Black Wind dp-18

by Clive Cussler

  It took a split second for Gutierrez to take stock. He had been hit by one round, which nipped him in the thigh. He felt a warm rivulet of blood from the wound run down his leg and collect in his boot. Another round nearly struck him in the abdomen but was deflected by his own machine gun. The bullet had smashed into the MP5K's breech, he realized, and rendered the firearm useless.

  The other men on the bridge noticed it as well. The burly captain, standing just a few feet from Gutierrez, let go of the ship's wheel and plunged at the wounded SEAL. Unsteady from the wound to his left leg, Gutierrez stood inert as the captain barreled into him. The captain used his bulk to throw a bear hug around the SEAL and then slam him into the helm. Gutierrez could feel the breath forced from his lungs and felt as if his ribs were going to snap as the captain tried to squeeze the life out of him. But in Gutierrez's right hand, he still held the compact MP5 machine gun, which he swung upward and smashed against the back of the captain's skull. To his astonishment, nothing happened. The captain seemed to squeeze even tighter, and Gutierrez could see a kaleidoscope of stars starting to shimmer before his eyes as the oxygen in his blood ebbed. Sharp pains flared from the wound in his leg while hammering pangs throbbed against his temples. Again, he thrust the gun's stock against the man's head and, again, the grip seemed only to tighten. Desperation started to seep into the SEAL's mind as he approached the verge of passing out and he wildly thrust the gun at the man's head again and again. Gutierrez sensed his body falling and presumed he was blacking out. But he was suddenly jarred conscious by a collision to his body.

  The repeated blows had finally knocked the stubborn captain cold and the two of them fell hard to the deck, Gutierrez still embraced in the captain's bear hug. The SEAL gasped for breath as the man's iron grip fell slack and he crawled to his knees inhaling deeply.

  “An impressive display. But, regrettably, it shall be your last.” The voice of Kang spat with the flavor of venom. While grappling with the yacht's captain, Kang had approached and leveled a Glock automatic pistol at Gutierrez's head. The SEAL searched for a defense but there was none. The guard's AK-74 was wedged in the dead man's hands across the bridge and his own weapon lay empty and useless in his right hand. On his knees, weakened from gunshots and the struggle with the captain, there was nothing he could do. With a resolute look of defiance, he stared up at Kang and the Glock pistol aimed inches from his face.

  The single gunshot burst through the bridge like a crack of thunder. Gutierrez felt nothing and was surprised by the sudden stunned look in Kang's eyes. Then he realized that the Korean's hand, the one holding the pistol, had disappeared along with the gun amid a shower of crimson blood. Two more cracks filled the air and a splattering of blood flew out of Kang's left knee and right thigh. With a garbled cry of agony, Kang fell to the deck, grasping the remains of his bleeding hand and writhing in misery. As he fell, Gutierrez looked across the bridge to where the gunshots had originated.

  Standing across the deck in the port doorway, Dirk held an AK-74 at eye level, the smoking barrel still leveled at the prone figure of Kang. A relieved look spread across his face as he made eye contact with Gutierrez and realized the SEAL was still alive.

  Dirk walked across the bridge, noting the pilotless yacht was still barreling across the width of the Han River at nearly 40 knots. Off the starboard beam but falling rapidly behind was the SEAL support ship, fighting to keep up with the faster yacht. Across the river, but now directly ahead, was the brightly illuminated river dredge he had seen before, slowly scooping a channel lane near the opposite bank. Dirk stared at the dredge a moment, thinking of the dead SEAL on the dock and the Coast Guardsmen killed in Alaska. Then he turned back to the wriggling figure of Kang and stepped close to the mogul, who was bleeding heavily onto the deck.

  “Your ride is over, Kang. Enjoy your stay in hell.”

  Kang peered up at Dirk with an angry look and grunted an obscenity but Dirk turned and walked away before he could finish. Stepping to the helm, he reached down and yanked Gutierrez to his feet.

  “Nice going, partner, but what took you so long?” Gutierrez rasped.

  “Just had to get a few things ironed out,” Dirk replied as he half-dragged the SEAL to the side railing.

  “We better stop this cruise ship now,” Gutierrez grunted. “I didn't expect to find the big cheese aboard. Intel will be anxious to get him under the hot spotlight.”

  “I'm afraid Kang has an appointment with the grim reaper,” Dirk said, grabbing a life preserver off the bulkhead and throwing it over Gutierrez's head and shoulders.

  “My orders are to take him alive,” Gutierrez protested. But before he could argue further, Dirk grabbed him firmly by the lapels and rolled the both of them over the side railing and into the water below. Dirk ensured he was positioned beneath Gutierrez and took the brunt of the blow as they struck and bounced across the water, nearly knocking the wind out of him from the high-speed impact. After a quick submersion, they bobbed to the surface as the yacht roared past them, Dirk holding the SEAL commander afloat.

  The crew of the following support ship saw them go over the side and quickly broke off the chase to pull them out of the water. But Dirk's and Gutierrez's eyes were on the yacht as they floated in the water, watching Kang's vessel race across the river. The Benetti's course held firm as it crossed midriver and streaked toward the dredge and the opposite bank. As it drew closer to the opposite shore, it became apparent to everyone who watched that the vessel was headed directly for the dredge. The dredge's pilot, seeing the speeding yacht heading toward him, let loose with a long blast from his whistle but the rapidly approaching boat held steady.

  With a thunderous shriek, the gleaming white yacht burst into the dredge ship like a charging bull, her bow plowing into the rusty steel vessel amidships. Striking at top speed, the yacht disintegrated into a cloud of white smoke, followed by a small fireball that floated into the air as the fuel tanks were crushed and ignited. Splinters of wood and debris rained across the dredge and around the river as the mashed remains of the vessel slid off the dredge and sank to the bottom. When the smoke and flames cleared, there was little evidence to indicate a 165-foot yacht had existed moments before.

  Dirk and Gutierrez drifted in the river, watching the carnage with grim captivation as a rescue dinghy from the support ship puttered toward them.

  “Might be hell to pay for not bringing him in alive,” Gutierrez said after the flames and smoke had dissipated.

  Dirk shook his head bitterly. “So he could spend the rest of his days in a country club prison? No thanks.”

  “You get no argument from me. I think we just bestowed a colossal favor upon humanity. But his death might bring repercussions. My superiors are not going to be happy if we create an international incident with Korea.”

  “When the facts come out, there will be no tears shed for Kang and his enterprise of murderers. Besides, he was still alive when we left the yacht. It looked like a boating accident to me.”

  Gutierrez thought for a moment. “ ”A boating accident,“ ” he repeated, trying to convince himself. “Sure, that might just fly.”

  Dirk watched as the remaining smoke from the collision slowly dissipated over the river, then smiled a tired grin at Gutierrez as the rescue boat approached and fished them out of the river.

  Referendum July 1, 2007 As Kang was obliterated, so fell his empire. The SEAL forces that swept through his residence captured his assistant Kwan alive, along with a cache of incriminating documents that he was desperately trying to destroy in his employer's private office. To the south at Inchon, additional Special Forces teams sped through Kang's shipyard and neighboring telecommunications facility. Heavy security resistance at the facility raised suspicions and a large intelligence team quickly descended on the building. The secret biological research lab in the basement was soon discovered, as were the staff's ties to North Korea. Faced with mounting evidence and the death of his master, Kwan quickly folded under the dure
ss and fully confessed Kang's sins in a self-serving ploy to save his own neck.

  Back in the United States, news of the “accidental death of Kang as he was fleeing authorities” brought a similar reaction from ling and his top engineers. Threatened by officials with attempted mass murder charges, they cooperated as well, offering the ill excuse that they were just following orders. Only the Ukrainian engineers refused to cooperate, which eventually ensured their lengthy stay in a federal penitentiary.

  The government authorities, meanwhile, held their cards to the vest publicly until the final piece of damning evidence had been uncovered. The remains of the rocket payload that Pitt and Giordino had retrieved were transferred under secrecy to Vandenberg Air Force Base north of Los Angeles. In a tightly guarded hangar, a team of space engineers carefully disassembled the payload, uncovering the mock satellite that disguised the virus canisters and vapor-dispensing system. Army and CDC epidemiologists removed the canisters of the freeze-dried virus, finding, to their shock, that they contained the lethal chimera of smallpox and HIV organisms. Samples from the Inchon lab were quietly matched up and the horror confirmed. Despite an interest by the Army in maintaining samples, the recovered viruses were ordered destroyed in their entirety by the president. Fears lingered that additional samples escaped capture and destruction, but the chimera engineered by Kang's scientists was in fact fully eradicated.

  With the Koguryo and her crew traced to Kang Enterprises and the ties from Kang to North Korea firmly established, officials from the Homeland Security Department finally went public. A firestorm of media attention broke worldwide as details of the deadliest attempted terrorist attack on U.S. soil were fully released. The global press transferred its focus from Japan to North Korea as the diplomatic assassinations were additionally linked to Kang. The failed rocket attack brought worldwide outrage against the North Korean totalitarian regime despite the Korean Workers' Party blanket denial of involvement. The few trading partners North Korea had cultivated before the incident retaliated by placing even tighter restrictions on imports and exports. Even China joined in the sanctions by halting its trade with the outlaw regime. Once again, the starving peasantry in the North began to quietly question the dictatorial rule of their nepotistic leader.

  In South Korea, the overwhelming evidence against Kang and the actions of his accomplices hit Seoul like a nuclear strike. Any displeasure the South Korean government initially manifested at the American unilateral military intervention was quickly put aside by the ensuing global uproar. South Korean sentiment turned from shock and disbelief to anger and outrage at their country's duping by Kang and his servitude to North Korea. The fallout was rapid. Political cronies and deal makers who had supported Kang were publicly vilified. A wave of resignations swept through the National Assembly, leading right up to the office of the presidency. Revelations of close personal ties with Kang forced even the South Korean leader to resign from office.

  The national embarrassment and anger led the government to quickly nationalize the holdings of Kang Enterprises. The yachts and helicopters were dispensed with first and his fortress residence turned into a think tank devoted to the study of South Korean sovereignty. His name was removed from any association with his former assets, which were later broken up and sold to competing businesses over time. Soon there was nothing left to remind any of his very existence. Almost by silent decree, the name of Kang was entirely purged from the South Korean lexicon.

  The expose of Kang's ties to the north impacted every level of society. Youthful demonstrations for reunification fell away as a wariness of the neighbor to the north reemerged in the national psyche. The massive North Korean military force poised across the border was no longer conveniently overlooked. Reunification remained a national goal, but it would have to come on South Korea's terms. When reunification finally did arrive on the Korean Peninsula some eighteen years later, it was driven by a growing hunger for capitalism in the Korean Workers' Party. Acceding to the personal freedoms that came with it, the party at last purged itself of dictatorial family rule and unilaterally converted the bulk of its military troops into a civilian economic workforce.

  But before all that could occur, the South Korean National Assembly had to vote on Bill 188256, the legislative measure calling for the expulsion of U.S. military forces from within the national borders. In a rare show of bipartisan accord, the measure lost by a unanimous vote.

  At Kunsan City, Korea, Air Force Master Sergeant Keith Catana was quietly walked out of a dingy municipal jail cell just before dawn and released into the waiting custody of an Air Force colonel attached to the American embassy. Far beyond his comprehension of events, Catana was told nothing about the reason for his release. Catana would never know that he had been set up for the murder of an underage prostitute as part of a concerted plot to influence public sentiment against the U.S. military presence in Korea. Nor would he know that Kang's own assistant, Kwan, had revealed the details of the staged murder. Ensuring full blame fell to the dead assassin Tongju, Kwan readily confessed to the plot, along with the political assassinations that occurred in Japan. None of this mattered to the stunned serviceman as he was whisked onto a U.S.-bound military jet. He knew only one thing. He would happily oblige the order given by the Air Force colonel never to set foot on Korean soil again for as long as he lived.

  In Washington, D.C." NUMA was briefly exalted for the role played in diverting the launch and preventing the release of the deadly virus over Los Angeles. But with the death of Kang and the public release of his culpability for the attack, Pitt's and Giordino's exploits quickly fell to yesterday's news. Congressional hearings and investigations into the attack were the order of the day, and a drumbeat for war with North Korea beat loudly for a spell. But emotions eventually cooled as the diplomats were held at bay and the focus gradually shifted to Homeland Security's border resources and ensuring that such an act could never occur again.

  Shrewdly seizing the moment, the new head of NUMA appealed to Congress for a special appropriations supplement for his organization, to fund a replacement helicopter, research ship, and two submersibles for those damaged or destroyed by Kang's men. In a wave of patriotic gratitude, Congress heartily approved the measure, the bill sweeping through both houses in just a matter of days.

  Much to Giordino's chagrin, Pitt had sneaked an additional funding item into the approved bill, requesting a mobile atmospheric marine surveillance platform for the agency to use in coastal research. It was otherwise known as “a blimp.”

  It was A clear, crisp afternoon in Seattle, the type of day that was just a few degrees shy of invigorating. The declining sun was casting long shadows from the tall pines dotting Fircrest Campus when Sarah hobbled out the front door of the Washington State Public Health Lab. A heavy plaster cast coated her right leg, which she was heartened to know would finally be removed in just a few more days.

  She winced slightly as she set her weight on a pair of aluminum crutches, her wrists and forearms sore from carrying the load of her broken leg for the past few weeks. Hobbling a few paces out the doorway, she dropped her eyes to the pavement and navigated herself down a short flight of steps. Carefully picking the next spot along the ground to jab her crutches, she did not notice the car parked illegally at the sidewalk entrance and nearly bumped into it. Looking up, she dropped her jaw in amazement.

  Parked in front of her was Dirk's 1958 Chrysler 300-D convertible. The car looked to be in a semi state of restoration. The pockmarked leather seats had been temporarily taped over while the bullet holes in the body had been sealed with bondo Assorted spots of gray primer paint across the turquoise body gave the car the look of a giant camouflaged manta ray.

  “I promise not to break the other leg.”

  Sarah turned to the deep voice behind her to find Dirk standing there with a bouquet of white lilies and a mischievous grin on his face. Lost in emotion, she dropped her crutches and threw her arms around him in a warm hug.

&n
bsp; “I was beginning to worry. I hadn't heard from you since the rocket attack.”

  “I was away on an all-expense-paid trip to Korea for a farewell cruise on Dae-jong Kang's yacht.”

  “The virus they concocted ... it's just mad,” she said, shaking her head.

  “There is no need to worry anymore. Confidence is high that all the samples were retrieved and destroyed. Hopefully, that bug will never appear on earth again.”

  “There's always some crazy working on the next biological Pandora's box for money or notoriety.”

  “Speaking of crazies, how's Irv doing?”

  Sarah laughed at the simile. “He's going to be the only modern-day survivor of smallpox in the world. He's fast on his way to a full recovery.”

  “Glad to hear it. He's a good man.”

  “Looks like your car is on the road to recovery as well,” she said, nodding toward the Chrysler.

  “She's a tough old beast. I had the mechanicals refurbished while I was away but haven't got to the body and interior yet.”

  Dirk turned and looked at Sarah tenderly. “I still owe you that crab dinner.”

  Sarah looked deep into Dirk's green eyes and nodded. With a quick scoop, Dirk bent over and picked Sarah up and placed her gently on the front seat of the car with the lilies, then kissed her lightly on the cheek. Tossing the crutches into the backseat, he jumped in behind the wheel and fired up the car. The rebuilt motor kicked over easily and idled with a deep purr.

  “No ferries?” Sarah asked, snuggling close to Dirk.

  “No ferries,” Dirk laughed, slipping an arm around Sarah. Tapping on the accelerator, the old convertible rumbling deeply, he steered across the lush grounds and into the pink-tinted dusk.

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