Black Wind (12 page)

14

JUNE 4, 2007
KYODONGDO ISLAND, SOUTH KOREA

A
T FIFTY-FIVE METERS IN LENGTH,
the steel-hulled Benetti yacht was impressive even by Monte Carlo affluent standards. The custom-built Italian yacht's lush interior featured an array of marble flooring, Persian carpets, and rare Chinese antiques, which filled the cabins and salons with warm elegance. A collection of fifteenth-century oil paintings by the Flemish master Hans Memling dotted the walls, adding to the eclectic feel. The glistening maroon-and-white exterior, which featured a wide band of wraparound dark-tinted windows, was given a more traditional appearance, with inlaid teak decking and brass fittings on the outside verandas. The entire effect was a tasteful mix of old-world charm combined with the speed and function of modern design and technology. Always turning heads as it roared by, the vessel was an admired fixture on the Han River in and about Seoul. To the local society crowd, an invitation aboard was a highly desired mark of prominence, providing the rare opportunity to mingle with the boat's enigmatic owner.

Dae-jong Kang was a leading icon of South Korean industry and seemed to have his hands in everything. Little was known of the mercurial leader's early background, aside from his sudden appearance during the economic boom of the nineties as the head of a regional construction company. But upon his taking over the reins, the low-tech firm became a corporate Pac-Man, gobbling up companies in the shipping, electronics, semiconductor, and telecommunications industries in a series of leveraged buyouts and hostile takeovers. The businesses were all rolled under the umbrella of Kang Enterprises, a privately held empire entirely controlled and directed by Kang himself. Unafraid of the public spotlight, Kang mixed freely with politicians and business leaders alike, wielding additional influence on the board of directors of South Korea's largest companies.

The fifty-year-old bachelor held a veil of mystery over his private life, however. Much of his time was spent sequestered at his large estate on a secluded section of Kyodongdo Island, a lush mountainous outpost near the mouth of the Han River on the western Korean coast. There he dabbled with a stable of Austrian show horses or worked on his golf game, according to the few who had been invited inside the private enclave. More carefully hidden was a dark secret about the iconoclastic businessman that would have completely shocked his corporate cronies and political patrons. Unknown to even his closest associates, Kang had operated for over twenty-five years as a sleeper agent for the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, or North Korea, as it was known by the rest of the world.

Kang was born in the Hwanghae Province of North Korea shortly after the Korean War. At the age of three, his parents were killed in a railroad derailment, blamed on South Korean insurgents, and the infant boy was adopted by his maternal uncle. The uncle, a founding member of the Korean Workers' Party in 1945, had fought with Kim Il Sung and his anti-Japanese guerrilla forces based in the Soviet Union during World War II. When Kim Il Sung later rose to power in North Korea, the uncle was richly rewarded with a series of provincial government appointments, brokering himself into ever more important spheres of influence until, ultimately, gaining a seat as an elite ruling member of the Central People's Committee, the top executive decision-making organization in North Korea.

During his uncle's ascension, Kang received a thorough indoctrination in the Korean Workers' Party dogma while obtaining the best state-sponsored education the fledgling country could offer. Recognized early as a fast learner who excelled at his studies, Kang was groomed as a foreign operative, with sponsorship from his uncle.

Blessed with a keen financial mind, commandlike leadership skills, and a ruthless heart, Kang was smuggled into South Korea at the age of twenty-two and set up as a laborer at a small construction company. With brutal efficiency, he quickly worked his way up to foreman, then arranged a series of “accidental” work site deaths that killed the firm's president and top managers. Forging a series of ownership transfer documents, Kang quickly took control of the business within two years of his arrival. With secret direction and capital infusion from Pyongyang, the young communist entrepreneur slowly expanded his network of commercial enterprises over the years, focusing on products and services most beneficial to the North. Kang's forays into telecommunications provided access to Western network communications hardware valuable to the military's command and control systems. His semiconductor plants secretly built chips for use in short-range missiles. And his fleet of cargo ships provided the means for covertly transferring defense technology to the government of his homeland. The profits from his corporate empire that were not smuggled north in the form of Western goods and technology were spent bribing key politicians for government contracts or utilized for the hostile acquisition of other companies. Yet Kang's zealous appropriation of power and technology was almost peripheral to his primary objective, set forth by his handlers so many years before. Kang's mission, in the simplest of provisions, was to promote the reunification of the two Korean countries, but on North Korea's terms.

The sleek Benetti yacht slowed its engines as it entered a narrow inlet off the Han River that wound snakelike into a protected cove. As the boat eased through the inlet, the pilot increased the throttle again, racing the boat smoothly across the calm waters of the interior lagoon. A yellow floating dock bobbed gently on the opposite side of the cove, which quickly grew larger in size as the yacht drew near. The big vessel stormed toward the dock, swinging parallel at just the last minute as its engines were cut. A pair of black-uniformed men grabbed the bow and stern lines and tied off the vessel as the pilot finessed her the last few feet to the dock. The shore crew quickly rolled a stepped platform against the yacht's side, the upper step matching the foot level of the first deck.

A cabin door popped open and three gray-looking men in dark blue suits stepped down onto the dock and instinctively peered up at the large stone structure perched above them. Jutting from a cliff that rose nearly vertically above the dock nestled an immense stone house that was half-carved into the crown of the bluff. Thick walls surrounded the house, lending a medieval look to the compound, although the house itself was clearly of Asian design, with a deep angular tiled roof capping the brownstone walls. The entire structure sat two hundred feet above the water, accessible by a steep set of stairs carved into the rock on one side. The three men noted that twelve-foot-high stone walls ran all the way down to the water's edge, ensuring a high degree of privacy. A tight-lipped guard standing at the dock's footing with an automatic rifle slung over his shoulder ensured even more.

As the men in suits made their way along the dock, a door opened from a small structure near the landing and out walked their host to greet them. There was no question that Dae-jong Kang had an imposing air about him. At an even six feet tall and weighing two hundred pounds, his physical mass was large by Korean standards. But it was his stern face and penetrating eyes that indicated a willful presence. Under the right circumstances, his piercing glare could almost cut a man in two. A practiced but insincere smile helped break down barriers when he needed to, but an icy-cold aloofness always lingered over him like a cloud. He was a man who reeked of power and was not afraid to use it.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” Kang said in a smooth voice. “I trust your voyage from Seoul was enjoyable?”

The three men, all leading party members in the South Korean National Assembly, nodded in unison. The senior member of the political trio, a balding man named Youngnok Rhee, replied for the group: “A trip down the Han River is a delight in such a beautiful boat.”

“It is my preferred means of commuting to Seoul,” Kang replied, implying the boredom he found flying in his private helicopter. “Right this way,” he motioned toward the small building at the base of the cliff.

The politicians followed him obediently past a small security station and down a narrow passageway to a waiting elevator, the shaft of which had been carved directly into the cliff. The visitors admired an ancient painting of a tiger hung on the elevator's back wall as it rose rapidly to the main house. When the doors opened, the men stepped out into an expansive, ornately decorated dining room. Beyond an elegant mahogany dining table, floor-to-ceiling glass walls offered a breathtaking view of the Han River delta, where the grand river's waters emptied into the Yellow Sea. A sprinkling of worn sampans and small cargo boats dotted the horizon, fighting their way upriver toward Seoul with a supply of trade goods. Most of the boats clung to the south bank of the river, well away from the imaginary demarcation line with North Korea that ran down the river's center.

“An incredible view, Mr. Kang,” offered the tallest of the three politicians, a man named Won Ho.

“I enjoy it, for the vista encompasses both our countries,” Kang replied with intent. “Please be seated.” He waved a hand as he spoke, then took a seat at the head of the table. A cadre of uniformed servants began shuttling in an array of fine wines and gourmet dishes, while the conversation among the seated men drifted toward politics. A medley of spicy fragrances filled the air as they dined on
daiji-bulgogi
, or pork marinated in a spicy garlic sauce, accompanied by
yachae gui
, an assortment of marinated vegetables. Kang played the gregarious host to his guests until they had comfortably imbibed, then he applied the knife.

“Gentlemen, it's high time we take seriously the effort to unify our two countries,” he spoke slowly, for effect. “As a Korean, I know that we are one country in language, in culture, and in heart. As a businessman, I know how much stronger we could be economically in the global markets. The Sino-American threat, which has long justified the use of our countries as pawns to the superpowers, is no more. It is long past time that we throw off the shackles of foreign domination and do what is right for Korea. Our destiny is as one, and we should seize the opportunity now.”

“The goal of unification beats strongly in all our hearts, but the reckless leadership and military juggernaut of North Korea mandates that we tread with caution,” replied the third politician, a beady-eyed man named Kim.

Kang brushed aside the comment. “As you know, I recently toured North Korea as part of a fact-finding trip sponsored by the Ministry of Unification. We found their economy to be in a moribund state, with food shortages widespread and rampant. The depleted economic state has taken a toll on the North Korean military as well. The military forces we witnessed appeared ill-equipped and extremely low in morale,” he lied.

“Yes, I can attest to their struggles,” Won Ho replied. “But do you really think reunification would be a benefit to our own economy?”

“The northern provinces offer an abundance of cheap labor that is readily accessible. We would immediately become more competitive on the world markets, as our average labor costs would diminish substantially. I have assessed the impact to my own enterprises and make no secret of the fact that my profits could be boosted dramatically. In addition, the northern province economies would provide a new, untapped consumption market that South Korean business is poised to serve. No, gentlemen, there is no question that unification would provide an economic windfall to all of us in the south.”

“There is still the issue of North Korea's hard-line contention in the matter,” Won Ho stated. “We cannot simply achieve reunification unilaterally.”

“Yes,” Kim added. “They have repeatedly insisted that the United States military presence be removed from our soil before reunification can be considered.”

“That is why,” Kang continued calmly, “I am asking the three of you to support the resolution recently introduced in the National Assembly demanding the removal of all American military forces from South Korea.”

A stunned silence fell over the room as the three politicians digested Kang's words. Kang had brought them there for a reason, they knew, but the politicians had figured the corporate giant was seeking legislative tax relief or some other aid to his business empire. Not one of them expected a demand so risky to their political careers. The elder statesman Rhee finally cleared his throat and spoke deliberately.

“That particular resolution was introduced by radical elements in the assembly. There is little chance it would ever pass a full vote.”

“There is if the three of you came on record in support of it,” Kang replied.

“That's impossible,” Kim stammered. “I cannot support weakening our military defense for the asking while North Korea continues to consign all its resources toward boosting its military might.”

“You can and you will. With the recent murder of the girl in Kunsan City by the American serviceman, there is a firestorm of animosity toward the American military from the mainstream populace. It is incumbent upon you to place pressure on our president to act and act now.”

“But the American forces are essential for our security. There are over thirty-five thousand troops stationed in our defense,” Kim argued before being cut off.

“May I remind you,” Kang hissed, his face contorting into an evil smirk, “that I have paid and negotiated your way into the position that you hold today.” The controlled rage glowed from his eyes like burning embers.

Rhee and Won Ho slumped back in their chairs and nodded gravely, knowing their political futures were finished if knowledge of their graft over the years was ever released to the press. “Yes, it will be done,” Won Ho said meekly.

Kim, however, appeared oblivious to Kang's rage. Shaking his head, he replied firmly, “I'm sorry, but I cannot support placing our country at risk of military defeat. I will not vote in favor of the resolution.” He turned and peered at his fellow politicians with a look of scorn.