with a smirk.
“The resolution in the National Assembly to expel the U.S. military from our soil is gaining momentum,” Kang answered. “Your support of the resolution would sway a good deal of political opinion.”
“The embarrassing news incidents with the American military personnel are admittedly making things touchy in some areas of our business. However, I am not convinced the security concerns regarding an American force withdrawal are unfounded.”
“Of course they are,” Kang lied. “The American presence promotes aggression from the North. Their removal will only stabilize relations between our countries and allow our ultimate reunification.”
“You really think it's the right thing to do?”
“It could make us very rich men, Song-woo,” Kang replied.
“We already are,” the auto executive laughed as he snuffed out his cigar in a porcelain ashtray. “We already are.”
Kang shook hands good-bye with his fellow industrialist, then took a quick ear-popping elevator ride a hundred floors down to the lobby of the sprawling business center. An accompanying bodyguard attired in black spoke into a handheld radio, and, seconds later, a red Bentley Arnage RL limousine pulled up to the curb to collect them. As Kang rode silently in the leather-bound backseat, he allowed a sense of self-congratulations to overtake him.
The plan of events was going better than expected. The staged murder of a young girl by the American airman had caused widespread outrage across the country. Mothers were staging numerous protests outside of American military bases, while a mob of loud anotous college students had marched on the U.S. embassy. Kang's corporate administrative staff had orchestrated an intense letter-writing campaign that bombarded a score of local politicians with demands to oust the foreign armed forces. And Kang's extortion of several National Assembly leaders had initiated the political resolution that South Korea's president would soon have to contend with. Now he was working the business leadership community, which had the real clout with both the media and the members of the National Assembly.
The North Korean leadership in Pyongyang was doing their part in the deception by talking up reunification on every public front. As a goodwill gesture signaling improved relations, they temporarily lifted a majority of the travel restrictions to the north. With additional fanfare, they announced that an army armored division was being pulled back from the DMZ in a peaceful move, though failed to admit that they were just being repositioned a short distance away. Facts to the contrary, a peaceful and friendly front was being promoted in the spirit that a Madison Avenue ad exec would admire.
The Bentley drove into downtown Seoul, turning through the gates of a nondescript low-rise glass building marked with a small sign, stating simply: kang enterprises-semiconductor division. The luxury car continued past a crowded parking lot, then down a small alleyway that led to the back of the building and the shoreline of the Han River. The driver stopped in front of a private dock, where Kang's Italian motor yacht was tied up. A servant welcomed Kang and his bodyguard aboard as the engines were started, and, before he had entered the main cabin, the yacht was cast off for its commute back to Kang's estate.
Kang's assistant, Kwan, bowed as the tycoon entered a small inte-'or cabin he used as a working office aboard the boat. As was his tradition, Kwan provided daily briefings to his boss, either on board the yacht or at the estate, at the end of each workday. A pile of two-page briefing reports that bested the intelligence reports of many Western leaders lay stacked on the table. Kang quickly scanned the assorted briefings, which detailed everything from forecast quarterly earnings at his telecom subsidiary, to military exercises of the South Korean army, to personal profiles of which politician was cheating on his wife. Items related to subversive activities or from protected sources were printed on a special orange paper that dissolved when immersed in water and were destroyed immediately after Kang's viewing.
After addressing a number of business issues, Kang rubbed his eyes and asked, “What have we heard from Tongju on the Back/e?”
Kwan's face visibly paled. “We have a problem with the marine equipment for the recovery operation,” he replied tentatively. “The Japanese submersible we leased was damaged while being transported to the Baekje. It was the fault of some careless dockworkers.”
Kwan watched as a vein stood out on Kang's temple and began throbbing violently. The anger rose quickly in the man but came out in a controlled hiss.
“This bungling must stop! First we lose two of our agents in America on a simple assassination attempt and now this. How long before repairs to the damage can be completed?”
“At least three months. The Shinkai is out,” Kwan said quietly.
“We have a timetable to adhere to,” Kang replied with agitation. “We're talking days, not months.”
“I have initiated a complete search of available submersibles in the region. The other potential Japanese deep-water submersible is undergoing a refit, and all the Russian vessels are currently operating in Western waters. The nearest available submersible that is suitable for the recovery is a Ukrainian vessel currently operating in the Indian Ocean. It will take three weeks to have her on-site, however.”
“That is too late,” Kang mumbled. “The momentum we have built in the National Assembly for the referendum is peaking. There will be a forced vote within a few weeks. We must act before then. I need not remind you that we had committed to strike during the G8 assemblage,” he said, his eyes simmering with anger.
An anguished silence filled the room. Then Kwan ventured to speak.
“Sir, there may be another option. We were told that an American scientific research vessel has been operating in Japanese waters with a deep-sea submersible. I was able to track the vessel down earlier today as it was taking on fuel in Osaka. It is a NUMA ship, fully capable of deep-water recovery.”
“NUMA again?” Kang mused. His face pinched up as he contemplated the successful foundation he had laid for the project and the potential risk of delay. Finally, he nodded his head at Kwan.
“It is imperative that we initiate the recovery as soon as possible. Obtain the American submersible, but do it quietly and without incident.”
“Tongju is there to lead the operation,” Kwan replied confidently. “At your instructions, he will proceed. He will not fail us.”
“See to it,” Kang replied, his dark eyes boring through Kwan with seething intolerance.
Six-foot swells carrying caps of white foam atop their shoulders pushed and prodded at the Sea Rover, causing her decks to roll gently with the undulating seas. A high-pressure front was slowly moving out of the East China Sea, and Captain Morgan noted with satisfaction that the strong southerly winds had gradually softened since they had entered the sea located southeast of the Japanese mainland the night before. As Morgan watched from the bridge, a gray dawn slowly washed the research ship in a bath of muted light. Near the rising and falling bow, he spotted a solitary figure standing at the rail scanning the horizon. A wavy patch of black hair could be seen fluttering in the wind above the upturned collar of his navy blue foul-weather jacket.
Dirk breathed in a deep lungful of the sea air, tasting the damp saltiness of it on his tongue. The ocean always invigorated him, both physically and mentally, the blue vastness providing a tranquil tonic that Uowed him to think and act more clearly. Not one capable of working behind a desk, he was addicted to the outdoors, flourishing when at one with what Mother Nature had to offer.
After watching a pair of gulls arc lazily above the ship in search of a morning meal, he made his way aft and climbed up to the elevated bridge. Morgan thrust a steaming mug of coffee into his hand as he entered the ship's control room.
“You're up early,” the captain boomed, a jovial grin on his face even at the early hour of the day.
“Didn't want to miss out on any of the fun,” Dirk replied, taking a long draw at the coffee. “I figured we would be approaching the search area shortly after dawn.”
“Pretty near,” Morgan said. “We're about forty minutes from the Swordfisffs reported position where she sank the Japanese sub.”
“What's the depth here?”
A young helmsman in a blue jumpsuit eyed the depth monitor and crisply announced, “Depth 920 feet, sir.”
“Looks like territory for a deep-water AUV search,” Dirk said.
“I'll have Summer wake up Audry and get her ready for work,” Morgan replied with a grin.
Audry was the variant of an Autonomous Underwater Vehicle, which the NUMA scientists who built her had
