There was no point in even making the attempt to get to Gimpo Airport. There would really be only one place an American would run to in panic when being chased by the police, and that was the city’s only public airport. I was in real trouble and whatever the effect it might have on my future travel or my barely started career, I had to get out of the country I was in without getting incarcerated and then questioned under quite possibly the harshest circumstance about who I really was and what I was in Korea for. That I could also end up dead, depending upon the likely combination of Korean mafia mix with the local police, was also very much on my mind.

I tapped Ho on the shoulder and motioned for him to pull the tuk-tuk to the side of the road, noting the small hole in the back of his seat as I did so.
With the tuk-tuk pulled over I explained to him that the airport was out. Ho didn’t evidence any change of expression at all as he sat and turned in his seat as the little three-wheeled machine that was his entire living, rattled away.

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