As Jake arrived at Park’s San Marino residence, the gate was open. He was greeted in the driveway by Park and his wife, Soo Min. Gracie awoke when Jake shut off the engine and he feared what the tiny ballerina remembered following the shooting. Her eyes had been closed and he assumed she was asleep in the hotel room but couldn’t know if she had heard any of the conversation once Trey and Brian secured the crime scene. He could only hope any story a four-year-old could tell would be dismissed as fantasy by those who heard it.
Grateful grandparents smothered Gracie in kisses. When Soo Min took her into the house, Jake detailed the contrived events at the hotel as Park listened intently.
When he had completed his after-action report, Park said, “Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”
With genuine confusion, Jake asked, “Like what?”
“Like the fact you’re an FBI agent and your wife is pregnant?”
Jake froze; the chill of discovery and death enveloped him. He glimpsed the Green Hornet and Kato out of the corner of his eye. Both were standing in the well-lit driveway, their large-caliber, silenced semi-automatics in their hands. “I don’t understand,” said Jake, turning slowly to face Park.
“Tommy and some of his associates followed you to Gladstone’s restaurant and saw you meeting your wife. He shared it with me the night he was killed. He thought it was strange you never said you were married. I assume she is due any day now.”
Jake paused, then answered calmly, “I’m not married. The woman I met for lunch is the widow of my best friend. He was killed six months ago on an assignment in Afghanistan.”
“No more lies, Jake! After we take care of you, we’ll take care of your family. I must tie up all the loose ends. You didn’t think I’d send you to the hotel unaccompanied? My confidence in you did not exceed three million dollars—even if the bills were counterfeit. I had to retrieve the money for the equipment I had been told to acquire. And I really wanted to trust you, Jake. Apparently my faith was misplaced once again. You betrayed me as did the others. My people knew once they saw the FBI raid jackets at the hotel. It all began to make sense,” said Park.
There was a long pause. Jake said nothing, wondering if today was the expiration date God had set.
Before Jake could act, Park offered an abrupt hand signal to his minions. A shot shattered the momentary silence.
It wasn’t the muted sound of a subsonic round the undercover agent expected as he flung himself to the ground and grabbed the Glock concealed in the small of his back. Rolling into a prone position, Jake spied the Green Hornet already inert on the driveway and Trey Bennett, now firing at Kato as he moved.
Wheeling toward Trey, Kato leveled his weapon and prepared to fire. But before the North Korean could get Trey in his sights, Jake cranked off four rounds—two “double taps”—and dropped the thug.
Jake pivoted, spied Park attempting to escape around the side of the residence, and gave chase across the well-manicured lawn. He quickly closed on the aging North Korean intelligence officer and yelled at the top of his lungs, “Stop, or I’ll shoot!”
Surprisingly, Park stopped in his tracks, tossed his weapon on the ground, and threw his hands into the air. He had decided he wanted to live.
The gesture didn’t stop Jake. His momentum carried him into Park, knocking the older man to the ground. The FBI agent, breathing hard, placed his right knee on the North Korean’s neck, painfully establishing alpha-dog superiority, and pointed his Glock at the crime boss’s head.
“I brought back your granddaughter and you were going to kill me?” He cracked the barrel of the weapon across the back of Park’s head. “I ought to spread your brains across the grass.”
“Jake, don’t do it,” said Trey, racing up behind them.
“No, Trey, I’m going to close this case tonight with one nine-millimeter slug in the back of this commie bastard’s head.”
“Jake, we need him.”
Park moaned, “Please let me live.”
“Come on, Trey. This piece of garbage doesn’t deserve to live.”
“Please, don’t kill me. I can help you!” the Korean managed to croak.
“What can you do for us?” Jake asked, easing some of his weight off Park’s neck.
“I can help your country. I can tell you about the Iranians and the centrifuges and how they are making nuclear weapons.”
“Jake, he’s right. He can help,” said Trey.
Jake eased up on the trigger of his Glock and asked in a whisper, “Do you believe in God?”
“What?” said Park.
Jake cracked the crime boss across the back of the head one more time before he repeated the question.
Park wasn’t sure how to answer, so he told the truth. “No.”
“Too bad. The God you don’t believe in just saved your life. He determined your days but I guess tonight your number wasn’t up.”
Trey tossed his handcuffs to Jake, who double-locked the cuffs on Park while telling the Korean crime boss, “As usual, you and your Stalinist buddies have it wrong. The pregnant woman I had lunch with isn’t my wife. Katie died a year ago. The woman I met for lunch was her closest friend. Someone she loved, the wife of my best friend. Do you know the meaning of those words, love or friend, you miserable example of humanity?”
Park, clearly confounded by all that was happening and still fearful for his life, replied, “Yes.” Then, as Trey and Jake helped him to his feet, he said, “These are hurting my wrists.”
Jake looked at them in the dark and said, “They’re a little tight but they’ll stretch after you wear ’em awhile.” He then ratcheted each cuff close to the skin, bringing on additional pain with the slightest movement. “I hope they fit okay. Sizing is always so difficult for me to estimate, but I’d recommend you not wiggle too much. These things leave scars.”
As they walked Park back to the front of the house, Jake asked Trey, “How’d you know to come here?”
“After you left with the little girl, I watched you out the window of the hotel room. Hafner was strutting around on the phone, taking credit for the Supernote success once Brian showed him the contents of the toolboxes. I saw Park’s two goons come out of the little deli across the street. When they followed you toward your car, I figured you would need some help and sent you a text message.”
“I never saw it.”
“Well, I came anyway.”
“Thanks for having my back,” said Jake.
“I’ll always have your six. Isn’t that what you Marines call it?” Then, as they heard the sounds of sirens wailing in the distance, Trey added with a smile, “Maybe we should get everything prepped for Hafner’s press conference.”
“We didn’t leave many witnesses,” said Jake.
“Doesn’t matter, there’s not much left to prosecute. I think he’s on our side now,” said Trey, referring to Park.
“I guess that means Hafner gets that psych eval he was pushing,” said Jake with a grimace.
“I bet he does but my money’s on you. Somehow you’ll pass.”
Jake’s cell phone chirped. He fished it out of his back pocket. The text message read, “IT’S TIME!!!!”
“Trey, it’s Natasha, Joe’s wife! I have to get to the hospital. Their baby’s coming.”
“Go! I’ll clean up here.”
As he ran toward his car in the moonlight, he was grateful to be alive but still not sure why God allowed people like Park to exist. Jake had survived another series of near-death encounters and concluded he must have more to do before completing the days his Creator allotted. The birth of his best friend’s son was yet another reason to live.
“Thanks, God,” he whispered as he headed to the hospital.