Dirk Pitt18-Black Wind

by Cussler, Clive

  ship in quick order. If a biological bomb is being smuggled in on a

  containership, there's a good chance those boys could sniff out the

  explosives component of it."

  "That's what we're looking for," Dirk said. "So, we'll be working off

  of San Diego?"

  "No," Aimes replied, shaking his head. "There's only minimal

  commercial traffic that moves through San Diego and the regional Coast

  Guard vessels are more than adequate to handle the volume. We've

  been ordered to patrol a quadrant southwest of the Port of Los Angeles

  in support of the L.A.-Long Beach Coast Guard Marine Safety Group. Once

  on site, we'll coordinate local positioning and boarding through

  Icarus!"

  "Icarus?" Dahlgren asked.

  "Our all-seeing eye in the sky on the project," Dirk said with a

  knowing smile.

  As the Deep Endeavor chugged toward the Pacific, cruising past Coronado

  Island and a Navy aircraft carrier inbound from the Indian Ocean, Dirk

  and Summer went aft and studied the strange submersible that faintly

  resembled a steroid-augmented earthworm. The bullet-shaped vessel was

  dotted with a series of bladed propulsion units mounted irregularly

  about the main body like glued-on heat pumps. Strutted beneath the

  front of its bullet nose stood a giant coring device that stood ten

  feet long, protruding upward like a unicorn's horn. Bathed in its

  garish orange red metallic hue, the submersible reminded them of a

  giant insect from a fifties horror film.

  "What's the story on this contraption?" Summer asked of Dahlgren.

  "Your father didn't tell you about the Badger? It's a prototype that

  he authorized. That's why we were here in San Diego. Some of our

  engineers have been working on a joint venture with Scripps Institute

  to develop this hot rod. It's a deep-water corer designed to gather

  sediment samples from the seabed. The scientific community is anxious

  to gather sediment and organism samples around volcanic hydrothermal

  vents, many of which are located ten thousand feet or deeper."

  "What's with all the propulsion units?" Dirk asked. "To get to the

  bottom in a hurry. She's a real speed buggy. Rather than waiting for

  gravity to pull her to the seafloor, she has a hydrogen fuel cell power

  plant that allows her to submerge at speed to the bottom. She allows

  you to descend, take a core sample, and then pop back to the surface

  without twiddling your thumbs all day. Less time spent diving and

  surfacing means more core samples for the geologists to pick

  through."

  "And the boys at Scripps were actually willing to trust you behind the

  wheel?" Summer asked with a laugh.

  "They didn't ask how many speeding tickets I have on land so I didn't

  feel compelled to tell them," Dahlgren replied with mock innocence.

  "Little do they know," Dirk grinned, "that they just loaned their new

  Harley-Davidson to Evel Knievel."

  The Deep Endea vor steamed up the California coast for three hours

  before turning out to sea just before darkness. Dirk stood on the

  bridge watching the ship's progress on a colored navigation map

  displayed on an overhead monitor. As the coastline fell away behind

  them, he observed the island of San Clemente scroll up on the map to

  the west of their aligned path. He studied the map for a moment, then

  turned to Aimes, who stood nearby examining a radarscope.

  "I thought your interdictions were restricted to no more than twelve

  miles from the coast? We're headed by San Clemente Island, which is

  over fifty miles from the mainland."

  "For normal coastal duty, we recognize the twelve-mile limit from the

  mainland. The Channel Islands are technically a part of California,

  however, so, legally, we can operate from the islands as an origination

  point. For this mission, we have been given temporary authorization to

  expand our normal interdiction zone, with the Channel Islands as a

  baseline. We'll set up position about ten miles west of Santa Catalina

  as our base monitoring position."

  Two hours later, they cruised beyond the large island of Catalina

  and the engines slowed as they neared their station point. At a slow

  crawl, the Deep Endeavor began patrolling a large north-to-south loop

  west of the island, using the ship's radar as surveillance eyes. A

  sprinkling of pleasure craft and fishing boats was all the radar

  detected, along with a Coast Guard cutter on patrol nearby to the

  north.

  "We are positioned well south of the main shipping lane to L.A. and not

  likely to catch much night traffic in this quadrant," Aimes said.

  "We'll get tossed into the fray in the morning when Icarus shows up for

  work. In the meantime, I suggest we take shifts and get some sleep."

  Dirk took the hint and walked out onto the bridge wing, inhaling a deep

  breath of sea air. The night was still and damp and the seas almost as

  flat as a pancake. As he stood in the darkness, his mind tumbled over

  his meeting with Kang and the less-than-implicit threat that the mogul

  had delivered to Summer and him. Another week and the South Korean

  Assembly vote would be history and the legal authorities could pursue

  Kang with full fury. That's all they needed. A week without incident.

  As he stared at the sea, a chilled gust of wind suddenly whisked his

  face, then fell away again just as suddenly, leaving a tranquil and

  seeming calm.

  By 9 p.m." the Odyssey had backtracked some three hundred miles and

  was now approaching the designated launch position calibrated in

  Inchon. Tongju, catching up on some lost sleep in Captain Hennessey's

  cabin, was startled awake by a rapid pounding at the door. An armed

  commando entered the room and bowed as Tongju sat up and began pulling

  on his boots.

  "So sorry to intrude," the commando said apologetically. "It's Captain

  Lee. He has requested that you return to the Koguryo at once. There

  is some sort of dispute with the Russian launch engineers."

  Tongju nodded, then shook off the cobwebs and made his way to the

  pilothouse, where he verified that the platform was still cruising

  north-northeast at 12 knots. Radioing for the Koguryo's tender, he

  made his way down the long flight of stairs on the forward piling and

  hopped into the idling boat that awaited him. A short ride took him to

  the nearby support ship, where Captain Lee was waiting for him.

  "Come with me to the Launch Control Center. It's those damn

  Ukrainians," the captain cursed. "They can't agree on where to

  position the platform for launch. I think they're going to kill one

  another." The two men made their way down a flight of stairs and along

  an interior passageway to the expansive Launch Control Center. As Lee

  opened a side entry door, a loud staccato of foreign swearing burst

  upon their ears. At the center of the room, a group of launch

  engineers were huddled loosely around the two Ukrainian launch

  specialists, who stood toe-to-toe with their arms in the air arguing

  violently with each other. The crowd of engineers parted as Tongju and

  Lee approached, but the Ukrainians didn't ski
p a beat. Looking on in

  disgust, Tongju turned and grabbed a padded console chair, then lifted

  it over his head and hurled it at the two jabbering engineers. The

  gathered spectators gasped as the chair flew into the two men, smashing

  into their heads and chests before ricocheting to the floor with a

  crash. The stunned Ukrainians finally fell silent as they shook off

  the blow from the flying chair and turned toward the two men. "What is

  the issue here?" Tongju growled.

  One of the Ukrainians, a goateed man with shaggy brown hair, cleared

  his throat before speaking.

  "It is the weather. The high-pressure front over the eastern Pacific,

  specifically off North America, has stalled due to the push from a

  low-pressure system in the south." "And what does this mean?"

  "The normally prevailing high-altitude easterly winds have, in fact,

  reversed and we are instead facing a strong headwind at the moment.

  This has thrown off our planned mission flight profile by a

  considerable margin." Shuffling through a file of papers, he pulled

  out a sheaf of algorithmic paper containing numerous calculations and

  trajectory profiles handwritten in pencil.

  "Our base mission plan has been to fuel the Zenit rocket first stage at

  fifty percent of capacity, which will produce an estimated down-range

  flight trajectory of 350 kilometers. Approximately fifty kilometers

  of this distance is over the target region, where the payload system

  will be activated. Thus, our planned launch position was three hundred

  kilometers west of Los Angeles, assuming normal local weather patterns.

  Given the present weather scenario, we have two options: either wait

  for the low-pressure front to yield to the prevailing winds or

  reposition the launch platform closer to the target."

  "There's a third option," the other Ukrainian grumbled irritably. "We

  can increase the fuel load in the Zenit to reach the target from the

  original launch position." As he spoke, his counterpart stood shaking

  his head silently.

  "What is the risk of that?" Tongju asked the doubter.

  "Sergei is correct in that we can adjust the fuel load to reach the

  target from the original launch position. However, I have grave doubts

  about the accuracy that we would achieve. We do not know the wind

  conditions for the entire flight trajectory. Given the current unusual

  weather pattern, the wind conditions along the entire flight path might

  vary significantly from what we can measure directly above us. The

  launch vehicle could easily be diverted north or south of the intended

  target by a large deviation. We could also overshoot the target by

  tens of kilometers or, alternatively, undershoot the target by a

  similar degree. There is just too much potential variability in the

  flight path from this distance."

  "A minor risk, compounded by speculation," countered Sergei.

  "How long before normal weather patterns return to the area?" asked

  Tongju.

  "The low-pressure front has already showed signs of weakening. We

  expect it to collapse over the next day and a half, with the dominant

  high-pressure system prevailing in approximately seventy-two hours."

  Tongju silently contemplated the arguments for a moment, then made his

  decision without debate.

  "We have a timetable to meet. We can ill afford to sit and wait for

  the weather to change, nor can we risk diluting the target strike. We

  shall move the platform closer to the target and initiate countdown as

  soon as possible. How far must we move to mitigate the atmospheric

  uncertainty?"

  "To minimize the impact of the adverse winds, we must shorten the

  trajectory. Based on our latest wind measurements, we must position

  ourselves here," the goateed Ukrainian said, pointing to a map of the

  North American seaboard. "One hundred and five kilometers from the

  coast."

  Tongju studied the position silently for a minute, calculating the

  added distance to cover. The proposed position was dangerously near

  the coastline, he observed, noting a pair of offshore islands in close

  proximity. But they could reach the spot and still launch within

  Kang's desired time schedule. As all eyes in the room waited for his

  command, he finally turned and nodded toward Lee. "Alter course at

  once. We will position both vessels at the new position before dawn

  and initiate launch countdown at daybreak."

  You've got to be kidding me. A blimp?" Giordino scratched his chin,

  then shook his head at Pitt. "You dragged me all the way across

  country to go for a ride in a blimp?"

  "I believe the preferred term is airship" Pitt said, throwing his

  partner a mock look of indignation.

  "A gasbag, by any other name."

  Giordino had wondered what Pitt had up his sleeve after the two arrived

  at LAX on an overnight flight from Washington. Rather than heading

  south from the airport, toward the Port of Los Angeles and adjacent

  Coast Guard Marine Safety regional command, Pitt had turned their

  rental car north. Giordino promptly fell asleep in the passenger seat

  as the head of NUMA drove them out of the Los Angeles metro area.

  Awakening later to find the specter of strawberry fields rushing past

  the window, he rubbed his eyes as the car entered the tiny Oxnard

  Airport and Pitt parked the vehicle near a large blimp moored to a

  truck-mounted vertical boom.

  Peering at the blimp, Giordino cracked, "I didn't think the Super Bowl

  was scheduled for another couple of months."

  The 222-foot long Airship Management Services Sentinel 1000 was, in

  fact, much larger than the usual advertising blimps seen hovering over

  football games and golf tournaments. An enlarged version of the

  company's popular Skyship 600 series of blimps, the Sentinel 1000 was

  designed to lift a useful load of nearly six thousand pounds by way of

  an envelope that held ten thousand cubic meters of gas. Unlike the

  rigidly framed dirigibles of the twenties and thirties that relied on

  highly flammable hydrogen for lift, the Sentinel 1000 was a true

  non-rigid blimp that utilized the safer element of helium to rise off

  the ground.

  "Looks like a runt nephew of the Hindenburg" Giordino moaned, eyeing

  the silver-skinned airship warily.

  "You happen to be looking at the latest in surveillance and tracking

  technology," Pitt said. "She's fitted with a LASH optical system. NUMA

  is testing her out for possible survey use on coral reef and tide

  studies. The system has already been used successfully to track

  migrating whales."

  "What is a "LASH system?"

  "Stands for "Littoral Airborne Sensor-Hyperspectral." It's an optical

  imaging system that uses a breakdown in the color band to detect and

  track targets that the eye cannot see. Homeland Security is

  considering using it for border security and the Navy for antisubmarine

  warfare."

  "If we can give it a test run over Malibu Beach, then I'm all for it."

  A ground crewman wearing a NUMA identification badge climbed out of the

  gondola as Pitt and Giordino approached
the airship.

  "Mr. Pitt? We've installed the radio set that the Coast Guard sent

  up, so you'll be able to conduct secure communications with their

  vessels. The Icarus has been weighed off for a landing equilibrium of

  plus-one hundred kilograms when your fuel supply runs down to five

  percent, so just don't run the tanks dry. The airship is also fitted

  with both a water ballast system and an experimental fuel dump release,

  should you need emergency lift."

  "How long can we stay aloft?" Giordino asked, eyeing a pair of ducted

  propellers jutting from either side of the gondola's aft section.

  "Eight to ten hours, if you go easy on the throttles. Enjoy your

  flight, she's a joy to fly," he said, bowing slightly.

  Pitt and Giordino climbed through the gondola door and into a spacious

  cabin that was comfortably outfitted to seat eight passengers.

  Squirming through a forward opening into the flight compartment, Pitt

  took up the pilot's controls while Giordino plopped into the copilot's

  seat. With a muffled roar, Pitt started the pair of turbocharged

  Porsche 930 air-cooled engines mounted on the rear flanks of the

  gondola, which served as propulsion. With the engines idling, Pitt

  obtained clearance to take off from the airport control tower, then

  turned to Giordino.

  "Ready for takeoff, Wilbur?"

  "Ready when you are, Orville."

  Launching the blimp was not a simple action handled solely by the

  pilots but rather a carefully orchestrated maneuver assisted by a large

  ground crew. Outside the gondola, the Icaruis support crew, all

  attired in bright red shirts, took up positions around the airship. A