hills of Jeollanam-do Province, near the southwestern tip of the peninsula. On paper, the base was decommissioned a decade ago, yet it still housed enough soldiers to start a small war. From the outside, the facility looked abandoned-a series of dilapidated hangars and warehouses that should have been razed-but the inside was a different story.

It was buzzing with activity.

From the moment they got into the chopper until they were escorted to a small room on the northern end of the compound, the Parks were blindfolded. Kia sat next to them the entire time, whispering in Korean, assuring them that everything was being done for their safety. Her dedication continued once they reached the base. She refused to leave their side, even after their blindfolds were removed and they were locked in their holding cell, which had the feel of a cheap hotel room-equipped with a bed, desk, TV, and bathroom. A video camera was mounted in the far corner of the ceiling, allowing a team of guards to monitor them at all times.