Critical Incidents: The ROK - Land of HAN (A Jack Gunn Mystery Thriller Book 1)

by Thomas H. Ward

  Stan bumped my arm and asked, “Why do they want us to close the blinds?”

  “It’s a normal procedure,” I told him. “Is this your first time to the ROK?”

  “What’s the ROK?”

  Light as a feather, the plane put down, with wheels screeching, to a prefect landing. The engines roared as the reverse thrusters were actuated.

  The Captain announced, “Welcome to The Republic of Korea.”

  Stan commented, “Oh, I get it … ROK.”

  I advised him, “The name Korea was derived from the Chinese name for Goryeo, which was the name of the Korean dynasty that ruled the peninsula in the 10th century. The real South Korean name is Han'guk, which means Land of the Han. Han means the same thing as the title Khan, which refers to a king or leader.”

  “Well, thanks for the history lesson.”

  The plane landed at Incheon International Airport, which is 40 miles from downtown Seoul. The other major airport is Kimpo, which is located closer to the city. Kimpo was the only major international airport until Incheon was built, but now it’s only used for domestic flights and some from Japan.

  I was arriving here almost one year to the date since my last visit, and twelve years since my first tour of duty. In the military we call it the “ROK.” That stands for Republic of Korea, but it also has another meaning. South Korea has the most highly guarded borders in the world. It is almost impossible to smuggle anything in or out. It’s like being in a big prison similar to Alcatraz, which is also called the “Rock.”

  Security in South Korea is always high because of the continuous threats it receives from communist North Korea, which is fifty miles north of Seoul, the capital, and largest city in South Korea. The Seoul general area includes Incheon and Gyeonggi Province, which has a population of 25.6 million people.

  There are always incidents taking place along the border. Many times North Korean Agents have infiltrated into the south. Most of them are spies but some come for other reasons. Some are assassins and a few are actually defectors. Their crazy dictator, Kim, is always stirring the pot trying to create problems between the two countries. Why he does that, is beyond all logic. Kim is definitely a dangerous nutcase, who could ignite another Korean War. Many believe that is what he wants. Make no mistake, the north wants to gain control of all Korea since the south has a well-developed economy. People in the south are very well- off compared to those suffering in the north. South Korean citizens enjoy a lifestyle very similar to that of the United States.

  As the plane taxied up to the gate, Stan asked, “What’s the security like going through customs?”

  I said, “Very tight. They check every bag.”

  After fifteen minutes the plane rolled to a stop, and we were free to stand-up, collect our bags, and prepare to disembark.

  Stan looked at me and grabbed his back as he tried to lift a bag down from the over-head. “Jack, would you please give me a hand, and get these two bags down for me? I have a bad back.”

  I reached up and pulled down a leather briefcase and a small flight bag. They weren’t heavy at all. “Here you go,” as I handed the bags to him. Stan had three bags in his hands.

  I only carry a briefcase so I can move quickly off the plane and through the airport. There’s no sense in lugging a bunch of crap around.

  “Do you mind carrying this briefcase to customs for me?” he asked.

  Ding, ding, ding, a bell rang in my brain. His request spelled trouble. Everyone knows not to handle any bags that are not yours. You have no idea what’s inside.

  “Sorry, Stan, I can’t do that. I go through a different customs station than you do. Besides that, I’m in a hurry, people are waiting for me.”

  “In that case just take it with you. There’s nothing important in it, just some technical papers. I’m staying at the Chosun Hotel. We can meet later and have a drink, so you can return it.”

  “No can do, Stan. That’s totally against the rules.” This guy was weird thinking that I’d take his stuff through customs and have a drink with him. But he was smart because he knew that most likely customs would not check the bags of an Army Officer.

  A flight attendant overheard us and she volunteered to help him out, if he waited until everyone was off the plane. Without saying another word, I proceeded off the plane and headed to diplomatic customs clearance counter. It’s a considerable walk in this huge airport.

  No one was in line as I approached the diplomatic counter. Pulling out my diplomatic passport and ID badge, I placed my briefcase on the counter. When you have a diplomatic passport, customs cannot open any of your bags or check a person in any manner. After checking the computer to confirm my identity, the customs agent glared at my face, and waived me through. Little did he know what was inside my briefcase.

  Walking through the customs exit doors, there was a wall of people standing there waiting for someone. They are waiting for a relative, friend, or business associate. When one of these large planes land there are 400 people disembarking, and probably another 400 standing outside of customs, in the arrival waiting area. There can be three to five planes landing in a thirty minute time frame. That means a few thousand people could be milling around in the arrival zone.

  It’s a big crowd with everyone pushing and shoving for a place in front of the line to obtain a better view of who is coming out of customs. If you don’t spot the person you’re there to pick up, then you may not find them in the crowded mass.

  I noted there was an ample supply of security police around carrying sidearms and submachine guns. The airport security police are dressed in typical army combat fatigues. Like I said, security is tight here.

  I scanned the crowd looking for my contact, while slowly walking towards the airport exit doors. Maybe my contact left since the plane was late, but I didn’t think so. It was already 9 pm Korea time, which is a twelve-hour time difference from Eastern Standard Time. Because of usual terrible traffic jams in Seoul, I probably wouldn’t arrive at my hotel until after 11 pm.

  I spun around, searching for my friend in the sea of faces. I didn’t see him, so I went outside to the pick-up zone to take a look. The smell of the air was different here. There were all types of odors, some good, and some not so good, such as burning wood, garlic, and who knows what else. Just the smell told you this was a different country.

  I lit up a smoke. Going more than a few hours without one makes me nuts. After taking a few deep drags, I heard someone yell my name. Turning, I spotted my old friend’s smiling face.

  Quickly walking up to me, he said, “Jack, Annyonghashimnikka (Hello, how are you)? Pan-gapsumnida (Nice to see you).”

  We bowed to each other and shook hands, “Annyounghaseyo (Hello, how are you)? Pan-gapsumnida (Nice to see you also),” I replied.

  Koo Young Lee, I just call him “KY” for short using his initials, is one of the most loyal friends a man could have. He keeps his word and you can trust him with your life, which I have done several times. We’ve been friends for over ten years. Even when I am not in Korea, we stay in touch by email.

  KY is the same height as me, standing six foot, and is about the same weight. He’s a good looking man with black hair and dark brown eyes. He takes care in his appearance, always wearing a suit and tie. Being one-hundred percent Korean, he is very loyal to his country. KY is also grateful to the United States for providing a buffer zone with trip-wire troops that keep the North Koreans from crossing the DMZ. He fully understands what would happen if U.S. troops were not based in Korea.

  Lee is one tough cookie. He has a 3rd degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do and Judo. He spent seven years in the Korean Army before becoming a National Intelligence Service Agent or NIS Agent. His Father, who passed away a few years ago, was an agent for twenty years. KY has followed in his footsteps. Normally in Korea your career will be similar to your father’s.

  I first met Lee when we were both in the military. He was selected to be a KATUSA, which is short for “Korean Augme
ntation to the United States Army.” He was assigned to military police training at Yongsan Garrison, in Seoul. I was given the job of training him, or for lack of a better word, general babysitting.

  KATUSA Soldiers are Korean men who volunteer to serve two years embedded with the United States Army. They are carefully selected to make sure they have the right attitude to adjust to our culture and a basic knowledge of English. Normally there can be anywhere from 5,000 to 10,000 KATUSA’s assigned to the United States Army each year.

  The KATUSA learn everything they can while embedded. After two years, they return to the ROK Army and teach others what they’ve learned. This makes both countries closer. It develops friendships and helps both Armies to be very similar as far as regulations, terminology, and duty assignments.

  We were assigned to patrol Yongsan Base together doing general law enforcement duties, curfew enforcement in Itaewon, or anywhere in Seoul for that matter. We hit it off right away. At that time, his English was not the best, but it was better than most Koreans. English is the second language of Korea. All students learn to speak and read it, starting in middle school.

  While based in Korea, I took language lessons provided by the Army because I knew Korean would come in handy. I always believed to understand a culture you must learn some of the language and customs. I’ve also studied Japanese, German, and Spanish. I am not totally fluent in any of them, but know enough to get around without an interpreter. It takes years of constant exposure to learn a foreign language.

  I can’t write in Korean because that it is something you have to learn when you’re a kid. My fingers don’t go that way, is what I say. Writing those crazy little lines is impossible to learn at my age. However, I have learned to read certain key words. The most important one is restroom or toilet.

  Lee and I became close friends and started hanging around together, even when off duty. We would go sightseeing all over Korea. Many of the places he had never been to either. KY helped me learn to speak Korean, which I still have problems with, and I helped him improve his English. I taught him slang and curse words that the schools don’t teach. He picked it up really fast, which helped him to communicate with American Soldiers.

  I said, “KY, you look the same. You never age.”

  He replied, “You look great also. Wait here and I’ll get the car.”

  “Ok, go ahead. I need to run back inside and exchange some money.” Everyone accepts dollars in Korea, but it’s better to use local currency, which is the won.

  I went inside to find a bank counter. While at the Bank of Korea exchange counter I heard a commotion. Turning around, I observed four police officers escorting a woman out of the building. I did a double take; it looked like the flight attendant from our plane. It was the one that helped Stan with his briefcase. I knew exactly what had happened; she got caught holding the bag. I wondered what was inside? It probably contained some kind of drugs. I wondered if the police would arrest Stan also. They don’t fool around here with drugs. The laws are tough and the prisons are terrible. They show no mercy to those who break the law.

  I changed one thousand U.S. Dollars into won. The rate is 1,100 won to one dollar. I received 1,100,000 won in 100,000 notes minus a small exchange fee. Dashing back outside to find KY, I scanned the long line of vehicles waiting to pick up people.

  I heard a horn honk a few cars down. I didn’t recognize the car. Looking in the window it was KY. His car was parked at the curb, in a no parking zone. It was a shiny new black Hyundai Genesis.

  Jumping in, I said, “Nice car.”

  “Thanks, it’s a company car. I got it two weeks ago. It has a 5.0 V8 motor and is loaded.”

  “Does it have ass wipers?” We both chuckled.

  “No, but it will kick some ass. It’s super charged and puts out 490 horses. This baby goes zero to 120 kph in 4.5 seconds. Top end is 280 kph.”

  “That’s impressive. It’s always good to have a fast car,” I commented.

  “Yes, remember those guys chasing us in Gumi years ago, when I had my little Hyundai Pony?”

  The Hyundai Pony was a small two-door car. It was one of the first cars Hyundai manufactured. Being totally under-powered with an 80-hp four cylinder motor, it was a real dog. It had no power steering or brakes, making it a nightmare to drive.

  I said, “Yeah, that was a long time ago. I remember that car and the terrible Gumo-san hotel. You wanted to stay there because it was rumored to be owned by the Park family.”

  The Park family refers to the one and only President Park who was killed by his own bodyguard. It was a huge scandal and everyone believed that his loyal bodyguard was a North Korean agent, who somehow infiltrated the inner circle.

  Pulling out of the airport, Lee said, “Well, you agreed to stay at the Gumo-san Hotel. There wasn’t any other decent place to spend the night.”

  “If I remember correctly, it was you that wanted to go to the hotel bar drinking and dancing. I just wanted to watch some TV and get some rest.”

  “I don’t recall that. You wanted to check out the bar and have a few drinks,” Lee replied, while laughing.

  “I just wanted a few drinks to relax after a long drive. I didn’t want to party until two in the morning. You wanted to dance with the ladies and that almost got us killed.”

  I laughed, while thinking back to old times and that critical incident.

  YEARS AGO

  *****

  Lee and I were on our way back to Seoul after sightseeing in Kwangju. Normally we would have driven right through to Seoul, which was a six hour drive. I always do the driving on the Seoul-Pusan Expressway, also known as the ‘Highway of Death,’ due to the fact I am a better driver at high speeds. I am used to driving on expressways in the United States. KY knew I had a lot more experience than him. Lee drives in Seoul City since he knows his way around the streets better than I do.

  The Highway of Death is Route 1, also known as the Seoul-Pusan Expressway. It is the first modern highway ever built linking Seoul directly to Pusan, which is a seven-hour drive. Highway 1 is similar to the Pennsylvania Turnpike; it twists through the mountains, going up and down, and has many tunnels. Because of the steep hills, the trucks and buses slow to a crawl when going up one, and speed up going downhill. On the average, there were forty people a day killed on this highway, hence its name.

  It was raining cats and dogs due to a typhoon that blew in off the coast, which made the highway even more dangerous. It was getting late and we were tired, so we decided to stop in the small city of Gumi to spend the night. It’s about fifty miles north of Taegu. At the time there were only two hotels in Gumi, both of which were not even rated as a one star. Gumi had a small population of only a few thousand people.

  We had never stayed overnight in Gumi and chose to check into the Gumo-san Hotel, which was located at the foot of Gumi Mountain, a 4,500 foot peak. From the outside the hotel appeared to be ok, but on walking into the lobby it was antiquated with old wooden furniture from the early nineteen hundreds. It was definitely a minus five star.

  After checking in and going to our adjoining rooms it was a shock. The carpet was worn and bare in places. The whole room smelled like mildew. There was a small 14 inch TV, which didn’t work, and two dim lights in the whole room. Looking at the bathroom made you wonder if it was safe to use. This place hadn’t been updated in twenty or thirty years.

  Lee and I were not very happy about staying here, but we had no choice. We tried to make the best of it by drinking. It was a Saturday night and everyone goes out drinking or dancing in Korea. Koreans work hard but they also party hard, late into the night. After dinner there wasn’t much else to do other than drink. Gumi didn’t even have a movie theater.

  As I recall, a three piece band starting playing in the hotel bar about nine and by eleven the bar was packed with women and men out for a good time. Of course, I was the only foreigner in the whole place and stuck out like a sore thumb.

  I noticed one young lady who w
as repeatedly glancing at me from a table about twenty feet away. KY noticed her also. He said, “Jack, go ask her to dance. I think she likes you.”

  Thinking about his comment, I peered at her and we made eye contact. Her eyes were inviting me over to talk to her. She was a good looking chick with long dark hair and a beautiful looking face with red lips.

  I said, “Ok. I’ll ask her, if you ask her girlfriend.”

  “Alright, let’s go ask them,” Lee said. Just as we were about to make our move, the two girls got up to dance with each other.

  We sat there closely watching them. Both were wearing short miniskirts, and I mean short. They had great looking legs and they sure knew how to dance. Actually, their moves suggested they were probably go-go dancers, which was popular in some Korean bars. The hot chick kept staring at me, while making suggestive dance moves.

  Lee commented, “Look at them. Are they hot or what?”

  “Yeah, they’re hot.” I ordered another round for us as we watched the show. But we weren’t the only ones watching the dancing beauties. The whole bar was watching them.

  The music ended and the band took a break. To our surprise, both ladies started walking towards our table. Stupid me, glanced around behind us to see if anyone else was there. I must have looked like an idiot doing that, because our table was located in a corner.

  The two women swayed up to our table. The long-haired beauty stopped directly in front of me. I didn’t know what to say to her. I managed to utter, “Hello.” I thought, how dumb can I get? This chick had me acting like a high school kid.

  Surprisingly, in broken but understandable English, she asked me, “Hello. We sit with you?”

  I was surprised because in Korea a woman approaching a man in a bar is not normal protocol. I jumped up and pulled out a chair for her, and so did Lee for her girlfriend. After sitting down, I asked, “What would you ladies like to drink?”

  They both ordered a Chivas Regal. While waiting for the drinks we exchanged names. Her name was Mi-young. In English it is pronounced ‘Me Young.’ Mi-young means eternally beautiful. She certainly had the correct name.