Black Wind (19 page)

21

B
UT,
D
AE-JONG, OPENING THE
gates to the North is not going to provide me a usable, skilled labor pool,” the CEO of South Korea's largest auto manufacturer asserted before taking a puff on a large Cuban cigar.

Sitting across a mahogany cocktail table, Dae-jong Kang shook his head politely as a long-legged waitress brought a second round of drinks to the table. Their conversation halted while the young Chaebel Club waitress placed their drinks in front of them. The club was a private enclave for Korea's super rich and powerful, a secure and neutral meeting place where huge deals were hammered out over kimchi and martinis. The aristocratic club was appropriately housed on the hundredth floor of the world's tallest building, the recently completed International Business Center Tower located in western Seoul.

“You must consider the lower labor wages. Retraining costs would be minor and recouped in no time. My staff has analyzed the prospects and told me I could save twenty million dollars a year in labor costs alone if we could draw on manpower from North Korea at their current equivalent wage rate. I can only imagine what your potential auto-manufacturing savings would be. Suppose instead of expanding your Ulsan manufacturing facility, you built an entirely new plant in the northern province of Yanggang. How would that improve your competitiveness on the world markets, not to mention open access to the northern consumers?”

“Yes, but it is not so easy for me. I have unions to contend with, as well as capital budget constraints. I certainly can't throw people out on the street at Ulsan and rehire workers from the North at half the price. Besides, there's a whole mind-set that we'll need to contend with if we bring on the northern worker. After all, no socialist state was ever admired for its devotion to quality output.”

“Nothing that a dose of retraining and a taste of capitalistic wages wouldn't quickly solve,” Kang countered.

“Perhaps. But, face it, there is no consumer market for automobiles in the North. The country is an economic mess, and the average man on the street is primarily concerned with putting a meal on the table. The disposable income just isn't there to aid my industry.”

“Yes, but you are looking at the present, not the future. Our two countries are on an inescapable collision course toward unification, and those that are prepared today will reap the riches tomorrow. You had the vision to expand your manufacturing presence to India and the United States and now you are a major player in the auto industry. Have the vision of a unified Korea and help place our homeland at the forefront of world leadership.”

The auto exec blew a large puff of blue cigar smoke toward the ceiling as he contemplated Kang's words. “I can see the wisdom in your thinking. I'll have my strategy office look into it, perhaps work up some contingencies. I'm not sure I have the stomach for dealing with the political issues and approvals, with both the North and South Korean governments, to establish a presence in the North just yet,” he hedged.

Kang set down his vodka gimlet and smiled. “I have friends and influence in both governments that can come to your aid when the time is right,” he replied with understatement.

“Most gracious of you. And there is something I can do for you, my good friend, in return?” the exec replied with a smirk.

“The resolution in the National Assembly to expel the U.S. military from our soil is gaining momentum,” Kang answered. “Your support of the resolution would sway a good deal of political opinion.”

“The embarrassing news incidents with the American military personnel are admittedly making things touchy in some areas of our business. However, I am not convinced the security concerns regarding an American force withdrawal are unfounded.”

“Of course they are,” Kang lied. “The American presence promotes aggression from the North. Their removal will only stabilize relations between our countries and allow our ultimate reunification.”

“You really think it's the right thing to do?”

“It could make us very rich men, Song-woo,” Kang replied.

“We already are,” the auto executive laughed as he snuffed out his cigar in a porcelain ashtray. “We already are.”

*  *  *

K
ANG SHOOK
hands good-bye with his fellow industrialist, then took a quick ear-popping elevator ride a hundred floors down to the lobby of the sprawling business center. An accompanying bodyguard attired in black spoke into a handheld radio, and, seconds later, a red Bentley Arnage RL limousine pulled up to the curb to collect them. As Kang rode silently in the leather-bound backseat, he allowed a sense of self-congratulations to overtake him.

The plan of events was going better than expected. The staged murder of a young girl by the American airman had caused widespread outrage across the country. Mothers were staging numerous protests outside of American military bases, while a mob of loud and riotous college students had marched on the U.S. embassy. Kang's corporate administrative staff had orchestrated an intense letter-writing campaign that bombarded a score of local politicians with demands to oust the foreign armed forces. And Kang's extortion of several National Assembly leaders had initiated the political resolution that South Korea's president would soon have to contend with. Now he was working the business leadership community, which had the real clout with both the media and the members of the National Assembly.

The North Korean leadership in Pyongyang was doing their part in the deception by talking up reunification on every public front. As a goodwill gesture signaling improved relations, they temporarily lifted a majority of the travel restrictions to the north. With additional fanfare, they announced that an army armored division was being pulled back from the DMZ in a peaceful move, though failed to admit that they were just being repositioned a short distance away. Facts to the contrary, a peaceful and friendly front was being promoted in the spirit that a Madison Avenue ad exec would admire.

The Bentley drove into downtown Seoul, turning through the gates of a nondescript low-rise glass building marked with a small sign, stating simply:
KANG ENTERPRISES—SEMICONDUCTOR DIVISION.
The luxury car continued past a crowded parking lot, then down a small alleyway that led to the back of the building and the shoreline of the Han River. The driver stopped in front of a private dock, where Kang's Italian motor yacht was tied up. A servant welcomed Kang and his bodyguard aboard as the engines were started, and, before he had entered the main cabin, the yacht was cast off for its commute back to Kang's estate.

Kang's assistant, Kwan, bowed as the tycoon entered a small interior cabin he used as a working office aboard the boat. As was his tradition, Kwan provided daily briefings to his boss, either on board the yacht or at the estate, at the end of each workday. A pile of two-page briefing reports that bested the intelligence reports of many Western leaders lay stacked on the table. Kang quickly scanned the assorted briefings, which detailed everything from forecast quarterly earnings at his telecom subsidiary, to military exercises of the South Korean army, to personal profiles of which politician was cheating on his wife. Items related to subversive activities or from protected sources were printed on a special orange paper that dissolved when immersed in water and were destroyed immediately after Kang's viewing.

After addressing a number of business issues, Kang rubbed his eyes and asked, “What have we heard from Tongju on the
Baekje
?”

Kwan's face visibly paled. “We have a problem with the marine equipment for the recovery operation,” he replied tentatively. “The Japanese submersible we leased was damaged while being transported to the
Baekje
. It was the fault of some careless dockworkers.”

Kwan watched as a vein stood out on Kang's temple and began throbbing violently. The anger rose quickly in the man but came out in a controlled hiss.

“This bungling must stop! First we lose two of our agents in America on a simple assassination attempt and now this. How long before repairs to the damage can be completed?”

“At least three months. The Shinkai is out,” Kwan said quietly.

“We have a timetable to adhere to,” Kang replied with agitation. “We're talking days, not months.”

“I have initiated a complete search of available submersibles in the region. The other potential Japanese deep-water submersible is undergoing a refit, and all the Russian vessels are currently operating in Western waters. The nearest available submersible that is suitable for the recovery is a Ukrainian vessel currently operating in the Indian Ocean. It will take three weeks to have her on-site, however.”

“That is too late,” Kang mumbled. “The momentum we have built in the National Assembly for the referendum is peaking. There will be a forced vote within a few weeks. We must act before then. I need not remind you that we had committed to strike during the G8 assemblage,” he said, his eyes simmering with anger.

An anguished silence filled the room. Then Kwan ventured to speak.

“Sir, there may be another option. We were told that an American scientific research vessel has been operating in Japanese waters with a deep-sea submersible. I was able to track the vessel down earlier today as it was taking on fuel in Osaka. It is a NUMA ship, fully capable of deep-water recovery.”

“NUMA again?” Kang mused. His face pinched up as he contemplated the successful foundation he had laid for the project and the potential risk of delay. Finally, he nodded his head at Kwan.

“It is imperative that we initiate the recovery as soon as possible. Obtain the American submersible, but do it quietly and without incident.”

“Tongju is there to lead the operation,” Kwan replied confidently. “At your instructions, he will proceed. He will not fail us.”

“See to it,” Kang replied, his dark eyes boring through Kwan with seething intolerance.

22

S
IX-FOOT SWELLS CARRYING
caps of white foam atop their shoulders pushed and prodded at the
Sea Rover
, causing her decks to roll gently with the undulating seas. A high-pressure front was slowly moving out of the East China Sea, and Captain Morgan noted with satisfaction that the strong southerly winds had gradually softened since they had entered the sea located southeast of the Japanese mainland the night before. As Morgan watched from the bridge, a gray dawn slowly washed the research ship in a bath of muted light. Near the rising and falling bow, he spotted a solitary figure standing at the rail scanning the horizon. A wavy patch of black hair could be seen fluttering in the wind above the upturned collar of his navy blue foul-weather jacket.

Dirk breathed in a deep lungful of the sea air, tasting the damp saltiness of it on his tongue. The ocean always invigorated him, both physically and mentally, the blue vastness providing a tranquil tonic that allowed him to think and act more clearly. Not one capable of working behind a desk, he was addicted to the outdoors, flourishing when at one with what Mother Nature had to offer.

After watching a pair of gulls arc lazily above the ship in search of a morning meal, he made his way aft and climbed up to the elevated bridge. Morgan thrust a steaming mug of coffee into his hand as he entered the ship's control room.

“You're up early,” the captain boomed, a jovial grin on his face even at the early hour of the day.

“Didn't want to miss out on any of the fun,” Dirk replied, taking a long draw at the coffee. “I figured we would be approaching the search area shortly after dawn.”

“Pretty near,” Morgan said. “We're about forty minutes from the
Swordfish
's reported position where she sank the Japanese sub.”

“What's the depth here?”

A young helmsman in a blue jumpsuit eyed the depth monitor and crisply announced, “Depth 920 feet, sir.”

“Looks like territory for a deep-water AUV search,” Dirk said.

“I'll have Summer wake up Audry and get her ready for work,” Morgan replied with a grin.

Audry was the variant of an Autonomous Underwater Vehicle, which the NUMA scientists who built her had instead dubbed “Autonomous Underwater Data Recovery Vehicle.” A state-of-the-art self-propelled sensing unit, Audry contained a side-scan sonar, a magnetometer, and a sub-bottom profiler, all packaged into a torpedo-shaped casing that was simply dropped over the side of the ship. The combined sensors provided the capability to seismically map the seafloor for natural or man-made objects, as well as peer beneath the seabed for buried anomalies. The fish-shaped sensor could skim above the seafloor at a depth of five thousand feet, propelled by a powerful battery pack, which eliminated the need for a lengthy and cumbersome tow cable.

As the
Sea Rover
approached the search area, Dirk assisted Summer in downloading the search parameters into Audry's navigation computer.

“We'll use the side-scan sonar only so we can run wider search lanes,” Dirk instructed. “If the
I-411
is out there, we ought to be able to see her sitting up off the bottom.”

“How large a search grid?” Summer asked as she tapped instructions into a laptop computer.

“We have only a rough fix from the
Swordfish
, so we'll likely have plenty of ground to cover. Let's set the initial search grid at five by five miles.”

“That's still within range of the data relay system. I'll do a quick systems check, then we should be ready to deploy.”

As Audry's software program was reconfigured, the
Sea Rover
dropped a pair of self-positioning transducers into the water at either end of the search grid. With built-in GPS satellite receivers, the transducers would relay underwater navigational guidance to Audry that would enable the vehicle to run a precise back-and-forth grid pattern several dozen feet above the seafloor. Audry in return would upload packets of data to the transducers at periodic intervals, detailing the sonar's search results.

“Ready with the winch,” a crewman's voice shouted.

Dirk gave the thumbs-up signal, then he and Summer watched as the eight-foot-long, lemon-colored survey vehicle was lifted out of a rack on the rear deck and lowered over the side railing into the water. A white plume of spray from the tail indicated that Audry's small propeller was churning, then the grips from the winch were let go. Lunging like a thoroughbred out of the gates at Santa Anita, the torpedo-shaped vehicle surged down the length of the
Sea Rover
before submerging under a wave and into the depths.

“Audry has some legs on her,” Dirk noted.

“She's undergone a recent modification and is now capable of running her surveys at a speed of 9 knots.”

“At that pace, she may not give me much time for my favorite part of the search.”

“What's that?” Summer asked, a quizzical look on her face.

“Why, having a beer and a peanut butter sandwich while waiting for the results,” he grinned.

*  *  *

W
HILE
A
UDRY
motored back and forth down neat imaginary lanes a hundred feet above the seafloor, Summer monitored the vehicle's progress on a computer display aboard the
Sea Rover
. At twenty-minute intervals, a digital data upload was wirelessly transmitted from the transducers to the ship, where further electronic processing converted the binary data bits into a graphical image of the sonar readings. Dirk and Summer took turns scanning through the images of the seabed, searching for linear or angular shapes that might signify a shipwreck.

“Looks like a pepperoni pizza,” Dirk mused as he studied the rock-strewn bottom, seeing odd-shaped boulders that threw off round shadows against the flat backdrop.

“Don't tell me you're hungry again,” Summer replied, shaking her head.

“No, but I bet Audry is. What kind of mileage does she get on a tank of battery acid?”

“The batteries for high-speed operation are only designed to last eight hours. We never run her past seven hours, though, to make sure she has enough juice to propel herself from deep water to the surface. She's been in the water now about six hours,” Summer said, glancing at her watch, “so we'll need to call her back for a battery change within the next hour.”

A pop-up window suddenly appeared on the computer screen, signaling receipt of the latest data upload.

“Only one more file to go till we've covered the first search box,” Dirk remarked, standing up from his computer console chair and stretching his arms. “I better identify the boundaries of the next search grid. Can you take a look at the next data feed?”

“Sure, I'll just go ahead and find it for you,” Summer joked as she took his seat and typed a string of commands into the keyboard. A new set of images appeared on the screen, a five-hundred-meter swath of ocean bottom scrolling from top to bottom, which resembled the aerial view of a hard-packed dirt road through the desert. Summer had adjusted the color images in a golden hue so that the occasional rock or mound on the bottom cast a brown-tinted shadow. She studied the monitor closely, watching the same monotonous sea bottom glide by. Suddenly, a dark smudge appeared on the top right side of the screen and grew larger as the readings rolled down. The smudge was a shadow, she quickly realized, created by a long tubular shape that was crisply defined in a dark shade of russet.

“My word, there it is!” she squealed, surprised at her own voice.

A small crowd gathered around Summer as she replayed the image at a slow speed several times. The distinct outline of a submarine was clearly evident, complete with an upright conning tower that cast a long shadow to one side. The image roughened near one end of the vessel, but Summer measured the object at well over three hundred feet.

“Sure looks like a submarine, and a big one,” she said, not sure whether to trust her eyes.

“That's our baby,” Dirk said confidently. “Looks just like the image we scanned of the
I-403
.”

“Nice work, Summer,” Morgan offered as he approached the commotion.

“Thanks, Captain, but Audry did all the work. We better pull her aboard before she makes her way to China.”

Summer typed in a new handful of commands and a signal was relayed from the transducers to the underwater vehicle. In a matter of seconds, Audry terminated the search pattern and propelled herself upward, where she broke the water's surface a quarter mile away from the
Sea Rover
. Summer, Dirk, and Morgan watched as a retrieval team in a rubber Zodiac scooted over to the idling yellow sensor and clamped it to the gunwale. The team slowly made their way back alongside the research ship, where Audry was hoisted out of the water and replaced in her cradle on the stern deck.

As the second of the two transducers was hoisted back aboard, Dirk admired a large exploration vessel that was inching past them a mile away, a Japanese flag wafting off its high bow platform.

“Cable-laying ship,” Morgan said, catching Dirk's gaze. “She followed us out of the Inland Sea.”

“She's a beauty. Doesn't appear to be in any hurry,” Dirk said, noting the vessel's slow speed.

“Must be operating under a daily billing rate contract,” Morgan laughed, then turned his attention to ensuring the transducers were securely aboard.

“Maybe,” Dirk replied, smiling, but a vague caution tugged at the recesses of his mind. He shook off the feeling and refocused his thoughts on the task at hand. It was time to take a look at the
I-411
up close and personal.