Jack Du Brul - Vulcan's forge

“Could be standard practice after that explosion,” Demanov suggested.

“I don’t think so. I think I know why we haven’t seen any of Ohnishi’s personal bodyguards anywhere on the estate.”

“American commandos beat us here?”

“That’s my guess.”

“Good,” Demanov grunted, and quietly cocked his machine pistol.

“Kenji, what’s going on?” Ohnishi wailed.

“There was one contingency you never anticipated.” The revolver in Kenji’s hand was steady. “Just as Kerikov sold you out and you sold out Kerikov, I have done the same to both of you.”

“I don’t understand, Kenji,” Ohnishi pleaded.

“It’s really quite simple. Ivan Kerikov hired me eight months ago to act as his watchdog, to report your activities to him.”

Ohnishi slouched deeper in his wheelchair, his frail neck vanishing into his shoulders as he bowed in defeat. He already knew the rest of what Kenji would say, and the weight of truth was heavy on his wasted body.

“Kerikov had to maintain absolute command of every aspect of his operation. You were the only player that he did not directly control. That is why he enlisted me, to make sure that he knew what you were plotting.”

“But I have known you all your life; you are like my son. How? How could you do such a thing?” Ohnishi might have accepted the betrayal, but he still had to know the reason.

“You know nothing about me except that which I’ve told you. It is true that at the beginning I saw you as my father, as my master, but like any son, I outgrew you. I searched for my own path. Which I found.”

“Through Kerikov?”

Kenji’s laugh was without feeling, so mocking that it sounded more like the bark of a rabid dog. “Kerikov is as much a fool as you were, old man. Soon after he approached me with his lucrative offer, I was approached by a group of men that gave me even more.” Kenji related the story of his mother’s enslavement as a “Comfort Girl” to the occupying Japanese army in Korea, his subsequent birth and his sale to his natural father. “I am half Korean, Ohnishi, a heritage that my father tried to bury, but a fact I could never ignore.

“In the years since Kerikov first approached you, he had to change his plans due to the collapse of his government. Not long ago, but before you began actively pursuing this doomed dream of yours, he sold you out to a group of investors. This group bought the volcano that Kerikov promised would make Hawaii a viable nation. What he did not know, or couldn’t know, is that this group of Korean investors then contacted me. I don’t know how they found out about my heritage, but they gave me the opportunity to prove who I really am. From then on, not only was I a spy for Kerikov against you, but also a spy against the both of you for my new Korean benefactors.

“You had no chance at all. Every move you made was counteracted by one of my allies. You bought weapons from Suleiman el-aziz Suleiman — I betrayed the Egyptian to Kerikov. The weapons that you so hoped for will not arrive. Nor will there be any additional mercenaries. Kerikov asked me to rescue a certain woman from the NOAA ship — I told my allies to have her killed in Washington, D.C. Kerikov forced you to write that letter to the President, intending to hold it over your head. I sent it to the White House, knowing that would lead to the anarchy that now holds these islands.”

“You sent the letter?” Ohnishi did nothing to hide his astonishment.

“Oh, yes. Mayor Takamora made a convenient scapegoat, but I was responsible for sending the letter. The volcano was too close to the surface to risk any detection and it was agreed that your letter would act as the best possible deterrent against the American forces finding it. The Ocean Seeker almost foiled these plans, but Kerikov dealt with it with a typical Russian reaction. After he had the NOAA ship destroyed, I knew that the American focus would be on to you and perhaps the Russians if they got smart, but we, that is the Koreans, would never be suspect. The volcano would be ours without ever having created or defended it.

“It was the perfect triple-cross. While you and Kerikov and the United States quarreled over the Hawaiian islands and the volcano, Hydra Consolidated would take the prize and no one would be the wiser.”

Kenji was chuckling at the frail old man before him when an armed figure burst onto the balcony, his assault rifle covering both Kenji and Ohnishi. Kenji spoke to him in Korean.

“It’s all right. This is Ohnishi; he won’t give us any difficulties. All went well?”

“Yes,” the Korean commando replied crisply. “Ohnishi’s guards were taken out smoothly. The diversionary explosion worked perfectly; none of my men were even wounded.”

“Good. We’ll leave here for my house in just a few minutes. Make sure the remainder of the explosives are in place.” The Korean soldier began speaking into a walkie-talkie. “You see, Ohnishi, this is where my true loyalties lie. When I told the Koreans about your coup, they thought it was the perfect cover under which they could claim the volcano. The United States and Ivan Kerikov would be too busy trying to quell the violence and silence you to notice us.”

The sound of an automatic weapon ripped through the mansion like the tearing of a piece of canvas. Kenji rolled to the floor, shifting his aim from Ohnishi to the doorway leading to the balcony. The Korean soldier swung around so that he too covered the entrance. Silence hung in the air for a long moment.

“It came from downstairs. You must have missed one of Ohnishi’s guards. Go check it out.” Kenji waited until the Korean left before jerking Ohnishi to his feet and half dragging him toward his bedroom.

Lurbud gave the trigger of his machine pistol another tap as a figure lunged from the front door for the bushes just to its left. He knew he’d missed, but it would keep his opponent pinned for a few crucial seconds.

Sergeant Demanov followed Lurbud and two other troopers in the last dash across the lawn to the house. As they approached the thick slabs of glass of one wing, Lurbud tossed a grenade. The grenade cracked the glass as it hit, but did not penetrate. A second later, it exploded, shattering three panels in a plume of crystal and fire. Lurbud led his men through the resulting six-foot-wide hole. Their boots crunched across the fine glass chips spread out over the woven reed mat within. One of Kenji’s men lay smeared against the far wall of the Japanese-style room, his body shredded by the razor-sharp glass.

The remainder of Lurbud’s team had used similar techniques, blowing four other holes in the structure. What followed was nothing short of an all-out war, with both sides falsely assuming their enemy was an American commando team.

Cordite smoke hung heavily in the entrance foyer as Lurbud cautiously edged himself into the lofty room near one wall. In the whirling air, it was difficult to tell who was part of his force and who was not. A figure leapt from behind a huge terra-cotta vase, leveling his weapon at Lurbud. Sergeant Demanov dispatched the attacker with a quick burst.

Lurbud acknowledged Demanov with a nod and continued his sweep of the house. Gunfire echoed throughout the cavernous home and streaks of tracer fire, like comet tails, could be seen through some of the transparent walls. Halfway up the stairs, Lurbud came under a scathing fire, bullets ripping up the thick marble banister only inches from his body.

Lurbud leapt up and over the railing, exposing himself for a moment to the hidden gunman before dropping back to the first floor. He hit the hard marble and rolled once as more bullets sliced the air around him. More than one gunman had targeted him. He continued to roll, directing fire from his machine pistol at the vague outline of a man far across the foyer. The rounds caught the man low in the gut, the kinetic energy of the impacts lifting him bodily and tossing him through a bullet-riddled glass wall.