Clive Cussler - Black Wind

“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.