Donald's chest was barely moving.

"What's happening now?" the medic asked as he straddled Donald's chest.

His aide turned back. "There are soldiers around the air conditioner. They're checking the other barracks now. Now the lights just went out-- it looks like the electricity's been shut off."

"You're a hero," the doctor said to Donald.

Am I? he thought as the blue sky went gray and then black.

There were shots, but the doctor paid no attention to them as he pressed his mouth to Donald's, pinched his nose shut, and gave him four quick ventilations.

He felt for his cartoid pulse, found none, then repeated the procedure. There was still no pulse.

Sliding from Donald's chest, the medic knelt beside him and put the middle finger of his right hand on the notch where the sternum meets the bottom of the rib cage. Then he placed the heel of his left hand on the lower half of the sternum beside the index finger and pressed, counting out eighty pushes each minute. His assistant held Donald's wrist, checking it for a pulse.

Five minutes later the medic sat back on the balls of his feet. The stretcher lay beside him and he helped his aide place Donald's body on it. Two soldiers carried it away as an officer walked over. They ignored the soldiers from the South who were looking on.

"Does he have any identification?"

"I didn't check."

"Whoever he was, he deserves a citation. Someone had rigged valved drums of gas to the air conditioning systems of the four barracks on the east side. We caught him as he was about to turn them on."

"Just one man?"

"Yes. He probably wasn't alone, though he won't be telling us anything."

"Suicide?"

"Not exactly. As we closed in, he tried to spill the gas. We were forced to shoot." The officer looked at his watch. "I'd better inform General Hong-koo. He's on his way to meet that American Ambassador, and this may change things."

Tucked behind the trunk of a large oak, he watched as the small convoy of three jeeps neared the northern entrance of the conference building. They had come from the far northern side of the base where the General had his headquarters, and would park right beside the door of the structure, wait for the contingent from South Korea to arrive, and not exit until then. At least, that was probably the plan.

But if Lee had seen what he thought he had-- Donald gunned down as he ran toward the barracks-- there would be no contingent from the South. It also appeared that there would be no gas attack on the barracks. Those other shots, the lack of excitement at what should have already occurred-- it was obvious the plan had gone seriously wrong.

His palm was dry, his grip on the pistol sure. If only he had used that against Donald, instead of the knife. It would have attracted attention, but he could have fled- No matter. Fate had handed him another opportunity, one that was almost as rich.