“A lot of that change has not been for the good. But there was a time when our government would never leave Americans behind enemy lines to rot. Politics or not, international ramifications or not, that is plain wrong. And if our government won’t get to the bottom of it, somebody must have the courage to do the right thing. Do what is right. Americans don’t leave Americans behind enemy lines to rot.” He paused. “Not in the America I grew up in, anyway. You’re adecorated war hero, and I’m just an intelligence officer. But whether you go with me or not, somehow, someway, I’m crossing that line to the North, and I’ll get some answers … even if it costs me my life.”
The
whirr
of the overhead ceiling fans filled the silence.
“Is this not about your grandfather,” Jung-Hoon asked, “making this a personal mission for you? Forgive my bluntness, but North Korea is a barren, famine-ravished, poverty-stricken wasteland. Your grandfather probably died long ago.”
“I understand that,” Gunner said, meeting the gaze of the Korean. “And yes, this is personal. But maybe it is for you too.” Jung-Hoon raised an eyebrow. “I’ve done my homework, Jung-Hoon. I know what they did to your brother.”
Jung-Hoon shifted on his chair.
“And also to your wife, Jackrabbit,” Gunner said.
Anger flashed across the ex-pat’s lips and eyebrows.
“My apologies for evoking bitter memories. But your brother, Jung-Hoon, and your wife, Jackrabbit, gave their lives fighting this regime. And their work was not sponsored by the government. They fought injustice out of a brave commitment to do what was right.” Gunner stopped to let them think of the past. “I don’t know about the two of you, but I’m willing to risk my life for the memory of your wife” — he eyed Jackrabbit — “and the memory of your brother” — a glance at Jung-Hoon — “and yes, for the memory of my grandfather too.”
The light
whirr
of the overhead fan hummed on as the triumvirate engaged in an awkward silent negotiation, each with his own thoughts of right and wrong.
Gunner broke the silence. “If either or both of you gentlemen do not wish to join me, I understand. I will find someone else who will.”
He waited. There was no response. Finally he stood. “I’ll be leaving now. Jackrabbit, don’t worry about driving me back. I’ll catch a cab.”
“Wait,” Jung-Hoon said. “Meet me at Grace Fellowship Evangelical Baptist Church in Seoul. Seven o’clock tonight.”
“At a Baptist church?”
“Yes,” Jung-Hoon said. “Jackrabbit knows the church. My brother attended there. So did Jackrabbit’s wife. I do not attend, but they are good people. The pastor is closing speaker at a conference tonight. Meetme in front of the church sanctuary at seven, just after the speech. I will introduce you to the pastor.”
“Who is this pastor?” Gunner asked. “We need to be careful about who we talk to.”
Jung-Hoon looked irritated. “You asked for my help. Do you still wish to have it?”
“Of course.”
“Then trust me,” the Korean said as he stood. “We are — what do you Americans say? — on the same page here. I would not compromise the sensitive nature of these discussions.”
“Forgive me,” Gunner said, extending his hand to the Korean and bowing slightly. “Of course I trust you.”
“Very well,” Jung-Hoon said. “Meet me there. Jackrabbit will drive you.”
“I will see you at seven.”
CHAPTER 5
Seoul, South Korea
G unner sat alone in the hotel restaurant in downtown Seoul. His American companion had dumped him at the hotel and told him to be ready at 6:30 for the drive to meet the South Korean pastor. Then he left.
Gunner tried his best to force down a Korean dinner of bulgogi and rice. Although the beef was tender, he had no appetite. His stomach churned at the thought of what the next few days might bring. He stirred the shallow puddle of cooling coffee at the bottom of his
The
whirr
of the overhead ceiling fans filled the silence.
“Is this not about your grandfather,” Jung-Hoon asked, “making this a personal mission for you? Forgive my bluntness, but North Korea is a barren, famine-ravished, poverty-stricken wasteland. Your grandfather probably died long ago.”
“I understand that,” Gunner said, meeting the gaze of the Korean. “And yes, this is personal. But maybe it is for you too.” Jung-Hoon raised an eyebrow. “I’ve done my homework, Jung-Hoon. I know what they did to your brother.”
Jung-Hoon shifted on his chair.
“And also to your wife, Jackrabbit,” Gunner said.
Anger flashed across the ex-pat’s lips and eyebrows.
“My apologies for evoking bitter memories. But your brother, Jung-Hoon, and your wife, Jackrabbit, gave their lives fighting this regime. And their work was not sponsored by the government. They fought injustice out of a brave commitment to do what was right.” Gunner stopped to let them think of the past. “I don’t know about the two of you, but I’m willing to risk my life for the memory of your wife” — he eyed Jackrabbit — “and the memory of your brother” — a glance at Jung-Hoon — “and yes, for the memory of my grandfather too.”
The light
whirr
of the overhead fan hummed on as the triumvirate engaged in an awkward silent negotiation, each with his own thoughts of right and wrong.
Gunner broke the silence. “If either or both of you gentlemen do not wish to join me, I understand. I will find someone else who will.”
He waited. There was no response. Finally he stood. “I’ll be leaving now. Jackrabbit, don’t worry about driving me back. I’ll catch a cab.”
“Wait,” Jung-Hoon said. “Meet me at Grace Fellowship Evangelical Baptist Church in Seoul. Seven o’clock tonight.”
“At a Baptist church?”
“Yes,” Jung-Hoon said. “Jackrabbit knows the church. My brother attended there. So did Jackrabbit’s wife. I do not attend, but they are good people. The pastor is closing speaker at a conference tonight. Meetme in front of the church sanctuary at seven, just after the speech. I will introduce you to the pastor.”
“Who is this pastor?” Gunner asked. “We need to be careful about who we talk to.”
Jung-Hoon looked irritated. “You asked for my help. Do you still wish to have it?”
“Of course.”
“Then trust me,” the Korean said as he stood. “We are — what do you Americans say? — on the same page here. I would not compromise the sensitive nature of these discussions.”
“Forgive me,” Gunner said, extending his hand to the Korean and bowing slightly. “Of course I trust you.”
“Very well,” Jung-Hoon said. “Meet me there. Jackrabbit will drive you.”
“I will see you at seven.”
CHAPTER 5
Seoul, South Korea
G unner sat alone in the hotel restaurant in downtown Seoul. His American companion had dumped him at the hotel and told him to be ready at 6:30 for the drive to meet the South Korean pastor. Then he left.
Gunner tried his best to force down a Korean dinner of bulgogi and rice. Although the beef was tender, he had no appetite. His stomach churned at the thought of what the next few days might bring. He stirred the shallow puddle of cooling coffee at the bottom of his
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