Chapter 1060 A Bad Feeling (Patreon)

Alright, honestly, this North Korean named Lin Zheling wasn't that impressive-looking—small nose, small eyes—and Jack couldn't even recall which show in his past life he might've seen this guy’s original actor appear in.

Still, it was definitely a familiar face, and now the name also sounded vaguely familiar.
After thinking for a long time, Jack finally remembered: it had been mentioned by Park Min-young, Kang Jintae’s sister-in-law. She had once told him about a "sweetheart separated by national issues" or something like that.

Thinking about Kang Jintae’s long-faced misery back then made Jack chuckle.
Actually, the guy was pretty lucky. Life might be tight, but at least he had a beautiful, content wife, an amusing sister-in-law, and, most importantly, a daughter who hadn’t inherited his ugly face.

To be fair, even after more than half a century of separation, the two Koreas were still brothers at heart—sharing that same "heaven’s great, but I’m second only to it" kind of arrogance.

Facing a group of FBI agents, Lin Zheling’s attitude immediately reminded Jack of Prosecutor Kim Junho from back when he handled cases in South Korea—the same kind of pretentious superiority act.

Given both his past and present identities, Jack could afford to look down at him with a detached calmness. He wasn’t angry at the attitude, but he certainly lost any interest in making small talk.

They escorted the two North Koreans to the federal prison, where Jack sat in the adjacent monitoring room, ready to translate for Jubal during the meeting.

Since being imprisoned, the defector Jang Min-jun hadn’t said a word.
Now that Lin Zheling insisted on meeting him face-to-face for "identification," the FBI was happy to listen in and see if anything useful came up.

"Are they communicating telepathically or something?" Jubal grumbled after five full minutes of the two men simply staring at each other across the table, completely silent.

Finally, Lin Zheling spoke first: "Betraying the General and the nation's kindness to become a drug dealer—when you see a former comrade, do you not feel ashamed?"

Ah, here we go. Jack thought. Classic North Korean brainwashing speech—eternal, unpayable "kindness" debts.

"Wow, so they used to be comrades?" Jubal whispered excitedly after Jack translated. "Jack, do you think Jang Min-jun is gonna be executed when he gets sent back?"

North Korea remained an enigmatic place for Americans. Though few would admit it openly, many Americans who knew their history harbored grudges toward it.

"Firing squads were actually invented by the British," Jack said honestly. "Even if they’re still our rivals, we shouldn’t underestimate them. From their point of view, we might still be scalp-hunting barbarians."

If you had to rank them, the North at least outclassed the South—after all, a feudal monarchy was arguably better than a half-colonized state.

Jang Min-jun looked much the same as when Jack had arrested him months earlier: a gloomy figure with a faint mustache, hair hanging almost over his eyes, and a perpetual air of gloom.

He wore a mocking expression, as if Lin Zheling's words—and even Lin Zheling himself—were a joke.

"I heard your woman died right in front of you. What did you do then? If you ask me, that’s what's truly shameful."

Hearing something interesting, Jack instinctively sat up straighter, waiting.

"You’re spouting nonsense! The man who murdered Lieutenant Colonel Lin’s wife has already been brought to justice—by his own hands," the middle-aged man accompanying Lin Zheling suddenly slammed the table.

"Enough, Lieutenant Park," Lin Zheling said calmly, placating his companion.
But from Jack and Jubal's vantage point, they could clearly see his fists clenching tightly under the table.

After that, the room again fell into silent confrontation. Maybe because they suspected eavesdroppers next door, Lin Zheling didn't intend to say more.

Just then, the meeting room door was yanked open, and International Division Chief Jon Michaels walked in, face grim.

"At your delegation leader’s request, the extradition process has been expedited. Your departure time is moved up to tomorrow morning."

In the adjacent monitoring room, Jack and Jubal exchanged a look and simultaneously frowned.

—

"I don't like it when a plan that was supposedly decided weeks in advance suddenly changes at the last minute. It means the plan was flawed to begin with," Clay said as he hefted two heavy weapon crates into the Suburban.

"To me, it usually signals bad omens," Aubrey added with a grimace.

"Prepare plenty of equipment and ammo," Jack said helplessly. "Bring extra comms gear, satellite phones, and some unregistered weapons."

Ever since seeing Lin Zheling’s face, Jack knew this mission wouldn’t be simple.
But with the Bombardier jet already waiting in the Kennedy Airport hangar, there was no way to refuse the trip to Korea—they could only prepare as best they could.

Thankfully, they were going to South Korea. If things really went south, they wouldn’t bother about public image—they’d use heavy firepower if needed.

Their modified Bombardier, like the BAU team's Gulfstream, had a specialized weapons vault installed.
Jack decided to fill it to the brim.

Previously, when he had casually helped NCIS during his vacation in Hawaii, the Navy had sent over a batch of SOCOM-grade special ops equipment as thanks.

Jubal had split some of it with the NY office’s SWAT team, but most of it still filled their armory to the rafters—perfect to stock the plane now.

Holding a laptop, Alice walked into the underground garage.
Seeing the men working, dripping with sweat in just their tank tops—because they didn’t want to ruin their clothes with gun oil and because the heat was cranked up—she couldn’t resist letting out a whistle.

Even Jubal, under Jack’s training, had lost his beer belly.
Muscle-bound guys in tank tops—the scene was almost steamy.

"Hannah and JJ just got back from the airport. The security cameras in the hangar are all installed. These are the background check files for the ground crew mechanics and the two pilots."

Alice handed Jack the stack of papers tucked under her laptop and asked suspiciously, "Are you sure all this caution is necessary? Last time we went to Korea, it felt pretty safe."

"Who knows?" Jack shrugged. "Their northern neighbor is insane. We might land and find war’s already broken out."

Aubrey, like Jubal—and honestly, like most Americans—held a certain "prejudice" toward that closed-off country.

After all, Hollywood blockbusters, for the sake of box office sales, rarely dared to name China as the villain.
Instead, North Korea often ended up being the perfect scapegoat.

Jack even remembered a movie in his past life where the North Korean army invaded the U.S. and was defeated by a bunch of small-town teenagers using guerrilla warfare. It was absolutely ridiculous.