Dawn of the Knight Read online

  Chapter 2

  Scott immediately discontinued my karate lessons. I enjoyed the physical and mental challenge that martial arts offered and I thought I was being punished for what had happened at school. When Scott said he had something even more challenging in mind for me to take its place, I became curious.

  He drove me into Toronto's Chinatown district. He parked the car and we entered what appeared to be a dojo. In the back of this room was an office. There we met with a man named Yin Lu Tang—the owner and sifu (or teacher/instructor) of this martial arts training facility. He and Scott were speaking to each other in what Scott later told me was Mandarin Chinese. Sifu Lu Tang agreed to enroll me as a student in kung fu. He and Scott had known each other for many years and this apparently was the only reason he had agreed to take me on. I had previously watched Chinese martial art films and I thought that being able to study kung fu was going to be awesome. Little did I know what awaited me.

  Right away Sifu Lu Tang made me sit down to give me a lecture on honor, respect, and discipline. He prohibited me from using what I was going to learn for criminal or malicious purposes. He also said that violating this prohibition would result in corporal disciplinary action from him personally and would also result in my expulsion from the academy. After his lecture, he sent me out to the training hall to begin my instruction. Initially, this consisted of methodically repeating the same intensive muscle-building exercises.

  Scott had obtained the necessary books and curriculum for my homeschooling and was planning out a course of study for the year. I asked him how he was going to be able to teach me when he had to go to work each day. He answered that he was retired and no longer employed.

  "What did you used to do?" I asked.

  "I used to work for the United States Government," he replied.

  "What did you do there?"

  He stared at me but did not answer my question. I understood that he didn't want to discuss that particular area of his life, so I did not question him about it any further.

  For the next several months my daily routine consisted of Scott teaching me in the morning and driving me to the gym in the afternoon. While I continually engaged in repetitive, strenuous, muscle building exercises day after day, other older students were actually learning kung fu styles and their inherent forms. I was envious of them. I remembered thinking how different this was from karate instruction where I had learned forms and self-defense techniques from the very beginning.

  One day on the way to the academy, I mentioned to Scott that I was no longer interested in studying there. I told him that it was too boring and that I wanted to go back to learning karate. He pulled the car over to the side of the road and lovingly put his hand on my shoulder while saying, "Lance, I want you to hang in there. I don't want you to give up or be a quitter. If you show a little patience, the training will become more interesting—I guarantee it. I sense something very special about you and I believe you can accomplish extraordinary things in your life if you stay focused on what I'm teaching you. Will you trust me and do what I ask?"

  "Yes, I will trust you."

  This little motivational speech was a turning point in our relationship and from then on I began to regard him as a father figure.

  That same day Sifu Lu Tang gathered all the students in the center of the dojo for a lecture. Next to him was a wooden board that I estimated to be about one inch thick. It was mounted vertically on a stand and was immobile. He began the discussion by holding a six inch nail in his hand and asking if we knew what it was.

  "Yes," we responded in unison.

  He took off his shirt and I was astounded at his muscular development. He was the most physically defined man I had ever seen. I could not detect any fat on him. He held the nail against the wood plank and after controlling his breathing and concentrating, he pushed down hard with his hand. The nail penetrated the wood all the way through. I gasped and then stood up—completely astonished!

  He concluded the lecture by stating these facts: Without power, kung fu technique is relatively worthless. You need both power and technique for an effective kung fu. Without bodily strength giving power to your strikes, you might as well be hitting someone with a pillow—there would be little difference. The strenuous exercises we engaged in daily were building a foundation of muscular power for whatever style we chose to specialize in. He suggested weight training as a way to supplement the exercises in order to build further strength. I never forgot that lesson and in later years Scott bought the correct equipment that allowed me to travel down the path of the bodybuilder.

  Twelve months later I graduated from the foundational classes. I was then able to choose what styles I wanted to learn. The first style I chose was Bagua Zhang. I was fascinated by Bagua Zhang's twisting and spinning movements and the self-defense applications intrinsic to it. Challenging a practitioner of this art in combat was equivalent to being sucked into a food blender and then spit out! My second choice was Tai Chi Chu'an; a form known for its graceful, flowing movements and its devastating hand and foot strikes. My third selection was Choy Li Fut. Recognized as one of the most effective styles for fighting more than one person, it is also one of the most difficult to attack and defend against. I studied and practiced all three styles diligently and persistently until I became one of Sifu Lu Tang's top students.

  Early on in our relationship, Scott had recognized my desire and aptitude for academic study. He understood my inquisitive nature as well as my insatiable thirst for knowledge and he channeled them. At his request, Sifu Lu Tang taught me how to read and speak both Mandarin and Cantonese until I reached a level of fluency in each. Scott also began to teach me a program of study that was like no other in the world. Since I had little idea of what I was actually supposed to be learning, he used that ignorance to his advantage.

  His curriculum included subjects that far surpassed the average grade school program. For example, he broke down world geography by countries. We would study not only the nation's culture, but the native language as well. This included idioms and the usage of slang. He also taught me detailed information about each country that the average textbook did not take into account including facts about what areas were more dangerous than others, why they were that way, and the current political climate. As a result, over the years I became fluent in numerous languages. I often wondered how he himself had come to learn so many.

  Another program of study was electricity, electronics, and computers. He designed a course that was both exhaustive and comprehensive in its size. Not only did I understand how to use computers, I learned about their construction as well right down to the micro-component level. He also taught me how to hack through computer fire walls and security systems to obtain data. There were numerous courses and programs which he taught me that left me wondering why I even needed to know them. Whenever I would question him on why we were studying a given subject, his answers were always along the lines of how it benefited and prepared me better for life.

  "I've been all around this planet and if there's one thing I've observed, Lance, is that the world can often be a harsh, unforgiving place in which to live," was his typical remark. "You might not understand this now but one day when you're older and living out on your own, the instruction and training you’ve received in these subjects will greatly increase your odds of survival."

  I laughed to myself while wondering what kind of survival situation he thought I was going to be in that would require me to hack a computer security system or wear a disguise. At times we would go up to his country home in North Bay. He owned several hundred acres of land in addition to a large and beautiful log house. There, he taught me how to hunt and fish. He also showed me how to track game and survive off of the land.

  One day he told me to run away as far as I could into the woods—allowing me 30 minutes to hide. I was nervous; thinking that if I got lost and he couldn't find me, I'd be in serious trouble. He gave me one of two walkie-talkies and told me that
if he didn't find me in 15 minutes to call him. I took off running as fast and as far away as possible. After finding a large, decaying log, I hid behind it. I sat there staring at my watch completely oblivious to his approach as he quietly snuck up to me and then remarked, "Hello, Lance."

  He had found me within 10 minutes.

  "How were you able to do that? I even didn't even hear you."

  "I'm going to teach you how. It's the art and science of tracking and it could save someone's life someday."

  "How?"

  "Let's say someone is lost in the woods. If you know how to track them—what signs to look for in order to find them—you could end up rescuing them and saving their life."

  For once he emphasized how this course could help me increase someone else's odds of survival. Another thing he continually emphasized from the beginning of my education until the end was that I was never to tell my mother about this "extra" or "unique," (as he called it), knowledge and training. He said that she wouldn't understand and might forbid him from continuing to teach me. He said that since she was my mother he would have to honor and respect her wishes. So, through the years I kept it from my mother and everyone else—including my homeschool evaluator.

  As I grew older, my education became even more concentrated. I had reached a point in my martial arts training where I now held the respect of Sifu Lu Tang and the other top students. This allowed me the privilege of studying the exotic kung fu disciplines such as Iron Vest and Iron Palm. Iron Vest was a system of exercises combined with herbal supplements that actually hardened areas of your body making them impervious to all but the hardest of blows. Iron Palm hardened your hands making your punches feel like hammer strikes. It was the Iron Palm technique that allowed Sifu Lu Tang to push a nail through the board. In addition, my studies now included instruction in various bladed weapons such as swords.

  Now thinking about weapons, I recalled a day when I was 10 years old. Scott had me follow him into an area of his country house that had been formerly off limits. He said that we were going to do target practice. I loved to shoot and I assumed the practice would involve either the shotgun or hunting rifle since we had previously used both for hunting game both large and small. He took me into a secure room that had a large walk-in closet but in actuality was a vault. After pressing his hand against an image scanner, his palm print was read and the door unlocked. Neatly stacked and secured in cases and on racks against the walls were all kinds of firearms. There were pistols, semi-automatic rifles, and even several automatic ones. I had never seen an arsenal like this before and couldn't imagine how or why he even needed them.

  "Where did you get all these guns and why do you even have them?" I asked.

  "When you are a little older, I'll be able to discuss that with you," he replied.

  He removed a variety of different models and motioned for me to follow him down to the target range. Over the next several years he instructed me in one of the most comprehensive and exhaustive programs on firearms any gun-loving, private citizen could hope to experience.

  Around the same time that he was teaching me how to shoot, he told me he was going to start training me in the style of unarmed combat that he personally used.

  "What I'm going to teach you is in addition to what Yin Lu Tang is teaching," he remarked. "Consider it a supplement. This system is called Krav Maga. It's the martial art of the Israeli Defense Force. There are no forms. It consists simply of combat self-defense techniques. One of its emphases is being able to counter armed attacks from both gun and knife wielding assailants. It has saved my life on more than one occasion."

  This training would involve his attacking me with both guns and knives while instructing me how and when if possible to counter, evade, and escape from these assaults.

  ***

  Suddenly, my musing was noisily interrupted by a loud argument from two people walking behind me. I turned around to see a woman who was angrily accusing a man of having broken his promise to her. They were so preoccupied with their arguing that they both nearly tripped over my luggage. I now solemnly recalled how Scott had used a broken promise to teach me a sobering lesson.

  When I was eight years old I was an avid fan of Ice Hockey. My all-time favorite player was Wayne Gretzky. One Christmas when I was seven years old, Scott had given me a mint condition Wayne Gretzky rookie card sealed in an acrylic protective case. It was my most valued possession and I cherished it profoundly.

  Scott's main house was in Willowdale. During the winter months he assigned me the responsibility of shoveling the snow out of his driveway. Depending upon the amount of snow that fell at any given time, it could be a physically demanding task. He did pay me for the work however, and my piggy bank was stuffed with ten-dollar bills as proof of my effort.

  One day we had a heavy snowfall and he asked me to have his driveway cleared out by a certain time. There was a playoff hockey game on television that I didn't want to miss, so I called up the next door neighbor—a boy I knew about my own age—and requested a favor. I asked him to shovel out the driveway for me. Of course I told him I would pay him the ten dollars that Scott would normally pay me. To this kid however, ten dollars wasn't going to be enough. There was 25 centimeters of snow on the ground and even though Scott's driveway wasn't all that big, it was still going to require time and effort to remove it all. Plus, he was interested in watching the same hockey game—his team being on the opposing side. I doubled my offer to 20 dollars but he still refused. In an act of desperation, I promised that if he shoveled the driveway I would give him my Wayne Gretzky rookie card. This was an offer he couldn't resist. He knew I had it because I had let him touch it while his eyes lit up and he drooled in envy. As I watched my hockey team lose, he shoveled out the driveway. Then he came to collect the card. I handed him 20 dollars instead while thanking him.

  "No way!" he protested. "Give me the Gretzky card that you promised."

  "No way," I said. "The payment is 20 dollars. Take it or leave it."

  He knew I studied martial arts and so he was too intimidated to challenge me to a fight. But knowing Scott was home, he did the next best thing. He started to cry, or bawl would be a more appropriate description. Scott came downstairs to see what all this commotion was about. The kid poured out his complaint and I told my side of the story. Scott looked at me and only wanted to know one thing; had I or had I not promised to give him the hockey card as payment. I had I conceded, but so what?

  "Give him the card," Scott ordered.

  I was stunned.

  "Give him the card," he repeated.

  Now I was the one who was bawling.

  "But, you gave me… this card for Christmas and… and it's my most… prized… possession," I sobbed. Nevertheless, Scott would not yield. Reluctantly, I handed it over. Afterward, Scott took me aside, sat me down, and gently lectured me.

  "Lance, when you promise to do something—when you give your word—you must follow through on it," he said. "Your word is your bond. Do you know what that means?"

  "No," I answered, while wiping away tears.

  "It means that if you make a promise your word binds you to it. It means that if you make a promise, you intend to keep it. It means that just by giving your word, the promise can be assured. Lance, I want you to grow up to be a man of honor and integrity. I want people to respect you as a trustworthy person. Never make a promise or give your word about something that you do not intend to keep. It's better not to promise, than to give your word and break it. Do you understand what I'm trying to teach you?"

  I understood, and the sorrowful lesson I learned that day instilled within me one of the core values that defined my life.

  Chapter 3

  I glanced down at my watch and then once again attempted to call the Colson's. This time the voice on their answering machine said the mailbox was full. I sighed while looking around the terminal. I decided to continue perusing through the scrapbook. I turned to a page that highlighted a picture of me tha
t was taken when I was 10 years old. In this photo I was pretending to be Eddie Van Halen playing an acoustic guitar. As part of my required music curriculum, I began taking guitar lessons from a man named Jeff Black. Scott would drive me to Mr. Black's studio in downtown Toronto. One day Mr. Black telephoned Scott and told him he had lost the lease on the room and that he would now be teaching out of his home. Mr. Black had a son named Peter who was my age and upon meeting him, we quickly became friends. Whenever I would go over to the Black's house for guitar lessons, I would often stick around afterward to have dinner and hang out with Pete.

  On one occasion when I was 12 years old, Peter asked if I wanted to play some video games. I agreed and he got out a game titled Splinter Cell. This game is based on the book of the same name by Tom Clancy. It stars a fictitious character named Sam Fisher who is an operative or secret agent for a branch of the National Security Agency of the United States government. As I watched Peter play this game in the role of Sam Fisher with all Sam's skills, abilities, and equipment, a connection was made in my mind. That night back at Scott's house, I did an internet search on Sam Fisher. I called Scott over to show him the results.

  "Were you a Sam Fisher?" I asked.

  He smiled as he read what was displayed on the monitor and replied, "Lance, I am not Sam Fisher."

  "I know that. But did you used to be and do what he is?"

  He stared at me for a moment and then replied matter of factually, "Yes. That's what I used to be. I anticipated that someday you would eventually discover my former occupation."