Chosen Path: An International Thriller

by Glen Robins

  Where there was a massive incoming aircraft just a moment earlier, there was now an ominous black and orange cloud splaying out in a south-to-north orientation. The hull of the plane disappeared in the blink of an eye. Four hundred and seventeen lives extinguished simply because they chose to fly on the wrong plane on the wrong day. They were considered the enemy by a reclusive, impoverished nation ruled by an unhinged regime looking to prove they were not to be trifled with anymore.

  The pieces of the wreckage continued to approach the runway at over 250 miles per hour. Most of the larger chunks didn’t go far, splashing forcefully into the gray waters of Incheon Harbor, kicking up waves a dozen feet high and plumes of water vapor that extended like angry balls of steam hurling toward the runway, before raining with hurricane force down on the pavement. Hundreds of the smaller pieces pitched toward the southern shores of Yeong Jong Island, crashing into the rocky jetty. Some made it to the runway where they skittered across the concrete as smoldering attestations to the violence that had occurred.

  Chapter 46

  Costa Mesa, CA

  June 6, 3:04 a.m.

  As I reentered my little office space through the back door, a dark figure appeared in the doorway between the gym and the office. My breath caught in my throat and my stomach dropped. But my survival instincts, pounded into me during training, along with a shot of adrenaline kicked in. I bounced to the balls of my feet in a defensive stance, hands in front of my face and body, ready to parry or strike.

  How could I have been so blinded as to not clear the area first? In my haste to get the North Koreans out of the car and into the Do Jang without being seen, I hadn’t paid attention to my inner senses or my learned security protocol. Someone was in my space uninvited and I had to deal with the threat.

  “Easy now. It’s just me.”

  The lights came on and I relaxed. It was Sunny, complete with his customary flowered shirt. He stepped into the room and surveyed my prisoners with a dark, impassive expression. Then Stephanie stepped through from behind him. The look in her eyes was absolutely terrifying. “You heard the news, didn’t you?”

  “What news?” I asked.

  “The plane from Dallas blew up as it approached the airport in Incheon.”

  My insides froze. My breathing stopped. And an overwhelming sense of failure washed over me. “How?” I said as I checked my watch. “They still had ten minutes’ of fuel. How could they try to land without the codes?”

  Stephanie looked at me with a mix of sympathy and toughness, a resilience in her eyes shone through. She wagged her head. “No time to think about that. There are still four other planes to save.”

  “Yes, that’s right. No time to worry about what we can’t change,” said Sunny. Looking over his shoulder at his daughter, he continued. “Move that car now, as we discussed. We don’t want them to track it here.”

  Stephanie looked at me. “Keys,” she said with her hand out, palm forward next to her face.

  I fumbled them from my pocket while calculating what Sunny said. He was right. And I realized he was a few steps ahead of me. Stephanie caught them midair, then shot daggers from her eyes as she stepped over the handcuffed, wide-eyed terrorists. The tables had turned on them unexpectedly. With the blood of four-hundred souls on their hands, many of them women and children, Stephanie had morphed into some sort of vigilante. “You know what you have done,” she sneered in Korean as she moved toward the exit door. “Tonight, you’re going to wish you had stayed at home.”

  With that, she slipped out the back door and disappeared into the dark. A moment later, I heard the engine of the Ford sedan roar to life and a shriek from the tires as she goosed the gas.

  The prisoners’ focus snapped back toward Sunny much the way the cuff of the latex gloves he was putting on snapped against his wrists. He glared at them. I had never seen a look anything close to that from Sunny before. It was completely out of character from the guy I knew. “Are you ready for this?” Sunny said with an icy smoothness that sent chills up my spine, and I wasn’t even the object of his anger.

  With no regard for their comfort, Sunny and I dragged and prodded and pulled the two terrorists across the floor until we had them leaned up against the side wall where they could get a good view of the table he had set up. I gave them each a slap on the face. Not because I’m cruel or love to inflict pain, but because I wanted them focused on us—on my words and Sunny’s display. I had something to say and he had plenty of things to show.

  Each story I would tell, and each implement he would show, would be intentional and purpose-driven. There was no reason to be subtle or two-faced. I had a mission, and I was determined to accomplish it. My mission, my purpose, was higher than theirs. They had to know this. Their purpose had been to destroy. Mine was to save. I explained this to them in clear, concise words.

  I thereby established moral authority and explained that I would allow my “friend” to use his tools however he wanted to in order to extract the information we needed to save the lives on those planes. There was no need to enunciate the time crunch we were under. I tapped my watch with my index finger and Sunny went to work.

  Sunny moved with an unexpected expertise and stayed in his role as a menacing character like I had never witnessed before.

  The first thing was duct tape. Sunny ripped off a piece of the grey adhesive and pressed it forcibly over the mouth of the woman. “Ladies first,” he said with a sadistic smile. He applied tape to their mouths to both make it harder for them to breathe and to prevent them from communicating.

  Next, he wrapped the guy’s feet together with duct tape. At Sunny’s signal, I pinned his arms to his torso and leaned him forward so Sunny could apply several wrappings around his midsection. This is when I noticed the lack of musculature on the guy. I knew he was thin, but as I held him up, he felt even more skeletal than he looked. He offered no resistance, just dark eyes burning with a mix of hate and distress.

  We did the same for the woman. They both looked sufficiently restrained and miserable. At this point, Sunny stepped forward and made a big display of laying out all manner of sharp objects. Hacksaws, ballpeen hammers, long pointy nails, an awl, needle-nosed pliers, a corkscrew, an assortment of drill bits, a battery-powered drill, and my favorite—a compact welding torch with a bottle of propane attached to it.

  I loved the fear in their eyes. I’m not a cruel person by nature, but I despise bullies. And these terrorists represented the ultimate bullies, having targeted innocents in their quest for power and respect. So, I had no compunction dealing with their ilk in the only language they understood: force and fear. There’s nothing like an immense show of force when dealing with someone who has gone to great lengths to inflict pain and suffering on thousands of non-combatant civilians—people just trying to live their lives, make a living, enjoy time with people they love. Couple the show of force with a display of potential torture implements to add that psychological edge and getting information out of a hostile bully becomes a much easier task. And quicker, I was hoping.

  Chapter 47

  Blue House, Seoul, South Korea

  June 6, 6:35 p.m.

  As President Jang Ho Shin concluded his solemn remarks in front of an overflow crowd in the Presidential Press Room at the Blue House, General Noh stood behind him along with other members of the Cabinet. The South Korean President had delivered the bad news about the explosion that claimed the lives of four-hundred-seventeen people. His tenor was somber, his countenance stoic, his words sincere. There was no bravado. President Jang was not one to beat on the war drum. The ongoing effort at every level of the Administration, he assured the public, was focused on saving as many lives as possible aboard the remaining four planes while mourning those who had been lost. He revealed this fact without going into detail.

  During the first four years of President Jang’s administration, he had earnestly sought a path for peace and reconciliation between the two nations that shared the Korean Peninsu
la. General Noh believed in the same principles and had been a staunch ally of the President’s proposals and efforts. His soon-to-be-launched presidential campaign would be based on a similar platform.

  General Noh hadn’t stopped working to resolve the current crisis since the pre-dawn phone call from Stephanie. He hadn’t eaten. He hadn’t prepared a single line of what he would utter shortly.

  There had been no time to prepare any type of strategy—military, diplomatic, or otherwise. An appropriate governmental response would be forthcoming, after a continued, all-out effort to save the passengers on the other four planes. The President was absolutely correct: there had been no time to think about anything else. And General Noh had been involved in every meeting, every call, every discussion since this crisis erupted sixteen hours earlier. Nothing else had occupied his mind as much in the past thirty-five years.

  Already, General Noh had been assailed by many within the Cabinet and the Joint Chiefs to retaliate against North Korea swiftly and decisively. Anything short of that, they told him, would be viewed by the world and by the enemy as weakness. Weakness would only breed more hostility and invite more violence, according to the other members of the Joint Military Command. If there was one thing that marred his esteemed military career, it was the constant demands to strike first and assess other options later. So many of the commanding officers he worked with closely held that frustratingly shallow mindset.

  Protecting a country wasn’t always about armaments and ordnance. Skill with words and knowledge of human psychology were often weapons better suited for the type of warfare today’s world demanded.

  The General turned to his top aide and asked him to get his son on the line as soon as his speech was over.

  The press conference had been called moments after the explosion of Korean Air flight 5821 was televised. President Jang felt it was his duty to speak words of comfort and to call upon the citizens of both North and South Korea, as well as the international community, to avoid jumping to hasty conclusions and calling for immediate military action. During his brief remarks, he assured the nation and the world that suitable measures would be taken, once he and his council had time to deal with the current crisis, gather all available intelligence, and evaluate the best path forward.

  President Jang bowed slightly in deference to General Noh as he pivoted a quarter turn from the lectern to face him. The President invited the General to give a brief synopsis of how the crisis was being managed from a military and tactical standpoint. The President warned the buzzing press corps that there would be no details regarding future response to the tragedy. General Noh would not be able to discuss any potential military response but would give a high-level overview.

  Following the President’s call for calm, General Noh stood at the podium. He gazed out over the bank of microphones at the assemblage of reporters. While everyone in the room was anxious and agitated, he also saw the concern etched into their expressions. Those gathered seemed to share a sense of reverence for those lost and one of trepidation for what was to come. General Noh began by adding his condolences to those of President Jang and continuing the sense of reverence he had invoked.

  When he spoke, his melodic bass voice lacked its usual vigor. His tone was strained, nearly to the point of being raspy. The skin of his face sagged, showing the signs of stress and worry. Dark circles under his eyes gave away the sleeplessness of the preceding night.

  The General cleared his throat after his canned opening statement thanking the press for being there, for conveying to the public his and the President’s and the council’s deepest sympathies for the victims of this terrible tragedy. He thanked the news channels for airing the President’s speech and expressed his heartfelt condolences to the families and loved ones of those lost to this senseless tragedy.

  The rest was unrehearsed and unscripted. He paused his remarks, shifting gears from what was conventional and somewhat obligatory to what was in his heart. Using that moment for both effect and for word selection, he spent several seconds looking out over the audience, taking in the myriad cell phones positioned to capture every word. Many of the reporters balanced laptop computers on their knees and typed furiously as he spoke. A dozen or more cameramen trained their lenses on him in anticipation of some startling new revelation about how Korea would respond.

  General Noh seemed to sense that his people looked to him now like the citizens of Great Britain looked to Winston Churchill during the London Bombings in World War II. Although no leader wished for this sort of crisis as a proving ground, General Noh didn’t shy away from it, either. The General cocked his head to the right and began to speak, slowly and clearly. “Now is a pivotal time in our nation’s history. Never before have we seen this type of terrorism target our land or our people. While the mighty military under my command is vigilant and remains ever prepared to defend our Homeland, our beautiful country, we Koreans are a peace-loving people. War and invasion have been a near constant throughout our history, yet our people have never been guilty of the first offense. We have never acted out of aggression. We do not attack our neighbors. We do, however, defend ourselves, our families, our lands, and our way of life. Always, our goal has been to live in peace. Always, our aim has been to exist in harmony with our neighbors and with the world.

  “Because we cannot fathom the evil and malfeasance behind this terrible act of senseless violence wrought upon the helpless and defenseless, we will neither tolerate it nor replicate it. Our response will be appropriate. It will be restrained, aimed at those who were behind the planning and execution of this unconscionable deed. The common people of the Democratic Republic of Korea will not be called upon to suffer the consequences of the acts of their leaders if, indeed, it is discovered that their leaders instigated these atrocities as has been rumored. At this point, that is all the reports are—rumors. Every resource available will be dedicated to finding and bringing to justice the perpetrators of this crime, but only after every available resource has been expended to save those whose lives remain in jeopardy. That is our first priority.

  “Rest assured, my fellow citizens, that our military stands at attention at this very moment, ready to protect and defend our borders, our airspace, and our coasts. Our allies stand with us, ready to assist. Any and every aspect of our military resources is under the command of President Jang as the elected leader of this sovereign nation.

  “Many have asked and many more wonder what the future holds. The past eighteen months have proven historic in terms of diplomatic progress with our neighbors to the north. At this point in time, we have no confirmation that the leadership of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea instigated, sponsored, or approved this attack. We are working diligently on the diplomatic front to ascertain the origins of this deadly chain of events.”

  General Noh paused and surveyed the crowd. The silence in the room was deafening. Maintaining his calm and authoritative tone, he continued.

  “If, after extensive and thorough research and fact-finding, it turns out North Korea is responsible in any way for this tragedy, we will respond appropriately, as President Jang has said. Everything regarding our relationship with North Korea will be reevaluated in the weeks to come, including the talks scheduled for later this month at Panmunjeom.

  “I know you all have many questions. So do I. So does President Jang. So does every member of the Security Council, as well as our allies and the rest of the world. We are in the midst of gathering data, hard evidence, and intelligence in order to provide context and understanding. After we have had sufficient time to analyze all of this information, we will gather you together again for another news conference such as this. We will answer as many questions as we can at that time, so long as those answers do not compromise our nation’s security.

  “In the meantime, please know that the entire leadership apparatus of this great country is engaged in doing all we can to keep you, the good people of this good land, safe and secure. We value pea
ce. We value freedom. We value human life. To these ends, we have pledged every ounce of our energy, our capacity, and our diligence. We are working hard toward as successful an outcome as humanly possible given the circumstances that face us. We ask for your patience and understanding as we return to the urgent work at hand.

  “Please pray with us for those who are gone and those who are suffering. Pray for us that we may help those still in peril. Thank you. That is all for now.”

  Chapter 48

  Onboard Korean Air Flight 134, LAX-ICN

  June 6, 9:14 p.m.; 3:14 a.m. California Time

  Jin Sook Lee, the assistant instructor at JT’s Do Jang, was unable to stay in his seat, nervous energy making it impossible for him to sit still. With his legs bopping up and down constantly, he was annoying even himself. He walked down the aisle to the restrooms in the back of the plane. Most of the people were asleep or engrossed in games or movies on their devices or were reading. There were a few, however, who looked awake and concerned. He smiled as he passed by, as if he knew something that would provide assurance.

  The sum of all of his observations brewed into a sense of impending disaster. A two-hour delay of their departure. Tons of ground crew personnel scurrying about. Police cars on the tarmac. The onboard internet had been shut off for hours. Some of the kids had seen the arrest of an Asian guy wearing a Dodger’s jacket just like the one Noh Sabomnim had been wearing at LAX—a fact that JT had conveniently forgotten to mention during their phone conversation. But the kids had noticed it and were more than concerned. A couple of hours ago, the crew had abruptly turned off the navigational video, the one that showed the plane’s path as it traveled across the Pacific. It was cut off as they approached Japan. No explanation was ever given other than “technical issues.” The plane had also turned southward sharply when it should have been going almost due west. The eastern coastline should have been visible by now with the twinkling of the first artificial lights below. Flying into Seoul at night was an experience many expatriates relished because of the plethora of red crosses atop the churches dotting the landscape. It heralded one’s arrival home. Tonight, however, the view was just an expanse of black water below.