But that was what made them different too. Ethan just couldn’t buy into Joshua’s newfound faith. The “God thing” wasn’t Ethan’s thing. Not that it diminished Joshua in his eyes. After all, any guy who had been strung up from hooks by Iranian tormentors until his shoulders were dislocated, then beaten with rods and electrocuted — an experience like that could radically change anyone who survived. The way that Ethan saw it, religion was simply what got Joshua through the experience.
Ethan now strode up to the dais and shook hands with the pastor. Joshua was chatting with the pitching marvel, Jin Ho Kim, who had just presented him with the winning baseball from the game he had pitched that day.
Joshua spotted Ethan and flagged him over. He introduced him to the pitcher. Motioning to Ethan, Joshua couldn’t help mentioning his background to Jin, “This is my assistant, Ethan March, who knows something about pitching, by the way. Before joining the Air Force, he tried his hand on the mound in a triple-A ball club in America.”
“Oh, you pitcher?” Jin Ho Kim exclaimed with a bright smile. “Have a good fastball?”
Ethan blushed. “Yeah, well, Mr. Jin, I had a pretty good fastball. Except for one thing —”
Jin jumped in. “Problem with control?”
Ethan laughed loudly. “Exactly! Problem with control.” Ethan was the only one who got the joke. His desire for control was the one thing that drove him onward more than anything else. But the reckless abandon that typified much of his life, the risk-taking, the broken rules at one Air Force base after another — didn’t that seem to undermine his obsession in trying to control his own future? It was pretty funny that the one thing that dashed his dream for a big-league career was that very thing — a problem with control. On the other hand, maybe it wasn’t so funny.
“I know one thing,” Joshua said, pointing to Ethan, “he turned into an excellent pilot.” Then with a smile Joshua added, “And I ought to know. He was one of my rookies at an airbase in Florida. He set a few flying records.”
Ethan silently thanked his lucky stars that Joshua had too much class to mention his several trips to the brig for bar fights with a couple of Marines and his failure to get clearance before taking out a few new test planes.
Joshua looked at the baseball he had received from Jin Ho Kim and tossed it over to Ethan. “Let’s see if you still know how to handle one of these.”
Ethan caught the baseball with ease.
“Okay,” Joshua said, “you’d better show me the way out.”
“The side door,” Ethan told him quietly. “Less likely to be ambushed by the press.” The two men moved toward the exit.
In the rear of the sanctuary, still hanging back as the crowds trailed out, stood two men. One was an Australian newsman. The other was a stone-faced Han Suk Yong, with forged media credentials hanging from his neck. He stared at Joshua and Ethan as they passed through a side door into an adjacent hallway. The Australian reporter was watching him. “You’re a newbie, right?”
Han gave him a funny look but kept eyeing the doorway.
“A rookie reporter, I mean.”
Han nodded a little nervously. The Aussie grabbed Han’s fake press credentials badge hanging around his neck and studied it. “South Korean Weekly Journal?”
Han nodded again.
“Never heard of it. Must be small.”
Han said, “Very small. Just started.”
“Well, you’re not exactly competition for me, I guess, so I’ll do you a favor. I’ve got a hunch where we can get up close, get in Joshua Jordan’s face for a quick Q&A. I’ve scouted out the church. I think I know which route he’s taking. Follow me.”
Han brightened. “Great idea.” He slipped his hand into his coat pocket until he touched the smooth lignostone surface of his handgun. “I would like to get up close. You know … get right in Joshua Jordan’s face.”
TWO
Joshua and Ethan walked down a corridor that led to the back parking lot of the church. Ethan walked a step ahead, checking corners and intersecting hallways as they went. He told his mentor, “The back exit’s coming up.”
From behind a voice called out. A security guard trotted up. “Colonel Jordan, let me escort you.”
Ethan turned and cut in. “Not necessary, thanks. I got it covered.”
The security guard stopped, still looking at Joshua, who had a cautious look on his face.
Ethan lowered his voice and flashed a grin. “Josh, really, I got this. I know we’re in South Korea,” he said with the mock cadence of a school teacher, “which is right below North Korea, and I know you’ve got some nasty history with the North Koreans. But I’m your security guy on this trip. I’ve checked the route. Let me earn my salary here, okay?”
Joshua studied his assistant for a moment. Then he nodded to the security guard. “Thanks so much for your help. We’ll take it from here. God bless.”
The security guard smiled, waved, turned, and headed out of sight.
As the two men continued down the hallway, Ethan thought of something. It had been on his mind for a while, but it was touchy. Now seemed like a good time.
“So, Josh, I was going to mention something. I’ve got this friend back in the States. He knew pretty much everything that had gone on, you know, how I’d been interested in your daughter, and about the fact that Debbie eventually gave me the heave-ho, telling me that she didn’t think it would work out between us. Well, when I told him I’d been hired as your personal assistant, he thought I was crazy. He told me this kind of arrangement would never work. He said, ‘How can you ever hope to impress your boss, when your boss knows his daughter told you to buzz off?’ Which got me thinking …”
“About what?”
“My working for you. You have to admit we have a pretty unusual working relationship.”
Joshua stopped in the hallway and studied Ethan’s face. Then he said, “Actually I think you’re missing something.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“After Debbie told you that it wouldn’t work out between the two of you, I wondered why in the world you would still want to work for her dad.”
“That’s easy,” Ethan responded. “Despite everything, you’re still one of my heroes. I always wanted to work for the best. You’re it.”
“You’re giving me a big head,” Joshua said, giving Ethan a pat on the shoulder. “Let’s get moving.”
Ethan picked up the pace and trotted ahead. He came to an exit door, pushed down the bar handle, and swung it open. Ethan was now out in a private parking area that was blocked off from the public lot by a toll gate at the other end. He had the plastic pass key to swipe at the gate, and he craned his neck to survey the area, first looking to his left. The parking lot that was empty except for their rental car. Then he turned to the right but jumped a little to see two men standing against the church building, next to the open exit door.
Han Suk Yong was standing off to the side, a little behind the Australian.
“Sorry,” Ethan barked, “this area’s restricted. You both have to leave.”
The Australian journalist lifted up his press badge, which was hanging around his neck. “Aw, now, that’s not friendly. I’m a reporter. International press corps. I always thought you Americans believed in freedom of the press.”
“In case you didn’t notice,” Ethan snapped back, “we’re not in America. Maybe you ought to find an Outback somewhere and have them grill you some shrimp on the barbie —”
But a voice stopped him. “Ethan,” Joshua said as he put his hand on his assistant’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ll give them a few minutes. Then we’ll be on our way.”
“Thanks much, Mr. Jordan,” the Aussie said. “You’re a true gentleman.” Then he snatched his tiny notepad from his pocket. “Just wondering, sir, whether you have any regrets —”
“About what?”
“About designing the Return-to-Sender anti-missile system, which ended up dropping two nuclear warheads onto a North Korean Navy
vessel and incinerating it, evaporating every sailor on board.”
Joshua had heard that one before. Different approach, but with the same sharp point at the end of the stick. He said, “I don’t regret the fact that my RTS stopped those nukes from detonating in New York City where they were heading at the time, no. And yes, I know that my RTS system — my missile-defense shield — took the trajectory of those nukes and reversed them, sending them back to the vessel that launched them. I’d always hoped that my RTS laser defense would be a deterrent to war. Saving lives. And protecting nonaggressors, my country in this case, from the hasty actions of despots who fire missiles first and think later.”
From where Joshua stood, the Aussie was blocking Han Suk Yong from view. So Joshua could not see the eyes of the North Korean, which were so intense they looked like they had been lit on fire.
“And then,” the Australian continued, “there is the matter of the criminal charges pending against you in the American court. Charges of treason. Your group, the so-called Roundtable, was blamed for botching a vigilante attempt to stop some unidentified individuals with a portable nuke. As the leader of that group, of course, you must take some responsibility. So how do you feel knowing that as a result, thousands died in New Jersey when the bomb went off?”
“There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about that — the loss of life,” Joshua replied. “But one clarification. In point of fact, the allegations technically refer to my supposed conspiracy to interfere with the operations of the United States government. False charges, I might add”.
“If that’s true, rather than avoiding extradition, which you’ve been doing, why not return to America and fight the case like the hero that some folks think you are?”
Ethan intervened. “Okay. Interview’s over …”
“No, Ethan, I want to answer,” Joshua snapped back. Then he stared the reporter down and threw him a cocked eyebrow. “You see, sir, I’ve been given advice from Abigail Jordan to remain out of the jurisdiction of the U.S. until I can get a fair trial for those wrongful, politically motivated criminal charges brought against me by the current administration in Washington. Now, the thing about Abigail is this — she’s not only my lawyer, she’s also my wife. So right there,” he said, breaking into a grin, “I’ve given you two good reasons I ought to listen to her. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have to be on our way.”
The Australian scratched a few notes on his pad, nodded and then trotted off.
Han Suk Yong approached Joshua.
“Sorry, no more interviews,” Ethan said.
“But Colonel Jordan,” Han said, “I am great admirer.”
“Thanks,” Joshua said.
“I am with, uh … a very small news office.” Han lifted his phony press badge. “But I have something very, very personal. Need to ask you. Just take a minute. Please sir, could we just walk to quiet place. Here in parking lot?”
“It’s okay,” Joshua said to Ethan. “It’ll just be a minute.”
The two men walked across the parking lot to a point about thirty feet away and stopped.
Han’s back was to Ethan, who was at the exit door, studying him and nervously rolling the baseball that he still had in his hand. Ethan glanced down at his watch and muttered to himself, “Come on, Josh, don’t do this to me. Let’s get out of here.”
Han Suk Yong was struggling to keep a tight-lipped smile, as if his face had been fashioned out of metal. “You don’t know me, do you?”
Joshua noticed that Han’s right hand had now been slipped into his right coat pocket.
“No, I’m afraid I don’t,” Joshua replied.
“I am the man who will be the hero of my country.”
“South Korea?” Joshua asked.
The metallic smile vanished from Han’s face. “No, not this nation of dogs.” Then he spit on the ground in disgust. “No, I speak of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea. North Korea, Mr. Jordan. The honorable nation whose ship you blasted into a ball of fire with your RTS device”.
Joshua glanced down at the man’s press badge. It read “Han Suk Yong.” As he thought about the name, he flashed back to the Pentagon briefing after the unsuccessful missile attempt by North Korea. Though it was three years ago, he still remembered. How could he forget?
Afterward, he had been given the classified details of the ship that had launched the nukes at New York City. That vessel, The Daedong, and its entire crew were vaporized when the guidance systems of the missiles it launched were reversed by Joshua’s RTS system and the nukes were looped back to the ship. Joshua recalled the name of the captain of that ill-fated vessel. Han Suk.
“You are related to the captain,” Joshua began to ask, “who was —”
That is when Han pulled out his handgun and pointed it at Joshua’s chest. “You will not speak the name of my father. You are not worthy to have my honorable, departed father’s name on your filthy American lips”.
From his position at the exit door, thirty feet away, Ethan could see the look on Joshua’s face. Ethan could see he was in trouble. Ethan moved quickly to one side to get a better look. He saw something in Han’s hand. Joshua tried to shake his head no, warning Ethan not to get closer, but Han caught that. He whispered to Joshua in a guttural voice, “Tell him not to come any closer.”
“Stay there,” Joshua shouted to Ethan who could now see something shaped like a clip-loaded revolver in Han’s hand. His mind was whirling. He had to figure out a plan. In milliseconds. If I rush this guy, he’ll get off a shot, point-blank. Right into Josh.
Thirty feet away, Han grunted to Joshua, “You’re going to die like the coward you are.” Han lifted his gun to the left quadrant of Joshua’s chest, directly at Joshua’s heart.
Ethan muttered a single, desperate hope.
Strike zone.
He gripped the seams of the baseball in his right hand, all one-hundred and eight red, double stitches. Ethan did a pitcher’s wind-up, kicked his leg up, and let fly with a ninety-four-mile-per-hour fastball. Han’s eyes darted to the side momentarily, as if he had noticed something. But it was too late. Ethan’s fastball buried itself with burning speed into the assassin’s left shoulder.
Han screamed out in pain, his body went limp, and he began to crumple to the pavement. Joshua grabbed the gun out of Han’s hand and moved away from Han, who was now kneeling on the asphalt. In two seconds Ethan sprinted to the scene and jumped on the gunman, pinning him to the ground. He put him in a wrestler’s full nelson. “Josh!” he yelled. “Get security and have them call the cops. I’ll keep this guy quiet here.”
Joshua glanced at the gun in his hand, then began to run back to the church building. As he did, he called back, “Nice pitching. You just earned your salary.”
Ethan, still pinning Han down, shouted, “Actually, high and outside. And I was aiming for his right shoulder, not his left.”
Joshua slowed down just slightly. “I’m the umpire here … a solid strike!”
It took the officers from the Seoul Metro Police Agency only six minutes to arrive and take Han into custody. The SMPA investigators took statements from Joshua and Ethan and headed back to the station with the assailant. Back in the church, Joshua said his good-byes to the pastor and his staff, assuring them that he would be safe, and receiving their extended, heartfelt apologies for the attack.
“You must let us make this right,” Pastor Lee Ko-po said, bowing with tears in his eyes.
Joshua grabbed the pastor by the shoulders and smiled. “By your kindness to me, you already have.” Then Joshua climbed into the rental car with Ethan at the wheel.
When they were within three blocks of the hotel, Joshua checked the Allfone watch on his wrist. He then pointed to a side street that ran alongside a large park. “Ethan, turn off the boulevard right here.”
“That’s not the route we took from the hotel earlier today.”
“I know. Just take it.”
Ethan turned off the boulevard an
d down the quiet tree-lined street. A black limousine was parked along the curb.
“Pull behind the limo,” Joshua said.
Ethan followed orders but shook his head as he did. “Josh, what’s going on?”
Joshua gave only a cryptic reply. “Now for the second reason we came to South Korea.”
Ethan wasn’t going to wait for an explanation. “Whatever this is, why didn’t you let me in? Why am I always on the outside?” But before he could continue, he noticed a military star on the license plate of the limo in front. He lowered his voice. “Okay. I’m starting to get the drift … sort of.”
“You’ll find out shortly,” Joshua said and nodded toward the South Korean military attaché who had just climbed out of the limo and was coming their way.
Ethan kept talking, and there was anticipation in his voice. “Looks like things are beginning to get interesting.”
“And dangerous,” Joshua added.
“You mean an attempt to assassinate you doesn’t qualify?” Ethan shot back.
Joshua smiled but didn’t respond. At the side of the car, the South Korean officer saluted Joshua and then reached through the open passenger window to shake his hand. “Colonel Jordan, it is a great honor to meet you.”
“Likewise, Lieutenant Colonel Quan.” Then Joshua introduced Ethan to the officer.
“Well, gentlemen,” Quan said with a placid expression that belied his next comment. “Are you ready to make history?”
THREE