Sword of God

'My father made you nervous?' Jung laughed for several seconds before he could continue. 'How could such a little man make you nervous?'

'He didn't sound little on the phone. He ordered me into the lobby in twenty minutes. Then, when I tried asking him a question, he hung up on me. I thought the guy was crazy.'

Jung laughed louder. 'My father isn't crazy. He hangs up on me, too! The man can barely hear. I doubt he heard a word you said!'

'Oh,' Payne grunted, pretending to be embarrassed. 'That would explain a lot.'

'I'm sorry if I worried you. I would've met you myself, but this is my busy time of year. Not only is it hunting season, but thousands of tourists fly in for our New Year's celebrations. And tourists mean money.'

Payne waved him off. 'Not a problem. I'm just thankful for the lucky break. I didn't know whom to turn to until Mr. Lee offered to help. He's been a savior.'

'I will tell him you said so. He will be honored.'

'It is who is honored. Both of you have been so gracious and friendly.'span›

Jung bowed, showing his appreciation.

'Anyway, I know you're a busy man and I feel guilty for taking up so much of your time.'

'Not a problem, Mr. Payne. I am glad I could help.' He paused for a moment, once again struggling for the right words. 'But before I do, there is something I need to ask. Why are you looking for the boy?'

It was a question Payne had anticipated, one he'd been thinking about all night. In his mind he had two options: he could tell the truth, or make up a story. Obviously, both had risks. The fewer people who knew about the village, the better. Not only for national security but also for international relations. There was a chance the South Korean government knew what was going on in the cave, but if they didn't, he didn't want to be responsible for spilling the secret. On the other hand, if the Parks had told Jung about the violence, then Payne couldn't afford to lie. One misstep and Jung was liable to point him in the wrong direction. Or notify the Parks. Or both.

In the end, it was something the old man had said to Payne that helped him decide. He mentioned his son needed to look him in his eye. He needed to judge his character. That's the reason they couldn't talk on the phone. He needed to trust him before he would speak.

Based on that, Payne made a gut decision and opted to tell the truth.

'Recently a prisoner escaped from American custody and killed several islanders, including some members of the Park family. We believe Yong-Su witnessed much of the violence. Anything he can tell us will be useful, not only to capture the killer but also to protect the Parks and everyone on this island. The sooner he is caught, the safer Jeju will be.'

Jung paused, studying Payne long after he had finished speaking. Several seconds passed-several excruciating seconds-before Jung nodded his approval. He believed what Payne had said. 'Are you familiar with Seongsan? It is a massive peak on the eastern side of Jeju.'

Kia spoke up. 'I know where it is.'

'Tonight there is an important festival honoring the New Year. The entire coast will be jammed with boats from Japan and Korea. That is how the Parks are leaving Jeju. Masked by the large crowds. Under the cover of darkness.'

'And you're sure of this?' Payne asked.

Jung nodded. 'I am positive. They have rented my boat.'

27

Seongsan Peak is a picturesque landmass on the eastern end of Jeju that was formed more than 100,000 years ago when a volcano erupted under the sea. The resulting peak stands 600 feet above the blue water below, its crater stretching more than 325,000 square feet, adorned with 99 natural peaks along its outer edge, creating the illusion of a majestic crown-an image that is heightened in the early morning when the sun rises above the Korea Strait, bathing the volcanic cone in golden light. The view is so breathtaking it was described nearly 800 years ago in the Tripitaka Koreana, the most complete collection of Buddhist texts still in existence.

Every year thousands of revelers flood the local village, nestled near the base of the peak, to participate in the Seongsan Sunrise Festival, a massive celebration that begins on New Year's Eve with a ritual known as a gut- where a shaman offers a sacrifice to the spirits-and continues well beyond sunrise on New Year's Day. In between are massive amounts of eating, drinking, gambling, and fireworks, none of which Payne and Jones would be enjoying. Their sole purpose was to find the Parks as quickly as possible and gather as much information as they could,

Chi-Gon Jung had given them a map of Seongsan Harbor, explaining where his boat was docked and how to get there. The boy and his father were scheduled to arrive at midnight, the most chaotic moment possible, when they hoped to slip aboard unnoticed. An hour later, one of Jung's most reliable tour guides would pilot them to the open sea. By morning, they would reach one of the small ports on the southern coast of South Korea, where they hoped to disappear into the countryside. At least that's what Jung had gathered.

Unfortunately, he had no additional information about the Parks. No hotel. No phone number. Not even a backup plan. They had stumbled into the Daeyu Hunting Lodge looking for a guide and were given Jung's business card. They showed up at his cabin unannounced, told him what they needed, and gave him a small cash deposit. The entire time the boy never spoke. He just stood near his father, clutching his hand or holding his waist. More like an infant than an eight-year-old boy. Jung knew something was wrong, but every time he asked Mr. Park, he became angry. Aggressive. Protective. Eventually Jung got the hint and stopped asking.

That was two days ago, and he hadn't heard from them since.

Payne, Jones, and Kia arrived in Seongsan just before dinner. The town was abuzz with tourists, the pulse of the festival just springing to life.

The trio lucked into a parking spot adjacent to the harbor, five minutes from the marina entrance. Jung's boat was just where it was supposed to be, tied off at the end of a long wooden dock. No one on board. Nothing suspicious.

Payne glanced at his watch and noted the time. They would check back in a few hours, just in case someone showed up early.

But until then, they had plenty of time to kill.

Dozens of pojangmachas-street stalls on wheels that cooked and sold Korean food-lined the narrow roads. Clouds of steam rose off the metal carts, the smell of spices filling the air. Payne and Jones browsed the selections as Kia translated the menus. There was gimbap (rice rolls), sundae (Korean sausage in hot sauce), tteokbokki (rice cakes in red pepper sauce), and odeng (simmered fish cakes on a skewer). Plus an assortment of items they recognized on their own. Egg rolls, dumplings, fritters, and meat on a stick-although no one knew what kind of meat it was. Payne ordered okdom, a fish found only off the coast of Jeju and Japan. It was broiled in sesame seed oil and served with a side of scallion pancakes. Jones bought a combo platter, grilled pheasant and pan-fried kimchi (fermented vegetables), plus a seafood egg roll. Meanwhile, Kia fed her sweet tooth, getting a persimmon shake and a small bag of yugwa (grain cookies), treats she used to eat when she was a little child growing up near Seoul.

They took their food to a nearby table and ate in relative silence, watching people stroll by as the sunlight began to fade. Every few minutes firecrackers burst in the distance. The pop! pop! pop! echoed across the harbor like gunshots in the night. Kia flinched the first few times but eventually filtered out the sound, realizing it posed no threat. The whole time Payne and Jones never budged, years of experience honing their senses.

Suddenly, as if on cue, hundreds of paper lanterns were lit by villagers, who hung them in their windows and trees, while a giant bonfire was ignited at the top of the crater. Sparks and ash erupted into the night like a volcano. In an instant the entire village was bathed in firelight. Everyone's attention soon shifted to the outdoor theater at the base of the peak. The rumble of a Korean drum, beaten with pulsating precision, heightened the drama, as if the mother ship from Close Encounters was about to land in Seongsan, as it did at Devil's Tower. A rainbow of colors exploded from the bank of spotlights as a provincial dance team, dressed in white masks and ancient robes, started their performance, leaping and twirling to the sounds of a Korean orchestra hidden in the