"Sir!"

"He'll be all right," Hwan said, and waved for the young man to sit. He put an arm around his friend's waist and helped him up. "You will be, Gregory."

Donald nodded as he stood.

"I'll notify you there when we come up with something."

A somber Hwan opened the door and Donald slid into the car.

"Do me a favor, Kim?"

"Anything."

"Soonji loved the Embassy and she admired the Ambassador. Don't-- don't let her go there. Not the way she was. I'll phone General Savran. Would you see that"-- he breathed deeply-- "that she gets to the base?"

"I will."

Hwan shut the door and the car drove off. It was quickly swallowed by the confusion of honking cars, buses, and trucks, the thick evening rush hour made worse by vehicles detoured from around the Palace.

"God be with you, Gregory," he said, then glanced toward the red sun. "I can't be with him, Soonji, so please-- look after him."

Turning, Hwan walked back into the alley and looked down at the footprints. The shadows were more pronounced now in the slanting rays of the setting sun.

But there was one thing more, and it bothered him more than the too-convenient presence of the bottle and boot prints.

After telling the guard at the basement window to inform Choi that he'd gone to his office, Hwan hurried back to his car, wondering just how far Director Yung-Hoon would be willing to go to break this case

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Tuesday, 5:55 A.M.,

Washington, D.C.

As soon as he was in his car, Hood phoned Op-Center and told his Executive Assistant, Stephen "Bugs" Benet, to start the countdown clock at twenty-four hours. That was something Liz Gordon had suggested: studies showed that most people work better with deadlines, something to shoot for. The clock was a constant reminder that although you had to run a marathon, really pour it on, there was an end in sight.

It was one of the few things on which Hood and Liz agreed.

As Bugs was telling Hood that Gregory Donald had been located and was being brought to the Embassy on Sejongno, just two blocks from the Palace, the Director's personal cellular phone rang. Telling Bugs he'd be there in fifteen minutes, Hood hung up and answered the phone.

"Paul, it's me."

Sharon. He heard a ping in the background and muffled voices. She wasn't at home.

"Honey, what is it?"

"It's Alexander--"

"Is he all right?"

"After you left, he started wheezing worse than I've ever heard him. The nebulizer wasn't helping, so I brought him to the hospital."

Hood felt his own chest tighten.

"The doctors have injected him with epinephrine, and are watching him," Sharon said. "I don't want you coming here. I'll call as soon as we know something."

"You shouldn't have to do this alone, Sharon."

"I'm not alone-- I know that. And what would you do here?"

"Hold your hand."

"Hold the President's hand, I'll be fine. Look, I want to call Harleigh and make sure she's all right. I think I scared her out of a year's growth when I went running through the house carrying Alex."