an empty helipad. Squinting harder, he gazed down slightly. Then it
struck him. The large digital launch clock that read 00:52:00,
fifty-two minutes.
"That thing is going to fire off in less than an hour!" he exclaimed,
watching the seconds tick down lower.
"We've got to stop it," Dirk said, a tinge of anger in his voice.
"We'll have to get aboard and quick. Though I don't know about you,
pardner, but I don't know a thing about missiles or platform
launches."
"Can't be anything more than a little rocket science," Dirk replied
with a grimace, then jammed the submersible's throttles forward,
surging the Badger toward the platform.
The metallic red submersible surfaced again near the stern of the
platform almost directly beneath the launch tower and Zenit rocket.
Dirk and Dahlgren peered up at a large set of panels that protruded
from the underside of the platform just below the base of the rocket.
The flame deflector was designed to divert and dampen the rocket's
fiery thrust, directing the launch tempest through the platform to the
ocean below. Thousands of gallons of fresh water were released seconds
before launch into the trench to help cool the exposed portions of the
platform during the blazing inferno during the rocket's slow rise off
the pad.
"Remind me not to park here when that torch goes off," Dahlgren said,
trying to visualize the conflagration that would surround them if the
rocket was ignited.
"You don't have to ask twice," Dirk replied.
Their attention turned to the platform's thick support columns,
searching for a way up to the main deck. Dahlgren was the first to
spot the Koguryo's tender, tied up at the opposite side of the
platform.
"I think I see a stairwell on that forward column where the boat's tied
up," he said.
Dirk took a quick bearing, then submerged the Badger and quickly ran
her between the Odyssey's sunken pontoons to the bow end of the
platform. Bobbing to the surface, they rose just astern of the white
tender, where they floated cautiously eyeing the other craft.
"I don't think anyone is home," Dirk said, satisfied the boat was
empty. "Care to tie us off?"
Before he could get an answer, Dahlgren had already opened the
submersible's top hatch and climbed out. Dirk purged the Badger's
tanks of all seawater to attain maximum buoyancy, then nudged the
submersible forward till he tapped the stern of the tender. Dahlgren
immediately hopped from the sub to the boat, then from the boat to the
platform, tightly clutching a mooring line while he moved. Dirk
quickly shut down the submersible's power systems and climbed onto the
platform as Dahlgren tied off the mooring line.
"This way to the penthouse," Dahlgren said in a gentlemanly tone as he
motioned an arm toward the adjacent stairwell. Climbing onto the metal
stairs, the two men moved rapidly, racing up the steps in a measured
pace, while careful to minimize the clamor of their movements. Reaching
the top flight of steps, they stopped for a moment and caught their
breath, then stepped onto the exterior deck of the platform.
Standing on the forward corner of the platform, they came eye to eye
with two enormous cigar-shaped fuel tanks that were encompassed by a
maze of pipes and tubing. The massive white tanks stored the Zenit's
flammable diet of kerosene and liquid oxygen. Beyond the tanks, at the
rear of the platform, they saw the Zenit itself standing like a lonely
monolith surrounded by open deck. They stood for a moment, mesmerized
by the size and sheer power of the rocket with
out even considering the lethality of its payload. Dirk then looked up
at the hangar towering beside them, capped by a helipad at its forward
edge.
"I'm pretty sure the bridge sits above the hangar. That's where we
need to get to."
Dahlgren studied the structure methodically. "Looks like we'll have to
go through the hangar to get there."
Without another word, the two men took off at a fast jog, wary of being
observed as they dashed to the end of the five-story-high hangar.
Reaching the deck side with its open barn doors, Dirk carefully peered
around the edge to look inside. The long narrow hangar looked like a
huge empty cavern without the Zenit lying prone inside. With Dahlgren
on his heels, Dirk slipped around the door and into the hangar, moving
quietly behind a large generator mounted next to the wall. Voices
suddenly echoed across the empty chamber and the men froze in their
tracks.
Midway down the length of the hangar, a door flew open on the opposite
side and the voices fell quiet. Three gaunt-looking men in Sea Launch
jumpsuits staggered through the door and into the hangar followed by
two armed commandos. Dirk recognized the black commando outfits and
the AK-74 assault rifles as those he'd seen on the men who attacked the
Deep Endeavor. He and Dahlgren watched as the three men were marched
to a fabricated storage room situated near the far end of the hangar.
Two additional commandos stood guard over the storage bay and helped to
herd the Sea Launch workers inside before closing and locking the door
behind them.
"If we can get to the Sea Launch crew, they'll know how to stop the
launch," Dirk said in a low voice.
"Right. We ought to be able to take care of Mutt and Jeff, once their
friends leave," Dahlgren replied, motioning toward the two storage bay
guards.
Creeping to a vantage spot near the transporter erector they waited and
watched as the first two commandos chatted with the guards for
a moment, then left through the side door. Ducking and weaving through
an array of electronic test racks and tool bins that lined the sides of
the hangar, Dirk and Dahlgren quietly crept closer to the guarded
storage bay. Along the way, they passed a rack of tools marked
hydraulic engineer. Hesitating for a second, Dirk grabbed a
long-handled wooden block mallet while Dahlgren grabbed an oversized
box wrench for insurance. Scrambling past the end of the transporter
erector they silently darted behind a work platform that sat a hundred
feet from the storage room.
"What now, maestro?" Dahlgren whispered, seeing that there was nothing
but open deck between them and the storage bay.
Dirk crouched against a wheel of the work platform and looked across
toward the guards. The two armed commandos were engaged in an animated
conversation with each other, paying little attention to the rest of
the hangar. He then took a studious look at the platform they had
ducked behind. It was a motorized work platform that rose up and down
to allow access to the topsides of the thirteen-foot-diameter rocket.
Dirk patted his hand on the wheel beside him and threw a crooked grin
toward Dahlgren.
"Jack," he whispered, "I believe you shall drive in the front door
while I waltz in the back door."
Seconds later, Dirk quietly made his way down the side of the hangar,
careful to move only wh
en the guards showed their backs in his
direction. After several short running bursts, he reached the rear of
the hangar, where he made his way across the width section undetected.
As long as the guards stayed positioned near the front of the storage
bay, he could approach from behind without being seen.
Dahlgren, meanwhile, was left with the more daring part of the
offensive. Climbing onto the motorized work platform, Dahlgren grabbed
hold of the cabled control box, then lay flat on the platform. A
canvas tarp was partially rolled up on one side, which he used to cover
himself with. Peering through a crack at the guards, he gently tapped
at the raise button on the controls when the guards were
turned the other way. With barely a whir, the platform rose a half
foot. Out of audio range, the two guards were oblivious. Dahlgren
waited again until the guards were looking away, then hit the control
button again, this time holding it down firmly. The work platform rose
quietly like an elevator, its electric motor barely humming. Dahlgren
held his breath and waited until the scaffold reached a height of
fifteen feet before releasing the button to stop. Peeking down at the
guards, Dahlgren could see that the movement had gone undetected. "Now
for the fun part," he muttered to himself. Hitting the drive controls,
the entire work platform lurched forward on its four wheels, rolling
ahead at a slow crawl. Dahlgren adjusted the drive mechanism to aim
the platform directly toward the storage building and two guards, then
hunkered down under the canvas tarp and lay still.
The towering platform crept halfway across the hangar like a robot
before one of the guards detected its movement. From under the tarp,
Dahlgren heard an excited rush of gibberish in an Asian tongue, but,
thankfully, no sound of gunfire followed. A loud cry of "Saw!"
screeched through the air, and was repeated a few seconds later as the
confused guards called for the contraption to halt. Dahlgren ignored
the cry and kept rolling across the floor. Peeking through a crack in
the canvas, he saw the roofline of the storage shed approaching and
knew he was close to the guards. He waited until the platform rolled
to within five feet of the storage building, then pressed the stop
button. The confused guards fell silent as the raised platform quietly
rolled to a standstill.
The tension in the air was palpable and Dahlgren milked it for full
effect. Beneath him, the two guards stared nervously at the mysterious
platform, their fingers sweaty on the triggers of their guns. From
their vantage, the bewildering platform had rolled across the floor
empty but for a tarp and a loose spool of rope. Perhaps it was just a
simple mechanical failure that caused it to roll forward. Cautiously, they stepped closer to inspect the platform. Concealed in the tarp,
Dahlgren held his breath and then hit the control button.
Like a mechanical ghost, the platform suddenly began lowering itself.
The two guards jumped back as the accordion-support structure slowly
collapsed and the wooden scaffold dropped toward the ground. Then, at
a height of six feet, the platform abruptly stopped. The platform
stood a good six inches taller than either man and they both stood back
several feet, trying to eye who or what was driving the thing. Finally,
one of the guards approached on his tiptoes and began thrusting the
muzzle of his assault rifle into the roll of canvas while his partner
stood back peering around the hangar suspiciously.
Dahlgren knew that he would have only one chance to disable the guard
and discreetly extended his right arm above his head to prepare for the
blow. Through the ruffled canvas, he could feel the prodding of the
guard move closer until the thrusting muzzle finally struck home
against his thigh. The startled guard hesitated for a second before
pulling the gun back to fire. But it was all the time that Dahlgren
needed to swing the heavy box wrench out from under the canvas and down
hard in a pendulum motion toward the man's head. The hard metal face
of the wrench struck the guard square on the jaw with a muffled thump,
by some miracle not crushing the bone. But the blow was powerful
enough to send the man straight to sleep and the unconscious guard
crumpled raggedly to the floor without firing a shot.
Dahlgren's strike had yanked back the screening cover of the canvas as
the second guard swung around to find his partner lying senseless on
the floor. Dahlgren stared back helplessly at the guard, holding the
bloody wrench clasped in his hand. Without hesitation, the guard
raised his AK-74 at Dahlgren and squeezed the trigger. But a
simultaneous blur from behind flew through the air and collided with
the back of the man's head, sending him tumbling to the ground as the
burst of fire sprayed from his gun. The jolt was just enough to alter
his aim and the bullets struck harmlessly beneath Dahlgren's raised
perch. As the guard fell to the ground, Dahlgren could see the tall
figure of Dirk standing twenty feet behind, a determined expression on
his face. In a desperate move to save his friend's life, Dirk had
tossed the mallet like a long-handled ax, the hammer spinning through
the air until the business end struck the guard's head like a croquet
ball.
The guard was only stunned by the blow, however, and dazedly rose to
his knees, trying to retrain his gun. Dahlgren quickly jumped from the
scaffold and reeled back to swing the wrench again when a burst of
gunfire split the air. Dahlgren froze as a neat row of bullet holes
popped through the platform support just inches from his head. The
sound of spent shell casings rattled across the floor as the echo of
the gunfire through the hangar gradually subsided.
"I would advise you not to move either, Mr. Pitt," spat the menacing
voice of Tongju, who stood in the side doorway cradling a machine
gun.
Dirk and Dahlgren were held at gunpoint as Tongju and his team of
commandos herded the remaining Sea Launch crew members into the storage
shed. When Captain Christiano was lastly escorted in, one of the
guards turned to Tongju.
"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,
nod
ding 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
Dirk Pitt18-Black Wind Page 48
