Текст книги "Black Wind"

Автор книги: Clive Cussler

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 35 страниц)

Morgan stared blankly at a white wall, his mind tumbling over the events of the past few hours. Who were these pirates that had attacked and sunk his ship? What was their intent with the biological weapons? And what had become of Dirk and Summer?. Not generating any answers, he simply shook his head slowly.

“I just hope it won't be too late.”

After sailing north for a day and a half, the Baekjegradually arched its bow around toward an easterly heading. Landfall was spotted at dusk, and the ship waited until dark before creeping into a large harbor amid a hazy fog. Dirk and Summer surmised that they had, in fact, sailed to Korea and correctly guessed that they were in the South's large port city of Inchon, based on the number of internationally flagged freighters and containerships they passed entering the port.

The cable-laying ship moved slowly past the wide-spaced commercial docks that busily loaded and unloaded huge containerships around the clock. Turning north, the Baekje crept past an oil refinery terminal, snaking around a rusty tanker ship before entering a dark and less developed corner of the harbor. Drifting past a decrepit-looking shipyard housing scores of decomposing hulks, the ship slowed as it approached a small side channel that ran to the northwest. A guard hut with a small speedboat alongside stood at the entrance to the channel, beneath a rusting sign that proclaimed, in Korean: kang MARINE SERVICES–PRIVATE.

The Baekje^ captain maneuvered the ship gently into the channel and proceeded several hundred yards at a slow creep before rounding a sharp bend. The channel fed into a small lagoon, which was dwarfed by a massive pair of covered docks that sat at the opposite end. As if pulling a car into the garage, the Baekjeh captain inched the ship into one of the cavernous hangars that towered a solid fifty feet above the ship's forecastle. The ship was tied off under a field of bright halogen lamps that hung from the ceiling, while a large hydraulic door quietly slid shut behind them, completely concealing the vessel from outside eyes.

A crane immediately swung over and a half-dozen crewmen began unloading the ordnance containers, which were lowered to the dock under Tongju's supervision. Once the bomb canisters were stacked on the deck in an orderly pyramid, a large white panel truck backed down the dock to the cargo. Another group of men, wearing powder blue lab coats, carefully loaded the weapons into the back of the truck, then drove away from the ship. As it turned a corner at the end of the dock, Tongju could see the familiar blue lightning bolt emblazoned on the side of the truck, beneath the words kang satellite telecommunications CORP.

Kim approached as Tongju watched the truck exit the hangar through a guarded doorway.

“Mr. Kang will be quite pleased when he learns that we have recovered all of the ordnance,” Kim stated.

“Yes, though two of the twelve are worthless. The submersible pilots cracked open the last two shells and released the armament into the water. An accident, they claim, due to a loss of visibility in the water.”

“An inconsequential loss. The overall mission was quite successful.”

“True, but there is still a difficult operation ahead of us. I am tak tag the prisoners to Kang in order for him to interrogate them. I trust that you will administer to the ship preparations satisfactorily,” he stated rather than asked.

“The reconfiguration of the vessel, as well as the replenishment of fuel and provisions, will begin immediately. I will ensure that the ship is ready to depart the minute our cargo is reloaded.”

“Very well. The sooner we get to sea, the better our chances of success.”

“We have surprise on our side. There is no way we can fail,” Kim said confidently.

But Tongju knew otherwise. Taking a long puff on a lit cigarette, he considered the element of surprise. It could indeed mean the difference between life and death.

“Let us just hope that our deception endures,” he finally replied thoughtfully.

Belowdecks, Dirk and Summer were roughly roused from their cabin cell, a thick-necked guard first handcuffing their wrists behind their backs before shoving them out of the room. They were marched at gunpoint to a gangway leading off the ship, where Tongju stood watching with a sneer on his face.

“It was a lovely cruise. You never did show us where the shuffle-board court was located, however,” Dirk said to the assassin.

“Now, be honest,” Summer piped in. “The food didn't exactly warrant a five-star rating.”

“The American sense of humor is hardly amusing,” Tongju grunted, his cold eyes showing that he was not the least bit entertained.

“By the way, what exactly is the Japanese Red Army doing in Inchon, Korea?” Dirk asked bluntly.

A barely perceptible arch crossed Tongju's brow.

“Most observant, Mr. Pitt.” Then, ignoring his captives further, he turned to Thick Neck, who cradled an AK-74 leveled at the pair.

“Take them to the high-speed launch and lock them in the forward berth under guard,” he barked, then turned on his heels and marched to the bridge.

Dirk and Summer were marshaled down the gangplank and across the dock to a smaller side slip, where a sleek-looking motor yacht was tied up. It was a thirty-one-meter South Pacific marine high-speed catamaran, painted a teal blue. Designed and built for passenger ferry service, it had been refitted as a fast oceangoing personal luxury yacht. Equipped with four-thousand-horsepower diesel engines, the luxury cat could cruise along at speeds over 35 knots.

“Now, this is more my style,” Summer commented as they were prodded aboard and locked in a small but plushly appointed center berth.

“No windows this time. Guess Mr. Hospitality didn't like your Inchon crack,” Summer added as she curled her way into a small salon chair, her hands still cuffed behind her back.

“Me and my big mouth,” Dirk replied. “At least we now have a rough idea of where we are.”

“Yes ... right in the middle of deep kimchi. Well, if we got to go, at least we get to go first class,” she said, admiring the walnut paneling and expensive artwork adorning the walls. “These guys certainly have some deep pockets for a second-rate terrorist organization.”

“Apparently, they have some friends at Kang Enterprises.”

“The shipping company?”

"A large conglomerate. We've seen their commercial freighters around for years. They're also involved in some other high-tech businesses as well, though I'm only familiar with their shipping division. I met a guy in a bar once who worked as an oiler on one of their ships. He told me about their enclosed repair and storage facility in Inchon. Never seen anything like it. There's supposedly a dry dock at one end,

and the place is chock-full of state-of-the-art equipment. The cable ship had the Kang trademark blue lightning bolt on the funnel. This has to be the place."

“Glad to see all that time you spent as a barfly is finally paying off,” Summer quipped.

“Research. Strictly research,” he smiled.

Summer suddenly turned serious. “Why would a South Korean business be mixed up with the JRA? And what do they want with us?”

Her words were interrupted by the throaty roar of the catamaran's diesel engines as they were fired up astern of their cabin.

“I guess we'll soon find out.”

Tongju crossed over and boarded the catamaran as the ropes were cast off, the fast boat burbling along the dockage at a crawl. The huge hangar door slid to the side again, allowing the catamaran to exit the enclosed building. As they slipped through the doorway, Tongju glanced back at the big cable ship towering over them.

An army of workmen was already crawling about the Baekje like a swarm of bees. A heavy-duty crane was removing the giant cable-laying wheel from the stern deck, while teams of painters re sprayed the topside decks. Elsewhere, construction crews were cutting the superstructure in some areas while adding compartments and bulkheads in other places. A work detail hung over the fantail, re beading and painting the ship's name, while another team painted the funnel a golden yellow. In just a matter of hours, the entire ship would be transformed to another vessel that even the trained eye would have trouble detecting. It would be as if the cable ship Baekje never existed.

The fiery bantam marched through the executive corridors of NUMA's headquarters as if he owned the building, which, in fact, he essentially did. Admiral James Sandecker was a revered figure throughout the halls, offices, and laboratories of NUMA, the legacy of his founding the agency with a handful of scientists and engineers several decades before. Though diminutive in size, his blazing blue eyes and bright red hair with matching goatee simply advertised the burning intensity with which he operated twenty-four hours a day.

“Hello, Darla, you're looking stunning today,” he said graciously to the forty-something secretary typing on a computer. “Is Rudi in the executive conference room?”

“Good to see you again, Admiral,” the woman beamed as her eyes roved to a pair of Secret Service agents struggling to keep up with the fast-moving chief. “Yes, Mr. Gunn is waiting for you inside. Please go right in.”

Though still regarded as the Admiral by his NUMA comrades, the rest of the world knew him as Vice President Sandecker. Despite a lifelong aversion to the subversive world of Washington politics, Sandecker was persuaded by President Ward to fill the shoes of the vice presidency when the elected veep unexpectedly died in office. Sandecker knew the president to be a man of honor and integrity who would not force his second-in-command to remain a wallflower. The fiery admiral immediately broke the mold of past vice presidents. Far from being a figurehead and emissary for state funerals, Sandecker held a strong position in the administration. He vigorously spearheaded defense and security reforms, increased the funding and focus of government-sponsored scientific research, and led the point for environmental conservancy initiatives and all matters relating to the seas. At his bullying, the administration successfully strong-armed a worldwide ban on whaling by all industrialized nations, as well as implementing a host of tough penalties and sanctions on ocean polluters.

Sandecker burst through the door to the conference room, immediately hushing the group of NUMA officials deliberating the loss of the Sea Rover.

“Thanks for coming over, Admiral,” Gunn said, jumping up and showing his boss to the head of the table.

“What's the latest information?” Sandecker asked, dispensing with the usual around-the-table pleasantries.

“We've confirmed that the Sea Rover has, in fact, been sunk after being attacked in the East China Sea by a small armed force that infiltrated the vessel. Miraculously, the crew escaped from a locked storage hold minutes before the ship went under. They were able to make it into the lifeboats, where they were later spotted by an Air Force search-and-rescue plane. A nearby freighter was alerted, and they have since been picked up. The freighter and crew are en route to Nagasaki as we speak. All but two of the crew have been accounted for.” “She was boarded by force?”

“A stealth commando team of unidentified nationality got aboard her at night and took over the ship without a struggle.”

“That's Bob Morgan's ship, isn't it?”

“Yes. The old goat apparently put up a fight and took a gunshot wound to the leg during the struggle. I spoke with Ryan, his exec, who told me that he's expected to pull through in good shape. According to Ryan, the boarders claimed to be with the Japanese Red Army. They made their escape in a cable-laying ship bearing the Japanese flag.”

“Odd choice of attack ship,” Sandecker mused. “I take it they absconded with the biological bombs that had been recovered from the I-411?”

“Ryan confirmed as much. They had nearly completed the recovery operation at the time of the attack. The Starfish was missing when the crew escaped from the hold, and Ryan believes it was hoisted onto the attack ship, perhaps with the submersible's missing pilots.”

“I'll call the State Department and request an immediate dragnet from the Japanese naval resources.” Sandecker pulled an enormous Dominican Republic cigar out of his breast pocket and. lit the green stogie, sending a thick plume of smoke toward the ceiling. “Shouldn't be too difficult to peg a cable ship when she slips into port.”

“I've alerted Homeland Security, who is working along those same lines. They don't seem to believe the Japanese Red Army has the skill or technology to create a domestic threat with the weapons but are now looking at possible ties to Al Qaeda and a few other terrorist organizations.”

“I wouldn't bet against it,” Sandecker replied drily as he rolled the cigar between his thumb and forefinger. “I'll brief the president this afternoon. Someone is going to damn well pay for destroying an American government vessel,” he snarled, his eyes ablaze.

The inhabitants of the conference room nodded in collective agreement. Though a large organization, there was a close-knit sense of family within the agency and an act of terror against fellow colleagues halfway around the world was still felt strongly by those at home.

“We share your sentiments, Admiral,” Gunn replied quietly.

“By the way, the two crewmen that are missing?” Sandecker asked.

Gunn swallowed hard. “Summer and Dirk Pitt. Presumed abducted with the Starfish”

Sandecker stiffened in shock. “Good Lord, not them. Does their father know?”

“Yes. He's in the Philippines with Al Giordino trying to contain an underwater environmental hazard. I spoke with him by satellite phone and he understands that we are doing everything we can right now.”

Sandecker leaned back in his leather chair and gazed at the cloud of blue cigar smoke drifting above his head. God have mercy on the fool that would harm that man's offspring, he thought.

Seven thousand miles away, the blue catamaran ripped across the west coastal waters of Korea like a top fuel dragster running the traps. Summer and Dirk were nudged and rocked in their luxury confinement as the speedy yacht tore through the swells at almost 40 knots. A pair of Korean fishermen in a rickety sampan cursed vehemently as the cat stormed perilously close by, the powerful boat's wake washing waves over the sides of the tiny fishing boat.

After two hours of hard running, the catamaran turned inland and slowed its speed as it threaded its way through the sprinkling of small islands that dotted the mouth of the Han River. The pilot maneuvered the boat upriver another hour until spotting the semi hidden channel that curled into Kang's Kyodongdo Island lair. Passing through the inlet that he knew was monitored by hidden video cameras, the pilot guided the catamaran across the cove to the floating dock at the base of the sheer-walled compound. Inching to a stop, the blue catamaran was tied up astern of Kang's gleaming white Benetti yacht.

Dirk and Summer remained locked in their cabin as Tongju strode off the craft and rode the elevator up the cliff to Kang's private enclave. Kang sat in his cherrywood-paneled executive office with Kwan, studying the financial statements of a radio component manufacturer that he intended to acquire via hostile takeover. He looked up slowly when Tongju entered and bowed.

“Captain Lee of the Baekje has sent word that your mission was a success,” Kang stated through tight lips, offering no hint of satisfaction.

Tongju nodded slightly. “We acquired the ordnance after it was salvaged by the American vessel. Ten of the devices were still intact and have been determined to be usable,” he continued, neglecting to mention that Dirk had sabotaged the other two canisters.

“More than a sufficient quantity to proceed with the operation,” Kang replied.

“The weapon scientists aboard the Baekje were most pleased. The devices were immediately transferred to the biological research laboratory upon our arrival at Inchon. The lab chief assured me that the necessary refinement and containment will be complete within forty-eight hours.”

“At which time I trust the Baekje's reconfiguration will be complete?”

Tongju nodded in reply. “She will be ready to set sail on time.”

“Schedule is critical,” Kang continued. “The mission must be achieved ahead of the National Assembly referendum vote.”

“As long as there is no delay with the ordnance, we will be ready,” Tongju assured him. “The shipyard workers had already made impressive progress by the time we departed the dock facility.”

“We cannot tolerate another miscalculation,” Kang said coldly.

Tongju squinted slightly, unsure of his boss's meaning. Ignoring the comment, he continued speaking.

“I have brought two of the captives from the American vessel with me. The pilots who operated their submersible. One of them is the man responsible for the death of our two agents in America. I thought perhaps you might wish to entertain him personally,” he said, placing a sinister emphasis on the word entertain.

“Ah, yes, the two missing crew members from the NUMA ship.”

“Missing crew members?”

Kwan stepped forward and thrust a news story gleaned from the Internet into Tongju's hands.

“It is all over the news,” Kwan said. “Research vessel sunk in East China Sea; all but two saved,” he quoted from a headline in Chosun I/bo, Korea's largest newspaper.

Tongju's face went pale but he didn't move a muscle. “That is impossible. We sank the vessel with the crew sealed in a storage hold. They could not have all escaped.”

“Escape they did,” Kang said. “A passing freighter picked up the crew and took them to Japan. Did you not watch the ship go under?”

Tongju shook his head. “We were anxious to return with the salvaged material at the earliest possible moment,” he said quietly.

“It is being reported that the ship suffered an accidental fire on board. Apparently, the Americans are afraid of publicizing yet another terrorist incident,” Kwan said.

“As well as revealing the true nature of their presence in the East China Sea,” Kang added. “Perhaps the lack of media reporting will temper their investigation into the incident.”

“I am confident that we maintained our false identity. My assault team was of mixed ethnicity and only English or Japanese was spoken while on the American ship,” Tongju replied.

“Perhaps your failure to dispose of the crew was not a bad thing,” Kang stated with a slight glare. “It will further embarrass the Japanese and keep the American intelligence effort focused on Japan. They will, of course, be searching for the Baekje. The sooner she can be put back to sea, the better.”

“I will provide a continuous update from the shipyard,” Tongju replied. “And the two Americans?”

Kang perused a leather-bound schedule book. “I am traveling to Seoul for an engagement with the minister of unification this evening and shall return tomorrow. Keep them alive until then.”

“I shall give them a last supper,” Tongju replied without humor.

Kang ignored the comment and stuck his nose back into a stack of financial documents. Taking the clue, the assassin turned and departed Kang's office without making a sound.

A half mile from the Inchon enclosed dock where Baekje was undergoing its cosmetic refit, two men in a dingy pickup truck slowly circled a nondescript shipyard building. Empty pallets and rusting flatbed carriers littered the grounds around the windowless structure, which was marked by a faded kang shipping company sign perched over the main entrance. Dressed in worn coveralls and grease-stained baseball caps, the two men were part of a heavily armed undercover security team numbering two dozen strong who patrolled the supersecret facility around the clock. The dilapidated exterior of the building hid a high-tech engineering development center filled with the latest super computing technology. The main and upper floors were dedicated to developing satellite payloads for Kang's satellite communications business. A small team of crack engineers worked to incorporate concealed eavesdropping and reconnaissance capabilities into conventional telecommunication satellites that were sold for export and launched by other regional governments or commercial companies. Hidden in the basement, and heavily guarded, was a small microbiology laboratory whose very existence was known by only a handful of Kang employees. The small cadre of scientists who worked in the lab had mostly been smuggled in from North Korea. With their families still living in the northern provinces, and forceful patriotic mandates placed upon them, the microbiologists and immunologists had little choice in accepting the nature of their work with hazardous biological agents.