Clive Cussler - Dragon

Harper’s logic was unarguable. The executive officer smiled back. “No, sir, I don’t guess you would.”

Pitt took the aircraft up to four thousand meters and held it there. The time for hugging the surface of the sea was past. He was out of range of the island’s missile systems and now had a straight shot at the Ralph R. Bennett . He relaxed and donned the radio headset and microphone that was hanging on the arm of his seat.

“Eighty kilometers to go,” he said quietly. “She should be coming into sight dead ahead.”

Giordino had relieved Loren in the co-pilot’s seat and was studying the fuel gauges with a bemused eye. “Suma’s ground crew was pretty stingy with the gas. We’ll be on fumes in another ten minutes.”

“They only needed to partially fill the tanks for the short hop from Soseki and back from Edo City,” said Pitt. “I’ve pushed her hard and used up fuel at an extravagant rate.”

“You better take it easy and conserve.”

There was a click in their earphones and a deep voice came through. “This is Commander Harper.”

“Nice to hear from you, Commander. This is Dirk Pitt. Go ahead.”

“I hate to be the bearer of grim tidings, but you’ve got a pair of Japanese mosquitoes chasing your tail.”

“What next?” muttered Pitt in exasperation. “How soon before they intercept?”

“Our computers say they’ll be sitting in your lap twelve to fifteen kilometers before we rendezvous.”

“We’re dead meat if they attack,” Giordino said, tapping the fuel gauges.

“You’re not as bad off as you think,” Harper said slowly. “Our electronic countermeasures are already jamming their radar missile guidance systems. They’ll have to be almost on top of you to go on visual.”

“Got anything you can throw at them to spoil their aim?”

“Our only weapon is a thirty-millimeter Sea Vulcan.”

“Not much better than a peashooter,” Giordino complained.

“I’ll have you know that peashooter, as you call it, can spit forty-two hundred rounds a minute as far as eight kilometers,” Harper shot back.

“A good five kilometers too short, too late,” said Pitt. “Got any other ideas?”

“Hang on.” Two full minutes passed before Harper spoke. “You might make it under our fire cover if you put your craft into a dive and pull out on the deck. The increased speed during your descent will give you an extra four minutes of lead time.”

“No advantage I can see,” said Giordino. “Our pursuers will dive too.”

“Negative,” Pitt replied to Harper. “We’ll be like a helpless duck gliding over the waves. Better to remain at an altitude where I still have air space to maneuver.”

“They’re pretty smart fellas,” retorted Harper. “They’ve planned ahead. We track them closing at an altitude of twelve hundred meters, twenty-eight hundred meters below you. Looks to me like they figure to cut you off at the pass.”

“Keep talking.”

“If you use the tactics created by our computers, you increase your odds of making it under our umbrella of fire. Also, and this is a vital issue, once they come within range of our Vulcan we’ll have an open field of fire above you.”

“I’m persuaded,” said Pitt. “Will begin descent in forty seconds.” He turned to Loren, who was sitting in the seat directly behind the cockpit door. “See that everyone straps in good and tight. We’re going to rock and roll for a little while.”

Loren quickly made the rounds of the cabin, checking on Suma and Toshie, alerting the others. Any joy shared among the survivors of the MAIT team quickly faded as a dark mood settled over the cabin. Only the Japanese industrialist looked suddenly happy. Suma smiled the smile of a carved Buddha.

In the cockpit, Pitt briefly went through a stretching routine to relieve muscle tension and loosen his joints. He took a series of deep breaths and then he massaged his hands and fingers as if he was a concert pianist about to attack Liszt’s Second Hungarian Rhapsody.

“Eighteen kilometers and closing fast,” came Harper’s voice.

Pitt gripped the wheel on the control column and nodded at Giordino. “Al, read out the airspeed and altitude readings.”

“My pleasure,” Giordino said without the slightest note of excitement. His faith in Pitt was total.

Pitt pressed the transmit button on his radio. “Commencing dive,” he said in the tone of a pathologist announcing an incision on a corpse. Then he took a firm grip on the wheel and eased the control column forward, wondering what he would say when he met the devil. The aircraft nosed over and down, it’s jet engines screaming as it hurtled toward the vast blue sea that filled the entire expanse of the cockpit’s windshield.

58

TSUBOI PUT DOWN the phone and stared dolefully across his desk at Korori Yoshishu. “Our fighter aircraft have reported Hideki’s plane has taken evasive action. They have no time for an attempt to force it back to Soseki Island before it reaches the American naval ship. Their flight commander requests confirmation of our order to shoot it down.”

Yoshishu replied thoughtfully. Already he had mentally accepted Suma’s death. He inhaled a cigarette and nodded. “If there is no other way, Hideki must die to save what we have all struggled so long to build.”

Tsuboi looked into the old dragon’s eyes but saw only a flinty hardness. Then he spoke into the phone. “Order to destroy confirmed.”

As Tsuboi set down the phone, Yoshishu shrugged. “Hideki is only one of along line who sacrificed their lives for the new empire.”

“That is so, but the American government won’t be happy over sacrificing two of their legislators in the same incident.”

“The President will be pressured by our lobbyists and friends in his government to say little and do nothing,” Yoshishu said with shrewd certainty. “The uproar will swirl around Hideki. We will remain in the shadows, free of the storm.”

“And very quietly assume control of Hideki’s corporations.”

Yoshishu nodded slowly. “That is a law of our brotherhood.”

Tsuboi looked at the older man with renewed respect. He understood how Yoshishu had survived when countless other underworld leaders and Gold Dragons had fallen by the wayside. He knew Yoshishu was a master at manipulating others, and no matter who crossed him, no matter how strong his enemies, he was never defeated. He was, Tsuboi had come to realize, the most powerful man in the world who did not hold public office.

“The world news media,” Yoshishu continued, “is like a voracious dragon that devours a scandal. But quickly tiring of the taste, it moves on to another. Americans forget quickly. The death of two of their countless politicians will soon fade.”

“Hideki was a fool!” Tsuboi lashed out sharply. “He began to think he was a god. As with most men, when they become too powerful and self-worshipping, he made grave mistakes. Kidnapping American congressional members from their own soil was idiotic.”

Yoshishu did not immediately reply but looked across Tsuboi’s desk. Then he said quickly, “You are like a grandson to me, Ichiro, and Hideki was the son I never had. I must bear the blame. If I had kept a tighter rein on him, this disaster would not have happened.”

“Nothing has changed.” Tsuboi shrugged. “The attempt by American intelligence agents to sabotage the Kaiten Project was checked. We are as powerful as before.”

“Still, Hideki will be sorely missed. We owe him much.”

“I would have expected no less if our positions were reversed.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t hesitate to throw yourself on the sword if necessary,” Yoshishu said with a condescending smile.