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

by Thomas H. Ward

  .

  CRITICAL INCIDENTS

  The ROK

  Land of HAN

  A Jack Gunn Asian Adventure

  THOMAS H. WARD

  CRITICAL INCIDENTS

  The ROK…Land of HAN

  A Jack Gunn Asian Adventure

  Copyright © 2016. Thomas H. Ward. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic mechanical methods.

  Critical Incidents is the first of a three book saga, “Jack Gunn Asian Adventures.” These historically-laced fictional stories are based on places, locations, sights, and people that the Author has been exposed to while traveling and living overseas. The stories are loaded with tidbits of information about Asian countries and cultures that are not normally known to westerners. Some of the characters’ names have been changed to protect the innocent.

  Transcendent Publishing

  www.transcendentpublishing.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  .

  “In every truth there is non-truth;

  in every fiction there is non-fiction.”

  —Thomas H. Ward

  CONTENTS

  AUTHOR’S NOTES

  PERSONA OF JACK GUNN

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE: NEW ASSIGNMENT

  CHAPTER TWO: TIGER HOUSE

  CHAPTER THREE: KEIKO & MIDORI

  CHAPTER FOUR: U.S. EMBASSY & AMBASSADOR STEVENS

  CHAPTER FIVE: BUGS

  CHAPTER SIX: COLONEL HAN

  CHAPTER SEVEN: KAMATA

  CHAPTER EIGHT: AN OFFER I COULD NOT REFUSE

  CHAPTER NINE: DEAD MEAT

  CHAPTER TEN: HIDDEN MOTIVE

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  OTHER BOOKS BY THOMAS H. WARD

  AUTHOR’S NOTES

  Between the years of 1979 and 2010 I made over 200 trips to Asia, traveling to Japan, South Korea, China, Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Singapore. Arriving in Korea, on my first visit, the country was under martial law at the time. President Park had just been assassinated, after an 18 year military dictatorship. South Korea was just emerging from a third world country into a modern industrial economy.

  Having actually lived in South Korea, I found it a fascinating country. The places such as the hotels, restaurants, and cities are all real locations in this book. Some of the characters in this fictional book are based on actual people that I knew, but some of the names have been changed.

  Korea is surely a land of mystery. It has its own unique language and writing. One would think that being so close to China that Koreans would be speaking Chinese, but they do not. It is a mystery how this peninsula based country managed to develop its own culture and customs.

  If you ever have the chance to visit Asia then by all means do so. Make it a point to become immersed in their culture and life style, which is so different from what we know here. The trip will make you appreciate the United States of America.

  This book is a work of fiction, interwoven with historical information, unique customs, and tidbits of information about Korea and Japan that are unknown to most people.

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  I INVITE YOU TO EMAIL ME, TOCABAGA.JACK@GMAIL.COM, WITH YOUR COMMENTS OR SUGGESTIONS AND RECEIVE MY NEXT BOOK FREE.

  ***Only notices about my new books will be sent to you. You can be sure I will keep your email address confidential.

  Thank you for reading my stories.

  PERSONA OF JACK GUNN

  I am the eldest of three Brothers. We grew up fighting bullies and gang members in a tough neighborhood in South Chicago. My Dad, one of the most honest men I have known, always stressed, “Tell the truth, and help each other. Never ever be a bully, never steal, and try to protect those who cannot protect themselves.” I have always stood up for the people who could not defend themselves. I hate liars and bullies.

  Standing six feet tall at 200 pounds, I am in great shape for my age and my body is honed by years of physical training. I shave my head two times a week, because I like it that way. There is a two-inch scar on my forehead from a knife fight years ago.

  I spent a total of 12 years working for a number of government agencies. My time was spent in the Army, Department of Defense (DOD), and the Diplomatic Security Service (DSS). I bounced around a lot from one agency to another, which was not always of my own doing. Just because I don’t always follow the rules, the higher-ups tend to get upset. A long time ago I decided that I’m not going to get killed following a stupid order from some pencil pusher, who made a mistake.

  Each organization has its own security training methods that you learn, so I am over trained. I consider myself a “Jack of all trades and master of none.” I’ve been in a few combat situations where my general expertise has saved my life and those of my associates. I am an expert in the use of handguns, rifles, shotguns, and in hand-to-hand combat, which has come in handy at times.

  I’ve been shot twice, burned from explosions, and stabbed multiple times by the forces of evil. It’s a wonder that I am still alive. But I keep on fighting because there is no other choice. You have to fight or die in this screwed up world. That’s what my job requires of me. Someone always wants to screw with the United States.

  I love our country, freedom, my family, and friends. If anyone messes with my family or friends, justice will be swift and painful. I have no use for anyone who breaks the law, cheats, or steals. For the most part, I follow the Ten Commandments, but also believe in The Code of Hammurabi, which is an eye for an eye. If you take an eye, I’ll take your whole head. I fight to keep our Bill of Rights under the United States Constitution.

  I have killed more than a few men in my lifetime. Killing always came easy for me. Some I killed in cold blood, but I never killed anyone who didn’t deserve it, so I feel no remorse or guilt.

  That is me, Jack Gunn.

  PROLOGUE

  Before Tocabaga and before the Quest, to find the Ark of the Covenant, Jack Gunn gained experience and knowledge from years spent in the military and working for various government agencies.

  Decades before Jack moved to Tocabaga, he resided in Chicago with his brothers, parents, and grandparents. He knew what hardship was, growing up in a gang-infested neighborhood. He learned how to fight to protect himself, family, and friends. Fighting came natural for him. According to his grandfather, Jack was designed by God to fight.

  When his little brother, Mike, was murdered by a junkie at a burger joint, Jack and his brother, Ron, took law and order into their own hands. Mike’s murder was a senseless killing that they took hard. Six years later, they avenged his death by terminating the junkie after he was released from prison. The police found the junkie, named Leroy, with his head blown off. Law enforcement never discovered who exterminated the lowlife.

  Jack joined the Army at the age of nineteen, like all the male members of his family did before him. It was expected that members of the Gunn family would do their duty and serve the country.

  Years later, Jack now works for the Diplomatic Security Service (DSS). Now a Security Special Agent, he has just been assigned to a new duty station.

  The following position description is taken from The Department of State website:

  “Diplomatic Security Special Agents, depending upon assignment, are responsible for Department of State security policies, provision of a range of security services, management of security operations, supervision of subordinate staff, and
the actual performance of some, or all, of the following functions:

  Conducting protective security services for the Secretary of State, other U.S. government officials, and visiting foreign dignitaries.

  Administering and managing U.S. diplomatic mission security programs at overseas posts to include protection of personnel, facilities, and sensitive information, along with oversight of the U.S. Marine Security Guard and contract local security guard programs.

  Conducting investigations, to include criminal investigations, personnel investigations, counterintelligence and counter-terrorism inquiries, and investigative work in preparing for court appearances, and testifying in court and other legal proceedings.

  Conducting or implementing projects or programs involved with safeguarding of classified and sensitive information and materials, as derived from Presidential Directives or Executive Orders.

  Assessing security threats against U.S. interests and diplomatic installations and personnel abroad, as well as investigating hostile intelligence attempts to subvert U.S. personnel and interests overseas.

  Managing or implementing security-related aspects of new office building construction; developing and implementing counter-terrorist access controls for existing and new buildings.

  Conducting, administering, and managing security-related training, and training assistance programs for U.S. foreign affairs agencies’ personnel, and police / security officials of designated foreign governments.”

  Jack is on the way to his newly assigned duty station unaware of a dangerous plot that is about to be hatched. If it is not stopped, it could cause a major war. Thousands of lives are at risk if this “Critical Incident” succeeds.

  The definition of an Incident according to the dictionary is generally as follows: “An unexpected and usually unpleasant thing that happens. An event or disagreement that is likely to cause serious problems in relations between countries.”

  The Government Agencies, including the Military, have two definitions for an Incident. The first one is named a Critical Incident (CI), which is an event that should not be released to the common public because it may have political or non-political ramifications that could impact the security of the United States.

  Consequently, Critical Incidents are never reported to the news media. CI’s are covered up, as much as possible, so no one ever hears about them. The public is usually never aware that an incident has happened, which could have directly affected their lives. Sometimes information does leak out, but it is never the full story or real story of what transpired.

  An example of this is an actual UFO crash, like what happened in Roswell, New Mexico. This was an incident that provided tangible evidence that UFO’s do exist. But all the evidence has been removed, so it cannot be proven that there was a UFO crash.

  Then there are non-critical incidents (NCI) which are of little or no interest to the government. Non-critical incidents are reported to local law enforcement and the news media, who are free do as they like with the information.

  An example of this is a UFO sighting. There may be pictures or video, but this is not real proof that UFOs exist. Pictures of Big Foot are also not considered to be real proof. Until someone collects actual physical evidence, then Big Foot is not real and neither are UFOs.

  All Incidents are reported to the National Security Agency and are immediately classified as an NCI or CI event. If it’s critical, and depending on what it is about, then the NSA or Military special units control and quarantine the incident. The NCI events are either forgotten, or passed to local authorities to disburse as they see fit to the general population.

  All the news is being monitored and controlled for the well-being of the United States Government and the government officials. But news and information is really being controlled for your own good, so they say. Of course, the government doesn’t control the news media. This is a free country. We have freedom of speech under the First Amendment.

  CHAPTER ONE

  NEW ASSIGNMENT

  I was boarding a huge Boeing 747, in Chicago, for my return to the Land of Han. I’ve been on many military planes and a few 747s, one of the largest passenger planes in the world, at the time. These jumbo jets never cease to amaze me. It was a non-stop fourteen hour flight to the Land of Han.

  Settling back into the plush leather seat, the flight attendant brought me a glass of champagne before the plane departed, thanks to my first class ticket up-grade, compliments of the airlines.

  Upon takeoff, the big jet seemed to lumber down the run way. The engines were screaming at full throttle. The whole plane was vibrating and shaking. It seemed like it would not get off the ground because it was so large, but suddenly the gigantic monster began to fly. The nose of the plane lifted up sharply, and in a few minutes the plane was off the ground, climbing higher and higher to an altitude of 40,000 feet. The seatbelt sign went off and everyone was free to move about.

  I’ll admit, I don’t like flying because I am not in control. You are helpless if something happens. Your life is in the hands of a Pilot who you hope will know what to do in an emergency, based on his experience. Then again, he may not know what to do. He might panic and do something stupid. In any case, I like to be in control of all the situations in my life. That’s probably why it’s difficult for me to sit on a plane for any length of time.

  Peering out the small cabin window, I see the endless expanse of the Pacific Ocean. There is nothing down there but water and death. If we ever went down, you can kiss your ass goodbye. I shudder to think about it because once I almost drowned when I was seven years old. Because of this, I don’t enjoy the water or swimming. If we were meant to swim, God would have given us fins and gills.

  After eight hours, the flight started to bug me. I tried to sleep, but I can’t sleep well on airplanes for some reason, so I just doze off for a few minutes at a time. After reading every magazine on the plane, I was totally bored until the guy sitting next to me started talking.

  He asked, “So, what do you do for a living?”

  I wasn’t paying any attention to him. I didn’t really feel like talking over the noise of the 480 mph wind flowing over the plane’s fuselage and the droning sound of the engines.

  Not hearing him clearly, I asked, “What?” I turned my head peering at him, while leaning back in my seat.

  He was dressed in a well-made suit with a necktie on. I guessed him to be about 50 years old because of his graying black hair, which was perfectly combed. Wrinkles were showing in the corner of his bulging eyes. His head seemed to be larger than normal, almost caveman in appearance, with a large flat nose and square jaw.

  Loudly, he asked, “What do you do for a living?”

  I replied, “I work for the government.”

  “I figured so. Are you in the military?”

  “Yeah, that’s right.” I kept my answers short hoping he would get the hint and shut up. I don’t like talking to nosey people.

  “I’m Doctor Stan Wright,” as he held his hand out for me to shake.

  Anyone who uses the word doctor in front of his name has an ego problem. I hate shaking hands with most people, because I don’t know where that hand has been. He could have just wiped his ass, picked his nose, or sneezed into his hand.

  I looked at him. “No offense, but I don’t shake hands. I’m Jack Gunn.”

  “None taken, Jack. You must be a germophobe.”

  “No, I’m just careful.”

  “So, are you in the Army?”

  I replied, “Yes.” I told him what he wanted to hear. It was against regulations to tell him what I really did.

  “I knew it. I could tell by your shiny boots. What do you do in the Army?”

  I wear ankle high leather boots with steel toes. They have non-skid soles that are good in any type of weather. I keep the boots shined so you can see your face in them. I always tie my laces with double knots. The steel toes protect your feet and provide you with an excellent weapon. The height of the b
oot provides you with support to help keep you from twisting an ankle. Most importantly, you won’t lose a boot in a hand-to-hand combat situation, which you might when wearing normal shoes.

  “I’m in the Military Police.” I lied, but I had to change the subject. I figured this jerk would rather talk about himself. “What about you?”

  “I’m the Technical Director for Union Carbide Electronics Company.” He handed me his name card and took another sip of his drink.

  He had a smug look on his face; one of self-satisfaction. I glanced at his card which read, Stan Wright, Ph.D., Technical Director.

  There was silence for a few minutes until Stan commented, “You must be an officer to fly first class.”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s your rank?”

  “Captain,” I said. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get some sleep.” I pushed the button on my seat-arm and it slide back, while at the same time the foot rest popped up.

  “Sorry, I tend to talk too much.”

  I didn’t reply and closed my eyes, trying to remember where I had seen this guy before. There was something about his face that was familiar. I thought about it for a while and then finally dozed off.

  The cabin bell rang, waking me up, indicating we were on approach for a landing. The flight attendant made the usual announcement about seat trays and so forth. After fifteen hours in the air, the Captain came on the speaker system advising we would be landing in thirty minutes. The flight was an hour late because of strong head winds.

  The flight attendants came around asking every passenger to lower their window blind. If you didn’t comply, they would do it for you. The Captain came on the speaker system advising not to take any pictures out of the window for security reasons.