deck, his arms flailing wildly to douse his burning clothes. Screaming
in pain, he finally ran to the railing and flung himself over the side,
the ocean waters quickly extinguishing the human torch in a whiff of
smoke. Kim watched from the helm as the man leaped off the boat but
made no move to turn the boat around and rescue the scorched
commando.
Tongju, too, was temporarily engulfed in flames, angrily lowering his
rifle without firing and leaping under the portico, where he was able
to stamp out the flames burning his shoes and pants. Kim gazed from
the blazing stern to Tongju with a look of alarm in his eyes.
"Keep going," Tongju shouted, "the flames will burn themselves out."
The wind and sea spray from the charging boat had, in fact,
extinguished some of the peripheral flames, but pools of burning
gasoline still sloshed across the deck and deep black plumes of smoke
revealed that more than just the fuel was on fire.
"But the fuel barrels!" Kim cried, watching as the flames licked at
the drums of gasoline.
Tongju had forgotten about the full barrels of gasoline tied to the
rear deck amid the blazing fire. The flames were initially
concentrated to the rear of the barrels, but the sloshing gas on the
deck brought the fire up to the base of the drums. Scanning the helm
console, Tongju spotted a small fire extinguisher mounted to the
bulkhead. With a quick lunge, he scooped up the extinguisher, pulled
its lock-pin, and sprinted onto the rear deck to protect the fuel
drums. But he was too late.
A seal cap on one of the drums had not been tightened all the way,
allowing a thin wisp of vapor to escape. The constant jarring from the
pounding boat had generated more vapor pressure inside the drum, which
expanded further by the heat of the nearby fire. When the flames
finally drew near enough to ignite the vapor, the fuel drum exploded
like a powder keg. In quick succession, the other three fuel drums
ignited with devastating effect.
As the blimp peeled away from the boat, Pitt and the others watched in
awe as the first fuel drum exploded right into Tongju. A chunk of
flying shrapnel from the drum burst through his body, tearing an oblong
hole the size of a Softball through his chest. A stunned look crossed
the assassin's face as he sunk to his knees. In the last seconds of
life, he peered skyward toward the blimp and scowled defiantly before
he was swallowed up in an inferno of flames.
The subsequent explosions leveled the entire superstructure of the boat
in a maelstrom of flying timbers and debris. A huge fireball rolled
into the sky as the stern of the boat rose into the air briefly, its
still-driving propellers churning at the sky. The explosion blasted a
gaping hole through the hull, which quickly sucked the boat under the
waves in a boil of froth and smoke, taking the bodies of Tongju, Kim,
and the third commando to the seafloor.
Giordino had sharply turned the Icarus away from the exploding boat,
but flying debris still splattered against the airship, shearing an
additional array of holes into the fabric skin. More than a hundred
rips, tears, and bullet holes peppered the surface, creating avenues
for helium to escape. The bruised and damaged airship refused to go
down, however, and clung to the sky like a battered fighter.
The men in the gondola surveyed the surreal scene around them. In the
sky above, a heavy white plume of smoke still hung in the air, marking
the Zenit rocket's explosive demise. Across the water, a Navy frigate
and destroyer could be seen bearing down on the Koguyro as a swarm of
fighter jets circled overhead. And beneath them, a scattering of
burning timbers smoldered in the water, denoting the grave of Tongju
and the sunken tender.
"Guess we showed your pal a hot time," Giordino said to Dirk as he
stuck his head into the cockpit.
"I have a feeling he'll be burning in hell for quite some time to
come."
"We gave him a nice head start," Pitt said. "You and Jack okay back
there?"
"Just a few scratches. We both managed to dance around the flying
lead."
"But look what they did to my airship," Giordino-muttered with feigned
hurt, waving a hand about the shot-up gondola.
"At least all of our vital signs are good. Despite the gunshots to the
envelope, our helium pressure is holding up, and we've got fifty
gallons of fuel to get us back to shore," Pitt replied, eyeing the
console gauges before shutting down the damaged engine. "Take us home,
Mad Al."
"As you wish," Giordino replied, easing the nose of the Icarus toward
the east. Slowly steering the battered airship back to the mainland on
its one good engine, he turned to Pitt and said, "Now, about those
cigars ..."
IT took only the mere sight of the U.S. Navy frigate and destroyer for
the captainless crew of the Koguryo to throw in the towel. As more
and more fighter planes appeared in the sky overhead, it became obvious
to all aboard that trying to flee would result in their destruction.
And with the damaged hull, they were not about to outrun anybody. As
the Navy ships approached, the Koguryds executive officer wisely
radioed their surrender. In minutes, a small boarding party arrived
from the destroyer USS Benfold and took custody of the ship. A repair
team was then sent aboard to assist in stabilizing the damaged hull,
and then the Japanese-flagged ship was sailed to San Diego at a slow
crawl.
Arriving at San Diego early the next morning, a media frenzy erupted.
As word broke of the attempted rocket attack on Los Angeles, scores of
small boats packed with reporters and cameramen buzzed around the
harbor trying to get a close-up glimpse of the terrorist ship and crew.
For their part, the crew and technicians aboard
the Koguryo looked down at the swarming media with befuddled amusement.
Their greeting at the San Diego Naval Station was less inviting as
teams of government security and intelligence officers whisked the crew
into heavily guarded buses, where they were hurriedly driven away to a
secure facility for detailed interrogation.
Back at the dock, investigators combed every inch of the ship, removing
the launch control data and securing the surface-to-surface and
surface-to-air missile systems. Marine engineers studied the hull
damage, proving with certainty that it had been created by internally
detonated explosive charges. It would take several days before
intelligence analysts would discover that all the software data related
to the mission flight profile and rocket payload had been
systematically destroyed prior to the ship's capture.
Interrogation of the ship's crew proved equally frustrating. The
majority of the crew and launch team had believed they were actually
launching a commercial satellite and had no clue how close they were to
the continental United States. Those who knew otherwise refused to
talk. Investigators were quickly able to finger Ling and the t
wo
Ukrainian engineers as kingpins for the mission, despite their vehement
denials.
Publicly, the launch created a furor, which magnified as word leaked
that the payload carried smallpox virus. The Japanese Red Army was
behind the attack, newspapers and television reports screamed, fueled
in part by the staged media leaks perpetrated by Kang operators. The
government silently made no denials while piecing together their own
evidence, further inciting the public rage against Japan. The
attempted attack, though unsuccessful, seemed to have achieved Kang's
desired outcome. The single-minded media applied their full reporting
resources to the incident. Constant news coverage focused strictly on
the investigation and speculation about possible retaliation measures
to take against the shadowy Japanese terrorist group. Lost in the news
was the issue of Korea and the pending vote in the National Assembly
over the removal of U.S. troops from the South Korean Peninsula.
As the media ran dry of new facts about the failed rocket launch, they
turned their attention toward hero-making. The Sea Launch platform
crew was nearly mugged by reporters when they stepped off the Deep
Endeavor in Long Beach. Many of the tired crewmen were given just a
few hours' rest, then helicoptered back to the Odyssey to patch up the
holes Pitt had carved in the support structure and sail the listing
platform back to port. Those escaping work duty were badgered for
in-depth interviews about their capture and imprisonment aboard the
platform, as well as their later rescue by Pitt and Giordino in the
blimp. The men from NUMA were lionized as heroes and every news media
organization was on the hunt for them. But they were nowhere to be
found.
After setting the perforated blimp down on an unused runway at LAX, the
men beat it down to Long Beach, where they met the docking Deep
Endeavor. Slipping quietly aboard after the Sea Launch crew departed,
they were warmly greeted by a relieved Summer and the ship's crew.
Dahlgren was happy to see the mangled Badger sitting upright on the
fantail deck.
"Kermit, we've got another search ahead of us," Pitt said to Burch.
"How soon can we be under way?"
"Just as soon as Dirk and Summer step ashore. Sorry, son," he said,
turning to the younger Pitt, "but I'm afraid Rudi called. He's been
trying to track all four of you guys down for the last two hours. Says
the top brass wants to talk to you and Summer. They need your insight
on the bad guys, and right away."
"Some guys get all the luck," Giordino said, grinning at Dirk's
misfortune.
"Seems like we never get much time with you," Summer frowned at her
father.
"We'll get the next dive in together," Pitt said, throwing an arm
around each of his kids' shoulders. "I promise."
"I'll be counting on it," Summer replied, giving her father a kiss to
the cheek.
"Me too," Dirk said. "And thanks for the blimp ride, Mad Al. Next
time, I'm going Greyhound."
"The highbrow type, eh?" Giordino replied, shaking his head.
Dirk and Summer said a quick good-bye to Dahlgren and the other men on
the bridge, then hopped off the Deep Endeavor as the vessel backed away
from the dock. A feeling of satisfaction should have beat through
them, but, with Dirk, an underlying anger still brewed. The deadly
virus strike had been prevented, the Koguryo was captured, and even
Tongju was dead. More selfishly, Sarah was safe as well. But on the
other side of the world, Kang still breathed. As they moved down the
pier, Dirk felt Summer hesitating beside him and he turned and stopped
so she could wave a friendly farewell to the ship. He stared and waved
as well, but his mind was churning elsewhere. Together, they stood and
watched a long while as the turquoise NUMA ship chugged out the harbor
and eased slowly toward the western horizon.
Well before the Homeland Security investigation team thought to round
up all available search and salvage vessels and comb for the sunken
rocket debris, the Deep Endeavor had already slipped her towed sonar
array fish over the side and was scanning the depths for the remains of
the payload. Captain Burch had anticipated a salvage operation and
knew precisely where to start searching. While standing on the deck of
the Deep Endeavor watching the Zenit disintegrate across the sky, he
had carefully tracked the trajectory of the debris and marked on a
nautical chart an impact zone where he thought the nose cone struck the
water.
"If the payload remained intact, it should be somewhere within that
box," he told Pitt as they chugged back to sea, pointing to a
nine-square-mile grid penciled on the chart. "Though we're probably
dealing with a scattered debris field."
"Whatever is left has only been sitting on the bottom a few hours,
so we'll have a fresh profile at least," Pitt replied, studying the
chart. Burch guided the Deep Endeavor to a corner of the grid, where
they began running north south survey lanes. Just two hours into the
search, Pitt identified the first scattering of debris visible against
the rolling bottom. Pointing to the sonar monitor, he fingered a
cluster of sharp-edged objects protruding in succession.
"We've got a string of man-made objects running in a rough line to the
east," he said.
"Either a local garbage scow spilled her goods or we've got a pile of
rusting rocket parts," Giordino agreed, eyeing the data.
"Kermit, why don't we break off the lane and run a tack to the east.
Let's see if we can follow the debris trail and see where it leads."
Burch ordered the ship about and they followed the trail of wreckage
for several minutes as it intensified in quantity before slowly
petering out. None of the debris appeared larger than a few feet long,
however.
"That's one heckuva jigsaw puzzle someone's gonna have to piece
together," Burch said as the last of the wreckage fell away from the
screen. "Shall we resume the survey lane?" he asked Pitt.
Pitt thought for a moment. "No. Let's hold our course. There's got
to be more substantial remains."
Pitt's years of underwater exploration had refined his senses to almost
psychic ability. Like an underwater bloodhound, he could nearly sniff
out the lost and hidden. There was a lot more of the Zenit still out
there and he could feel it.
As the sonar monitor reeled off nothing but flat bottom, the men on the
bridge began to have their doubts. But a quarter mile later, a few
small pieces of ragged-edged debris crept onto the screen. Suddenly,
the silhouette of a large rectangular object filled the monitor lying
perpendicular to the other debris. As it rolled off the screen, a new
image crawled into view. It was the shadow of a large, high
cylinder.
"Boss, I think you've just found the whole enchilada," Giordino
grinned.
Studying the image with a nod, Pitt replied, "Let's go have a taste."
Minutes later, the Deep Endeav
or fixed its position by engaging its
side thrusters and lowered a small remote-operated vehicle over the
stern railing. A large winch unrolled the ROV's power cable as the
machine sunk to the seafloor nine hundred feet beneath the surface. In
a dimly lit electronics bay beneath the wheelhouse, Pitt sat in an
oversized captain's chair where he controlled the unmanned submersible
thrusters with a pair of joysticks. A rack of video monitors lined the
wall in front of him, displaying multiple images of the sandy bottom
fed from a half-dozen digital cameras mounted on the
ROV.
Adjusting the thrusters so that the ROV hovered a few feet above the
bottom, Pitt gently guided the submersible toward a pair of dark
objects nearby. Protruding from the sandy bottom, the cameras
revealed, were two jagged pieces of white metal several feet long,
which were clearly chunks of skin from the Zenit rocket. Pitt kept the
ROV moving past the debris until the initial sonar targets materialized
in the inky water, two unmistakable sections of the launch vehicle
rising high off the bottom. As the ROV moved closer, Pitt and Giordino
could see the first section was nearly fifteen feet long, and almost as
high, but flattened on one side. The rocket section had tumbled before
impact, smacking the water lengthwise in a jarring blow that had given
it the rectangle shape identified by the sonar. Guiding the ROV to one
end, the cameras showed a large thruster nozzle protruding from a mass
of pipes and chambers that constituted a rocket engine.
"An upper stage engine?" Giordino asked, eyeing the image.
"Probably the Zenit's third stage motor, the uppermost propulsion unit
Dirk Pitt18-Black Wind Page 55
