“These two as well?” he asked, nodding toward the NUMA captives.
Tongju shook his head no with a faint look of pleasure. The guard then sealed the heavy metal door to the storage bay shut, securing the handle with a chain and padlock. Locked inside, thirty Sea Launch crewmen were crammed into a black, windowless box with no means of escape.
Once the door was secured, Tongju walked over to the hangar wall, where Dirk and Dahlgren stood staring at a pair of gun muzzles aimed at their ribs. Tongju gazed at Dirk with a mixed look of respect and disdain.
“You have an annoying proclivity for survival, Mr. Pitt, which is exceeded only by your irritating penchant for intrusion.”
“I'm just a bad penny,” Dirk replied.
“Since you have taken such a keen interest in our operation, perhaps you would enjoy a front-row viewing of the launch?” Tongju said, nodding toward three of the guards.
Before Dirk could reply, the guards were prodding rifles into their backs, steering them in the direction of the open hangar doors. One of the guards reached up onto Dahlgren's work platform and snatched the coil of rope that lay next to the canvas roll. Tongju hung back a moment, ordering his remaining assault team to the tender, before following behind. As they walked, the two prisoners glanced at each other in mental search of an escape plan, but their options were slim. Dirk knew that Tongju would not hesitate to kill them instantly, and relish the opportunity.
Tongju caught up with them as they marched out of the hangar and into the bright sunshine that washed down on the open deck.
“You know, of course, that military units are on their way to the platform at this very moment,” Dirk said to the assassin, silently hoping his words were true. “The launch will be stopped and you and your men will be captured, or perhaps killed.”
Tongju looked up at the launch clock, then turned to Dirk and smiled, his yellow-stained teeth glistening in the sunlight.
“They will not arrive in time. And if they do, there will be no consequence. The soft American military will not attack the platform for fear of killing the innocent workers aboard. There is no way to stop the countdown now. The launch will proceed, Mr. Pitt, and bring an end to the meddlesome activities of both you and your countrymen.”
“You'll never escape alive.”
“Nor you, I'm afraid.”
Dirk and Dahlgren fell silent as they trudged across the open platform, feeling like two men marching to the gallows. As they approached the launch tower, all of the men could not help but look up at the shimmering white rocket that towered over them. The captives were led to the very base of the standing rocket, which clung to the tower several feet above them. Dirk and Dahlgren were shoved against a tower bracing and ordered to stand still as the guard with the rope began cutting it into several lengths with a serrated knife.
Tongju stood and casually unholstered his Glock, aiming it at Dirk's throat, as a guard hog-tied his wrists and elbows behind his back and around a tower support beam. The guard then tied his ankles together and wrapped them to the beam before moving over to Dahlgren and roping him to the tower in the same fashion.
“Enjoy the launch, gentlemen,” Tongju hissed, then turned and walked away.
“We shall, knowing that vermin like you won't have long to breathe,” Dirk cursed.
He and Dahlgren watched silently as Tongju and his men jogged across the platform toward the forward support column and disappeared down the stairwell. A few minutes later, they observed the tender speeding away toward the Koguryo, which was now positioned nearly two miles from the Odyssey. From their captive position, they had a clear view of the launch clock as it ticked down to 00:26:00, twenty-six minutes. Dirk looked up and morbidly studied the Zenit's huge thrusters that hung several feet above their heads. At the first seconds of launch, 1.6 million pounds of thrust would be expelled onto them like a firestorm, incinerating their bodies to ashes. At least it would be a quick death, he thought.
“I guess that's the last time I let you talk me into crashing a party uninvited,” Dahlgren said, breaking the tension.
“Sorry, I guess we were a little underdressed,” Dirk replied without humor. He tugged and twisted at the binding ropes, searching for an avenue of escape, but there was little room to even wiggle his hands.
“Any chance you can slip your ropes?” he asked hopefully of Dahlgren.
“Afraid not. This guy definitely earned his merit badge in knot tying,” Dahlgren said, pulling at his restraints.
A loud clanging across the platform seized their attention, which was followed by a deep rumbling beneath their feet. The rushing sound of flowing liquid bellowed up behind them, roaring up and overhead through a series of pipes built into the launch tower. The pipes creaked and groaned around them as they protested the flow of the supercooled liquid oxygen and kerosene being pumped into the Zenit.
“They're fueling the rocket,” Dirk observed. “Too dangerous to do with the crew aboard so they wait until just prior to launch, after the platform has been evacuated.”
“That makes me feel so much better. I just hope the guy manning the pump doesn't get sloppy and overfill the tank.”
They both looked up at the rocket in apprehension, knowing that a spill of liquid oxygen would burn right through their skin. The rocket shuddered and wailed as it drank in the liquid fuel, seeming to come alive with the infusion. Pumps and motors whirred above their heads as priming fuel was released into the rocket engine's initial combustion chamber. Both men stared up in numbed silence at the mouth of the rocket thrusters, contemplating the impending conflagration that would rain upon them. Dirk thought of Sarah and felt a sudden pang in his chest, realizing he would never see her again. Worse still, he remembered that she was visiting Los Angeles. She, too, might well succumb to the effects of the missile launch, a launch that he had failed to prevent. Then his sister and father sprang to mind and he felt remorse in that they would never know what befell his disappearance. There certainly wouldn't be any remains left to bury, he thought morbidly. His attention was drawn to a low hiss, caused by puffs of white steam venting out of several safety valves along the Zenit's exterior. As the chilled oxygen warmed in the daytime air, the expanding vapor was purged from the rocket, accumulating in wispy clouds above their heads. To the cruel irony of the two captives awaiting death in their last minutes, the sky seemed to darken over them as the vapor shadows obscured the rays of the sun. But Dirk's heart suddenly skipped a beat when he realized that the shadow cast over them above the rocket was slowly creeping across the platform deck.
Even from high in the sky, the Sea Launch platform and Zenit rocket looked impressive. But for the men in the Icarus, the focus was not one of sightseeing. There was no puttering around the airspace this time as the blimp came floating directly over the stationary platform.
“There's the Badger. She's tied up alongside the forward support column,” Giordino said, pointing toward a corner of the platform where the red submersible could be seen bobbing in the water.
“Dirk and Jack clearly made it aboard,” Pitt replied with a touch of concern.
Upon receiving a radio call from Summer on the Deep Endeavorthat the Narwhal had been attacked, Pitt immediately yanked the blimp around to the south and came charging back at full speed. The twin Porsche engines affixed to the gondola whined as the rpm's climbed and the airship was pushed to its top speed of 50 knots. On the horizon, Pitt and Giordino could see the black smoke from the Narwhal's smoldering hull rising like a beacon before the ship slipped underwater. Pitt willed the blimp toward the debris as fast as the ungainly airship would go while Giordino focused the long-distance camera at the site ahead. As they grew nearer, they observed the Koguryo distancing herself from the platform, while discovering little remains of the Coast Guard vessel through the magnified camera lens.
“You might not want to cruise too close to that support ship,” Giordino cautioned after several tight passes over the Narwhal site failed to reveal any survivors.
“You think she's carrying SAMs?” Pitt asked.
“She stung the Narwhal with a surface-to-surface, so it's a betting chance.”
“I'll keep the platform positioned in between us. That should dissuade them from firing on us and, hopefully, alleviate your Hindenburg fears.”
Pitt brought the airship down to an altitude of five hundred feet and eased back on the high-reving motors as they approached the platform. Giordino focused the WES COM camera onto the Koguryo standing off in the distance, eyeing it warily for signs of a potential strike on the blimp. The shuttle boat suddenly lurched into view on the monitor as it pulled up alongside the ship. Pitt and Giordino watched as Tongju and the last of his assault team
